foolish reasons we live for

It was as if they’d been placed in an impenetrable bubble that was simply teaming with the emotions that had been welling up within them, some directed at each other, some directed at life but all of them coming to a climax with the kiss. Wrapped up in each other, wrapped up in the warmth and the smells that surrounded them, it was like they were in their own little world. And they were for the most part. For however long dinner lasted, for however long the others went about their lives, they were alone. They could afford to be wrapped up in each other, oblivious to everything else around them. This was like a passage between reality and fiction; a limbo that wasn’t at all unpleasant. It wasn’t believable in the slightest yet there they were. It was happening. It was almost impossible to believe. Almost.

Millie couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Trent’s face. She brushed some of his hair off of his forehead and swept her hand back down to his cheek again as she watched the little reactions he had and the changes of his expression. He was adorable really; a darling little creature that you couldn’t help but love and love even more once you were privy to everything beyond the surface emotions, the surface person. It worked a little bit like that with all of them. Impulsive, charged with the desire to bring hilarity into every situation, they were all looking for something they couldn’t quite put their fingers on. Reckless to the point of stupidity they all seemed to act on immediate wants and whatever struck their fancy in the moment. Beneath the haze of drugs and the haze that life surrounded people in there was something a lot more pitiable about all of them; the underlying sadness masked with so much falseness.

Millie relaxed against Trent and let herself melt against him, chest to chest. Millie smiled and threaded her fingers back into his hair as his lips returned to hers. There was something strangely wonderful about Trent’s taste. The Firewhisky still clung to his mouth but beneath that there was his taste that coincided with his smell. It was all just simply him. There was nothing else that could really sum it up. Everything made sense. Even the lingering taste of Firewhisky seemed to fit the mould. There was only one thing that could burst that bubble and that was the end of the meal that they were both missing out on, the entrance of his dorm mates. But, as her mind became muddled with everything that surrounded her, Millie began to lose track of time. As her fingers crept down to the hem of Trent’s shirt and tugged on it, urging it upwards, her mind became absorbed in the moment and readily forgot about the watch clasped around her wrist or the precarious situation that they were in. She just didn’t care. All she wanted was him.

The sound of music, if there ever was a time to define an essence of it to Trent, sounded at the laughter of Millie. He was certainly a little more abnormal than usual, for such romantic clichés to continue bombarding his mind. In his admiration of her beauty that was consuming him, a silly grin spread over the boy's face, and he made no effort to realise it, let alone keep it back in hiding. Suddenly, it was as if he had become a happy trooper. The multitude of reasons that had brought him down looked insignificant now. Trent relished the comfort he found in the current situation. His heart was beating a lot faster, but it was not a bad sign. It had gone from feeling like death to something resembling life now, and he certainly had no complains about that.

Trent felt Millie press her body against his, even as she merely allowed herself to relax against him. Oh, joyous weight that one could have. He held her, as if worried that if he did not, she was going to slip away from him. Such was the paranoia that he still suffered from, even when he was supposed to be relaxed too. In the state that he was in, Trent had no knowledge of time. Time held no current existence in relation to him. After all, he had spent the entire day in the dormitory without even one look at a clock, or a watch. Whatever time of the day it was, it was good, because it afforded privacy in the dormitory; although Trent really did not have the capacity now to worry if someone else walked in on them. If he had even dedicated a slight thought to Elliot, he would have retained some worries that had drifted away with half of his brain. After all, it was the other boy's sister that he was kissing now.

Without functioning nerves required to worry, Trent felt himself begin to ache for more of Millie when he felt her fingers tickle his torso with their touch. The boy made an indescribable sound that was probably meant to be a moan. Millie's fingers edged his shirt up, and he allowed them to, unlike the resistance he had managed to front at his house. It was definitely a precarious situation that they were both in now, for sure. Trent had stayed in bed all day, and it meant that he merely had a white under-shirt on, accompanied by a pair of boxer shorts.

