foolish reasons we live for

Hogwarts didn’t feel much like home anymore. The rules imposed that had left many students with very few of their belongings had turned Millie off of the castle. She no longer ached for the warmth of the fire in the common room as she once did. She just felt a little bit lost really.

The first batch of letters had come that morning. Godric had swept low over the tables and had dropped her post into the beans she’d been spooning onto her plate.

She’d received a letter from Seamus depicting what it was like at home without her and Elliot and one - oddly enough - from Miles who also wrote how lonely and how strange it was to not have her around anymore. That was the stranger of the two letters, for sure. Still, it was nothing really out of the norm. Miles was lonely, Seamus hadn’t seen Lavender in a few days and they were expecting her parents over at any time. Millie couldn’t wait to have letters from the pair of them complaining about one another and how they carried themselves when George and Elizabeth finally arrived.

That day had been the same old slog, as if Hogwarts had never really ended. Summer was all but forgotten and although she was glad to be back, it wasn’t an emotion akin to joy that was running through her. In fact, it wasn’t a single emotion by itself - it was hundreds. In reality, Millie was still reeling from the abyss that had followed her into her dreams. It was trying to prove a point, she was sure; asking her to either accept it or do something to change it. She knew how she could change it but she wasn’t brave enough to try.

She wasn’t brave enough full stop. She was a terrible Gryffindor.

The opportunities had been given for her to try and chance it, to try and fix things. She hadn’t taken any of them though. Every night since she’d arrived she’d woken covered in what felt like layer after layer of sweat. It was always the same time too - not a second after twenty past twelve. She’d taken to drawing up the silencing charms again and she knew there was only one place she could go that would make her feel better. She didn’t do it though. On the first night she’d gone down to the kitchens and sat with the House Elves. The last few nights she’d retrieved a mug of hot chocolate from the kitchens and crept back up to sit in the common room until sunrise; then she had to finally resign herself to the fact that she had to at least try for a few more hours of slumber.

It made classes difficult (irritating, even) and the year had barely begun. Every class had felt like a real effort but a few pranks on the Slytherins to warm herself up in the mornings seemed to make her a bit more chipper than she otherwise would have been. Only Divination could actually make her, well, wind down. Professor Lola seemed to like the smell of spliff amongst the incense he burned. It was quite possibly the only class - next to Herbology because that particular professor really had no room to be a hypocrite - where you could be completely out of your tree and still get a high mark. It didn’t do much for Millie but it certainly helped level her mind out a bit - if that made any sense.

It was from Divination that she usually went to Ancient Runes and it was from there that she dragged her bag back up to the Gryffindor tower. Dinner was just about due and every student seemed to be heading the opposite way to her. She wanted to go back to bed while they just wanted to fill their stomachs. She had more things on her mind than just simple dinner. It was driving her absolutely mad, too. Perhaps a visit to David would calm her down? Then again, that was unlikely. Incredibly unlikely. So much so that the idea was almost ridiculous. Almost.

When Millie arrived in the common room, only a straggling pair of fourth years who had nothing better to do and snog remained in the room. She snorted loudly upon seeing them and removed her wand from her pocket. She flicked it at them as she passed, mumbling a spell under her breath. She jumped up the steps, taking two at a time, and couldn’t help but laugh at the sounds they made as they tried to pull their lips apart. Millie shook her head and pushed open the door to the boy’s dormitory. She didn’t plan on lingering long. All she wanted to do was have a rummage through Elliot’s trunk and steal a shirt from him.

The guards had decided to pull a prank on her, leaving only the skimpy clothing that even by Millie’s standards was outrageous. The only thing she had to sleep in was a negligee that only just covered the essentials. Millie had figured it was better to go naked than wear that and so that was what she’d done - only putting it on when she had gone for a wander around the castle at night. As the nights got colder though and if she persisted to avoid Trent both day and night then she’d be freezing her toes off, hence the reason she was after one of Elliot’s shirts.

