Cheeky

III

Day One

"Just make sure you keep running the whole time. Don't stop. Don't be scared, either." Draco was spitting out every piece of advice that he could think of in the short amount of time he had. The Hogwarts Express was going to leave Platform 9 ¾ at any moment, and he did not know what he was going to do if Iris wasn't on it. "Just look straight ahead. None of the Muggles will notice you."

"Alright, already," Iris replied, getting annoyed by her father's instructions. She wheeled her cart around to face the only slightly formidable brick wall that stood durably in front of her. She took a deep breath and sprinted straight for the wall, pushing her cart in front of her. Instead of smashing into the wall and falling over in a pile of wizarding artifacts, as she was beginning to think she might do, she actually made it through to the other side where her eyes met a vast station beginning to empty of kids as the last few made their way hurriedly onto the gigantic, steaming, red Hogwarts Express that stood before her. Parents and small children were now the only ones left on the platform.

"Hurry, Iris, you have to get on," Draco urged.

"Okay..." She pulled her large trunk off the cart with much difficulty as her dad attempted to give her a hasty kiss goodbye. "Bye, Dad, I'll see you... later." She wasn't really sure when she was going to see him next, but there was no time for questions so she just dragged her trunk to the nearest entrance to the train and stepped aboard. Draco pushed it up the stairs for her and she soon disappeared into the depths of the long, red train.

"Oh, my God, look!"

Hermione felt something bluntly hit her side. "Ouch!" She flinched. Ron had just whacked her. "What?"

"Look!" Ron screeched in a breathy whisper. He nodded vigorously toward one of the entrances to the train where Draco Malfoy was helping a girl with his signature white-blonde hair push a trunk up the few steps into the car.

Hermione gasped reflexively and passed the whack along to Ginny, who was standing to her right.

"Ow--what?"

"Malfoy!"

Harry heard it, as well, and the couple both snapped their necks in the direction of the smirky blonde.

"Oh, God," was Ginny's nauseous reaction.

"Where's Pansy?" Harry enquired.

"Good question!" said Ron, able to take his mind and his gaze off the train and his children and nieces and nephews leaning out, all waving eager goodbyes, now that a Malfoy had entered the conversation.

"Oh, come on," Hermione said, suddenly becoming reasonable again. "She's probably working, or something. You know, not every job can let all their employees go for this day."

Ginny waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, please. Draco Malfoy wouldn't let his wife work. She'd be at home cooking and cleaning. Sexist prat..."

The train made a loud noise and started slowly pulling out of the station.

"I bet she divorced him because he's so annoying. Their daughter's probably just as annoying." Ron had to raise his voice, but didn't seem to make the connection as to why he needed to do that.

Harry shook his head. "Pansy needs the money. And she's annoying, too."

"Money?" Hermione sounded a bit appalled. "Who said anything about Draco having loads of money? He was in Azkaban, remember?"

At that, Ginny whacked both Harry and Hermione -- they were closest -- to alert them of the Express's steady departure.

"Oh, right," said Hermione quietly.

"Bye!" they all shouted, waving their hands spiritedly at their kids.

"See you ... in a long time ..." Ginny's voice suddenly fell. "Oh, God. How long is it until we see them again?"

"Oh, Ginny, don't worry," Hermione grunted in a dismal voice, despite the gigantic smile she had plastered across her face and the enthusiastic waving her arm was participating in. "Just long enough for me to not quite drown myself."

"Drown yourself? You have four other children, Hermione." Ginny paused, and thought for a minute, forgetting temporarily about the fact that her son was still clearly visible and that she should probably be saying goodbye to him. "Can I have one?"

Harry now stepped into the conversation. "Have one? We can make more, if you'd like."

Ginny glared at her husband.

"I second that glare," said Ron, witnessing the action out of the corner of his eye. "Please keep your sexual urges at bay, Harry. We know the kids are leaving, but not quite yet."

Harry scowled. "She started it," he grumbled, now unable to put up a happy front for his departing son.

