Give a Little Heart and Soul

Keiran hadn't really worried very much about changing what he was wearing - a white shirt and black vest with matching tie. He did drop the jacket he had been wearing previously back at his office before doing as Melissa had asked. He stood outside of the portrait, as strange as it felt, and was very glad he hadn't been questioned by any students in regards to his location and quiet behavior.

He supposed he was glad that she didn't take too very long - unlike Avery and other women he knew that sometimes took their time just to annoy him. Keiran knew that their conversation would entail a lot of questions, awkward "getting to know you" statements, and planning for what they couldn't hope to understand yet. With a sigh, he shuffled around a bit before she came out of the portrait, and he led the way down to Hogsmeade.

Naturally rather quiet, Keiran didn't say much as they walked, but instead glanced at her now and then with questioning dark eyes, wondering what sort of odd pair they made. By looks, they probably suited each other, but the awkwardness that was bound to follow made it quite a different affair all together.

After a time, they reached the entrance to The Three Broomsticks and he opened the door for her, placing a hand on the small of her back to guide her inside before he followed. The movement went unnoticed by Keiran, who did it out of habit rather than anything else. The door shut, stopping the push of the breeze from outside. Keiran's hand fell back to his side as he turned to face her.

"We can sit wherever you like." He suggested, not having any particular opinion about places like this. Usually, his trips to pubs involved Robin Ivanov and sitting at the bar. This, however, felt different.

Marriage wasn’t something that teenagers, on the cusp of adulthood and all of the freedom that entailed, thought of. To anyone else, and no doubt to everyone else, it must’ve felt like a shackle on their leg; a ball and chain weight that they couldn’t easily shake off. It was highly irresponsible of the Ministry, regardless of their worries over population. They were asking far too much of their youth and Millie didn’t wholly agree with such a burden being placed on her shoulders. She’d always been part of the Ministry, though, and remembered the many times she’d found herself there for one event or another. She’d always supported them and her loyalty to her government was being tested, she knew.

The walk into Hogsmeade was mute from both corners but Millie could feel the furtive looks Keiran was casting her way. She kept her hands in the pockets of her jacket, however, and remained largely distant, avoiding his gaze out of awkwardness, not disdain. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to the man who, in the course of half an hour, had become her fiancé. Thankfully, she was short a glinting rock but no doubt Gisele would later scorn that it would’ve been nice, even if the Professor hadn’t had a clue who he was supposed to be marrying. Millie would’ve pointed out that it was ridiculous to ask for that and the girls would’ve laughed. Certainly, she missed her best friend.

The first sentence came as they entered the pub and Millie looked around hesitantly, wondering whether he wanted privacy - or as much of it as an ale house would allow - or the conspicuousness that inconspicuousness provided. Millie, in the end, picked the table by the fire and tugged out her chair, relinquishing her hands from her pockets. She’d scrubbed up - mostly out of embarrassment that she’d wandered in and gotten engaged, essentially, while wearing clothes she’d delivered a baby Hippogriff in. Certainly a dress was better and while green wasn’t really her colour, she was sure that it was better and more favourable than scarlet - a stark reminder that he was to marry a Gryffindor.

Millie set herself down in her chair and slid her arms out of her jacket. She let it fall onto the back of the chair and after freeing herself she put down her back and picked up the cardboard menu placed in the back of the salt and pepper holder. Upon further inspection she discovered it was the dessert and drinks menu and after a quick glance she set it back, knowing that she couldn’t pour over the menu with as much enthusiasm as she would’ve liked without seeming horrendously rude; not to mention odd.

“How are we going to play this then, Pro-” Millie sucked back a breath and shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just strange, that’s all. I feel as though it’s right but completely inappropriate at the same time to call you Professor. I don’t think you have that kind of kink.” Millie, despite herself, smirked before continuing. “I suppose the wedding, first. Let’s get the painful bit out of the way.” She smiled a smile that was hopefully encouraging but she couldn’t be totally sure. “W-where would you like it to be held?”

Keiran followed Melissa to the table she chose, and mindlessly looked over the menu. He didn't really need to question what he wanted - rather, he hoped she would request something first so he would know if she took any offense to him drinking something less than appropriate for a Professor/Student meeting. Right then, he felt rather like his best mate in the sense that he really just wanted a drink.

