The girl looked up at the sky- it looked back. It reminded her of that poem, or was it a Biblical verse, about the abyss- wasn't the sky just the same? Except it was easier to catch a glimpse of. She pushed back her hair- simple, short, straight hair, hued dark sable. She'd hacked it off in a nasty tantrum (as she was prone to do when by herself) three weeks ago and her older sister had taken her to the salon to get it trimmed.
Short hair, apparently, was not the trend here- while her sister said it was 'chic', everyone else regarded her with something akin to disdain and amusement. Same with eyeliner (particularly in the shade of shimmery, gelled key lime green she was wearing today), unless you were a) a model, or b) over thirty. Of which she was neither- no, as a matter of fact, she was about fifteen and far too petite, squirmy, and plain to become a supermodel.
This was not to say she was ugly- she was pretty, certainly, and her sister had suggested a few minor modeling contracts. Little things. The girl knew she lacked not only the patience, but the appearance. They wanted a girl with long, raven hair and charisma, an outging personality- someone like her older sister, Thanh.
Truthfully, she only appreciated three things about her appearance. Her eyes, foremost, because she not only had exceptional eyesight but rather pretty eyes, long curly lashes and all that rot. Secondly, her hands. They were dextrous and capable of doing many things, be it playing her guitar or snapping photos of strangers off the street. Lastly, her legs. She had the typical colty dancer's legs, which may have attributed to her height (she was as tall as her father had been- five-foot-five). But that was all, really- her skin was not porcelain white like her sister's (though Thanh privately envied her natural bronze tone), she was certainly not full of curves, nor did she have a particularly sweet --
"Sunmin!"
A rather shrill voice interrupted her self-critique (which had been getting way out of hand, she realized, and thus was rather glad of her sister's sudden yell), and the girl in question - obviously, named Sunmin - squinted her gaze away from the sky and looked back at her older sister.
"Yes?"
"Come on, don't stand there gawking and dancing at the sky all day, or we'll have to get you glasses. The train's leaving and if you make me late I'll . . "
Sunmin tuned her sister's voice out - she appreciated the thought, really, but she had absolutely no intention of enjoying herself at this new school, and if she could miss the train . . well, she'd be very glad.
However, Thanh was not making this an option.
"Come on!" She growled, roughly taking the younger girl's arm, "Come on! Do you want us to have to call the school and have them come get us? Do you know how embarassing that would be! And how would we get sorted then?!"
. . Thanh had a point. Sunmin cringed quietly as her sister dragged her towards the ruby-colored train. Actually, Sunmin rather liked the train, as it was noisy and wreathed in hot, wet white steam and the color made her stare for a moment before she boarded, clutching her straw tote bag possessively, her long, onyx-painted nails digging into the contents. The contents yipped briefly and she released her grip, praying Thanh hadn't heard that (she hadn't).
Once they were inside the train, Thanh promptly abandoned her. Her duty as older sister had been accomplished, and now she was off to go sit with the red-headed boys she'd spoken to briefly before her sister had decided to go be a lunatic.
This left Sunmin rather confused, so she chose to just stand there, most likely looking like some little wild thing with her short brown hair all wind-ruffled and her eyes progressively getting wider at these weird British . . things. She nibbled her lower lip, slightly smudging the candy-pink lip gloss and leaving its sugary-slick flavor in her mouth. Uck. She wrinkled her nose slightly and watched as a platinum blonde boy, flanked by two much bigger boys, entered the compartment. They looked about her age but she didn't say anything, preferring to watch.
Until the boys noticed her.
A bigger one gave her a nasty grin (nasty in that was cruel-seeming and that it wasn't very pretty, either) and she stared back. She would not be a rabbit this year, letting the bigger and stronger pick on her and steal her lunch and and and and . . No. She would not.
The blonde had noticed anyway and snapped at the boy to stop scaring the first-years.
That was when he realized she wasn't a first-year (lacking makeup, Sunmin was quite aware that she could be mistaken for being thirteen, but the eyeliner and all that helped her pass for her true age).
