So Good At Being In Trouble

She was
So good at being in trouble
So good at being in trouble
So good at being in trouble
So bad at being in love.

On one hand, she was baffled they still hadn’t started doing trunk and baggage checks. She didn’t bother to do anything more than shove her cartons of cigarettes and bottles of booze at the bottom of her trunk - no fake potions bottles, no cut out books. It wasn’t necessary and she had stopped worrying. But shit, one peek, one glance under and they would have prevented another teenage delinquent.

But, on the other hand, she wasn’t at all surprised. Firstly, she was never surprised. Secondly, she knew that they didn’t care. Sure they didn’t necessarily want their students smuggling contraband in, they didn’t pride themselves on being a liberal campus that let students make their own mistakes. But they didn’t actually care. It was going to happen anyway, and the time and personpower it would take to sniff out and then discipline the troublemakers wasn’t worth it. It was easier to go after the easier targets like Dyllan who were content to rulebreak openly. Then the professors could make “an example of her” and feel good about the values they were trying to instill in their students. As though putting Dyllan in detention had ever deterred anyone. She almost seemed to like the punishment.

Molly took another drag, humming along to her track as she considered the Hogsmeade weekend that was much too far away for her comfort. A cigarette was all fine and dandy but a joint would be better.

She sat up, watching the ripples of water around her feet in the lake. The sun had set but the sky was still orange with its memory and students were milling about the grounds, laughing and joking and catching up. Margo was trying to figure out “what the deal was” with the new Caretaker, some young guy that the blonde was convinced would not only sleep with her but would help change her grades come exam seasons.

And this was where Molly was. The edge of the lake, enjoying this rare moment of silence, the stillness, the smoke wafting from her cigarette as the track changed.

Ah, Hogwarts. At last. The novelty of returning to the ancient castle had yet to wear off and Melissa Finnigan still felt giddy with the same start-of-the-year anticipation that she got every year. N.E.W.T classes were, regrettably, proving something of a challenge, though, and anxiety about the future that lay beyond the childhood protection of the castle grounds was making concentrating even harder for the blonde witch. After a day of lessons, all varying in the challenges they presented, she felt as though she was already at her wits end. So, perhaps some of that start-of-the-year anticipation was beginning to wear off prematurely. Merlin knew, even after so short a time back, Millie felt like she needed a break.

The tonic, of course, was running. Once her final class – a rather frustrating Transfiguration lecture – ended, she swept back up to the Gryffindor Tower where she ditched her bag and her robes. She replaced the suffocating uniform with a light, white cotton top and some black shorts edged with white detailing. She donned her trainers, tied the laces, and with that she was off; out into the grounds and determined to put her mind to something other than all of worries that were beginning to pile up. Not for the first time, Millie wished she had her path as easily mapped out as her brother had done. You’ll get there, she told herself firmly.

Her route around the grounds had not changed since her third year. She left the castle and headed down the hill towards the Quidditch pitch which she lapped once before veering off towards the pumpkin patch and the edge of the Forest. She gave the groundskeeper’s hut a wide berth, not wanting to disturb them, and then wound back round towards the lake which she would walk round and then go back to the castle through the back, up the stairs behind the boathouse. It was the perfect route to run while planning pranks but today her frazzled mind couldn’t even conjure up a basic outline of one and she had a feeling there would be regrettably less time for such diversions this year.

The grounds were busy that evening – or, well, busier than she was used to. Students were catching up, though, exchanging holiday tales and enjoying the early evening before they had to resign themselves to sleep in preparation for the morning.

As she reached the lake, Millie slowed down and took her hair out of the band she’d thrown it up in. The curls bobbed down around her shoulders, almost as though they were relieved to be freed, and she began to catch her breath back. It was as she walked that she began to smell something odd. Well, not odd, just unexpected in the magical world. She had smelt it plenty of times when she was at home in the village, though. Smoke. Specifically, cigarette smoke.

Millie came to a stop and looked around, pausing a moment to admire the last of the light as it twinkled on the surface of the lake, before finding the source of the smell.

A Ravenclaw girl. Well, to be precise, a Ravenclaw Weasley. Molly Weasley. With her headphones in, as always. And a cigarette. Of course. Millie couldn’t be sure.

Millie pulled the hairband onto her wrist and began to trudge up the grassy incline towards the girls. She found the sorrow of this particular Weasley – though she was not sure that was the right assessment – peculiar and she knew it wasn’t her place to pry.

“Alright, Weasley? ” Millie asked, offering the girl a warm smile. Then, after a pause, she said: “mind if I sit wit’ ya?”