That desire just elevated when she immediately jumped into questions about ideas and the wedding plans. He tilted his head as he listened to her, nearly like a confused dog trying to get what information it could. When she finished he nodded before answering her questions in order.

"Let's just say that, if we're not in class, you can call me whatever." Keiran shrugged. He really didn't care. He found himself smiling slightly at her joke - at least she took it all in stride. He perhaps shouldn't have found it amusing, but the very idea that they were having this discussion made it all the more strange, and made him want to laugh. As tempted as he was to make a joke related her her smirk, he didn't think it would go over that well considering the situation.

"If I'm being honest, which I want to be," He began after a moment of thought, "my parents aren't going to care where it is. They have the ability to get to wherever you want it." He didn't really mean to avoid the word "marriage", but it was hard to get the word to leave his mouth.

Keiran's parents definitely had the money to get to wherever Millie wanted the wedding to be - he didn't know what her situation was with her family, and wasn't going to push her to tell him. No matter how curious he was about what the rest of his life would likely involve.

‘Call me whatever’ was far too much of a free reign, one that Millie was determined to use when she considered herself familiar enough with Keiran to warrant such cheekiness. The Three Broomsticks wasn’t the time or the place to start sorting out nicknames, however. It made her heart ache for Trent, really, when she allowed herself the breathing room to think about him, even for the barest of seconds. He wouldn’t have allowed this to be her fate, she was somewhat sure. His penchant for passiveness, however, didn’t really leave Millie feeling particularly convinced. She knew she could’ve been a lot worse off though.

She was desperate, then, to ask what they’d do when the wedding was over and done and the sex thing was conquered. He wouldn’t be able to look at her, surely? Everyone would know, too, that they’d have to be up to something.

“This is so irresponsible of the Ministry,” Millie sighed, drawing her fingers through her hair, mussing up the golden locks she’d taken the time to brush free of any knots. “How can they ask this of you, let alone me. I don’t care, okay? Honestly, I’m not put off because I don’t have anything to lose, really, and I don’t have anything worth sticking my neck out for to keep.” She smudged her lips together for a moment before breaking to continue. “I don’t want to impose upon you. It’s just a law and if we follow it, when they overturn things we can have a nice simple divorce and you can marry whoever it is you love.”

And what would she do? That little article she wasn’t entirely sure upon just yet but she was already resigned to her future as the former Mrs Hayes.

“So, let’s keep it simple, shall we? If you like, we can go to a register’s office and sort it out when they want us to and then I can stay in the Gryffindor tower still. We don’t really have to pretend...”

Millie sighed again, dropping her hands into her lap. She knew as well as the next person that there were obstacles in the way of wizarding weddings which meant divorces were tricky. She didn’t have a lover anymore, so it seemed. She had no cause to object when the man she’d loved hadn’t ever come to save her. It was always her trying to get at him, impress him, love him and try to get him to feel the same way. She didn’t know if she’d succeeded.

“You can’t fake a marriage though, can you?” She muttered rhetorically, bringing her hand up to wind around the back of her neck. “And divorce is never simple, irregardless of how amicable it is. There’s too much magic. It’s too messy. I...” Millie pressed her lips together into a small, soft pout before flicking her eyes up to Keiran’s. “We’ll just have to find a way to make it work for us, won’t we?”

Keiran watched Millie across the table, wondering when his life became so complicated. Two weeks ago he was making a bet with his best mate that Robin couldn't win over his oldest friend, Avery. Now he was told to marry his student, who clearly wasn't very pleased by the whole thing. Admittedly, it could be considered his fault for putting such sarcastic and annoyed responses on his application, but it was just because he hadn't a clue who he would end up with. What if he had been serious on the questionnaire? Who would he have been matched with? Avery?

Clasping his hands, Keiran rested them on the table in front of him as she began talking once more. She was right, of course. If the Ministry was matching students with Professors, some was indeed quite wrong. The way she said it, though, made him frown. She was under the impression that he was upset because he had someone he would rather marry, apparently. Granted, the only person he would want to marry would be his best friend, but he didn't think Avery would be the type to settle for just a friend.

That said, Keiran wasn't exactly the type to, either. He had always been that odd guy out who wanted someone his parents to like the girl he brought home as much as he did. Someone he could mess with and have her challenge him in return. He wasn't sure the Ministry had it right, but maybe they did, and Millie would be good for him.

