ASTRIA REGULUS BLACK always felt the stares before she saw them. Like cold tile to naked skin, a numbing chill would crawl over her, and her bones would shiver. Today she felt particularly icy. Ever since the night in the hallway, things haven't been well off for the girl. But of late things seem to have taken a turn for the worst.
Some bored soul had come up with the rumor that a member of the Black family tree was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets. In consequence, everyone decided a member of the Black family tree opened it this time as well.
This was evidently unfortunate for Astria, for she was the only one with the last name Black residing in the school. The students had taken it upon themselves to bring their own form of punishment onto Astria for her quote on quote crimes.
According to the grapevine of information that grew throughout Hogwarts, a certain group had started the rumor, a group also known, sardonically in Astria's opinion, as The Golden Trio. The same gang Harry Potter was a part of, and if that didn't solidify that he displeased her like the others, the girl didn't know what would.
Astria did not dwell on that as much as she once did. On the what-ifs and the maybes. The girl didn't think much about what they could have changed, and what went wrong at the beginning of the end of whatever relationship they could have had. Because now was now and here was here. And the past might be a place of reference, but she refused to let it be her residence. So she smiled because it was time to let go.
Harry Potter the boy who lived, once a face who stood out in the grey of the crowds, a color of contrast and a person who seemed to be different to her, and her different to him, a familiarity from something so long ago. Was now simply part of that grey, no longer a hue, unlike the rest. Naively for a little bit, Astria saw a candle, a flame of hope for the Boy and Girl who lived. But the reality was a harsh wind, a wind that could easily blow out a small flame or blend a bright color to bland.
