Icing Cream

The sun was hot and teasing on her back, twitching at the wings that were imprinted beneath her skin in ink of the darkest tone, wriggling across her back and flexing in the natural manner that the feather-clad limbs on the back of a bird would. The thin t-shirt she wore was practical for the beach-hut and sand she called home but not for the chills of Diagon Alley and the winding, howling winds that whipped through, shuddering up against the lips that bruised over the first stories of the shops, jutting out at awkward angles so that one side of the street was nigh nose to nose with the other, creating a canopy of wattle, daub and brick that sometimes required the street lamps to be lit in the day.

Having emerged from the Knockturn Alley tattoo shop fresh with another few etchings, Melissa Finnigan pressed into Diagon Alley with a mind for some ice cream. The street was brimming with people, overflowing like the foam atop thick, milky coffee. The coffee sloshing in a to-go cup in her lax grasp was growing chillier with every step she took and her eyes darted for any sign that projected the establishment’s ability to replace her black brew with the same sugar, no cream concoction she so loved. Of course the to-go cup ended up in an odd looking waste bin shaped like a witch’s hat. That was long before she came upon Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour; not only the purveyor of her frozen favourite but also, of her hot beverage.

The bell above the door called out shrilly upon her entrance and Millie weaved through the myriad of tables, push-chairs and people that were milling around the shop, delighting in the little red plastic spoons and the wealth of flavours that the shop stocked. Regrettably, there was a line and Millie joined the back of it with thinly veiled disappointment before reminding herself that the warmth of the day was not abated by the breezes and regardless of their cooling qualities, people still sweated in their robes, exerting themselves further in their endeavour to relieve themselves.

With a sigh, Millie reached into her bag and drew out her phone that was, decidedly, rather fritzed in terms of network due to the influx of magic in the area. The games, however, still worked and after a few swipes of her thumb across the screen she loaded up a game that consisted of shooting birds at a crude structure made of blocks. She wasn’t entirely sure whether she liked it but for her it provided a senseless form of entertainment that would while away the time until she could sit in the sunshine with her book and her treat while she waited for Trent to pick up the last of his things from his grandmother’s. He’d be a while, she knew. His grandmother would dote and whine at him – fret endlessly. So, really, Millie was content to wait. She had nowhere else to be.

Toby was wandering down Diagon Ally as he always did at this time of day. It was a bit pathetic how boring he found life at times like these. When one thought about it, Toby's life was far from uneventful, but that knowledge didn't help to quench the feeling of having little to do. He was more than grateful to Jack, the woman that had oh-so-kindly offered him a bed under her roof. The woman had to be some sort of angel, a twisted one with hint of black in her wings, but an angel none the less.

The only thing that Jack couldn't always provide, was entertainment. The redhead spent her days at practice, or in the WWW shop that she owned and adored. During the days that she frequented the shop, both Toby and Sunny were brought along to Diagon Ally. While Sunny was supposed to stay in the shop with Jack, not that she did, Toby was allowed to roam free.

He had spent the first two days basking in the freedom he'd been given, and wandering the Ally with the wide-eyed excitement of a child. All the magic, shops, and people had been a sight to behold. However, it didn't take long for the teenager to have the entire place memorized. And just like that, Diagon had grown old. So Toby decided to be adventurous and wander into Knockturn. Peculiarly, the werewolf loved it. The gloominess reminded the blonde of the thick forest that he'd once known, and the many disfigured faces of his own scarred Pack. Toby himself was hardly a stranger to scars. His arms and back were covered with then, and his legs and chest were hardly flawless either.

The day was a nice one, warmer than may of the days were, and Toby had decided to take advantage of it by wearing a tee-shirt and shorts. He got a few odd looks for his scars, but the teenager had long ago learnt not to be bothered by such things. Toby was attempting to decide what he wanted for an afternoon snack, when a girl walking in front of him caught his eye. Through the back of her thin shirt, the muscular male could see the inked wings on her skin. Completely entranced by the tattoo, Toby didn't even register that he had followed her into a shop. Upon recognizing that he was in an ice-cream parlor, the werewolf happily took his place in line behind the girl with the black wings. It was good that this female had taste, ice-cream did sound pretty good right about then.

