Everything

Through the grey brick and mortar archway, one which separated platforms nine and ten at King’s Cross Station, you could step if you were a particular kind of person. It is a grave secret of course that betwixt these signs suspended above the arch, if you were to pass through you would find platform nine and three quarters. The Muggles, you see, they wouldn’t believe you, but sure enough provided you are accompanied with a trunk, a wand, a pewter cauldron of a standard size and an animal of your choosing so long it is either a cat, an owl or a toad, you can pass through and see with your own wide, inquisitive eyes, the platform that on the first of September, would house the scarlet Hogwarts Express locomotive.

That particular year, in the chilly autumnal air that was making fog amidst the skyscrapers and romantic Victorian architecture of London, a pair of young blondes were waiting impatiently in the car park of the expansive railway terminal. With a pink woollen hat pulled down over the dirty blonde pigtails that were tied with two pink fuzzy hairbands. Bundled up in her coat against the cold, the young Millie Finnigan bounced beside her father, peering into the boot of the little blue Ford fiesta into which Seamus had loaded their trunks. He paused a little in jostling with her brother’s and he turned a dark eye upon her in mock-warning. The little girl coloured and stepped away, bumping into the legs of her mother.

“Watch what you’re doing, Melissa,” Lavender scolded, snapping her compact shut with a disapproving sneer. Millie’s eyebrows quivered and she dropped her gaze down to her trainers, scuffed and muddy already despite having been bought new.

Lavender’s gaze seemingly followed for until Seamus managed to get both trunks parked on the pavement, Millie was subjected to the forked tongue of her mother who despaired at her openly for being so slothenly. Millie screwed her lip between her teeth and bit down, shame flooding her features as she wrung her hands together in front of herself. Lavender scoffed in the end and stormed away, grasping the elder of the two children by the scruff of the neck, electing to march into the station for, according to her, there was nothing to help her daughter. Apparently even Hogwarts could not fix what was so irreparably broken.

“Ignore your mother,” Seamus’ voice found Millie’s ear as he crouched down beside her. His warm palms took up her own smaller fists and he squeezed them tightly, fixing her with his imploring, feeling gaze. “Sweetheart, listen to me. You are going to be brilliant at Hogwarts, okay? You’re going to be absolutely amazing. You ignore your bloody mother like I always tell you, okay? She’s batshit crazy, anyrate. You alright, my darlin’?” Millie managed a nod and Seamus drew her to him. Her little form almost disappeared in the midst of his coat and his strong arms but she clung onto him, wiping the few tears that had freed themselves from her eyes in his shirt.

Seamus offered Millie his hand once he stood up properly and she shook her head, electing to fetch the travel case she’d put her kitten in. He smiled, reaching to pat her on her hat-clad head, and went to retrieve the trunks. Steadily the two made their way into the station. Lavender had gone on ahead without a second thought to them. It had always been rather like that. Upon discovering that her daughter wasn’t going to be the pretty girl in pink ruffles and little white shoes, Lavender rejected Millie altogether in favour for Elliot who proved to have a better temperament for coddling. In many ways, Millie was too much like her mother but had enough Seamus to combat the crazy. Thus she and her father made a natural pairing, especially in combating Lavender’s daily obstacles that kept them from an easy life.

Inside, the station was thrumming with activity and further on, through the barrier onto the main platform, the place was abuzz. Seamus took her up to the porter and had the trunks loaded on that way as Elliot and Lavender were nowhere to be found. He handed Millie her hand luggage, a small rucksack that had iron on patches all over it that announced different holiday destinations and sports teams, and then helped the porter put the trunks on before guiding her down the platform. Then, after exchanging another hug and a kiss with his daughter, Seamus helped her up onto the train with her pet carrier and rose to watch as she waved at him, backing into the corridor before disappearing entirely.

The first year to be made her way through the train corridor, ducking under the arms of sixth years flirting amidst themselves and third years bustling through, yelling at those of her ilk. She nibbled on her lower lip all the while, her eyes furtively searching for an empty compartment. In the end, when she finally came across one she broke forward and slammed herself into the door, opening it up and seizing inside before throwing it shut behind herself. It was wonderfully quiet inside and Millie exhaled, reaching up to tug her hat off of her hair.

“I’m sorry Lucy,” she cooed all of a sudden, remembering her cat. She lifted the pet carrier up onto the seat and crouched down on the floor, looking inside to see the kitten glaring openly at her. “I’m sorry!” She cried at him. “I’ll let you out shall I?”

Millie pulled at the grate and opened it up, watching hopefully as Lucius Malfoy the Kitten crawled out onto the seat. He meowed balefully at her and sat himself down.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, patting him on the head gently. He glared at her again and she smiled, lifting the carrier off and stowing it away under the seat. She then hopped up onto it and sat by the window, putting her bag down beside her before beginning to rifle through it in search of her packet of cookies. She opened them up and held the packet out to Lucius who sniffed derisively.

