Midnight Snack, Anyone?

Keiran couldn't sleep. Changing his surroundings always made for a week or so of long, restless nights, and it was probably a bad idea to start breaking rules less than a week into the new school year, but he never was one for breaking actual rules. Messing with people or expectations, that was fine. But he wasn't about to get in trouble with the professors if he could help it.

The thing is, he couldn't sleep, he didn't have homework to complete, and he was a little hungry after not eating a great deal at dinner. So he decided to be careful, quietly making his way to the kitchens. It was lucky he didn't live up in the towers, he supposed.

He made his way through the door, then began riffling about for something interesting. Perhaps he would just take something back to his dorm once he selected it.

The snores were as deafening as they were unwelcome and, regrettably, immune to any sort of silencing spell. Melissa Finnigan closed her eyes, knowing that she could no longer pretend she was doing anything other than just lying there, staring up at the scarlet canopy overhead. Another sleepless night – one that would make History of Magic intolerable when morning finally came.

She propped herself up on her elbows, the springs in the mattress popping as she shifted, and peered out between the gap between her curtains. The fireplace had died to embers and there was a chill about their bedroom outside of the covers. She squinted and leaned to the right, lifting her left arm to tug the curtain closest to her in order to get a better look. One of the windows was ajar, a little but enough, and Millie knew that even if she was not going to sleep, the other girls didn’t need to wake up in the morning cold.

Resolving to get up, the girl sighed and kicked the covers down to the end of the bed. She gave the other curtain a shove with her foot and then swung her legs over the side, planting them on the rug that ran underneath her bed. She scrounged her toes into the bunny slippers that had been a tongue-in-cheek present from her dad a few years before and reached for her long purple dressing gown.

She tied the belt in a knot at her hip, partially obscuring the faded grey Weird Sisters top she wore. She was glad for the material around her legs. Her blue and white striped bed shorts were nice enough but not exactly the warmest of clothing pieces. Perhaps in a few days she would have to forsake them for some of her cuddlier pairs of pyjamas.

Millie got to her feet and ambled over to the window, mindful of tripping over any of the debris scattered around the room. Outside, the stars were twinkling away and the grounds seemed still and peaceful, as though there was no mischief going on. She knew better than to believe that, of course, and wrenched the window shut as quietly as possible. None of the girls stirred and the snoring continued.

Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Millie picked her wand up from the bedside table and stuck it behind her ear before bidding her retreat from the bed chamber, her curls bobbing messily around her shoulders as she crept out of the room.

There was no company to be had downstairs in the common room and Millie half wondered whether she should return to the library. At least she would get some reading done. But then, of course, she ran the risk of being caught by a Prefect and she knew that a heavy dose of exam-based and future-based anxiety wasn’t really the best excuse for being out of bed after dark.

As she considered her next move, her stomach rumbled and her mind was made up for her.

Arriving in the kitchens was like arriving to a family meal. The House Elves that were still awake and pottering around were overjoyed to see her. Amongst them was an elf called Mimsy who had a special fondness for Millie – a fondness that the girl reciprocated wholly. The Finnigans had never kept House Elves and Millie had always found them curious but kind creatures. She was also quite sure that she had never approached them the way they were used to. For instance, she embraced Mimsy as soon as she saw her, crouching down to pull the tiny elf into a tight hug.

“Mimsy will get you some hot chocolate, Miss!” She piped up, wiggling embarrassedly out of Millie’s arms.

Ushered by the other elves to sit down at one of the long tables, Millie was soon given exactly what she had come looking for. How they seemed to know, she would never understand. Mimsy returned with her hot chocolate after a few moments. The drink was piping hot with a dusting of cocoa powder on top just like Millie liked it. A few mini marshmallows were on the saucer but she was uncertain if she was going to touch them … especially when Mimsy placed a slice of berry pie in front of her with two scoops of vanilla ice cream.

“Mimsy,” Millie asked, drawing out the Elf’s name. “Did you know I was comin’?”

“No, Miss! Mimsy swears it!” She declared, lifting her head proudly before adding, “Mimsy and the others will go now if it’s alright, Miss?”

“Yes, go, go!” Millie agreed, offering her a bright smile as she picked up her cup. “I’ll tidy behind myself. All of you go and rest, for heaven’s sake.”

“Miss will be alright?” Mimsy asked, her brows furrowing as though she wasn’t sure whether she would stay or not.

Millie nodded and the Elves disappeared, popping sounds of apparation resounding around the kitchen, leaving Millie quite alone. She took a sip of her drink and smiled as the sweetness spread over her tongue. It was comfort food. Her favourites, both of them, and Mimsy knew that. She had been reassuring Millie during midnight trips to the kitchens for seven years, now. Millie suspected that Mimsy knew what she needed before she even did herself.