The game, suffice to say, was strange and soon enough Millie grew bored of it and busied herself instead with tucking it back into her bag that held a myriad of objects inside of it; some useful, most of it not. The Gryffindor ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing up the front so she looked a little bit more like the lion her house was known for. She looked about herself absent-mindedly, desperate to find something or someone to distract herself with as the line slowly shuffled along. It was only when she cast a little look over her shoulder that she saw a vaguely familiar face. He went to Hogwarts; she remembered that much. Or did he? She couldn't be sure.

Shooting the blonde behind her a wide smile, Millie held out her hand for him to shake. It was then that she noticed the scars on his arms that had no discernible pattern and were by all accounts whimsically accidental; though she doubted that, highly. Millie did not stare, however. She merely took a glance to document more than anything else and easily returned her eyes to his.

“I’m Millie,” she introduced with optimistic ease before dropping her hand once more. She glanced over towards the counter a little before looking back, a wide smirk appearing on her face as she bobbed a little on the balls of her feet.

“What’s your favourite flavour?” she asked excitedly before clarifying, “Ice cream, I mean. What’s your favourite flavour? Is it Peppermint? Or Caramel? Orrrr...Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean Ice Cream? What is it?”

Toby was a little surprised when the girl with the wings turned around, but the male was not antisocial enough to not respond to her smile. He noticed her eyes flit to his scars, but his small smile widened when her eyes did not linger there. The werewolf found himself wondering if Millie was short for anything, it probably was, but he wouldn't ask. The blonde knew what secrets a name could carry, and he wouldn't want someone quizzing him on his.

"Toby," the teen replied with a small incline of his head. He really needed to get used to the friendliness of strangers, there was no need to draw more attention to himself than his body already did. If his scars didn't draw eyes, than his height or build often did. Toby didn't really care though, let the ignorant idiots stare.

"Triple chocolate, no question," he answered confidently without a moment's thought. There was something about the girl's energy that made Toby grin, despite his slight mood. His Pack had been basically self-sufficient, meaning that a trip into real civilization was rare. It had been rather nice, living that way, but there was one thing the boy had certainly missed. Namely, chocolate.

As if unable to help himself, Toby craned his neck slightly to catch another glimpse of Millie's inked wings. "I love the wings, by the way," the teenager stated, not even registering the words until they had rolled off his tongue. Toby could only hope that they hadn't sounded awkward or too adoring.

((OOC: I already love Millie, but I have a tiny cannon-fix for you. Toby hasn't gone to Hogwarts yet. He can be a familiar face, just not from school. Sorry to nitpick. :/ ))

Ice cream was one of Millie’s favourite things and as they moved further towards the counter she felt her stomach begin to churn with excitement.

Triple-Choc was a classic and when Toby told her, Millie nodded thoughtfully. An impish smile soon spread across her lips and she prodded him playfully in the upper arm before speaking, accusing him of being: “Typical.”

“You need to live a little, Tobes.” Millie insisted. “Not that I think you should be nomming on Bertie Botts’ - I’m not that crazy. I’m a cookie dough, annanas, raspberry, vanilla kind of girl... a touch of chocolate chucked in and when it all melts it’s ... Merlin, it’s heaven.”

Living in Buckinghamshire meant that Diagon Alley was a no-go unless she took the train. Of course, leaving Hogwarts unceremoniously and going out to the Caribbean with her on-again-off-again/I-don’t-know-if-I-can-commit-but-I-love-you-Millie boyfriend Trent wasn’t exactly the best for connecting her to the magical world, either. Jamaica had been a dream, though - one that Millie was still living in.

Or perhaps she was detoxing.

Maybe she needed a drink.

Breaking from her reverie, Millie looked up at Toby and grinned, her smile broadening to ridiculous levels. She turned and with a little bit of underhand magic, made the wings flutter on her back, spitting out of the main branches feathers that drifted over her skin before disappearing as though they hadn’t been there at all in the first place.

“Thank you,” she enthused. “I got them at this place near Knockturn Alley. The guy there is really very, very talented. Have you ever thought about getting any tattoos? Say, I was thinking about getting another... why don’t you come with me? You could have a look-see! I’ll pay!”

(I'm sorry this took so long! But here it is! <3)

Toby smiled as Millie poked his bicep in what he was almost certain was a friendly gesture. It was rather nice for an almost-stranger to be so relaxed around him. It was moments like this where Toby could pretend to be a normal kid. Just a random boring teen walking through Diagon on a summer day, having a friendly chat as he stood in line for ice-cream. The life Toby almost had. The life Toby would've had.