Unlike the last time, he was hardly aware that his lack of clothing was part of the reason why it was dangerous now for the both of them. Trent let Millie put her hands wherever they wanted to be at on him, and his body reacted naturally to her touch. It was surely growing in excitement. Trent allowed his kiss to become deeper, even straining up to make it so. Moments of kissing passed, before he left her lips to begin a trail of light kisses on her cheek, to her left ear, under and behind that left ear, to the left side of her neck, covering as much skin as he wanted with his lips. The more he took, the more delirious he felt. He had been, despite not admitting it, waiting to do this for so long. Still, one cannot be sure yet on how far he would allow himself to go before stopping.

Now, then, Trent brought his hands to the back-end of Millie's jumper. Slightly impatient all of a sudden, he began to pull it up quicker than he had intended to. The lower end of his body began to press up towards her, as if all of his body wanted to enmesh itself into the girl.

However hard she tried, Millie couldn’t help but wonder when he was going to stop. There was something awfully similar about their situation and she was poised ready to break away and accept that what was happening shouldn’t have been. She was ready for that but every passing second made her forget and stop wondering. Every second reinforced the idea that it wasn’t going to end unnaturally. It would end in due time but not at either of their say-so’s. They could just leave their minds wherever and let themselves act on their own desires, let their bodies react the way they needed to and seek out the safety in one another they seemed to both be searching for.

In comparison, Millie had far more layers on than Trent did who looked as if he hadn’t even moved from bed since the moment he’d gotten in it the night before. She made quick work of taking hold of his shirt. She grazed it up his torso towards his neck, her movement’s jerky as she forgot and remembered what she was doing. There was a distraction and that was his lips against her skin, leaving what felt like a trail of fire in their wake. Every single tingle they left behind made her heart quicken in her chest just that little bit faster and she continued to forget the task at hand. The shirt was going to look a damn sight better on the floor but he just wasn’t giving her the time to get it off of him.

Millie smirked a little when she felt him tug at her jumper and she leaned into him, her own lips seeking out his jaw and trailing across to his neck. She pulled away again and tugged at his shirt. She pulled it over his head and down his arms. She dropped it down and pulled at the hem of her jumper. She yanked it upwards and tore it off over her head before tossing it to the ground in the vague direction of her robes. She had no idea where her tie had disappeared to - or whether she’d had it in the first place that morning - but at that moment it was one less thing to worry about getting off and she leaned forward again, returning her lips to his as her hands came back up to his neck.

Trent felt a tugging, and reluctantly released his hold of Millie for awhile, only to find that she was helping him get out of his shirt. He willingly obliged, and almost launched back at her, only to find himself watching the girl get the jumper off herself. Trent let his arms fall to the side as he continued to watch her. The situation was quite clear now. Even if he was lacking half a brain, the boy knew he was shirtless, staring at the one girl that was different, that made him feel and learn things he never knew before. He could have let resistance seep in now, now that the minute passage of time was going to make things clearer and clearer to him. Still, the pent-up frustrations from within forbid him to run now. He was under her, after all. Still, that reason was merely a lame excuse for what he truly wanted.

Millie leaned back into him with a force that matched with his desire. Trent returned the kiss before he realised that his hands had grasped the sheets near them. Releasing the sheets, he moved them to the girl instead. First, he kept them safe at Millie's waist. But they could not remain there forever, and they travelled up impatiently. Even with the girl having her hands at his neck, Trent pushed against them to allow his lips to touch her neck again. The hands that had travelled up began to toy with the buttons of the girl's shirt, and then they hesitated. The hesitation was undoubtedly an indication that some sanity had returned to him. He was still delirious with her, but less so on the substances he had taken earlier.

And what was this? Was he seeking permission? Trent removed his lips from their hungry trail along Millie's collarbone. Instead, he focused now on guessing at the girl's thoughts. His eyes found hers, and held the gaze, but his face offered an expression of a question. The uncertainty was fully apparent within him and on his face. He waited, but he did not remove his fingers from the last button on the girl's shirt.