He opened his mouth to reply when she started again – apparently he had been pondering too long. “Millie.” He started as she trailed off and looked away, hoping to catch her attention again. “There's no need to think like that. I can't say that I had anyone writing me down on their application.”

How awful, Keiran thought, that he was telling his student that he hadn't any romantic interest. Sure, there had been a few girls here and there, but no one who took him seriously, and no one he wanted to take seriously in return. “That is,” He amended his statement, “If you have some other plan you were going for, I get it.”

After a few moments of thought, he realized she had mentioned their living arrangements. What were they going to do? It didn't make sense to force her to leave the tower. If they were expected to be 'getting to know each other' or anything, it could wait until she was out of school and didn't have to worry about the opinions of friends as much, or worry about classes.

She was talking again, and he nodded along, his eyes following her hand until she looked at him and he met her gaze. “It's up to you how this goes.” He offered again, expression softening at her obvious distress. “I won't say I approve of the Ministry's decisions, but I don't see why we can't try and have this make sense. If you want to stay in the Gryffindor tower, I won't say a word against it. If, however, you want to... move in or something at some point, I'll try and make it feel comfortable.”

Keiran could imagine Robin's snickers at the Slytherin's trying so hard to appease the young Gryffindor. He wasn't usually the patronizing type by any means, but he also wasn't used to being so careful around girls. He was often the kind who preferred to tease them and hopefully have them toy with him in return. It wasn't like he didn't know how to act around women. It was more that they usually approached him, and never in these circumstances.

“I’m not sure how to live with someone.”

The expression of sincere honesty was out before she could stifle herself, hanging in the air and no doubt making him wonder why. She’d never truly felt content in her home and as soon as her parents no longer cared about when she came home, only as long as eventually she did, she spent as little time in her childhood house as possible. She loathed the Gryffindor tower and the snippy, griping girls who she’d thought she’d left behind and, doubtlessly, the sentiment went both ways. She was careless, messy and had a habit of leaving her socks around the place, regardless of whether they’d been worn or not. Her ash tray, bought courtesy of Marigold Truman who’d gotten sick of the Marlboro ash on the window sill she liked to sit and read in, was always full and beyond that, the area around her bed was a tip. At home, whenever she was home rarely, it was even worse.

Millie felt her lips twitch at the sides. “Honestly, I think my roommates would be glad to see the back of me,” she confessed.

Habit from when she’d been in Jamaica during a gap year she’d hadn’t been authorised to take had followed her home and no longer did her roommates make an effort to wake her up. They’d seen enough of her body for one lifetime by the time they’d gotten round to figuring out she no longer bothered with much more than a pair of pants unless it chilled within the tower; in which case she’d go in search of some shorts and a t-shirt. Of course, she wasn’t going to tell Keiran that. She doubted highly they’d share the same bed unless, of course, he had no other place for her to go. She would’ve taken the couch quite willingly and though she would’ve been incredulous about its rumoured lumpiness, she doubted highly she’d be allowed if Keiran could help it.

“As it is, I don’t really have a master plan but to be frank I don’t want to go to Azkaban over something so trivial.” Millie brought her hands back onto the table, keeping them loosely clasped together as she weighed up her words. “If you have no objects I’m quite content to press on. I suppose it will be, what, the nineteenth? That’s our deadline, isn’t it?” Millie nodded after a moment’s thought and looked up at the sight of the waitress’s arrival. Certainly, being a witch of age had its perks and, most importantly of all, beyond Apparation, it meant she could drink; and Merlin, did she need it.

“A glass of red currant rum, please.” Millie ordered with a pleasant smile. “And, uh,” she faltered a little at the lunch before repairing her sentence smoothly with, “anything that’s good for lunch, please.”

The waitress hastily noted down Millie’s order and awaited Keiran’s. Once both were noted down, the waitress simmered away towards the bar, throwing a promise over her shoulder that the drinks would be brought to them as soon as possible.

“Perhaps we could try it,” Millie suggested hesitantly. “Four weeks is quite a while. If you’re not sick of me before then, I think we’re onto a winner.” She laughed a little and smiled, feeling her shoulders relax a little bit before deciding to press on. “Merlin, let’s just get all of this rubbish out of the way and then you can tell me about stamp collecting or something.”