"Are you a transfer student?" He inquired, narrowing his gray eyes curiously at her apparel, her short hair, her shimmery face-paint in shades of green and pink and black. She was immediately glad she had chosen to wear regular black robes that day, even if they were hacked off at her thighs and paired with calf-high black vinyl boots and sugary-pink mesh leggings, the exact same hue as her lip gloss.
She nodded meekly.
"What school?"
"The all-girls' school in Salem," she whispered.
"What? Talk louder!" He hadn't heard her over the din of students in nearby compartments.
She repeated herself, louder this time. She fidgeted with her bag a little more, being careful not to prod its contents any more than necessary.
"Oh," he really had no interest in any school other than his own, "Are you a fifth year?" She nodded.
"Me too. I'm Draco Malfoy, by the way, I'm sure you've heard of the Malfoy family," he swelled to his full height at that last name. She could see he was very proud, and there was nothing wrong with that, so she smiled and widened her eyes appropriately to give the impressed effect he was obviously going for.
"What's your name?"
"Nguyen Tra Sunmin . . er . . Sunmin, please," she corrected hastily (voice of adequate volume), mentally berating herself with her considerable sarcastic artillery - what, Sunmin, did you think you were in freakin' Han oi? You've never even been there, for chrissake . .
"Are you a pureblood?" His eyes had narrowed again, nearly to slits, for some inexplicable reason. First ather name and then when he asked that second question. She tried to remember what a pureblood was.
"Ah . . I-I think so?" She ventured hesitantly, shrinking back at his bewildered and more-than-slightly annoyed expression, as if she were being stupid on purpose. 'I don't know your Brit slang, get over it,' she wanted to snap at him, make him cower too. But she didn't, of course.
"It's not a difficult question- Your surname seems familiar, are your parents a witch and a wizard?"
"Oh!" She felt a tiny blush coloring her cheeks and wished very hard that it would go away, "Yes. Yes, they were."
"Were?"
"They're dead," she said shortly, not really wishing to elaborate on that particular topic. It was a sore subject for her moreso than Thanh, possibly because she'd had some unintentional involvement in the incident that killed them.
"Oh, sorry," he said breezily, as if it were just a polite way to continue the conversation to more interesting topics - ones that pertained himself.
She changed the subject.
"Are you a fifth year, then, too?" She inquired, moving manicured nails to brush near - black hair out of her eyes.
"Yes," he said curtly. She had no clue why, though.
"Oh . . um . . what teachers should I watch out for?" She could feel the train pulling to a halt, the slow jerk-chug-steam-whistle of steel against steel grinding in her ears and tugging at her insides. She felt vaguely like she was on a much gentler portkey
He hadn't answered and was instead studying her curiously, cool eyes the color of dirtied ice examining her as if her face would tell a story. And perhaps it did. She didn't know; she had attempted to analyse her features earlier that morning but it had degenerated into her looking for flaws.
Was he looking for flaws, errors that made her slightly less than perfect?
She didn't have time to find out, as the train had halted and students were crowding off the train, pushing and jostling. Sunmin, being small and thus easily pushed and or jostled, was hurried out. She had barely any time to grab her things before her sister dragged her into a carriage, scolding her in a motherly tone about running off like that.
Sunmin bit back the retort that, with all common sense, pointed out that Thanh had left *her* not the other way around.
Either way, she had somehow ended up within one of those godawful carriages, Thanh rambling about where they were supposed to go to wait for some Professer Mick Gone It All and the first years to be sorted.
Sorted. The word itself inspired a feeling much akin to dread in Sunmin - the sorting in Salem had been private, Americanized, as to allow for their emotions. This was not how things were here, she understood - you would go up in front of the whole school and the Hat would say where you were destined to be. But Sunmin knew, she somehow just knew with every bit of her, she didn't belong here. How could she belong here? This was freakin' England! She was American, for godsake!
Thanh, oblivious to her baby sister's inner turmoil, babbled on.
"You are going to just love it here, Sunny," she used the old nickname casually, despite the fact that she hadn't spoken it for about five years, "It'll be a good time for us to have a fresh start - without mom and dad, you know?"
