Teenagers

Trent didn't understand what was there in the weather that people gripe about, sounding as if the weather took them by surprise with every word of complaint that buoyed to fill the void in its utterance. The English weather was consistent, alright. It was as consistent as erraticism could ever be. There was the short bit of sunshine, then the long bit of cold that stayed true to the word itself for as long as cold would last. The rain, though, was always ever alternating, always ever present. Trent felt a drop of water touch fall on his cheek as he looked up, as if to make out a sign in the clouds, then shrugged and thought nothing more of it. Yet, he removed his hoodie, slipping the maroon off his ever so blatant Gryffindor-inclined ensemble of clothes and school paraphernalia upon his return to another school term, as he struggled against the odd mix of humidity and drizzle.

To think that just a term ago, the boy was speeding to King's Cross on his skateboard, rushed but still heavily disappointed as he blamed his reason for being late with the fact that no one cared. Neither Demelza nor Dean thought to wake the boy up just before leaving for work in the Ministry, both too caught up in the pressures and pleasures in their own lives to remember that their son was to return to another term in Hogwarts. Perhaps Dean didn't want to remember it on purpose. After all, Trent thought, he had given up on his son's lacklustre school performance, a shame compared to his own.

This time, Trent learnt, he was on his own. There was no one to depend on. In a rare show of responsibility, he was up early. Given that he merely had forty winks the night before, it wasn't difficult. The boy had even flipped through the textbooks that he would, hopefully, be looking through frequently enough for his own sake. After all, his OWLs were just a whole lot of shambles. Dean's disappointment couldn't be more obvious, as father and son grew even more estranged over the summer, especially since Demelza had now gone "to be happy". Trent strolled out of King's Cross. He was early. Pushing his cart out to the side of the station, the boy chose a quiet spot before taking out a rolled cigarette from the pocket of his hoodie, lighting it distractedly as he watched the congested traffic on what would be a typical London weekday morning.

September had arrived briskly with an autumn chill suspended in the air almost overnight. The morning dawned with low-lying clouds, fog having taken over the streets, near-blinding motorists. Canterbury was very different from London. It was unsettlingly quiet, the sounds of rowdy drunks that accompanied the traffic of London having been wiped away and replaced by the sounds of cockerels and clucking hens, the sound of gravel being crunched underfoot and the near constant smell of manure – a side-effect of living uncomfortably near farmland. It wasn’t something Millie was used to, the silence. The silence gave her mind the quiet it needed to grow loud and impossible in her ears. It allowed to replay the scene; to hear her screams rattle and vibrate once more through the room even though there was no sound to speak of. It was during the silence of the night that she cried, that she sobbed uncontrollably into her hands that were slick with the salt of her tears. It was during the silence of night that Elliot joined her, creeping into room and wrapping in his warm embrace, refusing to cry with her but providing a reassurance that she did not know what she would have done without.

It was during those nights that siblings grew closer, forged a bond that was fragile but unbreakable as far as they were concerned. Relieved though Elliot was to be within the company of their mother, he knew as well as Millie did that Lavender did not love them and so all they really had was each other. They reconciled without even realising it, the broken cracks in their relationship patched up with the strengthening of their sibling bond. They became more of a team than they had ever been and so together they tried to get on with life, ignoring Lavender as best they could while still trying to function as normal human beings. That didn’t, of course, stop the arguments between mother and daughter or the bickering between mother and son which got venomous and spiteful when the latter acted in defence of his sister. It was something that happened often now. It was not an occurrence that was few and far between in how often it appeared. No, now the anger and the resentment and the arguments because of the above had become a daily event for the three remaining Finnigans.

“MELISSA!”

Millie shook from her slumber, throwing herself up from where she was laid, catching her legs in the sheets she’d cocooned herself in and sending her spiralling onto the floor of her bedroom. Millie lifted her head out of the mess of sheets and pillows and brushed her hair out of her eyes, turning her gaze towards her bedroom door just as she heard Elliot’s voice join the fray out in the hallway. Millie drew her knees up to her chest, bringing her forehead down to rest atop them as she tried in vain to close of her hearing, to ignore the barrage of words that were being exchanged between mother and son, the venom she could hear being shot between them. Her hands found her ears and cupped them as she squeezed her eyes shut, determined to ignore everything that she could hear flying between the pair just outside her door which was the only barrier between her and their harpy of a mother.

Hearing Lavender flounce away was sweet relief and Millie allowed herself to lie back onto the floor, taking steps to steady her breathing as she heard the movement of footsteps over the creaky floorboards. A soft knock on the door met her ears not a moment later and Millie looked up to see her brother – half-dressed, half not – in the doorway, a stripe of toothpaste on his chin and his favourite toothbrush between his fingers. He brought his hand up and rubbed his face, smearing the toothpaste but succeeding in getting rid of it. Millie smiled a little at him and he returned the gesture with a smile of his own as he moved across the room towards her, setting the toothbrush down before easing himself onto the bed, laying on his front and peering over the side at his sister.

“Just make it to the station without arguing with her, alright?” he coaxed, reaching out with his hand, curling his fingers around her smaller limb. She looked up at him, her eyes dull with fatigue and Elliot moved off of the bed, releasing her hand momentarily to bring himself to his feet only to reach back down and loop his arm around Millie’s middle, hooking the other under her legs in order to lift her up off of the floor. It was an odd sight to see considering he was not a particularly strong young man but he carried the bundle of Millie and sheets without complaint, taking her into the bathroom and setting her down gently on her feet before moving to the door. “It’ll be okay, Mills. Get dressed. What do you want? I’m going down to make something to eat.”