The girl set her mug down, reaching instead for her spoon. For ten minutes or so, she alternated between the pie, the ice-cream, some combination of the two in tandem, and the hot chocolate. Then, she heard the portrait door swing open.

Millie froze, her eyes trailing towards the door, utterly unsure of who she was about to meet. Part of her was relieved when it was Slytherin’s Quidditch Captain. It could have been any number of unwanted others. But ... he was her nemesis! Well, on the pitch, when there was a Quaffle at stake. Then he was her nemesis. Gryffindor pride depended on it. Off the pitch, she supposed they were ... well, acquaintances, perhaps? She could never claim they were anything more than that. Which was strange, really, given they were both Irish. It would be easy to imagine some sense of kinship there but they were different sorts of Irish and there was a border there to prove it. Still, even if he wasn't quite a friend, he wasn't a foe either ... in this context, anyway.

He didn't spot her at first. She watched over the rim of her mug as he began to have a look for something, presumably something easy to transport back to the dungeons - something tasty, too. She had often done a grab-and-run - particularly when there were Prefects wandering a bit too near the kitchens. They tended to start and end their rounds there, the arsehats, as if they knew there were students behind the frame.

"Snap," she called out hesitantly, unsure if he would actually want to speak to her or whether he would just want to get his snacks and leave. With the hand that was still holding her fork, Millie offered him a slightly awkward wave. "Can't sleep?" She asked, her brows lifting sympathetically. "Would you, um, would you like some hot chocolate, Keiran?" His name, well, his first name, felt odd to say aloud. Usually she referred to him by his surname, out loud and in her head. Still, there was a first time for everything.

((This post got very out of hand. I don't know why but I enjoyed myself.))

Keiran startled at the sound of someone else's voice, turning over his shoulder sharply. He wasn't sure how he'd missed her the first time. But he could admit that he did have a tendency to be laser-focused about most things. He probably would've been embarrassed at being caught if it was someone he knew better, but somehow the fact that she was in a different house, and that she ran in different circles, made him less concerned.

It did help, as well, that she seemed to be up to the same sort of thing that Keiran was. And she'd clearly snuck all the way down from the Gryffindor Tower, so that was a feat in itself. Considering that, it almost felt like an insult to reject her offer.

"It's, uh, it's always strange for the first week or so," he explained a little awkwardly. "Getting used to the new dorm again, I mean." Keiran walked over to take a seat opposite her, leaning forward a little to peer at the aforementioned hot chocolate to decide properly if he wanted any. "Is it good? I wasn't really sure what I came looking for," he admitted with a shrug.

Ensconced in the Gryffindor Tower where prejudices – of the right sort, of course – could run wild, it was easy to forget that the dungeon-dwellers were human too and the feeling of homesickness, of the strangeness of being within the castle once more, was an emotion that they could feel, also. The euphoria of returning had begun to wear off, particularly for the first years. Millie had consoled more than her fair share of sniffing, sleepless eleven-year-olds in the last few days. She understood. But the strangeness would not last and in time they would come to mourn Hogwarts for it was a place which, unless as professors themselves, they would never have the privilege to return to once set free from its grounds for the last time.

“Just as you get used to the old bed they give you a new one, eh?” She quipped with a half-smile.

She watched him carefully from beneath her lashes as he dropped himself down opposite. It was proximity that had never been considered outside of the bounds of a Quidditch pitch. Even in classes, their opposing circles rendered them parallel lines – always running in tandem but never quite meeting. Until now, perhaps.

As he leaned forward to inspect the hot chocolate, Millie felt her breath catch, fizz, and die in her throat. Perhaps it was the low, amber light that was crackling and popping from the fireplace and the shadows encouraged by the fading glow of the wall sconces but there was something about the dark, swirling orbs that so dominated his face. Merlin, no. There was something about him. Entirely him.

Millie determined later that it was the tiredness getting to her – that it was nonsense. She knew the feeling well enough, though she had only experienced it a handful of times in her young life. It was the first touch of desire – the unmistakable first flash of attraction. And, Merlin, it was entirely unexpected and possibly entirely directed towards the wrong person who was probably the least likely to reciprocate. Therefore, it absolutely had to be denied, quashed, and buried. No more. None of it. You’re just tired, Mills.

Even in the moment, the girl was impressed by her composure. She managed a bright smile and looked down at the chocolate before picking up a marshmallow and popping it between her lips. She shrugged one of her shoulders, unconsciously mirroring him, and let the sweet fluffiness spread over her tongue before she mustered up her reply.