[Mentioned this in Discord, Margo's not here. But that's super on me and my phrasing. Was typing on my phone on the train sooo Sorry!]

The only reason Molly even heard her was because of the lull between songs. She angled her head, squinting an eye as one of the sun's last rays split Melissa Finnegan's countenance in half. She nodded, a wry smile curling her lips almost deviously as she caressed the ground next to her, before flopping back onto her back. The next song was a good one, one she'd like to listen to without distraction, so she took an earbud out and let it lay in the grass.

She took another drag from the cigarette, angling her cheek so no ash fell back on her, before reaching her hand out to offer Millie a drag. "I have a fresh one if you don't want to risk swapping spit."

It wasn't the swapping spit that gave the Gryffindor pause but the cigarette itself. Millie's parents had made their opinions known about smoking when they'd first caught her elder brother hurriedly blowing smoke out of his bedroom window one night when they were both much younger.

Seamus had thought the house was on fire and the pair had gone to investigate. What they found resulted in quite the showdown. A week later, Millie really did ignite the house while practicing some spells and, weirdly, that went down better. Who'd have thought it?

"I'll pass," Millie said, holding up a hand. "Thanks though. 'Tis kind of you to offer." She imagined that, in another life, she would have jumped at the chance.

"Hogwarts getting to you already?" She guessed, though, admittedly, she was projecting a little bit there. "I'm sorry I disturbed your quiet but I ... well, you cut a lonely figure up here, chick. Still," she pressed on, not wanting to linger on that point and make Molly too uncomfortable, "it's a lovely night for this. You've still got a few years of fun yet, I hope. Seventh year isn't what it's cracked up to be."

Molly’s hand floated back towards her as her lips kissed the cigarette, sucking in the sweet nicotine, smoke filling her lungs. They said cigarettes would kill you, and Molly certainly seemed to be at peace with that. Maybe she wouldn’t have been so keen if she were a muggle, saddled permanently with the consequences. But there were ways to preserve her voices, her skin, even ways to relieve her lungs. It was a pity the muggles didn’t know about their world. Almost seemed unfair.

So it goes.

Molly smiled as Millie began to speak, affirming one of Molly’s primary beliefs in this world : most people had something to say and would say anything to get you to ask them about it. She heard it all around her, students faking conversations in the hope of tricking their friends into letting them take the floor. Even the quiet ones were just desperate to be asked the right questions so they could say their piece. No one listened to listen. They listened for their chance to speak.

It was freeing, having nothing that needed saying. Molly was convinced she could go a month without speaking. It was what made Margo excellent company. Margo didn’t need Molly to participate to have a full fledged conversation. Her presence just confirmed the ruse, and Molly nodded along.

Millie was having a day. Maybe a week. She needed to talk about it, or at least she really wanted to. And Molly wasn’t going to stop her. “It’s not all laughs, then?”

The Gryffindor's smile spread out into a thin line. Admittedly, she was used to more raucousness than the young Ravenclaw afforded her. Molly's question was simple, to the point, and almost required no answer. She was almost entirely rendered mute by it. For, what else could she say? The younger girl was so seemingly unflappable, so unworried about what was going to happen beyond the ending, perhaps, of her cigarette. Millie ducked her head, a little bit of embarrassment warming her cheeks.

"No," she murmured, looking down at her hands. Nails bitten, polish chipped. Worry high, careening towards impossible levels of stress as the term would go on. "Do you have it all figured out, Weasley? You seem so ... chill." Millie shrugged her shoulders, unsure if that was quite the right word for it.

Cigarettes and rumours about more illicit substances were not a recipe for having it all figured out. Millie knew that. But she was also wondering whether good grades and decent prospects were. She had those. She had a good support network behind her. Friends. A good dose of mischief. But she was so lost. She had to start looking for work experience opportunities. Of that she was certain. Her brother had gone straight into the Ministry out of Hogwarts. Millie knew her lack of obvious 'next step' was the root of her anxieties.

"How was your summer, anyway?" She asked, hoping to get just a smidgeon more from the girl ... not, mind you, that she imagined Molly Weasley was a young woman of many words.

"What's there to figure out?" she hummed.

She didn't try to come off mysterious or cryptic. Unfortunately, there weren't many options when attempting to reveal nothing and having nothing to reveal. She wasn't trying to figure her life out, wasn't worried about next year or the year after. There was a peace that came from acceptance, even if that acceptance wasn't tied to something bigger or more meaningful. She didn't worry because she really couldn't muster up the energy to care.

She also had practice not caring. Margo only cared about vapid, temporary things. Bev didn't care about it unless he could smoke it or screw it. She could tell it bugged her family, who cared so much about everything, but where had that gotten any of them? Ginny was a wreck, her namesake Molly the First was always on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Her own father was so tightly wound that he was liable to snap at any time.