She grinned impishly again and then mentally began to list off what they’d need to be talking about. Accommodation was dealt with, at least, well, sort of.

“Finances I guess...is a big thing, isn’t it? Uh, I don’t really need much and I generally pay for my, uh, habits, if you will, out of what I get working for the Ministry so that’s not really a problem. I suppose if we want to later we could merge our vaults. Um. I’m willing to let my mum battle it out with yours on the subject of the wedding, to be honest. I’ll turn up for the honeymoon,” Millie smirked, “because who doesn’t want a holiday? But, uh, well... on that front, the wedding front, I’m about as good as milking a sheep when you need a cow.”

Millie breezed over that and continued on, desperate to jump the difficult hurdles first and wipe away the awkwardness it brought.

“So, I’m pretty sure the Ministry are after offspring, right. Erm.” Millie felt her cheeks warm a little bit. “And while shagging one’s Professor is a delightfully exciting endeavour to embark on... having children with said Professor-cum-husband is not entirely what I imagined. I suppose we should just play that one by ear, hm? I’ll let you know if you strike my fancy, eh?”

Millie, despite herself, couldn’t help but laugh then and she shook her head happily before relaxing back into the chair, the waitress having returned for the briefest of moments to put their drinks down.

“Is there anything else, do you reckon? Home, finance, marriage, babies. That about covers it, doesn’t it? Now you have to tell me about you and I’ll then tell you about me because if I must marry you,” her eyes twinkled with mirth, “then I demand you tell me something interesting - anything, even! Just...just something.”

Try though he did, Keiran couldn't force his eyebrow to behave, feeling it rise on its own as she spoke so openly. As curious as he was, however, as to why she said something to that effect, Keiran understood the idea of feeling more at ease on his own. He hadn't lived with someone since his first year at University, before he got his own flat to avoid living on the grounds. Perhaps it had been long enough, he figured, and he should start getting used to the idea of having someone – particularly a female, which he hadn't lived with since being at home.

Keiran was lucky, though that wasn't perhaps the correct word to use, that he didn't have very many pet peeves. Not that he knew of, at least. He could put up with quite a lot, he had learned, and doubted that anything the girl did would bother him enough that he would feel the need to say anything about it. He was generally rather neat, but wasn't traditionally offended by those who weren't – if that were the case, he would hardly have reason to be friends with most people he visited at home.

The only thing he rather hoped wouldn't be an issue was their specific living arrangements when it came to nighttime and comfort. He wasn't about to contradict something he didn't have any proof of, so he allowed her confession go past as though it didn't matter. It really didn't, for Keiran wondered now and then if perhaps his roommates had thought the same thing of the Slytherin who would prefer to read or play Quidditch than to tease others or invest time in gossip. Perhaps this brought him down to her level again.

“You will certainly not be sent to Azkaban.” He confirmed, silently implying that he wasn't looking forward to being sent if something went wrong, either. “Thereabouts, yes.” Keiran nodded to her question, glancing up when the waitress joined them.

Chuckling at Millie's request, Keiran turned to the waitress when it was his turn to request a rum and coke along with a sandwich he had seen during a glance at the specials list on the menu. Provided it didn't involve seafood or anything with the head still attached to the body, Mr. Hayes wasn't a picky eater. He never had been.

Something about the usual, casual motions of requesting a meal seemed to allow Millie to relax, and Keiran could practically feel the change in the atmosphere. “I wouldn't have it any other way,” He agreed, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug, “I have a theory that you oughtn't get into a marriage without testing the waters. It wouldn't do to jump into it and find that we'd rather throttle each other than be in the same room for a good part of the day.”

The topic of finances was one he hadn't realized she would worry about. It made sense, of course, but she was still in school, and the fact that she was suddenly having to discuss money problems with her finace who was also her Professor was quiet strange. Keiran hadn't known about her job at the Ministry, but it didn't change the fact that he would want to help her in whatever way he could.

“Let's look at it this way,” He began, looking at her seriously, regardless of her mirth, “If this turns out to be what you want, I've no problem with taking care of things until you've got a lifestyle figured out.” He didn't want to make it sound like he expected her to up and get a steady job right after leaving Hogwarts – he had grown extensively during his time at University and understood the need some people felt to participate in those years of freedom. “And my mum would definitely love to participate in planning or whatever needs to be done. It's one of her favorite things, party planning.”