None of them noticed Draco Malfoy standing sadly, toward the exit of Platform 9 ¾, waiting for the bus to just leave quickly and safely so he could go back home and continue to be glum and wallow in his own self-pity.

Iris slowly made her way down the car, dragging her trunk lethargically behind her, peering inconspicuously into every compartment, looking hopefully for Samantha. If only her slow father hadn't made them leave the house thirty minutes late, hence getting to the platform right as the train was leaving. Iris wasn't really aware of the uncontrollable frown that was creeping nastily across her pale face with every thought that ran through her mind. She wasn't particularly angry at her father--he had obviously been incredibly stressed out and upset since her mother left them--but just angry at the entire situation. First, her mother left, then her father wouldn't even really give her a valid reason as to why her mother did that. Then, she gets to the platform late and has to rush onto the stupid train and can't even find her best and only friend going to this school with her--

"Are you okay?"

Iris looked up suddenly, being torn away from her forlorn thoughts. "Oh, uh, I'm just looking for a friend."

"Are you a first-year?" the girl asked. She was pretty, medium height and somewhat slender, with chestnut-brown hair. She spoke, however, with a slightly dismissive and uncouth voice.

"Yes."

"There are a lot in the next car." The girl gave Iris a slightly strange and intimidating look as she continued by her.

"Okay. Thanks." Iris picked up her pace just slightly, continuing on to the next car. Luckily enough, a few compartments in she found Samantha, who happened to be sitting with a group of boys who looked about their age.

"Iris!" Samantha cried, leaping out of her seat upon her friend's arrival. "I was wondering where you were!"

Iris smiled and hugged her overly enthusiastic friend.

Samantha turned to face the boys. "My parents are friends with these guys' parents. So your par--your dad would probably know them. Caleb Nott and Ian Flint."

"Hi."

"This is Iris Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" said Ian. He was unattractive with messy teeth to match is messy black hair. His nose looked like someone had hit it with a Quidditch bat and his body kind of like it was having some trouble growing upwards.

Iris nodded.

"So, like, Lucius and Draco, right?"

Iris nodded again, feeling hesitant of what he was going to say next.

"Whoa, we haven't heard about your dad since he got out of Azkaban."

Iris felt the urge to kick this kid in the balls. He was two years old when her father got out of Azkaban, what did he know? Iris chose, instead, to not respond. However, she was ready to kick if further provoked.

"Let's sit down," Samantha said, clearly sensing the awkwardness that had reared its ugly head on them.

Iris practically leapt for the seat next to Caleb. Not only was he not Ian, he wasn't too bad looking, either. That way she'd have something else to think about besides how much she wanted to knock out Ian's ugly teeth.

When Liam, Edith, and Ben first reached Platform 9 ¾ with their parents, they were bombarded by former classmates of their parents and aunts and uncles. In the midst of all this chaos, the three first-years were introduced to three more first-years: Alfie Jordan, whom they had met a few times before - although no one remembered - because Alfie's father had kept in touch with Fred and George; Nick Kent, whose mum had something to do with Gryffindor Quidditch; and Georgina Wood, whose parents also had something to do with Gryffindor Quidditch.

As far as Edith, Ben, and Liam could tell, their parents didn't really have lives at Hogwarts beyond Quidditch.

So the six all squished into one compartment in the train, close to their final destination. It had been pouring buckets of rain outside for quite some time now, as the six would eventually learn was customary for this anxious ride. Ben was balancing a football on his lap, which he had had out since they left their home. When he met Nick, he learned that Nick, too, since he had a Muggle father and grew up amidst many Muggle customs, was very interested in football. They had been talking about it incessantly ever since the train pulled out of the station.

"Yeah, and I really hate it because I can never see any real games or anything because we don't have a TV. And my parents aren't going to take me to any, obviously," Ben complained.

"Yeah, that sucks. My mum's pretty into Quidditch so I think it annoys her a bit that I like football more. But I've already started flying so I'm going to try out for my house's Quidditch team next year," Nick replied.