She’d only come for something wear to bed. The active, but at this present time ignored, part of Millie’s mind was still whirling, replaying the events that had taken them to this point, trying to figure out what quite went wrong with the whole picture. It was really a shame her body and mind didn’t quite agree on this subject because whether her mind liked it or not this was something it wanted too. It was something the whole of her wanted. It wasn’t so divided anymore. She needed him in every sense of the word, in every way he could give himself to her. She was his. She’d decided that unconsciously a long time ago and every kiss she gave was a way of communicating it to him, even if she didn’t quite realise that herself. She knew it though; on some level she’d always known it.

The desire seemed to crackle in the air. It was a mix of magic and everything that was coursing through them. She had noticed the scenes that where blurring through her head. Little attention was paid to that though, mostly out of fear of what she’d see. It was all extraordinarily bright thankfully but she wasn’t going to take that chance. She couldn’t bear to see that darkness again. The light showed promise but it wasn’t enough, not really. It wasn’t hard to stay grounded in that moment. Her mind was prone to wandering but she had nowhere else to be. There was no where better to be.

The hands that cupped his neck soon fell away when Trent pressed forward, his lips seeking out her neck once more. A moan slipped from her lips and her eyes slipped shut, allowing for her other senses to absorb the feeling. They reopened though, when everything came to a pause. She looked at him, a gently smile curving her lips upwards, and tipped her face towards his again. His wide, questioning eyes were almost child-like. Angelic almost - if he had an angelic bone in his body. Millie let her hands drop from where they’d fallen to his shoulders and her fingers danced across his forearms. “Please,” She whispered. She brought her lips to his jaw and placed a few slow, lingering kisses there, reinforcing her plea. She trailed her lips up to his ear and paused, “Don’t stop.”

Even if he looked like he was in control, what with the initiations of his actions, Trent was far from it. He hated the uncertainty of the situation. He tried not to think about consequences, with easy effort now, or he would have hated them. He hated, too, that he had less clarity than he really wanted. If something was going to happen, he wanted to remember every millisecond (pun intended) of it to resound with ultimate clarity when he chooses to recall after the event. It was certainly safe to say now that Trent knew what he was doing. He just did not know if it was what he would allow himself to do, and if he was going to have the privilege to recall the experience if it should never occur again. It would all be painful, though, to know Millie once, and have that come to an end just as it was at its beginning.

The moan that escaped from Millie's lips encouraged him. Trent had always been obsessed with the sounds of a girl. They were all so different from his, and yet, they were all such a delight. However, he did not throw the girl's sound in with the rest that he had known before. He worshipped it, even as he had allowed his lips to explore the more decent parts of her. It was strange, how he delightedly imposed the imagination of himself as a pauper. In so many ways he felt like one. And she? She was a queen. For this moment, at this time, Trent thought that he could lie to himself. He certainly had no idea how Millie felt about him. Even his confidence faltered against her. He lied to himself as he kissed her, imagining her as his queen, and he a mere subject enamoured by her, pleased to be the chosen one for the night, to please her majesty.

Trent almost let himself call Millie so, at the expense of appearing like a love-struck fool. But he was not very expressive. The words in his mind could not transpire into the world between him and the girl now. It was as if to verbalise his worship of her was to jeopardise it all. He let Millie kiss him, almost feeling like she was rewarding him, a Knight now, for slaying the dragon. It was only after that thought faded, that Trent understood what she had said to accompany her touch. It was certainly encouragement. Eagerly, he began to unbutton her shirt, forcing his eyes to focus on the action, and on what was hiding behind it. The force in which he had exerted on his mind and his eyes, and the anxiety he had felt building up within him, began to hurt him. Soon enough, though, the shirt came off, and Trent buried his head into her bosom, enjoying the warmth and the love it offered him.