Was it strange that his mother was so in love with the idea of Keiran getting married, and he was so afraid of telling her that it was happening? How did you just tell your parents you're marrying your student? It perhaps wasn't as bad as the other way around, like it would likely be for Millie, but at least his parents were aware of the law that had been passed. Keiran momentarily wondered if Millie had any idea about his parents. He had long held himself under the premise that he was a Pureblood, though it wasn't the case. That had more than likely effected his application. The only thing to do, then, was to either tell her and hope she would keep up the pretense, or skirt the topic entirely. She didn't seem like the type to run about telling his secret.

Keiran's laugh was probably louder than it should have been, if one knew the topic and heard his reaction from afar. It was nearly exactly what he expected some of his students to think – though he wouldn't have assumed it of her due to his lack of knowledge about the girl across from him. “That sounds fine,” He said through her laugh. “They can't very well force anything, and I sure as hell won't.”

Keiran reached out for the drink immediately, thankful for the circumstances being suddenly more light-hearted than he had anticipated. Her amusement made him all the more curious about the matching process. Who was it that had decided they would get on?

Millie demanded information, which Keiran knew was both sensible and expected. Setting his glass on the table, he tilted it so the liquid spun around the edges of the container before deciding what to give her. All joking aside, he knew she would discover his secret eventually, and having noted her honesty earlier, Keiran felt no awkwardness in just setting it out to be considered.

“Perhaps this won't mean anything to you, but as I don't know about your parents, I'll tell you about mine.” He started, watching her for signs of anything negative by way of reaction. His eyes flicked between hers as he spoke. “Most everyone in my life is under the impression that my parents are purebloods, but they aren't. In fact, my mum is a Muggle, and my dad is a Half-blood.”

“You oughtn’t get into a marriage at all if you can help it,” Millie smirked, “especially not when you’re forced into it. That’s adding insult to injury.”

The smile Millie wore was easy on her lips, her eyes mirthful and teasing, playful, even. The odd irony of the situation made it all seem like it was some sort of intricate painting or photograph or a world imagined entirely by the wrathful nature of creative minds. There they sat, at the mercy of anyone and everyone barring each other, to which they were irrevocably loyal via a union of souls. Yet, they smiled. Their eyes danced and in many ways so too did their spirits, weaving in and out of each other, testing the proverbial waters as they tried to ascertain whether they were compatible; whether they were good.

“So, do you think these two weeks are like the weird dating period and then the week after that the engagement and then the following week the marriage? Then the week after that the kids and then...” Millie gestured the continuation with the twist of her hands and she laughed a little before leaning forward to rest her forearms on the table, her fingers curling around her glass.

When he mentioned her lifestyle, as if it was something you acquired over a period of time, Millie’s eyebrows twitched and guilt began to turn in her stomach. The lifestyle she’d acquired over time was not a healthy one. It was one that reared its ugly head in the box of cigarettes in her purse, the bottle of vodka in her trunk and the recreational substances that her brother kept in the bottom of his trunk - notably Spice. Of course, what Keiran probably meant was a more practical lifestyle that wouldn’t result in the premature expiration of her life.

“A lifestyle,” Millie turned over the words in her mouth, testing them out hesitantly. “I take it you went to a university then? Well, of course, you are a Professor.” She frowned a little bit. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that type of thing. My OWLs were... horrendous at best.” She took a sip of her rum and frowned a little bit. “My brother and I ... well, he didn’t do that badly. He passed. I didn’t in part. I think the only reason they let me do my N.E.W.Ts was because they felt sorry for me.”

Millie’s eyebrows furrowed that shard more and she placed her glass down thoughtfully before crossing her arms over her middle gently.

“My lifestyle, as it stands, is no sleep, too many cigarettes and a spattering of other vices. It’s a failure really. Failure to myself and my body I suppose.” She licked her upper lip, sitting herself back in her chair as she lifted her foot up to rest it on the leg of the table. “Last year was a sabbatical of sorts. Spent the best part of the holiday season in Jamaica. I, uh, borrowed money off of my mum. Borrowed being a veiled word for stole, naturally. Went out there and spent four months drunk on a beach serving drinks to other drunks.”