Ben frowned. "I'm boycotting the Quidditch teams."

"Why?"

"Because there shouldn't just be Quidditch at Hogwarts. It's a stupid sport, anyway--all you do is fly around on brooms throwing balls at each other."

"He's afraid of flying," said Edith.

"I am not afraid of flying, Edith. I've never been on a broomstick before."

"Exactly."

Suddenly, someone burst through the compartment door, making a loud entrance. It was Tom (Fred's son), followed closely by Atticus (George's son).

"So how are my favorite cousins doing?" Tom asked boldly, facing his cousins who sat uncomfortably on one side of the compartment. He turned slightly toward the other three. "And their new best friends."

"Fine," Ben answered quickly, making a face that suggested his two cousins should leave as soon as they could.

"You know, it's probably a good thing you're getting acquainted now," explained Atticus, "Because you'll probably all be in Gryffindor together anyway. Although, if one or more of you aren't, then that will just be awful because you'll be forced to turn against each other since you're in different houses."

The six eleven-year-olds looked a little unwell.

"There's a lot of rivalry at Hogwarts." Tom picked casually at a nail.

"That's really cool. But you probably don't want to be seen in a compartment with a group of lame first-years, now do you?" Ben tried.

Atticus and Tom shrugged in unison. It was kind of frightening how much alike they could be at times. It was something that sparked later on in their not particularly long--yet--lives. The two started spending a lot more time together just before Atticus left for his first year at Hogwarts (he and Tom weren't very far apart in age, just a few months, but Tom was born late enough in the year that he was put in the class below Atticus's).

Someone else slid open the compartment door, entering with a sigh. "Will you two get out of here?" It was Charlotte, looking particularly peeved.

"Did you hear Dominica babbling about some freaky-looking girl she talked to that she swore was that Malfoy guy's kid?" Atticus asked Charlotte.

"Of course I did. But I don't really see what the big deal about this Malfoy character is. So he was mean to Ron and Ginny and Hermione and Harry at Hogwarts. Enough is enough." She pushed by her cousins to face the younger ones. "How are you all doing?" she asked sweetly. "Is everything okay? They're not bothering you too much?"

"Oh, no, they're bothering us," was Liam's cynically sarcastic response.

"Okay. I'll try and get them to leave. Are you all okay, though?" She made a point to turn and face the new three.

All six nodded diligently. Edith was very thankful for Charlotte's thoughtfulness and concern for her cousins who were new to Hogwarts. Ben and Liam, however, could do without. After all, they were obnoxious eleven-year-old boys who were being thrown out on their own for the very first time. And they couldn't be more thrilled.

"Jordan, Alfred," read Professor Sprout in a clear voice from her spot in the front of the room, facing the line of quivering, frightened first years as they awaited their sorting.

Alfie stepped forward, trying to maintain some confidence, and sat slowly down on the stool placed before the group. After only a few moments' hesitation the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

Next came, "Kent, Nicholas."

Iris was trying desperately to stop her body from shaking as the person standing very closely to her right stepped forward, allowing a distressing draught to take his place. She had absolutely no idea what house she was going to be placed in. Hogwarts was something her parents never spoke of at home. Iris knew that they had gone there, but that was about the extent of it. She wasn't even totally sure what house her parents were in. She felt like it was Slytherin--she thought she'd heard her father speak about it very briefly among friends the few times he was allowed to see them, or that he'd let it slip into conversation from time to time--but she couldn't be quite sure. She was terrified of what was going to happen when that fat teacher called her name.

"Malfoy, Iris."

Not wanting to take an unnecessary amount of time, Iris briskly made her way the few feet ahead to the stool. She placed the weathered old hat lightly atop her head and let out an involuntary spasm when she heard it speaking to her.

"Let's see..."