This was better. Easier. More comfortable.

"It was... good." Sneaking out, snogging Bev, meeting up with strangers, drinking on rooftops. "Quiet." Dashing through the turnstiles without paying the fare, rolling joints while Bev kept a look out, holding Margo's hair back while she vomited. "You know, the usual. Did a bit of reading. You? How's the big brother?"

“Oh, I dunno,” Millie shrugged her shoulders, a nervous giggle bubbling between her lips and out into the air. “Life, I suppose.”

She gritted her teeth and looked down at her hands. A stray breeze whispered over the hillside and pushed ripples into the water. Millie wondered if it would be a shock to the system to submerge herself fully in the domain of the merpeople. Would it be the shock she needed, to find clarity? She had no true idea. So gripped was she by the paralysing fear that she might let her parents down, that she might not live up to her brother’s example, that she thought nothing short of a stiff drink would calm her. The run had clearly not done the trick.

And as soon as Molly mentioned Elliot, Millie felt like letting her head drop into her hands. How was he? Well. He was just brilliant, all considered. Moving was a bit of a terror for him but he was moving into his first home with the partner he’d had since fourth year. So … that was swell. Those boxes were ticked. And then his job. His oh-so-wonderful job. Well, that was going swimmingly. He was even on track for an early promotion if he kept up the same quality of work he had been exhibiting.

The best of it was, Millie wasn’t even remotely envious of him. She was effervescently happy. But … as he racked up the ‘life points’, reached the milestones expected and moved on to new ones … well, eventually the keen eyes of their parents would turn to her and they would watch and wait and see everything. She knew they just wanted her to be happy. She knew that was all they wanted but she also knew that if she loped about, adrift, unable to choose her future, disappointment and disaffection would begin to creep in.

“He’s great, yeah,” Millie nodded. “He has more or less everything he’s ever wanted which is lucky and brilliant and … yeah,” she exhaled, rousing a smile for Molly. “Summer was basically helping him and his partner move … and well, I spent time with friends, mostly, when there wasn’t that. Caught up with reading. A few other bits. I spent a lot of time looking for some work experience but I can’t decide, yet, what I want to do. There’s not the perfect position for me just waiting at the Ministry like there was for Ell and I’m … not sure what I’m doing, because of that. I'd love to be as chilled out as you."

Millie would hate being this 'chill'. She'd get bored, almost immediately. Molly didn't know Millie all that well, but she could get that. Millie was a curious soul, an explorer, energy vibrating within her. She had too much she wanted, too much she liked. People who had that hunger couldn't be happy to let life push them, rolling with the ebb and flow. They fought it, they thrashed - they drowned. Molly didn't struggle. She floated. But it meant she went where the waves took her. Give up your agency and get a worry free life in return.

"You have a year," Molly hummed, her eyes closing slowly. "And if you don't know by then, well... I've heard a gap year does wonders for your perspective."

"Okay, so I think he may be gay!"

The tell tale voice of Margo Richards rang out, probably causing heads to turn, but Molly did not rise. Margo knew where to find her. The busty blonde stopped once she spotted Millie, a flicker of brief envy soon giving way to a wild grin. "Mil-lay!" she called, clucking her tongue on the second syllable as she jogged to them. "Hey, babes. If you're thinking of trying to flirt your way out of anything with the new Caretaker, don't bother. He didn't respond to any of my moves."

"Must be gay," Molly murmured, opening her eyes enough to glance at Millie, offering her a private little smirk. Margo flopped onto the ground next to them, reaching up to tie her blonde waves up into a thick ponytail.

A year. Yes. That was what she needed to bear in mind. Perspective was everything and a year was long enough to gain some sense of it. There was plenty of time to try things out and Molly might even prove right – maybe a gap year was exactly what Millie needed. It was a chance to see a bit of the world. Or, well, a bit more of the world … beyond Hogwarts and her usual haunts, at least.

Millie looked up at the sound of a new voice and a smile quirked up her lips at the sight of the other half of Molly Weasley. Millie couldn’t help but smile brighter as Margo hopped up the embankment to join them and she outright laughed when the cause of the exclamation was conveyed.

“Are you serious?” She managed to get out between giggles. “Is he your type? He didn’t really do it for me. Then again…,” her smile curled into a smirk as she gave Margo a wink. “Perhaps my gay-dar is more in tune than yours.”

“What’s he like?” She went on. “I’ve not actually had a chance to talk to him.” Then, shrugging her shoulders, she added: “or get caught by doing something I shouldn’t, I guess.”