Millie tossed her bag down on the floor and shrugged off her robes. She dropped that down on top of her bag and knelt down in front of her brother’s trunk. She flicked the clasps and opened it up only to find it teaming with everything but clothes. Millie groaned and dropped herself down onto the floor, knowing she’d be there a while if she had to sort through all of her brother’s rubbish. It was either a shirt or one of the curtains from his bed and Millie had the strangest feeling that he would have preferred to lose the curtain.

Ever since boarding the Hogwarts Express and letting his steps litter Hogwarts Castle, Trent had not been in a good mood. In fact, that was an understatement. He was mildly depressed. The thoughts of his parents were not fancy ones. It was bad enough that they seemed to have forgot about his existence, not sending him off to King's Cross. It was much worse to watch, in the morning, everyone receive letters. Trent had expected Potter's arrival. He had left the owl at home, in his mad rush to make it on time for the train. Surely, his parents had noticed, and should have sent a letter of apology along with the owl. None came. While the fluster in the atmosphere infected almost every student, who grasped their letter or even letters excitedly, Trent had to content with being a mere spectator. What made matters worse was the fact that Millie had, after his awkward treatment towards her on the train, avoided contact with him. It was easy to do so, since the Gryffindor gang had grown. One could easily avoid another merely by picking someone else for company.

There was no one. There and then, watching everyone with their letters, and watching Millie with hers, Trent could almost feel the tears threatening to betray his front. People assumed he had no cares because he did not care. Sure, he was often self-centered, and that made him unmotivated to care more than what was sufficient to him. Still, he cared for some, perhaps a little too much. In return, he needed their reciprocity. A little love, a little attention. He was deprived of them all. For the past few days, Trent had gone through the motion of classes with Byron, Sam, and Elliot. The fraternity was beginning to bore him. He had not the chirpiness of Byron, who had a silly grin on his face in the morning after reading the letter from his family. It was too much for Trent to take, the neglect. He had skipped all of his classes for the day, with Byron as his messenger, to tell of his apparent problems with the bowels.

The silence of the boys' dormitory was not peaceful, but it was good enough for Trent to hide under the covers, to allow a few tears to slip from his eyes. It was not good, sitting alone and thinking about what he could not change. Not bothering with the consequences, he had brought his large packet of spliffs out. Perhaps the only contact he had with Millie was having his contraband items returned to him, from her safekeeping. He was grateful. They were his saviours, all of which that could allow him injury to himself, quicken the date of his death. Additionally, Trent had gone to Byron's side to look for the Firewhiskeys that the boy had brought. Not bothering if he had permission or not, he had finished one quickly, only to bring another one to his side after. Cigarettes were untouched, but the packet of spliffs looked to be quickly diminishing. Trent was in between sleep, alcohol, nightmares, spliffs, and tears. He was a wreck.

The boy jolted up from yet another nightmare. The spliff held between his fingers had been put out, thankfully. It was a fire hazard before, not that he would have noticed. He was too dazed. Trent's body was in an awkward position on his bed. The second bottle of Firewhiskey laid next to his face. He stretched with a lazy yawn, and then rubbed his face with one hand, feeling the tears that had dried on his face. Misery was still his only company. Sighing, Trent eyed the packet of spliffs, saw that almost half had already been smoked by him, and cursed under his breath. It was too much. He was still in a state that the last ten had left him. Still, the boy reached for the Firewhiskey, opened it, brought himself up in a half-sitting, half-laying position, and began to drink the second bottle of it. Tears were choked up in him. He needed to stop crying. If anyone saw him in a crying state, he would never be able to live with it, he thought.

And then the door to the boys' dormitory was pushed open. Trent wanted to go under the covers immediately so that he could feign non-existence. The problem was that the poison in him had left him with an extremely slow response. He gave up, and merely took another sip of Firewhiskey. Trent tried to focus his eyes on which of the boys had entered. And then he frowned, and tried to strain through the blurry image seen by his eyes. He strained, and strained, guessing and gradually realising who had really entered. He grunted in frustration at his lack of clarity, all of a sudden. The regret came as soon as the grunt was sounded. He did not want attention now. He was a wreck. Pity that he was too slow to move or to recover.

