Loving someone is like honey, it's sweet and it can get you into a mess. By my mess wasn't golden, it was a web of lies, bloodshed and bitter tears. It's the mess that made my life. The life of Astoria Greengrass.


4. 【Chapter Three】


Augustine Debeaux

My body went cold. Coming into the Entrance Hall from the Greenhouses, I hadn't realised it was so cold inside the castle. Then again, the mist that fell around the windows was heavy, I stared at it, the window above the Entrance Hall doors was stained glass, and every one of the coloured faces was misted. The light still streamed in, into the Entrance Hall, and I watched it hit the crystal chandelier, breaking off to dance across the flagged stone floor and stone walls. Turning my back on the door, I unwound my Gryffindor scarf; it was morning and a stream of students were winding into the Great Hall. As a group of Hufflepuffs passed, I slipped into the hall, with my scarf slung over my shoulder.

The ceiling reflected the calm sky outside, but it too had been plagued by the heavy mist. I walked along to the Gryffindor table, opening the book I held in my right hand. One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore fell open as I scooted onto the bench; I propped the textbook up against the jug of pumpkin juice, and poured myself some orange juice.

The Great Hall was alive with the healthy chatter that commenced each morning, I tried to block it out, as I always did, but the small filter in my mind made some snippets of conversation fall through.

"... Astra, please, what is it?..." I heard the unmistakable sound of Hermione Grangers voice, but I ignored it. I turned the page, scanning a entry on Gilly weed. My eyes moved left to right until I had finished the entry. My ears caught a muffled reply to Grangers question.

"I'm ok, Hermione... Honest.." I shook my head; that girl actually thought she was kidding herself, with that voice anyone would clearly see something was wrong. I glanced up to see a girl with long, hazel hair and worried, clouded blue eyes. I recognised her from previous conversations I had overhead - her and Granger were not the most discreet of people. She was Astra Greengrass, prize student and a 'perfect role model.' I snorted into my orange juice, Granger, who sat down the table from me, stared at me; Greengrass following suit. But I just dipped my head and snagged a piece of toast from the rack.

"Astra, tell me." Granger's voice hardened, I heard her fist fall down hard onto the table. I had lost all interest in the book; of which was odd, I had always loved Herbology, it had its own unique place in my heart. But this was a lot better, I was a eager eavesdropper. I heard as Granger clicked her tongue, obviously impatient.

Greengrass whispered something to Granger and Granger's breathing slowed. Something had made her stare at Greengrass in shock. Something Astra Greengrass had been trying to hide. There was a screech of wood against stone as the duo got to there feet. No Potter or Weasley, I noticed. As they passed, I glanced at the expression on Greengrass's face. Her face was pale, but not strewn with tears as I had expected. I laid my eyes on her for a longer time than necissary; thinking about things.

Curiously, I looked down towards the Slytherin table; Draco Malfoy with his crones, Crabbe and Goyle - Both of them were as thick as trolls with their ugly, mottled faces and their stolid eyes. My eyes still searched for Evander. There! Evander Browning, oh my, with his athletic frame, blonde hair, sparkling eyes. My heart fluttered; but I wasn't one of those girls who swooned over him, no way! I preferred to search for my own sweetheart. Evander was at the bottom of the table, way away from the attention of the main group. He looked terribly, his eyes were weighed down by bags, grey and bruise-like. I shook my head, his hair, that he cared for so much, was a mess, stuck up in certain places. He didn't look like he had slept at all.

"Hey August," my heart jumped, and I turned to see Ron Weasley slip in the bench before me, he smiled warmly; immediately grabbing a platter of omelettes. I blushed, but hid my emotions. I enjoyed being around him, yet I was careful not to get too attached to him.

My father always told me to be careful not to get too attached to people; he said it was the first step to being left, broken hearted. Still, Ron with his bright hair, friendly brown eyes, I sighed to myself, closing the textbook. Ronald Weasley was quickly digging into his cheese omelette; I supressed a laugh. My father could talk, he had moved me from Beauxbatons, it was only because of his job; after my mother died, he could only think about his job. Only thinking about his job, he moved to London, more specifically, Croydon. I couldn't help but hate moving away from my friends, Cherine. She was everything rolled up in one, a best friend, a sister. I had everything I could of hoped for in Frence; my mother Isabella (nee Rodelle) owned a luscious estate, with five floors, sixteen bedrooms. After she died, my grand-mère made us move out, my father moved to London and then we lived in Croydon. The small, shabbiness of Brownstone Road; 68 Brownstone Rd. the smallest house. My father, Arber, came from a poor family. He had no where to go-

"So wazt nyo ferrst?" Ron said, with a mouthful of breakfast; he swallowed, continuing without an apology, "What do you have first?"