“House Elf chocolate is probably the best there is,” she told him, a wistful smile curling her lips upwards. “Sort of like … like what your grandmother might give you when you’re small. It’s that sort of warming feeling. Reassuring. Nostalgic. The best remedy for a new term.”

Millie got to her feet and, as she did so, she was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she was in her pyjamas. This would have been fine had they been matching and if her dressing gown didn’t have tiny golden snitches flying across it but they weren’t and it did and, Merlin, she had bunny slippers on. Exhaling carefully through her nostrils, Millie reminded herself that she would actively be trying to unseat him from his broomstick if it meant she would get to the Quaffle first. This really wasn’t worth obsessing about.

She took her wand from behind her ear and gently called a mug to her. A striped number appeared from one of the cupboards and she plucked it from the air by the handle. The girl then ambled carefully over to the stove nearest their table where, atop it, a small cauldron of cocoa waited. She lifted the ladle and poured a generous amount into the cup before moving along a little to the countertop where wafers, marshmallows, powdered chocolate, cinnamon, and all of the other toppings and additions that the mind could conjure were waiting.

Setting the cup down carefully on the marble, Millie surreptitiously undid the knot at her hip, hoping that, by opening the dressing gown to let her Weird Sisters t-shirt go on show, she might diffuse the otherwise childlike appearance she was giving off. It certainly wouldn’t do for him to go running back to his dormitory to tell the other Slytherins that she had a penchant for cutesy bedtime attire. Millie knew that she could have just owned it but that feeling had thrown her slightly off course. There was part of her that wanted to sprint for the Gryffindor Tower but then the other part knew that there was ice cream and pie to finish so she wasn’t going to move for no man.

“Do you have any favourite toppings?” She asked softly, looking over to Keiran. “Mimsy left the works. So you can go all out, if you want. Ooh, there's even mint chocolate chips!"

The last bit was mostly said to herself and impulsively she leaned forward, plucking the jar off of the top. She cradled it in the crook off her arm against her side and lifted the lid off, a bright smile lighting her face as she shook the little chips into her palm.

"Want some?" She asked, hopping towards him lithely despite her feet being encumbered with bunnies. She held out her hand first and then, thinking that possibly wasn't ideal, offered the jar as colour rose in her cheeks.

Keiran cracked a smile at her joke, surprised at his own willingness to do so with someone he didn't quite know. As he sat up straight again, his attention lifted back to her, and for a second he could've sworn she was looking at him a little strangely. But, then again, he noted once more that he couldn't be a very good judge of someone he had so little experience with. So little understanding.

But then she smiled, and it distracted him from his curiosity about whatever that expression of hers had meant. It was clear that he didn't come off as the type who would sneak around past curfew, and she wasn't wrong to assume as much. Keiran had never understood the thrill of breaking such a rule, when it didn't hurt anyone to not break the rule. But he was in his final year, and didn't see much of a point in going against his instincts in this case.

Keiran just wasn't as whimsical as Millie, he supposed. He never thought of food that way, at least not actively. Perhaps, in passing, something reminded him of his mum. But he never talked about anything the way Millie had just talked about a drink.

He was still a bit baffled when she got up and walked over to the stove without explanation. Once her back was turned, he blinked a couple times as he tried to take it all in. Evidently, knowing Melissa Finnigan by proxy was very different from actually sitting down and talking to her. Somehow he'd made it through seven years before giving that a go, and he wan't really sure why. Because they were competitive on the pitch? Maybe.

He didn't actually notice her attire until she spoke up again. Only then did it dawn on him that he'd instinctively remained in his robes, as if some part of him knew he'd be leaving the Slytherin dungeon again despite curfew. Perhaps the urge had been there longer than he'd registered. Or perhaps it was a mix of laziness and his desire to focus on coursework until he realized the hunger was there. Regardless, he just shook his head a little. "I sometimes add some cinnamon, but as far as going all out? Never done that."

She actually hopped towards him with an offering, and something about how casual she was with her movements made him almost... Not necessarily envious, but something in that vein. He didn't understand how people could be so relaxed around practical strangers. Maybe he and Millie weren't quite strangers, but they weren't exactly friends, yet, either. It sort of make him wonder how many other students he had passed up on a friendship with, despite not doing it intentionally.

Keiran lifted his hand a little, only to pull it back as she suddenly changed her mind and offered the jar instead. Rather than question it and make her change her mind again, he offered his hand, palm up, as he just sort of observed her, trying to work out what had caused the redness in her cheeks.