“Oh come on you dozy twat...what have you done with your clothes?” Millie growled at her brother, despite him not actually being present in the room. She pushed some of the books away, the empty and full packets of cigarettes, the bottles of Firewhisky and goodness only knows what else. There were no clothes, much to her dismay, and she didn’t think for a second that he would have lost them all to the searching that occurred at the start of the year. Millie kicked her shoes off and crawled across the floor to the chest of drawers which was the next most promising thing.

Millie sat back and pulled open the second drawer from the floor. Millie frowned at the sight of the wood and sighed before shoving it back into place. Just as she reached for the one above, a grunt resounded around the room. Millie froze, her hand stalling in the air, and slowly turned, her eyes frantically searching the room for the source of the sound. Her breathing quickened, as did her heart, and she used the drawers to help herself to her feet. Once she’d straightened up, Millie continued her search and stopped on a familiar bed.

It would have been funny if it wasn’t so sad. Of course it was him. This must have been Murphy’s biggest triumph yet in her life. Oh, the irony. The very person she’d been striving to ignore was the one person in the dorm. The Fates were messing with them, she was sure of it.

Ancient Runes had sobered Millie. Unfortunately her mind was very alert and it was making her debate whether it was worth staying or whether she should just leave and go to dinner where she should have been. Something was telling her to go but the bigger; more intelligent part of her mind was telling her that it was high time she stop being silly and start wising up. It was telling her she was stupid, stupid from running from something she wanted to fix. The problem wouldn’t go away - not if she didn’t make it so. Running was suicide; or at least, it would lead to it. No, she had to stay. She would stay. She wanted to stay. Really, there was no other place she wanted to be.

“Trent?” Millie inquired gently, stepping over her discarded shoes and carefully padding across the room towards him. From what she could see of him, he didn’t look too good. In fact, he looked like she felt. But why? Millie wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to find out. Not really. He wasn’t coping with whatever as ailing him and she didn’t honestly think she’d be able to help him - as much as she wanted to. It was that fear again, the fear of the unknown; of his unknown. She wanted to fix it but she didn’t think she could. She didn’t believe she could, not for a second.

Millie tugged the covers back off of his face and froze once more. “Oh sweet Merlin. What on earth happened to you?” Millie’s eyes fell to the bottle of Ogden’s and then swept up to what was on his bedside table. And in that second it as like all of her worst fears materialising before her but no spell could get rid of it. No spell could turn it into comedy and make the hurt lessen. But it was only spliff wasn’t it? He was conscious despite being more than a little bit dazed. He was okay. No matter how many times her mind recited that though, she refused to believe it. He was alright but not really...not really.

Millie brought her hand over his; the one that was grasping the bottle of Ogden’s and bit her lip. She didn’t quite know how to behave here. If it wasn’t for the protest her lungs were making then she would have forgotten how vital each inhalation of air actually was. In that moment it wasn’t the end that she was terrified of. It was the cause, the reason and the beginning that stunned her; so much so that every breath seemed to frazzle her thoughts and make her forget the words she was trying to get out. All she could do was smooth her fingers across the back of his hand. It was all she could manage before she finally murmured what she should have done on the train. Simple as it was, but so unbelievably necessary she felt.

“I’m sorry.”

Of course she would have noticed. Trent had made a poor effort of concealing himself under the covers. After all, his judgement was severely marred. It was only seconds between hearing his name being called, to Millie's discovery of him. With what little time, he tried a damage control on his face, which clearly failed because he merely tried to put on the expression of nonchalance. Even that failed, evidently, from the girl's reaction. He tried to move, but felt as if he had lesser control over his body. Everything felt heavier than usual, harder to move.

Grunting a little in discomfort since Millie already saw him the way he was, Trent attempted to push himself up in more of a sitting position. It was a lot harder to do so than he thought. And then he felt a hand on his, which forced him to finally try to look at Millie in the face. He saw two-three-one-and two again image of her. Trent squinted through the process of trying to look at Millie. The hand that held the whiskey shook a little, threatening to spill the contents on his bed. He was not mindful of the possibility, though.