Sunmin was abruptly startled from her reverie at that, gazing at her sister with blank eyes.
" . . you know?" Thanh became a bit concerned for her sister's mental health.
"Yeah," Sunmin said quietly, "I know."
Short hair, apparently, was not the trend here- while her sister said it was 'chic', everyone else regarded her with something akin to disdain and amusement. Same with eyeliner (particularly in the shade of shimmery, gelled key lime green she was wearing today), unless you were a) a model, or b) over thirty. Of which she was neither- no, as a matter of fact, she was about fifteen and far too petite, squirmy, and plain to become a supermodel.
This was not to say she was ugly- she was pretty, certainly, and her sister had suggested a few minor modeling contracts. Little things. The girl knew she lacked not only the patience, but the appearance. They wanted a girl with long, raven hair and charisma, an outging personality- someone like her older sister, Thanh.
Truthfully, she only appreciated three things about her appearance. Her eyes, foremost, because she not only had exceptional eyesight but rather pretty eyes, long curly lashes and all that rot. Secondly, her hands. They were dextrous and capable of doing many things, be it playing her guitar or snapping photos of strangers off the street. Lastly, her legs. She had the typical colty dancer's legs, which may have attributed to her height (she was as tall as her father had been- five-foot-five). But that was all, really- her skin was not porcelain white like her sister's (though Thanh privately envied her natural bronze tone), she was certainly not full of curves, nor did she have a particularly sweet --
"Sunmin!"
A rather shrill voice interrupted her self-critique (which had been getting way out of hand, she realized, and thus was rather glad of her sister's sudden yell), and the girl in question - obviously, named Sunmin - squinted her gaze away from the sky and looked back at her older sister.
"Yes?"
"Come on, don't stand there gawking and dancing at the sky all day, or we'll have to get you glasses. The train's leaving and if you make me late I'll . . "
Sunmin tuned her sister's voice out - she appreciated the thought, really, but she had absolutely no intention of enjoying herself at this new school, and if she could miss the train . . well, she'd be very glad.
However, Thanh was not making this an option.
"Come on!" She growled, roughly taking the younger girl's arm, "Come on! Do you want us to have to call the school and have them come get us? Do you know how embarassing that would be! And how would we get sorted then?!"
. . Thanh had a point. Sunmin cringed quietly as her sister dragged her towards the ruby-colored train. Actually, Sunmin rather liked the train, as it was noisy and wreathed in hot, wet white steam and the color made her stare for a moment before she boarded, clutching her straw tote bag possessively, her long, onyx-painted nails digging into the contents. The contents yipped briefly and she released her grip, praying Thanh hadn't heard that (she hadn't).
Once they were inside the train, Thanh promptly abandoned her. Her duty as older sister had been accomplished, and now she was off to go sit with the red-headed boys she'd spoken to briefly before her sister had decided to go be a lunatic.
This left Sunmin rather confused, so she chose to just stand there, most likely looking like some little wild thing with her short brown hair all wind-ruffled and her eyes progressively getting wider at these weird British . . things. She nibbled her lower lip, slightly smudging the candy-pink lip gloss and leaving its sugary-slick flavor in her mouth. Uck. She wrinkled her nose slightly and watched as a platinum blonde boy, flanked by two much bigger boys, entered the compartment. They looked about her age but she didn't say anything, preferring to watch.
Until the boys noticed her.
A bigger one gave her a nasty grin (nasty in that was cruel-seeming and that it wasn't very pretty, either) and she stared back. She would not be a rabbit this year, letting the bigger and stronger pick on her and steal her lunch and and and and . . No. She would not.
The blonde had noticed anyway and snapped at the boy to stop scaring the first-years.
That was when he realized she wasn't a first-year (lacking makeup, Sunmin was quite aware that she could be mistaken for being thirteen, but the eyeliner and all that helped her pass for her true age).
"Are you a transfer student?" He inquired, narrowing his gray eyes curiously at her apparel, her short hair, her shimmery face-paint in shades of green and pink and black. She was immediately glad she had chosen to wear regular black robes that day, even if they were hacked off at her thighs and paired with calf-high black vinyl boots and sugary-pink mesh leggings, the exact same hue as her lip gloss.