Millie clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and sighed.

“Might as well continue now. Then you can run back to Ana and beg her to pension me off. Wouldn’t blame you, honestly, but never mind.” She held up her hands in mock surrender and smirked a little as she sat forward. “My dad died, uh, the end of my fifth year which explains but does not excuse me, well, I ran away, didn’t I? Stole and ran away and tried to wash it all away. Couldn’t, clearly, but uh...yeah, he...my mum left him and got herself a boy toy and he couldn’t deal with it. Drank himself to death, I suppose. It was fun at first. The drinking, I mean. Meant Elliot, my brother, and I had more than our fair share of parties. But he... it’s funny because I actually spoke to him last, told him not to be up too long and he promised he’d make breakfast in the morning. Suppose he orchestrated his own demise but don’t we all?”

Millie had another sip of her drink but set it down in her lap instead of moving it back to the table, twinkling her nails against the glass as she considered her words.

“So I should be informed by that and adjust my habits accordingly...you’d think.” She laughed humourlessly and shook her head. “I wish. My dad was my favourite person in the world. After he died we had to move in with my mother and Ell walked out. I wasn’t long after him, obviously in pocket and off away.” She smudged her lips together thoughtfully before continuing. “I think this is probably a mark of character though. Come home and trying to get some N.E.W.Ts. I think I must want to do something. Not sure what. Or, perhaps I knew all along it couldn’t last...I needed to eventually grow up. Perhaps being married might help!”

Despite herself, she laughed and her humour returned with a wide smile as she brushed off the sadness that had bitten at her for a moment. She felt breathless all of a sudden, light and airy. She placed her glass back down on the table and leaned forward once more.

“So there you go. Aren’t you lucky? You get a play-by-play within the first hour of all the reasons why you shouldn’t chain yourself to me and we’ve not even scratched the surface yet!” She brought her hand up to her neck and rubbed it, a nervous twitch, as she grimaced a little, feeling embarrassed. “I’ve been quite weak really. Like a child looking for someone to run to only to find no one’s there to look after you anymore. I guess in an irregular fashion I’ve sort of learnt how to stand on my own two feet. That’ll probably be why I’ll be a pain to live with.” She smiled. “I reckon I’ll find my way eventually.”

She looked at him as the baton was passed and her face changed, slicing into one of intuitive comprehension as she took in his words.

“You don’t correct them, do you?” She inquired gently, feeling as though she already knew the answer. “Clichéd though it is, they’re not really your friends if they judge you based on your blood-status.” She twisted her lips to the side in a small pout before conceding, “Though, this is what the law is based on, isn’t it? There are rumours all over the Ministry about what the Potioneers and Healers found out about the Welsh Green Itch. Something about how much blood magic individuals have. I’m half and half, all the same. My mum is Pure, I reckon, or Half - I’m not entirely sure about her. Anyrate, my dad was a Half-Blood - his dad was a Muggle.”

“Naturally,” she pressed on, “I don’t give a tinker’s toss.” She smiled though. “Thank you. Another cliché is apt though: honesty is the best policy; especially if you’re getting married. Should we have it on a Friday or a Saturday? That way, if the guests get completely bladdered they can recover over the weekend.” Millie smirked. “I have a cat called Lucius Malfoy.” She recounted. “He has no master. I think he owns me, actually.” She frowned a little bit before looking at Keiran. “Which means you’ll be his too so you’ll have the honour of feeding him.”

Millie laughed and shook her head. “My cousin is Maxi Morrison. I don’t know if you know him. But yeah. Maxi. He’s fab. Erm, gosh. I feel as though I should be more light hearted and interesting but I’m dull and miserable, I think. Maybe we should pick a date for every month where we do something amazing like rock climbing in Bolivia or sky diving in Switzerland. That’d be amazing! Can we?”

((OOC: I've no idea if this makes sense. I apologize.))

Keiran snickered quietly at Millie's sarcasm, but appreciated that she could be so open to everything – or, she appeared to be. Whether she actually was was a whole separate matter, but Keiran wasn't sure he was exactly the person to question her. He didn't even know her. In all honesty, however, the Professor had very few people he truly knew, who he had gotten to know over time. Very few people, in the same way, that he had even wanted to get to know. It wasn't that he was a loner or anything really, but he just preferred having his set of friends and his own time to do other things.