And when she spoke, Trent merely frowned, trying to comprehend the meaning of her words, and then trying to understand why they were said. Despite his initial impulse of wanting to hide, the boy was, however, now preferring the fact that Millie was by his side. He eyed her for a long time, wanting only to bury himself into her embrace and sob against her. But even in his less-than-sober state, he did not do it. He could not succumb. He was going to be stronger than he really was.

"I ... they ... m-my skateboard is gone." He slurred his way through that sentence. It was certainly not a direct response to what Millie had said. Still, he was telling someone something that mattered, that really mattered. It was the first genuine line he had managed to say ever since entering the school.

They’d all lost things in Grindelwald’s promise. Trent seemed to have been hit the hardest though. The skateboard was an extension of him. He wasn’t complete without it. Aptly referred to as his wife it was his other half. To see him in such mourning was stalling enough before Millie’s mind actually registered and understood that what he was mourning was only a skateboard. That was the worrying thing, really. It would never just be a skateboard though, not to Trent. Millie doubted whether they’d be able to get it back. The posters had promised disposal and they’d gotten rid of everything they knew would hurt the students. Millie didn’t think there was any chance of salvaging the thing. She’d already gone head to head with one of the guards and it hadn’t gotten her very far. She’d resigned herself to the fact that she was going to look like a prostitute every Hogsmeade visit. At least she had clothes though. Many didn’t. Trent didn’t seem to have that small consolation though. Any consolation at all.

Carefully, Millie pried the bottle of Firewhisky from Trent’s grasp. She exchanged it from her right hand to her left and pushed the spliffs across the bedside table so there was enough room for her to put the Firewhisky down. She then pulled the covers back and nudged Trent over, mumbling, “squidge up,” before slipping into the bed with him. It was then that she was reminded that whatever ridiculous reason she was ignoring him for wasn’t important and that it had never actually been important. She was back exactly where she’d wanted to be, exactly where she knew she needed to be: in that bed surrounded by the familiar scent that was simply Trent.

Millie lifted her hand to his cheek, propping her head up with her other hand. She’d drawn the covers back around them and though she wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to comfort him, she had a feeling that the warmth would help, even just a little bit. “How long have you been here?” She asked quietly as she began to run her thumb across his cheekbone. Millie leaned forward and kissed him on the nose before letting her head fall onto the pillow. “It’ll be okay,” She murmured to him. “I promise.”

The promise still left Millie at a loss though. She didn’t know how she could make it better, any of it not just the loss of the skateboard. “I miss you,” She whispered. “I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.” Millie laughed lightly. “I picked the worst time didn’t I? You’re off your face and I’m, in a way, apologising. Genius. It doesn’t get much better.” Millie laughed again, in spite of herself before abruptly sobering. “I love you Trent,” She murmured. “And I’m sorry I’ve been so...I don’t even know. I just...” Millie lookd at Trent and trailed off. She bit her lip before finishing her sentence. “I’m just glad you’re okay...even if, you're not really. You're...you're still here.."

Trent allowed Millie to take the bottle away from him. True, the poisons were his comfort from pain. But with the girl near, he felt less in need for them. It was sad, really. Almost everyone he knew took them for fun. He, however, took them so seriously. Trent was still beginning to reconcile the fact that Millie was now here for him, when he watched her slip into bed with him. It was reminiscent of the last time that she stayed over at his house, but Trent was a lot less alert and alarmed now. He was dazed, but calm. The first instance of human warmth swarmed him.

"The whole day," he answered slowly. The tears were pushed farther back within him as Trent relished the touch of Millie. She began to talk again, and he still tried to understand the meaning of her words. Despite the difficulty, he could make out the repetitions of them. Trent forced a slight smile to enter on his lips, feeling oddly like a child that was currently being pacified. Usually, he would reject the efforts for making him feel small and powerless. Now though, with the lack of parental attention, he felt like it was what he needed, although he tried not to indicate his contentment.