A large part of the girl was wondering when she would wake up. The dream was too good and most assuredly too vivid to be real. She’d been in tangles like this far too often for her liking. Though worth it in the end it never really mattered; it was just fun. This was something very different, however. This wasn’t a funny five minutes in a broom closet between classes or something equally as easy to throw from her mind. This meant something; Trent meant something. They’d been friends first, always friends. Millie didn’t know when this had entered into the equation but it felt like the natural progression, like a wayward stream finally joining onto the main river. It was inevitable; and so agonisingly simple it seemed ridiculous that it hadn’t occurred sooner. There was a good reason for that though, Millie was sure.

Millie continued to press kisses to Trent’s neck and jaw, each one timed to coincide with the buttons he parted; every peck a reward and a reason for him to go on. Millie rolled her shoulders back when the buttons came free and she brought her hands around her to release the cuffs. It too joined the clothes that were quickly piling up in their desire to remove the obstacles between them. For a second she wondered about her tie but the thought slid out of her mind with the moan that Trent’s actions elicited from her.

Blindly, her fingers danced off of his shoulders and down his arms towards his hands. She curled her fingers around his wrists and guided them down from where they’d fallen towards her legs. She released his wrists, trusting he knew exactly where to go, and let her hands fall away as she began to dot a few kisses across his shoulder. Every second was committed to her memory; every precious, aching second. For now he was hers and hers only and no one in the whole world could lay claim to him.

Was she his? Would she ever be his? The questions began again in his mind, and Trent knew what he needed there and then. He wanted her to be his queen. As soon as the shirt came off the girl, he felt her holding his wrists, guiding them to ... he wasn't sure where exactly. Still, he knew it was her way to ask him to do something, to take them both to somewhere only they would know. As if needing some of the control back from where he had dispersed them to, Trent slid his hands up from the girl's thighs to her waist. Taking a firm hold of her, he turned them both, so that she had her back pressed into his bed instead, while he pressed his body on top of her, taking care not to hurt her with all of his weight though. Trent paused to study the girl's face for a moment, before burying his face into her hair. It was surely an odd move. What was he waiting for?

The smell of her, the overpowering smell of her, could be found in her hair. The boy lost himself in it, enjoying also the feel of it against his face. Soon enough, Trent was drawn back to Millie's flesh. He let his lips first touch her ears, nibbling them as he continued to take her smell in. Soon enough, his lips began to take second helpings at the girl's cheek, lips, chin, and then her neck. His hands were working all this time, too. Moments transpired while he was enjoying himself above Millie's bosom, and his hands soon left the both of them in starkers. It was a good thing that the covers were over the both of them.

"Millie, I ..." Trent bit his lower lip, still not having words successfully transpiring out of his mouth. He blinked a couple of times, before he allowed one of his hands to rub gently at the girl's left cheek. What did he want to say anyway, the three words? Coming out of his state of daze, Trent had reconciled himself with the fact that he was going to experience this intimacy in a rather sober manner. He, therefore, hesitated with the three words. He felt it in his heart, for sure. But who was he to speak of love? What love was there that he possessed, sufficient to give it away to Millie? If he said those three words, a promise would have been sounded. Trent wanted them to mean something, but he felt as if he would hurt the girl with disappointment if he let those words lose. After all, he always disappointed, even to himself. That was why he was even up here in the dormitory at such a time, in the first place.

Trent let a silent repetition of "I" happen, before he shut his mouth. The three words wanted to spill out, but he pushed them further back. Instead, his eyes had to do the silent job of loving her with his gaze. Having gave up on the speaking attempt again, the boy let his lips glide from the girl's to her neck, and then to her bosom, which put the excitement back into the game for him. It was more than he had ever expected to encounter, the feelings her body could elicit from him. Trent began to taste Millie's body, every taste a fantasy. He almost had tears for the fact that he was getting what he wanted from her, after such a torturous wait. But no, he was every bit a subscriber to the norms of male behaviour, and so he could not jolly well sob into Millie's body. It was definitely because feelings had come to play with them, that left Trent emotionally-wrought.