He was in the middle of taking a drink when she brought a surprised chuckle out of him, his eyes laughing with her over the rim of his glass.

“I don't know about that last bit,” He said as he replaced his glass on the table, “but I imagine the first two weeks are exactly as you said. Getting-to-know-you time.”

Though he really hadn't planned out his words very well, she took the phrasing fairly well, all things considered. Nodding at her question regarding his schooling, he mentally shrugged off her apparent lack of concern about her grades. Keiran eyed her subtly, somehow under the impression that Millie was either embarrassed or disappointed in herself. Without knowing her predisposition towards schooling, Keiran had a feeling she could do better than what she had done in the past.

He suddenly wished he knew more about her – the little things one picks up over the years about students they become close to; but she hadn't been at school, so that wasn't exactly possible – so he could correct what she was saying. The way everything was negatively phrased and that she didn't seem to want to look at him made Keiran question her faith in herself. But who was he to say anything against it when he didn't know?

“Take this how you want, but you should know that you can only fail yourself if you lift your expectations. So that says a lot about you, that you must have those expectations.” He shrugged in an attempt to keep his words from coming off too seriously. Somehow Keiran was always said to be too serious, or was taken too seriously. It came with the Slytherin territory, he supposed.

Though he wanted to say something when she paused her story to take a drink, but couldn't find the words. As tuned in to others as he usually was, Keiran had never dealt with anything like what Millie went through. Instead he just leaned forward on his arms to show that he was paying attention.

Keiran suddenly wished he was more comfortable with touch. Something he had never gotten used to was helping others when they needed him, if he couldn't give words to do so. Even with his immediate family, no one seemed the type to hug or say those three so important words. He wasn't sure when he had last heard them.

The man could feel himself getting stuck in his own head, and dragged his mind away from his own issues to focus on the girl across the table from him. He so often became trapped in his thoughts without even noticing it at the time. Somehow, Millie could change from serious to amused in the blink of an eye, and Keiran couldn't help but think how entertained he would be through their life together if she kept it up.

“I hope it does,” Keiran put in with a smile, soaking up the change of attitude as if it could change him as well. “Since you're, you know, being pulled into it without real desire to do so.” Negative thinking? Perhaps. But he more wanted to be on her level and find common ground than to keep a light, fluffy atmosphere.

Deciding to go out on a limb, perhaps ruining himself in her eyes, Keiran sighed looked down at the marks etched into the table. “Let me... explain something about myself. I figure you ought to know. I did not grow up in a house that involved... any real use of endearments or touch to express feelings. My father sometimes would show what he was feeling in regards to my mum, but I can't say I'm used to the idea of it.” He glanced up at her even while his chin remained directed at the table. “That said, even if this is what we might call forced, I don't want you or whatever.. children,” - Keiran had to push the word out, wondering if it was bad that he felt so embarrassed by the very idea of discussing it. He was a grown man, after all. He could nearly slap himself. - “we have to be without the understanding of those things. I intend to learn, if that's what it takes.”

It wasn't so very strange for Keiran to want to learn things – his mum had always taught him tidbits of knowledge here and there and he had practically eaten it all up. It would not be the first time he had to teach himself how to change or fix his own problems.

Keiran shook his head at her question, hardly able to meet her eyes. What sort of person lied about his blood status for a good fifteen or so years? It probably spoke volumes about his personality, even if he wasn't sure what it was saying. “It wasn't,” He put in between her comment and question, “so much that I was worried about my friends. It was rather that I didn't want my House to make comments regarding my not being able or worthy or whatever other bloody mess they could come up with.”

“I am glad to know you're not of the sort who cares about that kind of thing. I will admit that of the people in my life, only two – three, now – have heard about this.” Keiran admitted. He had already started acting the fool, why not finish off the appearance?

He smiled at her thanks, giving a slight nod to imply that he returned the feeling, for she had hurried on and he had no intention of interrupting her. A short laugh escaped him at her question before he could reply with, “Perhaps a Saturday. Getting out of classes and heading to a wedding hardly seems like a good time. Especially when the wedding wasn't something you asked for.”

“I daresay I love cats.” He grinned openly for the first time, joining in on her amusement. “I know many who think they have trained their humans.”