He took the chocolate. There was that. But Millie had seen the quirk of his hand towards hers before she had swapped for the pot. Her stomach jerked a little within her, embarrassment coiling like a snake amongst the butterflies. Her self-consciousness intensified a little but she attempted to bat it away and offered another, slightly breathless, smile before setting the jar down on the table. He had admitted he had never gone all out on toppings. Well, that she could work with and she could work with it in a proper Millie fashion – strange feelings be damned.

“Well,” she declared, plopping herself back down opposite him. “Are you feeling adventurous, Hayes?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows as a grin lifted on her face.

She put her handful of chocolate chips down and took her wand out from behind her ear again. Murmuring the charm, she called the toppings over to the  table. They settled themselves down in front of them and then, speaking wingardium leviosa a little louder, the girl brought over the cauldron of hot chocolate. She pointed her wand at the cupboard where she had gotten the mug for Keiran and another four flew out to join the other things on the table. Finally, she brought over the cup she had filled, careful not to spill it.

“Okay, cinnamon…” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, drawing out the sound as she scanned the table. “Ah!” She plucked it out from between the whipped cream and the small stack of Cadbury’s flakes and held it out to Keiran. “That’s for your real cup. The cup you’ll actually want to drink and enjoy once we’re done. Think of this as … chocolatey potions. We’ve got to try and make the most outlandish combinations possible that might actually be palatable -- or not, we'll see. Okay so... starting with the chocolate...”

She twitched her wand in the direction of the cauldron and a ladleful of the cocoa deposited itself into the mug. She stuck her wand behind her ear, getting it caught up amongst her curls, and then reached for the whipped cream.

“Obviously this has got to go on,” she declared, her grin almost impossible to wipe from her face now. “But what first, do you think?” She asked, her eyes scanning the table.

Keiran hadn't the foggiest clue what to make of Millie. Rather than pitching an idea for him to pick up and reject, agree with or even build upon, she didn't give him a choice to do any of those things. If Jack had ever done something like that, he would've had half a mind to just get up and walk out, though with Jack, things were never precisely as they seemed. He got the strong feeling that the opposite was true of Millie.

His eyes scanned the absolute smattering of ingredients she had brought over, trying to take it all in while listening to her explanation. If he was being honest, he really knew that he looked a bit baffled. His jaw felt a bit slack, partly in surprise but partly just in awe of how easily she seemed to settle into situations. It didn't feel fair, really. But of course it was; he'd settled into his behavior on his own. It was no one's doing but his own.

Clearing his throat a bit, he shifted his weight as he attempted to really take in her idea. It was time to make his call: either he would go with it, or he could call her out as being strange. But even Keiran could admit, most people were strange in some way or another. Was it really such a pain to just go along with what she wanted for now? Sure, he'd probably joke to himself about it later -- he wasn't one for gossip, so certainly wouldn't share this encounter with others unless something went entirely awry -- but that wasn't reason enough to not do it, really.

So he reached up with one hand to rub a bit awkwardly through the hair behind his right ear, considering. He actually didn't see it in front of him, but he assumed it had to be somewhere, so he suggested (albeit slightly reluctantly), that, "Some people like their chocolate with a kick."

Keiran pushed his stool back a little, just enough to get down, deciding to at least attempt to participate. Opening up a couple of cabinets, and then a couple more, he searched for hot sauce, wondering if she would end up stopping him.

Lifting her gaze from the table, Millie took in the hesitance that permeated the young man opposite. Slytherins, of course, weren't given to fits of whimsy. She had often wondered whether it was the issue of being a Pureblood, of having to be seen to do the correct thing. Heritage and history seemed to weigh more heavily on the shoulders of those born all-wizard. There was, of course, also just the chance that she was a little too odd and that the entire premise of hot-chocolate-potions was just a bit too silly, a bit too juvenile. They were in their seventh year at Hogwarts, of course. The time for childish games was long past. After initially being annoyed - and ever so slightly offended - she would have understood if he had chosen to rebuke her.

But he didn't.

He got to his feet and suggested something hot. Chilli, perhaps? She was familiar with the spice - more than she wished to be. Her father had embarked on something of a chilli fest over the summer. He'd even forced them all to attend a chilli and cheese festival in Coleraine. Seamus had loved it. Lavender had gently tolerated proceedings to satisfy her husband until, that is, she discovered the hand-made jewellery stalls. Elliot and his partner had been utterly charmed by all things bread related and Millie had ... well, she'd gotten into a chilli eating contest, hadn't she? Since then, she'd been quite enamoured with all things bland and porridge-like.

"Do you?" She asked, watching as he rifled through the cupboards. "Like your chocolate with a kick, I mean." Then, hoping she didn't sound odd, added: "I've always been rather partial to a chocolate frog. When you can get hold of one, that is."