Oh, bugger, she thought, looking out into the other students, sitting at their house tables. A few faces looked a little puzzled, a little concerned, and some were laughing. She spotted the girl who spoke to her on the Hogwarts Express looking a little disconcertingly smug at the Gryffindor table.

"Come, now, I can hear you cursing," said the hat, seeming to somehow be able to penetrate her thoughts and speak to her through her mind.

Sorry. Dear Merlin, she was talking to a hat.

"It's quite alright. So now, what do we have here? Alright, then, I see some very bright intelligence--good for Ravenclaw. You're most certainly bold enough for Gryffindor. However... you're a Malfoy, eh? And your mother is ... Miss Parkinson? Interesting, but not at all a surprise. I suppose you want to be in Slytherin."

My parents never spoke about Hogwarts.

"Never spoke about Hogwarts? Dear me, much has happened in the last fifteen years."

Iris noticed her fellow students beginning to look impatient. Maybe you should hurry up a bit?

"Sorry, I'm getting old. Okay, well, then, if you must rush me. This is a tough one. SLYTHERIN!"

Iris slid deftly off the seat, her jitters finally subsiding, and placed the hat carefully back upon the stood as though it might crumble at her fingertips with one misplacement. She whipped around, ready to leave this terrifying line and join her new house. As she turned, however, she caught the eye of someone standing on the other side of Caleb, who she had been next to. It was a boy, who seemed to be staring at her with utmost curiosity, and even a small glint of panic. Iris was used to odd looks, but there was something genuine about this boy's. She couldn't really imagine what she had done to make him so frightened and inquisitive, but she didn't dwell on it and continued her march to the Slytherin table.

"Potter, Liam."

Liam was still thinking about that freaky girl with the black eyes. She had turned and looked straight at him, piercing him with irises darker than her pitch black pupils--interestingly enough, her name was Iris. There was something truly intriguing about her disturbing looks. And it didn't help that she was obviously the child her mother had been warning him about since he was five: "And if you have someone with the last name Malfoy in your class," his mother would always say so determinedly, "stay away from them. The Malfoys are up to no good."

"Potter, Liam." The voice sounded more stern this time.

It still didn't register with Liam until the kid to his left jabbed him in his side. Liam flew back to reality and stumbled forward to the stool. He jammed the ugly, wrinkled, old hat on his head, hoping to cover his face, rosy from embarrassment.

"Oh, the Potter progeny! How I have been waiting for this moment. Let's see now..." The hat started mumbling more toward itself than Liam. He was a little too ashamed at his lack of hearing to comprehend the fact that he could hear a hat speaking in his thoughts. "...yes, yes, quite a bit clearer than your father. Much more like your mother. Alright then, Gryffindor it is." The hat was now speaking to the whole crowd when it cried, "Gryffindor!"

Liam yanked the hat off his head and rapidly headed toward the Gryffindor table to join his cousins.

Draco was sleeping quietly in his bed when he awoke with a start. There was something moving downstairs. He shot up in his bed like an animal. It was only a few months after Iris's departure and his life had become an endless cycle of routines. He had long been awaiting some excitement in his life, but a robber wasn't quite what he was hoping for. He grabbed his wand off his nightstand and slowly crept out of his bedroom and down the hall. He stood perched, ready to strike, at the top of the staircase and peered down the stairs. All he saw were disconcerting shadows cast by the glow of the moonlight entering the windows. He tiptoed downstairs and into the living room where he jumped at the sight of a figure seated on the couch. What an odd thing for a burglar to do, sit on his couch? If Draco were to rob someone's house, the last thing he would probably do would be to relax on the person whose house he was robbing's couch.

The person stood up and said, "Draco?"

He almost jumped again before he realised that he recognised the voice. It was Pansy's. "Pansy?" he spoke warily into the darkness.

She stepped forward, her body crossing through the white light of the moon and illuminating her features. It was, indeed, her. She stared up at Draco with those big, black eyes of hers. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." It wasn't, but he said it anyway. He wrapped his arms around his wife and let her sob into his shoulder.