Keiran shook his head when she questioned his knowing her cousin. The name was oddly familiar, but he supposed it was some Ministry man who he was unlikely to meet. Millie's back and forth was both entertaining and surprising, no matter how many times it happened. He wondered if he would get used to it over time.

“Rock climbing? Sure. I'm not so sure about sky diving. I am pretty well concerned with my life – especially when I've no control over it due to falling through the sky.” Keiran mused. He wondered if his words were even making sense, for the waitress gave him a confused look as she set down their plates.

“I think I worried the waitress.” He pointed out after she had gone, corners of his mouth twitching.

What was the distinction between man and mouse; between the brave and the cowardly? ‘I am a Gryffindor’ - it was a mantra that Millie drilled into herself with a fervency that no other plucky young eleven year old could’ve aspired to have. She wanted it, she wanted the bravery and the eternal glory that came from being a Gryffindor - from being in the house of Godric Gryffindor and Harry Potter. She’d never had that, though. She’d always, always only ever been a coward, hiding away from everything and everyone that demanded she take a chance and she chased that which was no good for her.

“I’ve never wanted those distinctions.” She replied slowly, carefully and deliberately. “Between a person who cares and a person who doesn’t - someone who has expectations of his or herself and someone who doesn’t. I wanted to be in the middle. If I’m honest, I didn’t want to care. I can’t be honest wholly about my hardly honourable actions in the past but I do think I have some redeeming qualities.” She smiled, albeit sardonically, before continuing. “I want something better for myself. My problems reside in the fact that I have no ascertainable skills.”

She looked up at Keiran then, curious but reserved and thoughtful in a way that was entirely Millie. She smiled thereafter and reached out to curl her hands around her class, considering it as she would a wonderfully designed piece of nature she so adored.

“I don’t lack the desire,” She commented placidly. “I just don’t loathe the idea either. Isn’t it a teenage girl’s dearest dream to be able to qualify for shenanigans with her sexy Professor?”

It then dawned on Millie, quite quickly in fact, that her words implied her opinion of Keiran and she frowned a little, the eventual and expected heat rising to her cheeks, but she did not grow embarrassed in her words, she instead kept quite the even tone - or at least in her head. Out loud, her words were dripping with embarrassment and remorse - making the entire last sentence utterly redundant.

“N-not that...I find...not that you’re not but ...” Millie’s eyes widened comically and she shook her head hastily before stifling herself with a mouthful of rum.

Thankfully, the subject changed but to one that struck Millie as odd but then, not at all for she had seen the same with her mother whose affection arose whenever she bought clothes for her daughter but was quashed when Millie swept them away out of hand. Lavender reduced herself to not being affectionate at all but Millie had always had her father. Until, well...

“You do need to show people you care,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “Children need to know they’re loved. I’m ... well, on the opposite I suppose I’m quite affectionate but that comes, I’d expect, from my dad who was big on hugs and stuff.” She pressed her lips together for a moment before smiling, tempted to reach forward to grasp his hand but, remembering, chose against it. “We’ll work on it.” She promised with a smile.

Millie waved her hand away. “Be out and proud!” She declared with a laugh. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, ever.” She reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before smiling gently with a little more sobriety. “I am very honoured, then.”

Despite herself, she raised an eyebrow and wondered for a moment exactly what Keiran was expecting. If Lavender had her way, all financial gripes would be forgotten and the whole week would be devoted to the wedding. To expect classes to resume for Millie on the day was beyond naive. Not to mention for Gisele and everyone else who would just have to have a part.

“I don’t usually go to my Friday classes anyway,” she admitted, albeit reluctantly. So, really, Lavender wouldn’t be acting outside of what Millie had come to see as the norm. It was part of what little bit she had failed to shrug off. The things she’d missed out on were caught up upon on Sunday and all homework would be completed and ready for Monday morning. Surprisingly enough, the Headmaster seemed non-committal about it; especially if his lack of action was indicative of his opinion.

“But Saturday sounds good,” she repaired easily before laughing a little at the cat-comment. “You don’t really have a choice either way, I don’t think. He likes sitting up on high, Mr Malfoy. A complete snob.”

Millie laughed a little after and she shook her head at Keiran. “Have you never played Quidditch? Freefalling with your broom is basically the same thing.”