A/N: I know the prologue was kind of scary, but I promise that there will be lots of romance ahead! I just think that a good story has elements of everything in it: mystery, action, angst, and drama can only make a romantic story better, don't you think? Well, R&R!
Chapter One: Pale September
But as the embers of the summer lost their breath and disappeared,
My heart went cold, and only hollow rhythms resounded from within.
The thin young woman stood on platform nine and three-quarters, the collar of her black pea coat upturned to hide her face. Even so early in the autumn the English air was brisk and crisp with the scent of fallen leaves. How different it was from her home, where the warm breeze brought only the heady fragrance of plumeria.
No one noticed her as she made her way across the platform, peering toward the distant horizon in hopes of catching sight of the Hogwarts Express. Hogwarts--what a name! All around her the people were bustling and gabbing; young children played tag with aggravated parents while the new first-years--and the girl--awkwardly pondered what was in store for them at the most famous School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world. She spotted a plump, red-headed woman, wiping the face of an embarassed-looking boy about her age, and resisted the urge to wave a hello.
After all, she'd made up her mind to keep to herself at this new place. There was no need for friends, and less still a need for rejection.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Scarface and his 'leetle friend', the girl weasel."
Her head whipped around at the sound of the voice. Could it be--?
"Malfoy," growled Harry. She saw the expression on the dark-haired boy's face deepen into a scowl--tinged with grief?--though she couldn't hear his words.
Draco, for his part, made a show of innocence. He pushed a shock of platinum hair back behind his ear, and widened his steel-gray eyes in a display of mock-horror. "Come now," he prodded, the corner of his mouth twitching with glee. "What's with the hangdog expression?"
"Stuff it, Draco!" snapped the red-haired girl.
"Ginevra, Ginevra, Ginevra," Draco sighed, shaking his head, arms akimbo. "Can't you see? I was only inquiring as to Potter's welfare--throwing him a bone, you might say."
Harry clamped hard onto Ginny's arm, lest she try something that only Hermione had gotten away with before. But she was already distracted, having spotted their spectator standing just a few metres away.
"What's the ma--" Draco stopped midsentence, as he followed Ginny's gaze and saw who she was looking at. "You!"
The girl gasped and spun on her heel. Spotted! She ran as fast as she could--she hadn't wanted him to see her, not yet! Pulling her collar up higher, she smashed her way blindly through the crowd as the roar of the train and the blast of the whistle swelled to deafening volume. The son of Lucius Malfoy, bane of her existence, would not catch her today.
"Watch where you're going!" growled a third-year Slytherin.
"Look out for that suitcase!" shouted a fourth-year Hufflepuff.
Suitcase? Her eyes blinked open, but not in time as she tripped and flew forward--
--and into the arms of Ron Weasley.
"What the devil--" he sputtered, completely off guard.
She blinked and looked up at him, feeling the creeping burn of a blush in her cheeks.
"Terribly sorry," she offered, trying to stand up but feeling wobbly on her two-and-a-half-inch heels.
"Erm," Ron stammered. He couldn't help but notice that the girl's coat had come open and her low-cut top had been revealed, its fit most flattering to her figure and its deep maroon color contrasting with her pale skin. And quite a bit of skin there was to see.
She took a sharp breath, now more embarassed than ever as a crowd gathered to gawk. Of course she knew she was a beautiful girl: sixteen years old with long, naturally silky blond hair; creamy, flawless skin; big, smoky blue eyes with a dark ring around the iris; full, pouty lips; a small, slightly upturned nose; and delicately-boned cheeks, normally slightly reddened with windburn, but now blushing deep burgundy. She quickly wrapped herself back up in the coat, mortified that Ron and some hooting first-years had seen her body. Had they seen the scar? She prayed they hadn't.
Ron, himself, was not bad-looking. The summer had brought with it a growth spurt, and Ron's once-lanky frame was toned and gently tanned from quidditch practice with his brothers and Ginny. His jaw, too, was looking more squared and masculine, and it wasn't too hard to see that he would soon look just like his roguishly handsome older brother. Still, he looked as though he'd been struck by a petrificus totalus.
"Oh, hello, Ron!" sang a voice that could only belong to Luna Lovegood, dancing towards them with her suitcase swinging and stuffed to bursting, odd socks sticking out everywhere. She stopped, tilted her head, and stared at the girl. "Oh, hello," she added absently. A small red salamander poked its head out from a fold in the copy of The Quibbler clutched in her left hand. "And hello, Sally," she added with a smile. "Aren't you going to get on the train, Ron?"
"Right," Ron blurted, blinking back into reality. The girl was so beautiful--was she a Veela? He opened his mouth, but only nonsense came out. "Would you be, um, miss, I mean, are you--"
"Of course she's getting on the train with us, silly," said Luna, reaching out to link arms with her. 'Sally' scurried back down into the safety of the paper as Luna whirled her new friend around in a circle.
"Hey, stop it," she said, but couldn't contain her laughter. Maybe this new school wouldn't be so bad--"Oof!"
Luna had taken her quite seriously, stopped, and dropped her.
"Erm," said Ron, feeling even more the idiot. "Here, let me help you up. If you want, you can ride with me and Loony, er, Luna." He extended his hand and took hers, marvelling at its softness.
"Thanks," she said, and withdrew her hand, instead jumping to her feet on her own. "I'd love to."
As the odd trio boarded the Hogwarts Express, she looked back across the platform for any sign of Malfoy or his goons, Crabbe and Goyle. The last thing she needed was a fight, here, even though she was up for it. She remembered the last time she'd had to fight, and quickly stuffed that memory back down where it belonged, in the black pit of a damaged heart. Try as she might, she'd never erase the guilt she felt--and she wondered, as her eyes scanned the cabins, if she would ever meet anyone who could understand.
The conductor shouted out "Last call!" and the few stragglers on the platform ran for the doors, while their families waved goodbye. No one noticed the Death Eaters hiding in the shadows, slinking their way back to the grimy shops of Diagon Alley. No one noticed the one who broke away from the group, who, with a zap from his wand, caught up to the train as it slowly pulled away, climbing aboard in secret. There wasn't time; as quickly as he had leapt aboard, he covered himself with a cloak of invisibility. And no one noticed the spot on platform nine and three-quarters where one had just been standing--now marked with a sliver of silver-white light, streaming forth from a mysterious crack that was steadily growing wider.
A/N: The song is the same as the chapter title; it is by Fiona Apple. Please review! Tell me who you think the mystery girl is, and who you think will fall in love! I will post the next chapter as soon as it is written. Ja Ne! .