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OXYGEN FELT INSUFFICIENT.
The thump of Arabella Hendrix's shoe-clad feet resonated on her redden ears, strongly resembling pebbles against polished floors. Heavy and steady yet terribly deafening — the sound occupying her hazy mind to such extent that the bustle around her was distant, mostly inaudible.
Her ring-filled fingers curled tighter around the metal handle of her trolley in hopes it would ease the quivering of her slender fingers. And with a sharp tug, the wheeled vehicle pressed against her back, not painfully though. A soft graze against the thick layers of clothing she sported.
The room before her was clogged to the nines, people posed as clouds mist. Obstructing her eyesight and, most importantly, preventing her for having a sense of where in the sea of people she laid exactly.
Yet the crowds were relentless, thick as the marble columns that one could spot every few meters.
At that, her eyes trailed above the various moving heads — towards the ceiling but a teensy-wee below. At the very top of each column, numbers laid, those which where her lighthouse in this turbulent sea of individuals.
Nine-and-three quarters seemed an eternity away, however she sped her pace, skipping slightly. Now, her footsteps became more of an upbeat tune.
She could envision herself parading that very same way in the Hendrix's valley. The lawn soft under her bare feet, a couple strands tangling between her chubby toes — the blooming roses emanating the sweetest scent, which danced around the vast garden of her home.
There, she could breath. There, the oxygen was limitless. There, she wouldn't have to grasp for breaths as she did now.
Arabella was nearing her destination and within a couple moments, she was certain, she could leave the bloody muggle station onto a much calmer environment — one she was more familiar with.
A more welcoming place without such hassle, she hoped at least. Arabella feared that if it wasn't, she'd drown before reaching a train compartment.
However, as if it was possible, a greater sum of people transited through the entrance of platform, blockish crowds unknowingly bypassing a world that could steal their breath if they were to take even the briefest of glances at it.
Truly, she was fortunate. Enough to be acquainted with such majestic place. So vivid and magical every inch of it, it fueled her (—may her mother remain ignorant to her following words), it gave her life.
Aggravation seeped through her bloodstream. Boldly, as she was, she angled her elbows so they would serve the purpose of weapons. And with several jabs at, surely either surprised or mildly insulted, muggles; the Hendrix girl cleared her path. Well, barely enough for her to be able to squeeze her lithe figure through however it'd suffice.
Finally her feet traveled beyond the translucent entrance towards the Wizarding World. A motion the girl in question had mastered, admittedly, after much practice.
Vivid was the memory of her first crusade through the portal.
She had puffed and huffed yet unsuccessful to blow it open. Then, after undoubtably witnessing the brunette kid struggle for what felt like hours, a helping hand introduced itself — advising the annoyed child to just jog towards it.
Skepticism had surged through her little body, however, the elder boy (—which to date she remained unaware of his name) seemed confident in his advise — if his dark gaze, which held a warmth that resembled incredibly the one that radiated from his broad palm, that rested just above the small of her back — were anything to guide herself upon.
With arch brows and pursed lips. Needle-like legs pushed her towards her destination.
Afterwards, she was too swept in the beauty of the place to pay much mind to the boy. However at times, when recalling the occurrence, Arabella could imagine his handsome face had beamed with triumph — or smugness.
Mostly likely both.
Suddenly, a set of arms swept her into a recognizable embrace. Tight but quite right, that's what it felt to be hugged by the infamous Trix Valtor.
Carmel invaded Arabella's nostrils at it always did whenever she was in presence of her fellow friend. Sweet just like the girl herself. However that was a secret to be cared for as it was to be kept in silence.
At that, the previous clog in her ears — which shun the spotlight only on her thumping feet while dimming any other sound — dissipated slightly.
"Merlin, have I told you that every bloody time you visit home, you pick up that stench of flowers?" Trix questioned whilst sneezing quietly; peeling herself away from her freezing friend. And proceeding to grab ahold of her forgotten trolley, looping her arms with her companion.
"You're one to talk," Arabella retorted, she, too, resuming her hold on the cool handle, tugging it along, "what do I own the pleasure of such a touchy-feely Trix Valtor this fine morning?"
The morning wasn't as fine as it was dire. Heavy grey clouds polluted the sky making the sun nearly undetectable, had it not been for the eventual peak of sunlight that streamed through the cotton pieces and the citizen would be sure to question if it was, indeed, daytime.
"Well, just the fact that I'm actually here, standing — well walking besides you," the olive skin girl commented nonchalantly, yet her face betrayed her. Thick brows dipping into a frown and slim feet rather downturned.
"Taking things a day at a time, now are we," the Hendrix girl joked.
"No. Because of how hard it was to convince my father that locking me up so I would 'remain unharmed' from the dark-lord was an absurdity," Trix explained, using the hand that was looped with Arabella's to elaborate the whole ordeal.
"It is, an absurdity I mean," Arabella assured. However her words weren't as confident as she had hoped, herself a tad uncertain.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had made a power move, further strengthen his grasp upon the community, wrecking havoc to produce fear and remind the people who the dealt with, who they remain helpless against.
It wasn't such a horrid idea, Arabella was certain Trix knew. However more terrifying than any dark wizard, was for the Valtor girl to not be besides her — even if it was to battle forces which could, with a flicker of its wand, bring them to their eminent deaths.
"Now, let's find a compartment— and some Jelly Slugs. Not necessarily in that order." It was a meek attempt at branching towards a more light subject, but it had worked, and at the moment it pushed the looming matters down under.
Yet that pending reality that Arabella wish to play ignorant to, was nearing speedily.
And as the pair ventured through the thin masses of witches and wizards alike, a sense of something overcame her.
Something that assured her, the following months would leave everyone grasping for more than mere breaths — it would leve everyone grasping for life.
