With Stars in Their Eyes

I wasn't like the others in my house, despite my sincere efforts to fit in. I was naturally outspoken and over zealous in all situations, traits that were discouraged in proper young women of pure blood. I didn't like gossiping with the razor tongued girls in my dorm, nor was I taken seriously by any of the boys in my house.

My options for friendship were quite limited considering it was an unwritten rule for Slytherins to participate in our natural rivalry with Gryffindor, and by doing so, hate any student with a scarlet tie. On top of that, I was forbidden to speak to Muggleborns unless my words came out as a malicious insult. My family's golden rule. Well, one of the top five.

After sifting through all my options, I realized, rather quickly I'll admit, that I was patronized or rejected by almost all of my housemates. If it wasn't for a kind hearted Ravenclaw girl I was partnered with during my second year, I doubt I'd ever have mustered up the courage to speak aloud again.

I was a very obstinate child, thriving on breaking rules and challenging everything my mother said. However, I was forcibly stretched and shaped into resilience. 'Young ladies should know when to bite their tongue,' my mother was constantly reminding me. Poor woman, she thought she was actually doing her daughter a favor by stripping me of all my independence. My extroverted nature was beaten out of me, sometimes literally, and I became a timid little thing afraid of breathing too loudly.

How in the name of Merlin was I sorted into Slytherin? Well, that's a fine question. I had all of the traits for Gryffindor lying dormant in my subconscious, but I also was witty and clever enough to belong in Ravenclaw. However, Slytherin rang true to my heart. I could be crafty, if I wanted. I could be manipulative, if I wanted.

At the time, only eleven years old and so desperate to please my family and fit in amongst my peers, I pleaded to the raggedy old Sorting Hat to sort me into Slytherin. In the crowd, I could spot my brother sitting proudly at the table and waiting for his sister to join his side. When the hat was near to sorting me into Ravenclaw, I threatened to rip it to pieces and light every last thread on fire if I didn't go where I belonged. To this day, I think that mental outburst is what changed its mind and earned me my green and silver striped tie.

As the years went by, I found it a little easier to get along with my housemates; well, I at least improved my acting. Besides, no one dared pick on me when my brother was within earshot. No one wanted to get into a duel with Nikolai Travers, the nephew of an infamous Death Eater now rotting away in Azkaban.

My brother and I had just finished lunch, and we were going to the Owlery to send our parents a letter. I was in my third year still frequently owled my parents. After pushing past the grand entrance doors, I spotted a cluster of children in the courtyards. They were laughing and cheering, and I wished I could join the fun or at least watch from a distance.

"Now there's a great example of an absolute disgrace," Niko sneered, his eyes shooting daggers at two ginger boys standing in the middle of the crowd.

"Who are they?" I asked curiously, eyeing the tall boys that looked identical even from behind.

My brother spat the name like it tasted foul in his mouth, "Weasley. Fred and George Weasley. They're pathetic excuses for Purebloods, their whole family is. The youngest Weasley boy is best friends with Potter."

"Oh." I responded meekly.

However, as I stood there, I was unable to look away from the tall boys and their ginger hair. They were laughing, and the sound was enchanting. So rarely did I hear giddy, carefree laughter like that in any place I had to call home.

I didn't realize I was staring until a pair of eyes met mine. Heat rose to my cheeks, burning them the brightest shade of pink. I waited for the Weasley boy to look away, but he didn't. He simply flashed me a cheeky smile seductive enough to make a veela blush.

"Sophia!" My brother called impatiently.

I snapped out of my trance and quickly spun around to follow after him, praying the crisp November air would be enough of an excuse for my red cheeks.

It would be another three years before I caught Fred Weasley's eye again.