CHAPTER ONE

It's an undying cliché in my world that the first day of school will never fail to drive me bonkers. It's my sixth year and the fifth time that the ride to the train station has been the worst car ride of my summer. My first year went by in a flash; it was my first year going away, and my eleven year old self could not shut up. I talked my parents' ears off with excitement and could hardly wait to board the big red steam engine at King's Cross. Now I anticipate the train ride for a different reason. Since that first year, my home life has slowly gotten more and more mind-numbing. Packing my trunk and loading up my uniforms is the best part of my holiday; it's a most sacred ritual that I abhor to give up.

The platform is as crowded as ever; parents crying, children whining, and older siblings ribbing their underlings. My own mum is chatting up one of her old school mates whose daughter is a first year. The girl is eying the train nervously and jumping out of her skin with every owl's screech. Poor thing; she has no idea what she's in for. If she had any inkling of what the night would hold for her, she'd be anything but scared. Hell, I'm effing ecstatic—on the inside, at least. It's ten to eleven and I'm getting antsy. I'm due to board in five teensy minutes and my dad has yet to show his face.

"He said he'd be here."

"Yes, I know he did."

"He's going to miss it."

My mum let out a knowing sigh.

"Juliette, I'm sorry; but I don't think he's going to make it."

"Piss." My dad rarely makes it to the station. He'll probably show up as the train's pulling from the station; that or I'll get an owl tomorrow morning with some half-arsed excuse about a last minute emergency. In my father's world, a stranger's arthritis is more pressing than his own daughter's departure.

At long last, the whistle blew. I hugged my mum and set off toward an open carriage, my trunk and cat carrier in tow. The carrier fit comfortably in the crook of my arm, but pulling the trunk one-handed was a bitch. Usually I'd call on my best mate Danny, but the bastard finished school last year and is off on a ministry internship, leaving me all alone for the first time. The trunk seemed heavier with every step. Bollocks. I gave up and dropped the trunk in the middle of the corridor with a window-rattling thump.

"Need a hand?" I glanced behind me to see a ginger boy grinning at me.

"I've decided to sit here, actually. I like a room with a view." The ginger chuckled.

"And what a view it is," he said, winking suggestively. "But I can do you one better, if you care to join me. My view comes with a soft spot for your bum, you see." He glanced pointedly at my current seating, which consisted of the cold, hard corner of my trunk. I pretended to think it over.

"If you insist," I said, rising from the floor. The ginger grinned at me again and reached into his pocket. Out came his wand, which he used to levitate the trunk to eye-level. I grimaced at my own thickness; I never failed to miss the glaringly obvious points of magic. He led me down the corridor, shouting warnings to all we passed. We ended up in a compartment void of life but with a full luggage rack, a heap to which my trunk was quickly added. I shut the door behind us and plopped into the nearest seat. The ginger chose the seat opposite me and extended a freckled hand.

"George," he said, offering me a crooked smile. "George Weasley."

"Jude Lycan." This guy, George, was pretty damn cute. He had a great smile, and his whole attitude was just… sexy. He leaned back against the bench and slung an arm over the back of the seat, shaking his hair out of his freckled face. He was looking me rather curiously, one eyebrow slightly cocked.

"Lycan…" he said. "As in wolf?"

"As in wolf. Careful, I might bite," I joked, grinning cheekily. I gestured toward the luggage rack. "Whose are those? Or are you just high-maintenance?"

"Hey. Are you suggesting that this sexy beast before you isn't completely effortless?"

"Who's to say?" George glared jokingly at me, wagging a finger at me.

"Now, now, young lady; best watch you manners." I stuck my tongue out at him, which received a crooked smile in return. George leaned forward and ran his fingers through his hair once.

"Those there belong to me brother and his mates, Harry n' Hermione. Harry's seeing a man about a hippogriff and Hermione and my bro are off on prefect duty. Total mummy's boy, you know." He laughed at his own joke. Harry showed up a few minutes later, and his mates weren't far behind. Old Georgey-poo failed to mention that Harry was in fact the Harry Potter; that threw me for a loop. Hermione was a cute girl with thick brown hair and seemed to be sweet on George's brother, Ron, who was the spitting image of his brother. It was kinda sweet.

George and I chit-chatted for a while longer, until he reached into his pocket and pulled out a deck of cards for Exploding Snap. I bowed out of the game and let out my cat, Wulfrum. He padded out of his carrier and fell gracefully into a full body stretch, his orange fur shining in the dull sunlight. He sniffed around the compartment before jumping onto the seat next to the window and going to sleep; it didn't seem to bother him that the seat was already occupied. Harry didn't seem to mind, either; he scratched behind Wully's ears a bit and let the cat be. I myself leaned back against the seat and let my eyes fall shut; train rides went a hell of a lot faster that way. I rested my head against the back of the seat and fell asleep to the sound of the train tracks.