“Draco.”
The name fell off her lips in a whisper, a tremble barely noticeable. Draco turned his face away in response, and even in this moment the girl could appreciate the curve of his forehead and the strong line of his nose, only enhancing his good looks. He did not meet the girls eyes as he said, “You knew who I was.”
“But…”
“But you expected the best of me, didn’t you?” his voice was sarcastic and dry, verging on condescending. “You thought that I would become a true man, go against my family and who I am? Well, you thought wrong. I think you should leave now.”
The girl reached for his arm but he yanked it out of the way, looking down at her with a disgusted look.
“Who do you think you are? Just a Gryffindor slut. Get out of here.”
He turned his back on her even as the tears began streaming down her face. She had nothing else to do but leave. She kept her head down as she wove her way through the Slytherin common room amidst the sneers and glares of Draco’s fellow snakes. Hair covered her face when she ducked her head down, and for that she was grateful. All she knew was that she wanted away from there. Away from them. Away from him, the boy who broke her heart. As the tears started to blur her vision she stopped in the corrider, hiding herself by the statue that loomed over her and let herself really cry.
It wasn’t five minutes later did she hear voices. Quickly she wiped her eyes, but it was too late. Staring down at her were two tall red headed boys, alike in all ways. She recognized them immediately as the Weasley twins, though she had never really spoken to them. She was in Ron’s year, and she and Ron had never gotten along well.
“Well, what have we here?” one of them said lightly. She winced. She could only imagine. A small girl huddled up by a statue, her brown hair mussed and brown eyes surrounded by sloppy makeup. Her uniform in disarray. She was a mess. The one who spoke crouched down to meet her eyes and she found that his eyes were a deep chocolate color and filled with warmth and laughter. “Oi, George, I think she’s a Gryffindor!”
“No way. I’ve never seen her before.”
“Wait, wait, she’s in Ron’s year. Remember? She told off ickle Ronny-kins.”
George laughed. “I like her already.”
Fred turned his gaze back to her. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Alexandria,” she whispered. Her throat was hoarse, voice almost gone. She tried to clear it subtly. “Alexandria.”
“Big name for a little girl, huh?”
“Because I haven’t heard that one before,” she muttered quietly. She glanced up to see his reaction to her sarcasm. Surprisingly a wide grin was pulling at his mouth. Almost immediately Alexandria felt herself smiling back timidly. The intimidation that she thought she would feel talking to these two was nowhere to be found.
“Now, why don’t you tell us why you were crying,” Fred said coaxingly, as though speaking to a shy kitten who needed encouragement to come out from under the bed. She bit her lip, drawing the color to that spot. His eyes flicked down to the movement, then back up to her eyes. He folded his arms, fixing her with a stern glare. “Come on, Alexandria. You can trust us, you know.”
“Yeah, we’re trustworthy,” George chimed in. Both of them snorted. Alexandria ducked her head.
“Oh come on, we’re only joking!”
“Yeah, just joking!”
“You can tell us what’s wrong.”
“I bet we can help.”