He was getting more greedy, more hungry, by the second. Trent explored Millie's body with his lips, and did so with such an eagerness that caused him pain, for the fact that he needed very much to satisfy himself with her. He felt guilty, though. Oh for Merlin's sake!, he heard the screaming thought within himself, it being impatient with how he was hesitating so much, when it was used to instant bang and splash. Trent had to oblige it, if not, the pain would only increase. After all, he loved her sufficiently. He could worry later. It was so close, he had to do it.

Trent grabbed Millie's body and pulled her closer to him, wanting to make sure he engulfed every piece of her, if they were going to do it. He felt selfish. He wanted her for himself, and after this, he wanted her nowhere but for him. Of course, that was not for him to decide, but one can at least express it in one's actions. Trent grabbed a little harder than intended, in his eagerness. And then he loved her, pouring the best of him into the act of it, if there was even a best to speak of. He was very self-deprecating. He could believe himself to put his best into the girl, but he essentially took from her to make himself feel better. Unlike other times when he would merely focus on the body, however, Trent was drawn to the shapes he thought he saw in Millie's eyes, just as his body took pleasure with hers. He loved her just as his eyes did the same with hers. The delight of watching the treasure of Millie's eyes, and her lips in reaction to what he was doing, was enough to send Trent into euphoria.

For fanciful poets and lyrical authors, it was the beginning of the most tragic of all tragedies. Little moments of splendour were rarely given to mere mortals. The Gods were forever fickle and rarely allowed such ecstasy for their subjects to experience. By comparison to past experience, the same act required very little to placate the two parties but it never sated. The lust was never appeased and though torn down from the height of desire those mortals that took without first asking were troubled with that same lust that they’d acted on until finally, it was given wholly to the person to which that desire ultimately should have been directed to. Only then could the torment of endless desire be cured; when the two correct people came together in the way the Gods intended. Two lives ruled by destiny and ultimately tied together by the subtle probing of higher powers and the purest of human emotion: love.

Mere mortals this pair may have been but they were not taking from one another, what ought not to have been stolen; not at all. They were mortals that had been blessed with something a little bit extra, a touch of something much greater. Magic was present in all beings. What mattered very little was the amount; what was important was that it was there. It was another bind, something else that brought people together - through choice or otherwise. Researchers liked to think that the magical cores within the witches and the wizards that had received much more than their fair share of the wondrous gift reached out and connected to each other, thereby creating links between people. It recognised the person’s own need for companionship and the core shared that desire, thereby creating the bonds between people in whatever form it so desired. Though it couldn’t be said when these were made, there were thoughts it was either over time or spontaneous - lending to the cliché ‘love at first sight’.

Though perhaps time was not on their side, neither Gryffindor rushed the moments they had together. Though eager for the feel of each other’s body, neither one chose to speed up the slow, sensual dance taking place. Such passion need not be rushed.

She relaxed into the softness of the mattress and let her eyes slide shut, absorbing the feeling of Trent’s weight against her, revelling in it even. Her fingers traced idle circles in his skin as he buried his head into her hair, inhaling and exhaling breaths of her scent that was forever seemingly muddled with what she rubbed into her skin and her hair and whatever bits of the atmosphere clung to her. Her scent also always seemed to hold little bits of him whether from a hug or little touches that scalded her skin throughout the day and left their invisible mark.

With the distraction of his lips, she barely even noticed the loss of the last pieces of material. Her eyes blinked open at the call of her name and she looked at him, leaning into his palm as he struggled with his words. A smile ghosted across her lips and she turned her head into his palm. She pressed her lips against it and nudged his hand with her nose before turning her head, and her gaze, back towards him.

