Draco first saw Tria on Platform 9 & ¾.
He was standing with his parents, surveying the Platform as though he owned it, mirroring the way his father looked. His mother was fussing over him, making sure he had everything he needed, telling him to write often, and other things mothers did before their only son went off to boarding school.
He saw students hugging and kissing parents, saying final goodbyes. But one girl stood out from all the rest to Draco. She had a round face, bright blue eyes, and curly blonde hair. She stood next to her dark-haired mother and a father who was just as blonde as she. Draco was enraptured by this girl, who seemed both plain and uncannily beautiful at the same time, the type of person who was plain to most, but beautiful to the man who loved her. She carried herself with grace and elegance on longs legs, and Draco became instantly curious about her. He later learned that her name was just as lovely as she was: Triabelle Rose Summers….
**
Draco felt the sting of a small hand hitting his face. In a fit of temper, Tria had slapped him. He supposed he deserved it.
It was their second year, and Draco had just become Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team. And he had just called Hermione Granger a Mudblood.
He should have expected it. Tria had a temper that was surprisingly nasty, paired with a fierce loyalty to her friends. This alone would have been enough, but Tria was a Gryffindor, and she was Hermione’s best friend.
As the sting seceded, Draco began to realize that Tria was shrieking things at him, most likely angry insults. The others were yelling at him too, but Draco only had eyes for Tria. The tiny girl was angrier than Draco had ever seen her. She was the shortest in their year, but made up for it with another foot of temper. Her hair was big and blonde, and it added to her height when she piled it on top of her head. Her eyes were the most intriguing part about her though: they were a bright, electric blue, a completely unique color. Anger distorted her face into something ugly, though he had seen how it lit up when she smiled. He was slowly becoming aware of his obsession with the Gryffindor, and he was wanting to know more and more about her. He realized that a commotion had occurred, and Weasley was now barfing slugs….
**
The cluster of third years made their way into the forest, following Hagrid as timidly and easily scared as deer. When they reached the hippogriffs paddock, the class let out an “Oooh!” of pleasure. They were beautiful creatures, Draco had to admit. Shining in the sun, gleaming fur and feathers. He couldn’t help himself, and he glanced at Tria.
Her eyes were shining with joy, and the sun’s reflection off of the irises increased their beauty. She had thinned out from last year, but was still as short as ever. 4’10” and done growing, he had heard her tell her friends. She was pretty, not quite beautiful, but there was something about her that made you look twice.
As Potter flew away on one of the Hippogriffs, Draco scowled. Everyone thought he was so great. It turned out that Draco was assigned to the same hippogriff, and just to show others that Potter wasn’t all wonderful, he insulted the beast quite loudly.
A slash of talons, and then pain. It wasn’t a bad injury, but it still stung and bled. He heard the Mudblood Granger telling Hagrid to take him to the hospital wing. He let out an exaggerated moan of pain, milking the situation to his benefit; perhaps it would get Hagrid fired. Then he heard her voice. Tria was reassuring Hagrid that he was an idiot and it was all his fault. That stung more than the injury itself.
The rest of the year, her hatred of him only increased, if that was even possible. Draco was disheartened; alienating Tria had not been his goal. Perhaps next year….
**
Draco was slamming books into his bag after Transfiguration. The Mudblood had just earned twenty points for Gryffindor by, once again, being the only in class to master the spell. He was feeling this day couldn’t get any worse when he heard, “You guys go on, I’m still packing up.”
He would recognize Tria’s voice anywhere. And suddenly they were the only two left in the classroom. Her back was to him, so she didn’t realize this. He finished packing and walked over to her.
“Tria,” he said. She turned around.
Surprise flashed across her eyes as she turned. Then suspicion.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” she demanded.
“Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”
More surprise. Then it was anger.
“Just so you can ditch me and go laugh about it with your friends?” she sneered. “Not likely. Get out of my way, Malfoy, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”
“Tria,” he said. “This isn’t a joke. I’m honestly asking you to be my date to the Yule Ball.”
“Why should I believe you?” she snapped.
Draco realized that this wasn’t going to be easy. But he wasn’t really surprised. After all, Tria’s feisty temper was one of the things he liked best about her.
“Really, Tria? I’m coming over my doubts and insecurities to ask you to a ball, and you think I’m going to ditch you? Am I really that mean?”
“Yes,” Tria said instantly. “Yes you are, Draco.”
He noted the use of his first name with satisfaction. “And will you give me a second chance?”
“You never had your first chance,” Tria said angrily. “You were a git from the start, and now you’re asking me to be your date for the Yule Ball. What do you expect me to think?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. That I’ve changed?”
She glared at him. “I’ll think about it.”
He grinned. He knew she was a big second chance person. He hoped to make the most of his.
A week later, she slipped him a note. It contained one word.