The werewolf's grin widened as an impish smile accused him of being typical. If this was what typical felt like, Toby would happily bear the accusations. "You can say whatever you like about me Miss Cookie Dough-Banana-Raspberry-Vanilla, but I am more than content with my oh-so-typical triple chocolate goodness," Toby responded in a tone so friendly it almost didn't sound familiar to his own ears.

When the witch did something to cause the wings upon her back to flutter, Toby became completely entranced. In his mind, the teenager was fully aware that the wings were just made of ink and magic, but at the same time his senses were screaming at him that they had to be real. Magic that brilliant simply wasn't fair. Looking away abruptly, Toby blushed slightly with the realization that he'd been staring at the body of a girl far longer than was acceptable in most social circles.

"I've been planning on getting a tattoo for ages!" the blonde admitted easily. "I'd love to go with you! I think I even know the place you're talking about; the near the corner, right? The only other one is further down near Sav's place," Toby stated without a thought. Moments later, the werewolf was mentally cursing himself for how easily he'd admitted to his comfort with a store in the darker Ally. After all, it wasn't every teen that knew Knockturn better than the back of their own hand.

It seemed insane to Millie to think that she’d never actually met Toby before up to this point. He seemed very kind, albeit shy, but definitely appeared as though, after a few drinks, he’d be easily as wild as the other students. Millie couldn’t help but laugh at his resort, a smug smile appearing on her lips as she poked at him again, and then again for good measure.

“Pineapple!” She exclaimed. “Not bananas, you silly!” Millie’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Annanas... it’s like ... pineapple in every language in some way. English is the only one that goes for pineapple. What’s that about, huh? Bananas too, though. Merlin. It’s so good. You should try it.” Millie nodded insistently. “One must live whilst one is alive! I don’t know who said that but if you ever quote it, say it was me, okay?” She grinned.

Then, the subject of tattoos fired up Millie’s imagination and she bounced on the balls of her feet as she looked at Toby excitedly.

“Really?!” She dissolved into a manic set of arm gestures, pointing and just ... being nonsensical before finally spitting out what it was she was trying to say. “Yes! The one on the corner! Oh my God, we must go! Like, immediately. I’d say bollocks to the ice cream but that’s important too! What do you want to get? Something really big or something small?!”

Scrunching up his face, Toby poked the witch back. It was still a little strange, just how comfortable Millie was with him. Female contact was something he hadn't really had all that much of since he and his sister were small. Not that Toby often found himself craving female contact since, yaknow, he wasn't exactly all that interested in the fairer sex. He'd take roughhousing with a guy over time with a girl anyday. Except for Millie, Millie was pretty cool. She might be somewhat of an exception.

"Well how was I supposed to know that?" He asked, as if knowledge of another language was as rare as a Minister whom willingly retired. "The farthest I've ever been from England is Scotland, and while they may talk kinda funny, they still speak English," he shrugged, "never had to learn anything else."

"And sure, I'll make sure all credit for that pearl of wisdom goes to Millie..." he trailed off for a moment, wracking his brain for her last name, before realizing that he simply didn't know it. Ah well, he wouldn't ask for it. Names could be more personal than practically anything sometimes. "Millie the Magnificent," he finished after a short pause, grin spreading across his face.

"Medium-ish," Toby announced with a decisive nod. To be fair, if he totally fell in love with something and it had to be a certain size he was flexible, but something in the medium range would be good. As much as he was in awe of Millie's wings, the werewolf couldn't see himself with anything quite like that. Something the size of his stretched-out hand would be good, or so the teen figured. Perhaps the size of two hands, depending upon where he put it. That was still undetermined as well, Toby was still uncertain if he wanted something around a bicep, on the front of his shoulder, or on the side of his ribcage. It wasn't often that Toby flitted uncertainly between options, instead of deciding something in an instant and refusing to budge. Perhaps Millie would have suggestions.

"We'll go as soon as we've eaten our ice-cream," the male felt the need to re-assure. He had the oddest feeling that Millie might just combust from hyperactive excitement, like an pixie when given too much sugar. "Or more like I'll eat my chocolatey goodness, and you'll eat your pineapple concoction," he couldn't help but add with a grin.