We all scream for ice cream!

Diagon Alley was bustling with activity but never more so than when Valentine’s Day loomed. Millie wasn’t exactly loved up but she wasn’t bitter about the day because of that. She adored the colours, the reds and the whites and the gorgeous pale pinks of the early spring flowers that could be bought in bouquets at the florists. Millie wasn’t quite as bothered about the couples as she had been earlier in the week. She wasn’t observing them. Her mind was not weighted with anything in particular. No instead, she could enjoy the fact that everyone was in twos, swanning lazily up the cobbled streets with gifts tucked under one arm and the other curled around each other’s. Millie was content by her lonesome. She did wonder where Trent was but she’d find out later when she returned home. From there, she’d no doubt harass him with tales of her day. The only problem was that it was early morning and though Diagon Alley was busy, she didn’t really have any tales yet. There was still plenty of time mind you; and so, Millie got to work.

The first thing the little blonde did was get some breakfast in the form of a cake from Sparks. From there, once she’d gobbled it up, she headed to the tattoo parlour. Not to get a tattoo, but to say hello to the man that had done her wings. He insisted on seeing that they’d healed properly as she hadn’t exactly turned up again for him to do so. He offered her another and though she didn’t fancy getting anything presently, she told him she’d hold him to it before whirling out of the shop and heading straight for Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes where she stocked up on everything needed to make the Slytherins’ lives hell.

The paper bags were of a bright green that clashed perfectly with her outfit that was already getting some strange looks from witches and wizards shopping around Diagon Alley. Millie didn’t mind, though. She knew that she looked absolutely find for the right people and those people were of course, naturally, herself, Trent, Sevastian, Byron, Roxi, Spencer...and many more of those she considered friends. She was herself. That couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t going to live up to other people’s expectations. She’d rather live up to her own; and don’t be fooled - she most certainly did. She was as bright as ever. There were no signs of the upset and negative thoughts that had plagued her since the Felix incident. They were no more. She was happy.

A little after noon, Millie grew weary and looked for a place to sit down in the winter sun. She picked the ice cream shop and took a seat outside underneath a blue and white parasol. She set down her bags, the green ones now accompanied by bags that were all the colours of the rainbow, and pulled the menu towards her, hunching over so as to read it. There was everything there that the mind could conjure. All kinds of flavours from the classic vanilla to the exotic dragon fruit. Yum.

Robert was still walking in defiance of Grindlewald's arrest warrant. So far, no one had actually tried to arrest him. Some of Grindlewald's followers had questioned how Robert could dare to risk that, but they hadn't so much as attempted to draw on him. Ironic, really. But today he was not a fugitive.

Today he was a grandpa. His granddaughter, Abbey, had a virus. She had her first llitle stuffy nose, a tiny cough, and a red, raw sore throat. He had come into Diagon Alley to buy some cherry flavored sorbet for her. She loved fruit, and he was going to soothe her sore throat with some sorbet. He went into the ice cream shop, taking brief notice of the people who were already there, sheathing his wand, and the clerk said they would get his order ready but it would take a moment. Then the clerk asked him, would he like a scoop of ice cream, on the house?

No, thank you, Robert had said. Not for free. But he would certainly pay for one. He chose a scoop of their pistachio, just one scoop, in a sugar cone. He handed them the payment for it as they handed him back the cone. He knew people clearly knew who he was, but he seemed to be amongst more supporters than enemies. He went to a table and sat down and drew a copy of a newspaper out of his suit coat pocket and began to scan the headlines while he enjoyed the ice cream cone.

Patience had never been Millie’s strong point but she never grew impatient and irritated at the same time. She was near continuously contentedly impatient, impulsively wanting to move onto the next task or activity before even having made headway with finishing the last. That was why she was both a blessing and a curse in class but most of the time, Millie busied herself with her runes, rolling a cigarette or trying her best to get as much out of the flask Spencer stashed in the inner pocket of his robes as possible. So, after growing impatient, Millie rose from her seat and tucked her menu back with the other bits of laminated card and snack lists. She then reached down and picked up her bags, ploughing through one in search of her purse. She soon reached the yellow monstrosity and grasped it with her long, spindly fingers. Millie pulled it out from under a pile of blouses and the odd waistcoat she’d bought from Madam Malkin’s. Millie then entered the ice cream shop, stepping right up to the counter and planting herself before the ice creamer-personage.

“Hello!” Millie exclaimed brightly. “Can I have some ice cream?”

The ice creamer-personage made a face and loaded up a cone with a handful of scoops, each sphere a different colour. She licked at it and paid the ice creamer-personage before stepping out into the winter sunlight, her absentmindedness continuing until she walked into a table. Unbeknownst to Millie, it was the table of Robert Lupin and while she recoiled, trying to get her bearings, the man began to fuzz back into focus. She didn’t twig who it was though. Not even a flicker of recognition lit up her eyes. Millie instead smiled goofily and stuck out her hand, the bags rustling down her arm in protest.

“HI!” Millie exclaimed in the same bright tone. “Sorry about your table. I’m Millie? Would you like a lick of my ice cream?!” She thrust her cone towards his face, her smile widening all the more in the low sunlight.

Robert was starting to read the paper, scanning the headlines, when his table took on some sort of collision. He looked up to see a ray of childlike sunshine, with a rainbow colored ice cream cone, shoving the cone in his face much like he might have expected Abbey to do, offering it to him. She made him laugh. And he hadn't had an opportunity to laugh in some time. That, in itself, was enough to make him like her. He set the paper aside. It was dreadfully boring today anyway. And she was a breath of fresh air.

"Hello, Millie," he said, shaking hands with her. "I'm Robert. And, no thank you. I'm afraid I chose some rather conservative pistachio myself today. You're welcome to join me if you like. My pistachio does not look nearly as interesting as what you chose, though, I must say. They're a bit slow in there today. I promised my granddaughter some sorbet. She was very specific with me. She wants 'the red one.' She's the only child I know who prefers sorbet to ice cream and fresh fruit to candy."

The clerk came out and returned Robert's money to him that he'd paid for the sorbet. "My apologies, Minister," he seemed to be stumbling all over himself out of embarressment. "It is going to take a bit longer for the cherry sorbet to set up than we thought. We're just finish a fresh batch. Would you prefer another flavor, Sir?"

"I'll wait," Robert said, knowing his granddaughter wanted what she wanted.

"Then its on the house, Sir. We insist."

"Thank you. Take your time. I'm in no hurry at the moment," he said. The clerk disappeared. He looked back at Millie. "So, what's your favorite flavor here?" he asked her.