Too many words. The girl spoke too much. If he was sober, Trent would not have thought so. But with the speed with which he had to endure in comprehending her, he felt like he was struggling. Without saying a word, Trent shifted closer to Millie. He had no verbal response for the girl. There was just this physical impulse to press himself closer towards her. This he did, accompanied by an arm that went up and away from his side, only to find itself holding the back of the girl.

"Mills...," he began. "Do you see me?" It was a strange question, but his head was swirling with strange thoughts. Unlike the unicorns promised to the dazed, he was faced with a thousand moons staring at him. The thoughts were voluminous with each moon, and yet, as hollow as its surface. Trent felt his eyes travel from the eyes of the girl, to her lips. If he was sober, and if he had rational thoughts in his head ...

But his guard was down. Trent found his lips touching the girl's lips, attempting to freeze the moment of first contact. He did not think of possible regrets. He could not. He, however, did not open himself to her. In other words, he froze himself in the motion of a kiss. He had broken what he had been holding out for, in a moment's impulse from marred judgement. But Trent did not pull away.

It was hard to imagine someone lying in bed all day with nothing but a bottle of Firewhisky and a dozen or so spliffs. But then again, it was Trent and he certainly hadn’t been present at breakfast or lunch. She’d noticed, certainly, and it almost felt as if she’d been the only one to notice. They all just carried on as normal - as if Trent had never been there. Part of Millie wanted to believe it was the British stiff upper lip that willed them along but she couldn’t help but take personal offense to the lack of concern. Then again, it wasn’t as if she’d said anything either. She’d done the same as them and her eyes had most certainly danced to the classroom door every time it had opened, that little bubble of hope welling up within her. She’d yearned for his presence but it just hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been there. It wasn’t as if him being in class would have suddenly made her start speaking to him again but it was normal. It was right. This...this wasn’t. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t them. Yet here they were.

“All day,” She repeated, her voice sounding foreign to her ears. It was laced with something that had been welling up within her, suffocating her, for days now. Fear. “Has no one come to check on you? Has no one even come to see where you were? Have they --” Millie broke off when Trent began to speak and licked her lips anxiously. His hand on her back burned her skin. She was acutely aware of his presence and of the heat that radiated off of him. She just wanted to fold into the awkward embrace and stay there forever - or, at the very least, to hibernate for the winter. She just wanted to stay and she was scared that when the boys returned they’d make her go. It was surprising really, how much time she spent afraid of what was to come. It was almost as if she didn’t trust herself to look. No, there was no almost - she didn’t trust herself; it was as simple as that.

The finely tuned machine that was her mind had been trundling along nicely, going overboard with thought perhaps but it had been working. Suddenly though, the entire operation stopped. Everything ground to a halt. It was as if all of the workers there had gone on strike. It was something akin to that but not quite as extreme. No, instead they all stopped and sort of...turned. They turned and they stared at the situation at hand. Every single emotion, every single trait that made up who she was, collapsed from shock in that moment. It all just...stopped, like a film being put on pause. She just froze in place, mentally and physically. Not a second to soon though, the cogs began to turn and something clicked in the back of her mind, something that realised what was going on.

He was kissing her.

Millie blinked rapidly, feeling her heart speed up ten-fold in her chest, and as soon as she truly understood what was happening, her mind began to move almost at the same speed as her heart - like a bullet train. Her stomach rolled inside of her and butterflies quickly formed before exploding, adding to the euphoric feeling that was quickly taking over her anxiety.

Could she take advantage of this though? Could she take advantage of him? Those were both questions she should have been asking herself but she just didn’t. She didn’t care about that as much as she should have done. She didn’t think about the repercussion and she blocked out the explosion of scenarios that could and most likely would play out as a result depending on her reaction. The honourable thing would have been to stop. The right thing would have been to have told him ‘no’. Right and honourable didn’t fit at all then though. It was the wrong puzzle piece. Two bits that didn’t quite fit for that picture. Could she take advantage? Most certainly. And she would. She did.

Millie couldn’t deny the way he’d paused had made her rethink, just as she didn’t doubt he was. She was desperate to savour the moment though, to feel it, to really experience it and not just pass it off as something else - an accident. It was real, wasn’t it? She wasn’t just dreaming. This wasn’t something she was going to wake up from.