It was then that his lips returned to her skin. Her gasp punctured the air and eyes fell shut once more as her skin took note of every single spot his lips grazed. His movements were sure but still flecked with hesitance. It was almost as if he was teasing her and they were back to the game they’d been playing with each other. It was sweet torture; sweet torture. The real torture had been the wait. What was taking place had always been inevitable. At some point they were going to collide. Never had she felt for Trent the same way she did her brother. Despite growing up together it had never taken that route, ever. And though she could never quite understand what her feelings were towards Trent she understood that it was some form of love. What form, she did not know but it had always been love. But love evolved didn’t it? It had grown and changed with time, just like they themselves had.

It was a dance they both knew so painfully well but being lead through the same sweet routine with someone who meant so much more than those before him was what made it worth the wait and worth the agony of the emotions that were kept bottled up. But the flood waters had been opened and they poured into each other the love they’d been depriving themselves of. With it crackled their magic, burning the air as it swirled in its own desperate dance. And as the euphoria subsided, Millie realised that it was no dream. She blinked at him and smiled before leaning up and gently brushing her lips against his. After a moment she pulled away and brought her hand to his cheek. “I...as well.” Millie told him quietly. “Always have.”

The euphoria had subsided indeed. It faded away slowly for Trent, and he was thankful for that, happy that Millie had offered the best. It was as if, after her, he might never quite enjoy it the way he did with her. While expectations were usually disappointed, this one did not. The nights that he had spent secretly dreaming about the event had culminated to this; and he was not merely reaching for a light, it came to him. After all the sadness that had inflicted him, or that he had inflicted on himself, he felt cured of it, albeit temporarily. Trent had held himself up in place to feel the fading away of the last of euphoria. As soon as it left him, he fell back down onto Millie, as if drained of all of his energy. With his face against the girl's shoulder, he breathed into it, enjoying the intimate scent of her skin.

"Mmmph," he sighed against the weight of his head against her. And then, he turned his head to the side, so that he was resting it against Millie's collarbone, but looking up at her. Trent wanted very much to remain where he was, safe near her bosom, but he lifted himself instead to plant a kiss on the girl's forehead. This was followed by Millie brushing her lips against his. And then she spoke. Trent watch her lips as they moved to speak, but he duly brought his eyes to hers, admiring the colour of it. He tried to understand what her words were meant for, before realising it was a kind of answer to him. He blinked, disbelieving. He wanted very much to ask her explicitly for the purpose of her words, as if he wanted to verify what he thought. Trent, however, merely bit his lower lip.

He was not ready for it. It was a scary thought. He wanted Millie, all of her; wanted her to promise all of herself to him. But, he did not know how to demand it. It was as if, to demand, it was a demand on him too. The idea was out of his comfort zone. Trent decided that he would allow the idea to rest, wanting instead to spend what little time there was left, just enjoying Millie in his bed, after what was possibly the best thing that had happened in his life. He was positive that was it. How they got here, from innocent children to this, he did not know. It was a good run though. He just had to deal with controlling what felt like mad falling into his feelings for her. That was what left him hesitating with his demand.

Smiling at Millie, Trent shifted so that his weight now rested on the bed, with the right side of his body. Slowly, he slipped an arm around the girl, while he laid his back down against the bed. And then he pulled Millie closer to him, willing her to rest against him, as he brushed his fingers repeatedly against her back, enjoying how smooth it felt there. Did he have to say anything? He felt like he had to. Typically, with the aftermath of shenanigans, Trent would reach for a cigarette, or go get a drink. He was never one for the cuddles. Cuddles was when girls demanded your attention, wanted some sweet-nothings whispered, and your seeming protection, and you had to feign gallantry and loving-kindness. He could never bring himself to it. Now, though, he wanted nothing more than to do them for Millie. Trent nuzzled his nose against the top of Millie's head, sniffing at her hair. "You smell nice." You smell nice?! Some part of himself rolled its eyes at him.