The air was crisp and cool, the water in her breath turning to gas as the heat was fizzled out of it, strangled out of it almost. She inhaled and exhaled in short sharp bursts, playing a game with the air to see whether she could stop it from condensing. She was naive, though, to think she could. Her smile was lopsided, allowing for her teeth to experience the chill of the world she’d immersed herself in. They were a bright white again, polished and cleaned by her dentist over Christmas. He had commented, of course, on the state her teeth had been in. She’d certainly been neglecting herself, teeth included, and he fixed up her mouth as much as he could, not forgetting to give her a lecture on why exactly she shouldn’t smoke.
Of course, Millie didn’t pay much attention to him and not an hour later she was swaying unsteadily down the road towards the bus stop, fumbling around in her satchel for the SuperKings Spencer had gotten her instead of her usual Marlboros. She hadn’t minded at the time as she didn’t care enough to be picky. Four later though and still stuck huddled in the bus shelter, Millie decided against anything other than her usual. It was them or nothing at all, she decided, before promptly selling off what she had to some hoodies loitering on the street corner between the Indian Take-Away and the Pharmacy - two of Millie and Spencer’s favourite places to go when quite a bit less than sober.
Of course that was just a distant memory, foggy on the surface of her mind. She was working on a new idea, the idea of living each day as her last. She was going to be a little more optimistic -- or at least try. Millie still felt anchored, though. She felt as if there was a weight that had yet to truly be lifted. She knew that the only way she was going to break free of the bindings was to get in the air - literally, not figuratively. So that was what she’d decided to do. With her broom in hand, her scarlet and gold scarf wrapped tightly around her thin neck and her robes flapping around her body, Millie strode down towards the Quidditch Stadium with more purpose than she had in a long, long time. She’d intended to play. She’d stolen a Beater’s bat from one of the trunks in the boy’s dormitory and had decided to take on the Bludgers. She knew where the trunk was, it was just a case of breaking them out and giving it her best shot.
As soon as she ducked beneath the low-hanging support beams that kept up the stands and emerged onto the pitch, Millie mounted the broom. The Nimbus shot off almost instantly, not even allowing the girl time to reaffirm her grip. A scream left her mouth, sailing in the wind behind her, and for a moment, fear engulfed her. But slowly, she then began to realise what was going on. The broom had stopped in the air, though quivering as if from cold, and seemed to be waiting for her next direction. Millie sucked in a shaky breath and slowly pressed down on the end of the broom, directing it down towards the ground. Once she touched down on the grass, she felt her legs give out from underneath her and she slumped down onto the green. Millie huffed out a breath and flopped down, her back resting against the thick blades of manicured grass. It had been too long since she’d last flown - to the point where she wondered whether she could fly properly at all.
by 