YES
He was standing with his parents, surveying the Platform as though he owned it, mirroring the way his father looked. His mother was fussing over him, making sure he had everything he needed, telling him to write often, and other things mothers did before their only son went off to boarding school.
He saw students hugging and kissing parents, saying final goodbyes. But one girl stood out from all the rest to Draco. She had a round face, bright blue eyes, and curly blonde hair. She stood next to her dark-haired mother and a father who was just as blonde as she. Draco was enraptured by this girl, who seemed both plain and uncannily beautiful at the same time, the type of person who was plain to most, but beautiful to the man who loved her. She carried herself with grace and elegance on longs legs, and Draco became instantly curious about her. He later learned that her name was just as lovely as she was: Triabelle Rose Summers….
**
Draco felt the sting of a small hand hitting his face. In a fit of temper, Tria had slapped him. He supposed he deserved it.
It was their second year, and Draco had just become Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team. And he had just called Hermione Granger a Mudblood.
He should have expected it. Tria had a temper that was surprisingly nasty, paired with a fierce loyalty to her friends. This alone would have been enough, but Tria was a Gryffindor, and she was Hermione’s best friend.
As the sting seceded, Draco began to realize that Tria was shrieking things at him, most likely angry insults. The others were yelling at him too, but Draco only had eyes for Tria. The tiny girl was angrier than Draco had ever seen her. She was the shortest in their year, but made up for it with another foot of temper. Her hair was big and blonde, and it added to her height when she piled it on top of her head. Her eyes were the most intriguing part about her though: they were a bright, electric blue, a completely unique color. Anger distorted her face into something ugly, though he had seen how it lit up when she smiled. He was slowly becoming aware of his obsession with the Gryffindor, and he was wanting to know more and more about her. He realized that a commotion had occurred, and Weasley was now barfing slugs….
**
The cluster of third years made their way into the forest, following Hagrid as timidly and easily scared as deer. When they reached the hippogriffs paddock, the class let out an “Oooh!” of pleasure. They were beautiful creatures, Draco had to admit. Shining in the sun, gleaming fur and feathers. He couldn’t help himself, and he glanced at Tria.
Her eyes were shining with joy, and the sun’s reflection off of the irises increased their beauty. She had thinned out from last year, but was still as short as ever. 4’10” and done growing, he had heard her tell her friends. She was pretty, not quite beautiful, but there was something about her that made you look twice.
As Potter flew away on one of the Hippogriffs, Draco scowled. Everyone thought he was so great. It turned out that Draco was assigned to the same hippogriff, and just to show others that Potter wasn’t all wonderful, he insulted the beast quite loudly.
A slash of talons, and then pain. It wasn’t a bad injury, but it still stung and bled. He heard the Mudblood Granger telling Hagrid to take him to the hospital wing. He let out an exaggerated moan of pain, milking the situation to his benefit; perhaps it would get Hagrid fired. Then he heard her voice. Tria was reassuring Hagrid that he was an idiot and it was all his fault. That stung more than the injury itself.
The rest of the year, her hatred of him only increased, if that was even possible. Draco was disheartened; alienating Tria had not been his goal. Perhaps next year….
**
Draco was slamming books into his bag after Transfiguration. The Mudblood had just earned twenty points for Gryffindor by, once again, being the only in class to master the spell. He was feeling this day couldn’t get any worse when he heard, “You guys go on, I’m still packing up.”
He would recognize Tria’s voice anywhere. And suddenly they were the only two left in the classroom. Her back was to him, so she didn’t realize this. He finished packing and walked over to her.
“Tria,” he said. She turned around.
Surprise flashed across her eyes as she turned. Then suspicion.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” she demanded.
“Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”
More surprise. Then it was anger.
“Just so you can ditch me and go laugh about it with your friends?” she sneered. “Not likely. Get out of my way, Malfoy, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”
“Tria,” he said. “This isn’t a joke. I’m honestly asking you to be my date to the Yule Ball.”
“Why should I believe you?” she snapped.
Draco realized that this wasn’t going to be easy. But he wasn’t really surprised. After all, Tria’s feisty temper was one of the things he liked best about her.
“Really, Tria? I’m coming over my doubts and insecurities to ask you to a ball, and you think I’m going to ditch you? Am I really that mean?”
“Yes,” Tria said instantly. “Yes you are, Draco.”
He noted the use of his first name with satisfaction. “And will you give me a second chance?”
“You never had your first chance,” Tria said angrily. “You were a git from the start, and now you’re asking me to be your date for the Yule Ball. What do you expect me to think?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. That I’ve changed?”
She glared at him. “I’ll think about it.”
He grinned. He knew she was a big second chance person. He hoped to make the most of his.
A week later, she slipped him a note. It contained one word.
YES