The jeeringly happy children were warmed by the slow hiss of steam that billowed out of the train as it stopped, as by the breath of a well known and well-loved dog pressing its muzzle against their hands. Christian's hand was trembling with the desire to close over that snout and crush its bones like crumbling a paper bag. Down the platform, a series of jinxes popped like suicidal Christmas lights, and a gaggle of children was scattered over the pavement. His eyes narrowed hungrily at the sight of the unknown girls striking grey eyes and pale, flawless skin. When his plans came to fruition, there would be lots of pale, flawless skin for him, enough to fill a private papermill fit to supply painters of the most delicate watercolors. He leaned casually beside her.
"Wow. Overreaction?"
"Do you think so?" With a fierce movement, she drove the point of her wand into his chest.
"In my house, ignoring niceties isn't frowned upon."
"Which house is that?"
"Slytherin." The word stirred something in the dangerously unrippling surface of his poisonously placid blue lakes.
"Hey, me too."
"Really? I don't recognize you." His cold blue eyes studied her with greater interest.
"Well, you wouldn't. I'm a transfer student from Durmstrang."
"And why would you want to leave Durmstrang to come to this place?" It was not the school's reputation for the dark arts that drew him, but the cold of that dark, northern place, cold enough to chill the grating smiles off the faces he was forced to share the world with.
"I didn't want to leave. I got kicked out."
"So, you're in Grindelwald's eminent company." He asked, testing his waters as much as hers.
"You could say that… but don't." He grinned slyly.
"Let's get a carriage."
"'Kay." He stroked the thestral's naked spine, and opened the elegant, filigreed door.
AN: My companion, LassitudeLass, in my favourites, is writing a companion piece.