She nodded meekly.
"What school?"
"The all-girls' school in Salem," she whispered.
"What? Talk louder!" He hadn't heard her over the din of students in nearby compartments.
She repeated herself, louder this time. She fidgeted with her bag a little more, being careful not to prod its contents any more than necessary.
"Oh," he really had no interest in any school other than his own, "Are you a fifth year?" She nodded.
"Me too. I'm Draco Malfoy, by the way, I'm sure you've heard of the Malfoy family," he swelled to his full height at that last name. She could see he was very proud, and there was nothing wrong with that, so she smiled and widened her eyes appropriately to give the impressed effect he was obviously going for.
"What's your name?"
"Nguyen Tra Sunmin . . er . . Sunmin, please," she corrected hastily (voice of adequate volume), mentally berating herself with her considerable sarcastic artillery - what, Sunmin, did you think you were in freakin' Han oi? You've never even been there, for chrissake . .
"Are you a pureblood?" His eyes had narrowed again, nearly to slits, for some inexplicable reason. First ather name and then when he asked that second question. She tried to remember what a pureblood was.
"Ah . . I-I think so?" She ventured hesitantly, shrinking back at his bewildered and more-than-slightly annoyed expression, as if she were being stupid on purpose. 'I don't know your Brit slang, get over it,' she wanted to snap at him, make him cower too. But she didn't, of course.
"It's not a difficult question- Your surname seems familiar, are your parents a witch and a wizard?"
"Oh!" She felt a tiny blush coloring her cheeks and wished very hard that it would go away, "Yes. Yes, they were."
"Were?"
"They're dead," she said shortly, not really wishing to elaborate on that particular topic. It was a sore subject for her moreso than Thanh, possibly because she'd had some unintentional involvement in the incident that killed them.
"Oh, sorry," he said breezily, as if it were just a polite way to continue the conversation to more interesting topics - ones that pertained himself.
She changed the subject.
"Are you a fifth year, then, too?" She inquired, moving manicured nails to brush near - black hair out of her eyes.
"Yes," he said curtly. She had no clue why, though.
"Oh . . um . . what teachers should I watch out for?" She could feel the train pulling to a halt, the slow jerk-chug-steam-whistle of steel against steel grinding in her ears and tugging at her insides. She felt vaguely like she was on a much gentler portkey
He hadn't answered and was instead studying her curiously, cool eyes the color of dirtied ice examining her as if her face would tell a story. And perhaps it did. She didn't know; she had attempted to analyse her features earlier that morning but it had degenerated into her looking for flaws.
Was he looking for flaws, errors that made her slightly less than perfect?
She didn't have time to find out, as the train had halted and students were crowding off the train, pushing and jostling. Sunmin, being small and thus easily pushed and or jostled, was hurried out. She had barely any time to grab her things before her sister dragged her into a carriage, scolding her in a motherly tone about running off like that.
Sunmin bit back the retort that, with all common sense, pointed out that Thanh had left *her* not the other way around.
Either way, she had somehow ended up within one of those godawful carriages, Thanh rambling about where they were supposed to go to wait for some Professer Mick Gone It All and the first years to be sorted.
Sorted. The word itself inspired a feeling much akin to dread in Sunmin - the sorting in Salem had been private, Americanized, as to allow for their emotions. This was not how things were here, she understood - you would go up in front of the whole school and the Hat would say where you were destined to be. But Sunmin knew, she somehow just knew with every bit of her, she didn't belong here. How could she belong here? This was freakin' England! She was American, for godsake!
Thanh, oblivious to her baby sister's inner turmoil, babbled on.
"You are going to just love it here, Sunny," she used the old nickname casually, despite the fact that she hadn't spoken it for about five years, "It'll be a good time for us to have a fresh start - without mom and dad, you know?"
Sunmin was abruptly startled from her reverie at that, gazing at her sister with blank eyes.
" . . you know?" Thanh became a bit concerned for her sister's mental health.
"Yeah," Sunmin said quietly, "I know."