Millie moved her lips against Trent’s, imploring with him to continue. Her hand slipped from his cheek to his neck and she couldn’t help but draw herself closer to him. Selfish though it was, she couldn’t help but relish it. She couldn’t help but relish him. At that moment there was no place she would have rather been. She just wanted to make it last as long as possible - forever, if it was an option.

Even if half of his mind was not present, taken away to wherever the spliffs had taken him to, Trent's heart was ever present in the situation at hand. It pounded, and it threatened to burst out of his chest, like in clichéd descriptions of nervous excitement experienced by the heart. The hand that held Millie's back gently began to assert slight pressure on it, pulling her closer. There was never going to be a proximity deemed too close. Even if he was going to engulf her, he could still imagine himself pushing, pulling, for more. He could not give now, not in this state. None of him would be gallant to think of how he was going to give and protect. Trent, the lost boy that he was, could merely take and demand. The weight of that demand rested in his hand. It would not have taken resistance for an answer. It had even ignored what the girl was saying.

Still, he had paused, didn't he? A tiny bit of his mind probably contributed to that. It, however, lost its attempt to be a stronghold as soon as Trent felt Millie's lips moving against his, as if demanding him back. He felt her touch shift to form a hold behind his neck. The hold. It was a sudden stabilising force. He had felt as if he was falling, and it attributed all the blame to his parents. Whoever said that an intact family was a happy one. He could not believe it. The voices of people dismissing him as a pampered brat merely for the fact that he was an only child, the voices were cruel. It was a mockery to his situation, as if it showed him what being an only child entitled him to, but yet slapped him because his reality did not reconcile with it. Then again, it could all just be happening in his head. Such judgements were always merely subjective.

Millie's hold on Trent made him feel, in a long while, wanted. She wanted him. She was holding on to him, willing her to continue with whatever he was doing to her. His body was going to the talking then. It was going to take advantage of the situation where his mind had been seduced away from complete attention, taking worries and fears along with it. Trent parted his lips and began to taste the first of Millie. He had known this girl for years. They had grown up together, along with Elliot. There were pictures of the three in a tub together as naked babies as their parents laughed in the background. There were pictures, too, of the three rolling around at a park, at the age of five. There was also that picture of the three children in their Gryffindor robes in their First Year, beaming at the camera.

And then now, without the third in the equation, Trent was kissing Millie. His mouth explored hers slowly, tasting every space, taking its time in the mystery of it, as if it was going to make a journal of its explorations after it ended. The hand that held Millie began to move, although it merely moved up, and then down, slowly. It was not a foreign space, her back. But he let his fingers travel on it as if it were. Trent slipped his other hand below Millie, let both hands secure themselves at her torso, before lifting her up while turning his body. He was now lying on the bed with his back to it, and he lifted the girl so that she was lying on top of him. The kiss was broken because of that, and Trent studied the girl's face now that it was above his. With both hands still at her torso, he shifted them so that they rested on her lower back.

Just as the effects of his daze slipped away with each second, although it slipped away at too slow a speed, Trent felt himself drunk on another. Or at least, he was drawn in to another effect. The smell of Millie's breath was his air now. He inhaled and enjoyed the sweet smell of it. The weight of the girl on him felt good, it was as if it helped to pin him down from flailing inside. Not knowing what to say, and despite the fact that nothing needed to be said, Trent merely muttered her name again, as if the utterance of it pleased him.

Had Trent been sober this never would have happened and that was exactly why Millie was so desperate for the moment to continue. She was determined to savour it and make it last as long as possible so that if it never happened again then the memory would at least be there, imprinted in her mind for her to recall at will. She’d always have that, if nothing else. She needed him, though. She needed him and not the memory. She didn’t believe for a second she could live on it; not when reality was right there at her finger tips. And even after, she wasn’t sure she could forget. She didn’t know why but she just...she didn’t want to lose him, in any form. She couldn’t grin and bear that like she could if she lost the others. Trent was something else. He always had been. He’d been there too long to just disappear; and she wouldn’t let him.

