Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
one // the law of chaos
autumn, 1992 !
"𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐈𝐓!" 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐓. With a panic-ridden heart, she strolled across the pavement of Platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross station. "MINUIT!" She has lost her cat... again. Any time now, there would be a poor kid screaming for their lives as Minuit tries to harass them. The cat never particularly got well with anybody; he seemed to hate everything and had a very specific preference. High maintenance is what the girl likes to call him.
Chiara's black cat with its inky fur and piercing eyes looks like something snatched right from a children's horror film, and the girl could not be more proud about her pet having a similar personality to her.
Much to her luck, a pale-blonde haired boy nearby was shrieking violently, "It's gonna kill me! It's gonna kill me!"
Chiara huffed at the sound of the commotion, easily guessing where her cat has run off to. As she was no stranger to running, she sprinted quite fast to approach. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, shit!"
Minuit was chasing Draco around as they ran in circles, the situation was laughable at best which gathered surrounding parents' attention; they pointed and murmured.
"Keep your filthy little pet under control, you foul git!" As soon as this blonde-haired boy exclaimed, Chiara's cat hissed aggressively towards the young boy, earning another cry for help from him.
"Quiet, Draco!" The man who Chiara assumed to be Draco's father hissed, his elegant plain cane hitting the ground loudly. "Don't be insolent."
"My apologies," she said with all honesty, "Minuit is a bit of a wanker. And your son is a tad overdramatic, I see."
The man's eyes widened the second her turned around to lay his glance on her, and the boy's eyebrows shot up to his greasy, slick-back pale hairline. Ignoring their odd looks, Chiara started to walk away, petting the cat in her hands softly and annoyed about the awkward interaction.
The taller blonde man gripped his crane and allowed it to hit the ground again, right in front of Chiara's boots which prevented her from walking further and caused her blood to freeze over — both in confusion and a tad bit fear.
"Who are your parents, girl?" He was scrutinising her, not in a horrible sort of way in the manner purebloods often do but rather in curiosity. In recognition, perhaps?