“Your loss,” Millie told the cat, simply, taking out a cookie for herself. As she bit into it, smirking at him, the cat found he was inclined to agree but curled up beside her nonetheless, well aware that it was going to be a long, long year.

In truth, Keiran had not meant to end up watching her. No, he had been searching for a compartment. Passing by an older student who looked strangely familiar, Keiran decided he was imagining it and didn't give the older boy a second glance. But, the point: he would claim forever that he had in fact been watching the angry cat as his owner seemingly bothered him. Leaning against the compartment door as he was, Keiran couldn't quite believe she hadn't looked up and seen him. His arms crossed in front of him, even as his hair countered his casual appearance - his dad had attempted to push it back, just managing to anger it in the end. But Keiran hadn't said anything about it, instead hugging them both and trotting off to the train, luggage and hope in tow.

He would end up in Gryffindor, of course, like his parents. He was never afraid of being on his own, as was evidenced by his only looking back twice. Obviously, that was the sign of a brave kid if Keiran had ever seen one. His mum had reminded him that the hat would know better than anyone, and not to argue with it if he didn't get the house he wanted. Really, though, it sounded to the boy that she wasn't sure he would end up in hers and his father's house. He wasn't all that worried though, really. He was pretty sure he knew himself well enough to guess correctly.

Back to the cat, though. Keiran eyed the blonde and her pet curiously, wondering if he would get caught if he lied about other compartments being full. The real, honest truth was that he didn't actually know anyone on their way to Hogwarts. He had grown up with his parents, their horses, and traveling now and again with his mum to book-related events. And even there he had been required to play the part of a Muggle so he wouldn't draw any attention from her readership. But their home was too far from anyone else to consider trying to befriend the neighbors. They basically didn't even have neighbors thanks to the way the land was set up. So what, then, was the harm in sitting with this girl and her curiously flat-faced feline?

"Why do you call him that?" Keiran asked finally, lifting an eyebrow even as he remained in his relaxed posture. "Does he appreciate you giving him a girl's name?"

He was amazed that she hadn't come up with something more creative, at least, given her general attitude of nonchalance. For a first year, she was surprisingly willing to go, like he was. Not that he was judging her on the fact -- no, more like he wanted to know why she had ended up like him, even if it was just in the one aspect. Interacting with people his own age was something he did not find himself skilled at, instead wishing to come off as more mature and prepared for what awaited them.... even if he had no clue and would much rather play Quidditch than study for classes.

A challenging look passed her way, Keiran showing no sign of leaving her to settle in for the ride.

Lucius looked up, his ears twitching curiously. He batted his tail from side to side and stared interestedly with his yellow eyes at the boy in the doorway. Lucius found himself agreeing with the lad, principally, and he turned his head back, setting a questioning gaze on his owner who, with a mouthful of cookie, was staring dimly at the other boy as though he’d grown a second head. Lucius fought the desire to roll his eyes and instead hopped off of the bench, landing lithely before shimmying over to wind through the boy’s legs, rumbling a purr through himself.

Millie cast a fretful glare in the direction of the cat and put her cookie down, chewing quickly and swallowing some that was perhaps a bit too big. She winced a little but appeared not to mind at first, though her hand did stray for her bottle of juice which her father had made up for her the night before and chilled in the fridge. She took a grateful swig and replaced the cap before venturing to try and answer the boy, though she wasn’t entirely sure she had the answer, you see. She understood, but articulation was not, as of yet, a strong point of hers.

“Well, um… he, he’s called … Lucius. He, um. And that’s kind of too long all the time so… Lucy…”

Millie nodded, as though her sentence was, indeed, a sentence and not a mishmash of words that in some capacity almost formed a sentence – but not really. She smiled shyly, a quick flashing twitch of her lips before her gaze dropped and she picked up her cookie again. She took a fitful bite and brought up her eyes but sure enough he was still there and she gave a quick start at that realisation, glancing down at Lucius who tipped his head to the side, giving her a lazy, feline smirk.

“D-do you want to come in?” She asked gently, her cookieless hand groping around in the bag for another. She produced it, registering immediately that it had more chocolate in it than hers and she gave a half pout but steeled herself, knowing that it was better to share. She extended her arm, straightening it out towards the door and to the boy.

“I haven’t licked it!” She exclaimed all of a sudden, turning the cookie back to herself to inspect it. She nodded, as though somehow that made it official that there was no spit on it and she re-extended her arm, smiling brightly at him. “Spit free!” She declared.

Lucius snorted, passing it off as a feline sneeze and trotted back into the room having left behind a suitable amount of hair on the boy’s trousers. He then hopped up onto the bench opposite and sat down, curling his legs underneath himself but leaving his fluffy tail to bounce absently against the fabric behind and beside him. He meowed dryly, half yawning at the same time and his owner pouted at him, wondering why, of all creatures, it was Lucius Malfoy the cat that she’d picked from the Magical Menagerie.