Lorena Larson's face was pressed against the sticky glass window of her father's Golden Land Rover as it rumbled through the busyand narrow streets of London. Her eyes were closed shut as she slept soundly, not having much time for rest after having met with her photographer, Earl Hemingway, for nearly eight hours straight last night. The deadline for Lorena's new spread in Teen Vogue was Monday, and it was already Sunday afternoon. Lorena would have been nervous, maybe even biting her manicured fingernails in great anticipation if she had been awake, but to her father's great content, exhausted Lorena was gently snoozing away, the strands of her chocolate brown hair catching flecks of sunlight as the car made its way through the afternoon sun. Mr. Larson looked at his daughter quickly as they reached a red light and wondered if she even knew where they were going. Sure, he had promised his daughter a quick stop at Starbucks and then maybe a film before Lorena had to venture back to the humid hallways of Renson&Gale Fashion Studio for a four hour photo shoot, but Mr. Larson had lied. Hopefully, he thought, while adjusting his rearview mirror and swerving the monstrous car to clear the way for some four year olds on tricycles, Lorena would like this alternative a bit better. Mr. Larson ran his fingers through his thick brown hair which was peppered with gray and glanced at his watch. It was nearly one thirty. He would have to wake up Lorena soon.
The first thing Mr. Larson noticed when he parked his car near Kings Cross Station in Northern London was the loud noise that filled the air and wafted slowly into the car through the open windows. Lorena slowly fluttered her eyes and yawned, waking up to the clamor that awaited her, almost as if it were a horrid smell that had brought her to her senses. Lorena furrowed her eyebrows the moment her eyes were set on the picture that was painted before her. Where was she? This surely did not resemble the box like structure of the Starbucks building and she wrinkled her beautiful face in wonder. Mr Larson was already swinging open the bulky trunk door, allowing for no time to be wasted. His daughter was already incredibly late and he was afraid that she would miss the train to the London Tree Spa and Resort. "Dad!" Lorena yelled, trying to make her voice heard over the murmur of voices, "where are we?" She rubbed the spot on her left cheek that had been pressed against the cold glass window in irritation. Mr. Larson slammed the trunk door and ignored his daughter as he quickly bustled through the groups of people serried together like sardines in a tin can. Lorena followed closely behind, her head feeling as if it were about the explode. "Dad!" She yelled this time, feeling immensely upset at the way her father was treating her. Where were they going? She wanted to know. And fast. "Four minutes until the train's departure!" A robotic voice boomed against the speakers and at that moment Mr. Larson turned swiftly to his daughter, his face filled with worry and yet, could it be, relief? "Lorena, dear. This modeling business, it's just too much work," he tried to steady his words but they were shaking inside his throat, "and well, I thought that if you took a break, just a little time from all the commotion, that it would be the best. Really, it would. Don't you think?" Lorena did not know how to reply. Sure, the modeling business was quite a heavy load to carry, especially for a sixteen year old girl, but she loved the job and she needed her dad to understand that. But it was too late now," Platform Nine." Lorena's dad boldly stated, and the words echoed in her ears but she could not hear anything. There was too much noise, too much pressure, too much...Lorena felt her eyes roll in her head. She felt so strange. "Lorena, the train is going to leave soon. You should make your way." Mr. Larson's words were unsure and hesitant. What was he feeling? Robotically, Lorena grabbed the dark green duffel bag from her father's white knuckles and walked towards the large white sign with a black nine painted sloppily. People pushed carelessly into her as she ventured towards the sign, the smell of human sweat making her felling nauseous inside. Her father stood amongst the people in the crowd and Lorena looked back once and slowly drank in his image: the crooked smile plastered on his haggard face, his brown leather jacket, his greying hair. Lorena turned her head quickly and fought back the salty tears that threatened to drench her cheeks if she had done otherwise. She stumbled towards Platform 9, feeling a rush of tiredness wash over her eyes. Just a few more steps and Lorena would make it inside the warm, comfortable train, just a few more...Suddenly Lorena felt herself falling backwards fast, quickly and nobody was there to prevent her from colliding with the cold brick wall. Though it was funny, just when Lorena thought that she was surely dead, that she had suffered from a concussion and would never see her father again, Lorena felt herself drifting through air and she fell with a silent thud unto...somebody?
