"You look like a marble statue. You always do. You become the pinnacle of human beauty in anger, joy, and... grief."
Tarra Williams never thought that asking a little boy to play would change her life...
Disclaimer: I do not own anything expect the characters of my own creation everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling.
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Laughter and running feet always filled the streets of Little Ivywood, a small English town with cobbled streets and a constant flux of tourist during the summer. The bright, sunny day of July 29th was no different. Today, a group of kids decided to play football in the streets. Two boys in their pursuit of the ball ran into each other and fell to the ground. The black hair one jumped to his feet, shouting, "Foul! That was a foul! Give me the ball!"
The game paused. Amy tossed the ball to the boy, blushing.
The other boy, Erold, stood, wiping the dirt off of his pants and straightening his glasses.
"A foul is an unfair or invalid stroke or piece of play, especially one involving interference with an opponent, which that was not."
The black hair boy face turned red.
"If you don't believe me, ask Tarra."
The two boys turned to a small blonde haired girl that stood in the makeshift goal of two shoes. She bit her bottom lip and played with the hem of her collared shirt. "Well, I would say that-"
"Spit it out already," said the black haired boy.
"I would say it wasn't a foul but-"
"Are you blind!" The black hair boy threw the ball. It bounced and then passed over a hedge into the yard of the Zabini residence that no one dared to step foot on. Rumor has it that the last kid that did never came back. The group of kids gasped. The boy went pale and started to wring his hands together. He glanced around at the five other kids, whose shock had worn off and turned to glares.
"Way to go Oliver. Now we can't play anymore."
Amy jumped in front of Oliver.
"It isn't his fault. Tarra's the one who made the wrong call."
The group ignored her and took a menacing step forward. Tarra stood on the edge, glancing at the hedge and the cobbled Manor that laid beyond it. A large wrought iron fence guarded the only entrance.
Oliver cowered before his friends.
Tarra took a deep breath and said, "I'll get it."
The groups became silent. The boy with glasses stopped mid-punch.
"Have you gone mad!" He shouted as he pushed his glasses up.
Tarra ignored him and approached the fence. The bars were far enough away that she could slip through.
"Don't do it, Tarra. Remember what happened to Arthur?"
Tarra gulped and stepped into the well-manicured drive (Which no one has ever seen used)
Her heart pounded in her chest. The group rushed to the fence to keep an eye on Tarra. She made her way towards where she thought the ball disappeared. She found it in a patch of toadstools. As she approached them, she shrieked in terror. The toadstools were jumping! Their red heads bobbed up and down like they were frogs. She quickly snatched the ball and raced back to the fence.
Her friends sighed in relief when they saw her.
But the sudden sound of a kids voice made her pause- "Jones got the quaffle. He passes it to Avery. Avery passes it Zabini. And he scores!"
Tarra tossed the ball over the fence and said, "I'm going to go ask him if he wants to play."
They cried out against it, but she had already begun to walk to the backyard. As she passed the house the hairs on the back of her neck stood. She picked up her pace.
When she reached the backyard, she saw the most handsome boy she had ever seen before. She felt her cheeks go red and she was sure that she was as red as a tomato. He was a tall, dark skinned boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes. He tossed a ball up and down. It was about the size of a football, but it didn't look like one Tarra had seen before. In front of the boy were three hoops on poles, almost like some sort of goal post.
Once she was done gawking at the boy, she noticed that their yard was hardly as large as she imagined and in fact had maybe a hundred yards before the tree line started.
She stepped out from behind the tree she was hiding. A stick broke underneath her foot. The boy tensed. He slowly turned in her direction. When he saw her, he pulled himself higher and dropped the ball.
"I-was-wondering-if-you-wanted-to-play-with-me-and-my-friends," said Tarra in one breath.
"Sorry?"
She blushed.
"I was wondering if you wanted to play with me and my friends."
The boy wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I don't play with your kind."
"Oh, alright," Tarra said as she shifted her weight from foot to foot well staring down at the dirt, not sure what he meant "I'll just leave then."
"Good."
She took a couple small steps, before looking back. He was tossing the ball up and down once again, "Do you have anyone to play with?"
"That is none of your business," he glared at her, "Now leave before I get my mother and she won't be as nice as me."
Tarra gulped but didn't move from her spot. "It's just that it's no fun playing without friends."
The boy on the top of his lungs called, "Mother!"
Tarra's face went white. She sprinted through the yard and didn't stop till she was on the street surrounded by all her friends. Little did she know that the little boy hadn't seen his mother in a month and doesn't have a clue as to where she was.
When the last light of the day faded, parents began to call the group home till Tarra and Amy remained. Amy insisted that they keep playing but Tarra said that her parents would start to worry if she didn't come home soon.
"You can come with me. I'm planning on making some cookies."
At the mention of cookies, Amy's eyes sparkled with joy.
"What are we waiting for?"
Together they took off towards Tarra's house, chatting about anything that went through their minds. Meanwhile, at the Zabini's manor, the little boy sat by himself at the grand mahogany table as a house elf placed a plate of roasted mushrooms in front of him.
So to write this story, I read a couple other Blaise Zabini stories to get a feel of the playing field and was shocked to discover that most of the main characters were Hufflepuffs, which is really strange since they only make up the minority of the characters. I wonder why. Is it because a Hufflepuff's personality fits best with his or maybe the writer is a Hufflepuff them self? Anyways I think that its strange.