Breakfast was just barely stomached. Millie managed to shovel some cornflakes into her mouth but could not wipe the mournful look on her face as she stared into the milky mess. Elliot stood, leaning against the doorway that lead out into the back garden, his cup of coffee resting on the windowsill as he pensively made his way through his third cigarette of the morning, his eyes focused on his sister as he took drags of one of her Marlboros in between mouthfuls of long-cold coffee. His gaze occasionally flicked over to Lavender who was stood by the countertops, nursing her own cup of coffee, looking woefully uninterested but seemed to care enough to glare at her only daughter.

“Lavender,” Elliot barked, breaking the silence of the room. Lavender’s eyes moved to him and Millie’s lifted also. Elliot looked at his mother pointedly. “Enough.” He commanded of her. Lavender sighed long-sufferingly and slammed her coffee down on the counter, spilling some of the contents over the top. Elliot closed his eyes, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he heard the retreating sound of her heels against the wood of the floor. Elliot reopened his eyes and looked over at his sister momentarily before returning his eyes to the world outside in the garden. It was safer there, he felt. Over the fence. Where no one could see him.

---

“Just keep walking, Millie.”

The blonde spared a weary look in her brother’s direction as she strode in what she believed to be an aimless fashion, up the main platform of King’s Cross Station. In her arms she carried a surprisingly willing Lucius-cat who was purring in what he hoped to be a reassuring fashion for his owner. The siblings passed through the barrier without the customary run-up. They moved with a slightly dulled gait, their reflexes far less than they would have usually been. Millie every so often turned back to look at Elliot, her lips curving into the offer of helping him – one he denied every time. Millie led the way in a slow, death-march fashion and for some unknown reason, the students parted willingly, shooting them both sympathetic looks.

They knew.

Millie stopped suddenly; her eyes growing wide and pooling with tears. She lifted herself up onto her tip-toes, small noises of indignation and despair whimpering from her lips. She closed her eyes, willing herself to die right there on the spot. The feel of Elliot’s hand on her shoulder did little to reassure her and slowly she began to back away, the voices all melding into nothing but noise.

And then she ran and did not stop until she was out of the station, plunged into the freezing September morning. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped, doubling over, releasing Lucius onto the floor and gripping her knees, trying in vain to swallow back her tears.

A mew from her animal broke through her false sense of unconsciousness, stopping her from trying to plunge herself into the lack of feeling, of clarity she wished she could. Millie reopened her eyes and straightened up, looking over to see the cat wandering off down the path.

“Lucius!” She called, her voice barely worth the volume it leant to the words. Raw with her tears the night before, Millie could barely form the words she wanted to say, let alone speak them.

And so she followed, pushing through the people arriving at the station as she fought to keep up with the cat who led her to the only person she’d really wanted to see: “Trent.”

Lucius meowed again, jumping up onto Trent’s trunk as his owner looked at his friend helplessly.

Millie launched herself forward, throwing her arms around Trent’s middle, hugging him tightly to her as if she was afraid of him disappearing out of her life, as if he was just a mirage.

“Don’t leave me, please. I can’t...I don’t...” Millie trailed off, unsure what to say, and instead just buried her head into his chest, hoping that maybe he’d consume her and she’d get a one-way ticket out of this life, out of the place where she was consumed by pain.

For once, perhaps, he wasn't the only one with the sad, sad life. Sure, that was a highly subjective verdict. Still, he believed in it, even if he was alone in that opinion. Yet, Millie was the last person in the world that he hoped to be joined with, bonded in misery. No, she was his happy bubble. Trent remembered how, when he got the news rather quickly after it happened, even he fought with a hopeless resistance against the fact that Seamus was now somewhere that they could not go, and did not know. It is cruel, certainly, when people leave. It is so especially when you least expect to find yourself without them, what with the seeming permanence permeating mundane life. It pained Trent to see the girl having to truly understand that.

He returned her hug, making it as snug as possible, feeling as if he had, over the course of time, learnt exactly how Millie liked to be held. Trent felt the vibration of her voice tremble against his chest, as he let his chin rest gently on the top of the girl's head. Then, while he held her, the boy bent as he almost lifted her, kissing her cheek in what he hoped to be a reassuring manner.

"I can't, Mills." Another kiss on her other cheek. "And I won't either." Then, he flicked his cigarette away, realising that he didn't have the time to do so in reaction to her earlier. It didn't take long at all to know that she was near him, as soon as Lucius was sighted. Yet, before Trent could scoop the cat up for a cuddle, he got one instead from the girl. Trent sniffed at the smell of the girl's hair, smiled, then dived his nose in it, delighted to be consumed by it, even if for awhile. Then, he squeezed her in the hug, before releasing one arm to gesture to the station.

"Let's go?" Trent checked at the ground near Millie for what he can help with, then concluded that Elliot had got them. With one arm still around the girl's waist in an even greater need to reassure her now, the boy reached for his cart and pushed it with his other. "Looo-cius," he called out, almost singing it, then made for the station with the girl.

In a rare show of punctuality, Trent found an empty compartment rather easily, entering it after Millie, sitting himself opposite her, near the window. Outside, the corridor was increasingly crowded, not sparing the growing noise levels. Inside, the boy leaned back comfortably, even as he stroked the fur of the cat that had resumed its position on his lap. Lucius purred in response. Trent turned his eyes back to Millie, making to check if she was decently settled. Then, he offered a smile. The door to the compartment slid open, and he turned to see Elliot Finnigan settle himself next to his sister. Returning a nod to a friend he had known since, possibly, babyhood, Trent returned his attention to Lucius, still feeling the typical guilt in Elliot's presence, with regards to his relationship with Millie.