Lorena Larson woke up as the train lunged forward, causing her to tumble slightly on the edge of the seat where someone had placed her. She woke up confused, with a small bump on her forhead and a sudden craving for something salty and crunchy. Where was she? She realized that she had asked herself this question too many times in the past few hours. Well, how long had it really been since she had fallen? Two minutes, two hours, a day? She really could not remember. Instead, everything seemed like a messy blur. Lorena turned slightly on her back, nervously running her fingers through her smooth hair. She drew a large breath of air and diceided to sort out her thoughts, when suddenly, a nearby voice shook her back to reality. "Finally!" A male's voice grumbled in irratation. Lorena quickly bolted upward only to come face to face with a handsome boy about her age, with platinum blonde hair that fell gently in his crystal blue eyes. "How long do you sleep for?" He threw his hands up in unison, dropping the Playmate magazine that was clutched in his hands. "Excuse me?" Lorena asked suspiciously, who was this boy, and why was he so rude? But Lorena's quite voice was drowned out by the hollars of the blonde boy, who obviously thought that what he had to say was much more important. "I mean, come one, I've been sitting for two hours waiting for Miss Sleeping Beauty here to wake up." He said harshly, gesturing towards Lorena. The boy scowled and looked up at the ceiling. "Well, you could have left, I turned two fourteen years ago. I do not need someone to babysit me while I take a nap. Especially if that someone is as egotistical and cantankerous as you." Lorena said suddenly, jumping to her feet and stretching. The boy looked at her with one eyebrow raised. It was certain to Lorena that mostpeople did not treat him rudely. "Who are you, anyway?" he asked, scowling once more and reaching to grab the magazine that had fallen on the floor. "You can guess, five guesses and I'll..." She was interuppted by the boy, "And you'll do anything for me, uh?" He cockily asked, "Nah, there's no use, I can get anyone to do anything for me." Lorena was suddenly disgusted by this boy and his enormous amount of arrogance, " Really?" she asked, "or are you just afraid that you might guess wrong, five times?" The boy thought for a moment, and opened his large mouth once more," Well, I'm Draco Malfoy." Lorena rolled her eyes, "I didn't ask you for your name." She giggled, "It's a rather funny name, though." Draco looked taken aback. "Your name is probably not any better." Draco grumbled, "It's probably something like Gladuis, or Meredith, or Fiona." "No, no, and no." Lorena added, shaking a finger in his face "that's already three guesses. You have two more, Draco." She put much emphasis into his name and Draco scoffed, annoyed by Lorena's attitude. "You should be nice to me." He boldly stated, straightening his chest and sitting rather straight, "if it weren't for me, you might have been trampled, or even worse, left sleeping on the cold stone floor." Lorena furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, "So it was you that brought me unto this train when I fainted, uh?" She said, more to herself than to him. Draco looked proud with himself and smirked while adding, "Yeah, of course. Who else would it have been? I don't see anyone here." Draco stretched his legs and rested them on the opposite chair, leaning his head back and allowing for his straight blonde hair to slightly touch his neck. Lorena grimaced. "Thanks," Lorena said reluctantly, only thinking it to be polite, "I guess." She started to walk to the door of compartment for she had to discover where she exactly was going, and soon. "Who are you anyway?" Draco asked again, looking at her intently. "I already told you, you have two-" However, Lorena was rudely interrupted by a petite girl standing in the doorway with shiny, black hair that barely brushed her small shoulders, "Her name is Lorena Larson, Draco." The girl said snottily, waving an issue of last months ElleGirl in Draco's face, "She's a model, I suppose, I mean this is her picture." The girl pointed to a picture of Lorena in the magazine poising near a fountain with a tall, broad teenage boy's arms draped around her waist. "Yup, that's me." Lorena grumbled underneath her breath. She had discovered that the fact that she was a model, and a rather illustrious one to, always brought out the worst in some people. "Lorena Larson." Draco said to himself, allowing for the words to curl around his tongue, "I got it on the fourth guess. What do you owe me?" "How about..." Lorena rested her fingers on the compartment door and swung it violently open, "nothing?" She allowed the door to loudly close shut, while watching Draco with the corners of her eyes and hoping that he would forget about her as quickly as possible. She would not have to worry, within two minutes Pansy was drapedover a satisfied looking Draco who has painting her red cheeks with kisses.