Xaver had been wandering through the streets of Hogsmead for hours, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of his leather trench coat, his head bowed slightly against the cold wind, his eyes watching random shop windows, when he had seen her reflection.
She was young, bundled in thick jean pants, and a big, bulky, fluffy looking coat, her hands covered with what looked like three sets of wool mittens, just as many socks over her small feet beneath her floppy, but child-approved pink shoes. She, in height, was only as tall as his hip, maybe an inch or so shorter, with all her fluffy clothes and earmuff slash beanie. Long, wavy black hair tumbled down over the many blacks and pinks and blues and greens, and so on, and blue eyes, a reflection of his, but not nearly as dark, stared at him, arms extending. She would have looked like a normal, 'adorable' little girl, if it had not been for the small black, bluish wings (her frame was still small, so her wings were still small, though big to her) sprouted from her back; a comfortable presence behind her, but an odd one to onlookers. She had never liked the cold.
Xaver whirled, a grin on his face, spinning to meet his little sister.
"Kylie!"
He kneeled down next to her, enveloping the little polar fluff into a tight hug. She giggled, and grinned, her wings fluttering happily. He missed letting his own wings out in public, but he had refrained from doing so, as of yet in this world.
"How are you?"
He pulled away, pinching her nose, picking her little frame up, for she was just a little child, after all, and out of harms way, holding her at his side. She wrapped her short arms around the one nearest shoulder, smiling.
“Happier now, ‘aver,” she said, her words a little slurred with tiredness. “Xences has been acting all weird since Father died, and no one has seen him in weeks. People keeps treating me like a baby, ‘aver, and I hate it. They leave me with mean kiddy’s who tugsed my hair, and no one listens to me. I’m all alone, ‘cause everyone I loved left.”
Kylie hugged Xaver’s shoulder, as he walked toward the castle, frowning.
“You came here, all alone?” he questioned.
“Ya, ‘aver. No one even noticed I lefted. No body cared.”
Xaver scowled, though it turned into a deeper, concerned frown.
“And what would I have done, if my little sister had been hurt in some way? That was very dangerous, you silly kid.”
She nodded, beginning to cry against his shoulder. He let her, of course, knowing that she had gone through too much to keep it all in. She was scared, she was tired, and she felt just as abandoned as he felt. And she was his very young, baby sister.
Xaver mumbled a few soft words to her, letting her rant and rave into his ear, passing through the crowds, not feeling her light weight against his side as he carried her.
He comforted her, but more importantly, kept her close and protected, his ‘big-brother-instincts’ kicking in. He didn’t much like being in a big crowd with her, so distressed.