I merely glanced up from my stack of toast, pretending to be uninterested; "Not sure, I think I have Divination." A look of annoyance twisted his face. I watched as Ron shook his head, muttering, "Not another hour with that demented bat."

I couldn't help but laugh, and when I did, Ron's face lit up. Rolling my eyes, I stood, quickly making some excuse about Divination being so far away. Ron was in almost all my classes, except from Muggle Studies; so he asked me to wait. But I waved him down, telling him I wanted to swing by the library on the way there. Ron, who hated the librarian, Madam Pince, cast a dark look across the hall and bade me goodbye. Quickly, I exited without another look.


"No." I said, my voice shaking slightly. We were alone in the seventh floor corridor; both I and Hermione had dropped Divination. Hermione, after hearing my small comment; I had told her that I hadn't slept, that I hadn't been right since my first date with Evander.

"But what did he do?" she prised. Her hand caught my arm and pivoted me round. Groggily, I looked at her for a long, quiet few minutes. Blinking, I noticed where we were.

We were beside the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy with his class of trolls, of which were attempting to do ballet. Slowly, I turned, facing the familiar stretch of wall. Hermione's eyes clouded over as she noticed what I was focused on; "The Room of Requirement," I whispered, walking up to the wall and laying a hand on the stone; "isn't it?" Hermione nodded, her nod hesitant. I just backed away from it, it was magical, something I wasn't sure about. Everything said it was an amazing place, but I wasn't brave enough to try and enter the room.

"Do you want t-"

"No." I insisted once again. I hated admitting I was scared. I hated the unknown, especially then. I was still conflicting with myself. Was I in love with Evander, or was it just a hopeful thought. A dwindled flame?


Quite in a mood, I slung my bag under the table. Hermione had long ago stopped prising, but I could feel her eyes on me as I turned my attention on Professor Binns. I was seated at the desk with one of the Patil sisters, Pavarti, I think her name was? But she was consumed in a belt of chatter with Lavender Brown. The noise levels rose as Binns began to teach; his cold, bitter drawl was barely audible; yet I strained my ears, taking notes.

Professor Binns was the only ghost-teacher at Hogwarts, and a very boring one at that. People say he fell asleep before the staffroom fire and literally left his body behind; and I believed them. He drawled on and on and on.... More than that Malfoy did.

Malfoy, I stiffened with anger. He tormented my boyfriend - were we still dating? - and expected me to react; he had grinned for quite a while at breakfast, although I was sure it was to do with the state of me. Seeing my reflection in the mirror; wiry, pale, I had nearly died from shock. I couldn't do anything about it, though, I was punishing myself, for being me.

It sounded like a soppy romance story; how cliché, but it wasn't. Evander was getting paler and paler, just because those Slytherins had scared him out of his skin. I started to doodle on the corner of my page; my pen spiralled and a forest of lines joined together. I loved to draw, but I couldn't do it in between my chaotic lifestyle. The pen was channelling my emotions, portraying it onto the lined paper.

Hermione had been ever so eager to hear my worries, yet I feared she would react like she did to many things. She would have told me to follow my heart, but I couldn't do that. My heart was a organ strapped to my chest, and every time I tried to listen, all I heard was the glu-glunk of my blood whizzing in and out.

All I could think about was him and Malfoy. Those boys were both Slytherins, but you couldn't tell that, watching Evander sprawled on the floor with the gang hanging above him. I choked back tears as I remembered him. I cared for Evander, sure, yet I didn't defend him, make Malfoy's strong walls fall down. I would have embarrassed him, snagged the keep. But I didn't.

Did that mean I didn't love Evander, or was that just plain, coward me?


Augustine Debeaux was made by 


Thanks to all the guys who made me some characters :D, I really appreciate them. However, I won't have time to use all of them. Most of the characters will be pulled over into the sequel. Thanks for reading and DRAPPLE ON!


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