It was an entirely new experience, really. Neither one was naive to kissing but kissing each other had always been out of the question. It filled Millie with something better than euphoria. She could describe it at all but it was there, bubbling within her like a cauldron threatening to overflow. It was foreign land in so many ways yet so familiar at the same time. She was enveloped in the aura that surrounded Trent but she was out of her comfort zone at the same time. Her tentative responses shed light on her hesitance but also her need for him. Her fingers were winding into his hair and her every move was so subtle yet still laden with her need for him to go on - to continue...forever if he wanted. She just couldn’t bear for the moment to end. She knew what would happen afterwards, when he clearly remembered what happened and regretted it. Another argument would arise no doubt and she didn’t have the energy for it. She didn’t hate him enough. She didn’t hate him at all. She couldn’t.

A sound of protest left Millie’s lips when the kiss broke. It was a pitiful whine, matching the look on her face. Millie allowed Trent to tip her over and she found herself above him, smiling gently down at the almost weary look on his face. Millie untangled her fingers from his hair and brought her hand to his cheek. Something needed to be said, she was sure of it, but she didn’t know what. She couldn’t sum up what she felt in a few poignant words however much she wanted to. She just didn’t understand what she was feeling. It was a mixture of everything, all accompanied by the undercurrent of fear that seemed to cling to her like a never-ending virus. Instead of speaking though, Millie leaned down after Trent’s whisper and brushed her lips against his again, testing out the waters once more.

Millie pulled away again and scanned Trent’s face before leaning forward and nudging his nose with hers. “My dream catcher,” She whispered with a wistful smile.

So this was what it should feel like, for feelings to come in to play with physical intimacy. Not that Trent knew how it should all feel. No, he was merely introduced to the tip of the iceberg. He was very used to the sort of intimacy that had only one aim, and that aim disregarded any regard for his partners. It was collision all the way, before the finish signalled the end, and that was it. Indubitably, Trent would never complain about that sort of intimacy. He had sought them all, needing them in fact; additions to the pleasures he sought from the drugs and the alcohol. Where he was now, however, taught him something new. The taste of Millie lingered on his tongue, even as Trent merely looked at her on top of him. It was a great position, even he had to acknowledge it with half of his mind.

Trent blinked a couple of times, as if he was trying to gain a better vision of Millie's face. Even his heart knew to treasure the current moment. Gently, he gave his hands motion to rub against the girl's sides, as if in doing so, he could rub some of her off onto his hands. Once again, he muttered Millie's name, as if he was admiring an ineffable beauty, something that he had no words for, but the very mention of her name could convey them all. How a woman like Lavender Brown could mother a daughter like Millie Finnigan, Trent had wondered before. Sure, there were striking similarities in their characters, but their looks were worlds apart to the teenage boy. And then Seamus; who was not exactly what one would call attractive, at least not to him. But of course, Trent could very well be biased. Besides, it would not do to think his friend's parents attractive.

Trent was ready to have a taste of Millie again, and he expected it when the girl leaned down to brush her lips against his, the tenderness of it melting bits of tension from him. When she lifted herself up without letting him have a taste, he scowled a little, like a child who was deprived of a new toy. It soon disappeared when she came forward again, as if there was a game of sorts, to tease and to withdraw. After all, wasn't that motion what they've been inflicting on each other ever so recently?

Three words, Millie spoke. He could understand her a lot better now, which meant that he was surely getting more sober by the minute. Still, in eagerness, Trent lifted himself despite the weight of the girl, and brought his face to hers. A smile played on the boy's lips, as if indicating his happiness for the moment. "Millie," he repeated yet again, and then he kissed her once more. The day spent in bed had left his hair in a fluffy mess. Still, Trent was never one to bother much with organisation, even if it meant his looks. The gentleness of the kiss he put onto Millie grew in strength, as quickly as his desire went from a brewing to a bursting one. Slowly, his hands travelled up her sides, before sliding back down, and then up again. Unlike times when he simply went for a grab for a girl's bum, he refrained from it without realising that he was refraining.