Bottom desk drawer, on the left. That’s six times now he noticed how Professor Lissington would go down there while the kids were meant to do quiet reading or practice on their own. And take out a tiny tasty treat, usually chocolate or something, and swing around on his chair so his back was to the kids and he didn’t think anyone noticed.

But Max noticed. Especially that tell-tale red, white, and green wrapper, because that was his most favorite candy of them all. A crunchy chewy soft cylindrical bomb of the most delicious chocolately goodness that ever existed. Max never found it during all their school shopping trips in August, let alone steal buy any. At first he thought it was because that was a treat he only found back home in Rome. But it turns out, here was Professor Lissington hogging the entire stash in Britain all to himself!

So the boy devised a scheme. He knew that every week, Professor left after his Monday afternoon class with the fourth years to take a long walk (as long as it was sunny). He also knew the Professor left that drawer locked (because he tried to get in there two weeks ago, but the drawer was locked). Good news is that Tao is one of the smartest kids he knew, so it didn’t take long for him to help Max learn the unlocking charm.

The sun was shining and Max felt very well-equipped now. The Gryffindor hovered around furtively behind a suit of armor as all the fourth years filtered out, Professor bringing up the rear to head out on his well-documented walk. The door only barely clicked closed behind, and Max waited a full minute after the last sound to dart from his hiding spot into the classroom, taking care to quietly close the door behind him.

Knowing his window of opportunity was limited, the kid beelined to the desk. Sure enough, the drawer was locked. “Alohomora,” Max whispered, entire face scrunched up in anticipation of the whole thing blowing up. (He was the Defense Professor after all.) But after a click, the drawer simply slipped open. The boy let out a soft whoop of excitement, eyes as wide as saucers. There were so many candies he’d never seen before, some in different languages… But where were the Roman ones he saw?

Just then, he heard the door click open.

---

---

It was unusual that Monday classes ended so early, and the young witch was still grinning to herself at her fortune. Goading their Earth Magic professor into growing her own trellis ward, rather than just reading about it, had been a crowning achievement for their OWL class, even if completing the warding charm would have to wait for next class.

Millie only felt bad that their professor hadn't discovered her allergies to the plant until the nasturtium was in full bloom.

The unforeseen freedom granted her the chance to drop by Professor Lissington's classroom to see if he had a free period. The young witch had been burning with a question all term, with never the right time to ask it. It wasn't the sort of question she wanted to pose in front of her peers, especially not with wisecracks from Mr. Fletcher at the back of each class. The corridors were blissfully empty other than a mob of fourth years she spied disappearing around the corner as she approached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

It didn't seem unusual to her to find the classroom unlocked. What was unusual, as the young witch slipped inside, was that it wasn't empty. She expected the professor to be in his office or chambers, and that she might have to politely knock or wait for him there. Who knew what sorts of strange or wondrous things the Hogwarts faculty got up to when students weren't around? As curious as Millie might be about that, she was sure it wasn't appropriate for her to ask or interrupt at all, lest she disturb something delicate. The last thing she wanted was to be known as the third year who blew up her professor.

"Hello?" She found herself calling out to the classroom, stepping cautiously with her hand tightening around the strap of her bookbag. The young witch could hear something rustling, someone moving things around in the professor's desk. That didn't seem like the form of Professor Lissington behind his many-drawered teaching desk, and Millie stopped in her tracks.

Had someone broken into the Defense classroom, out of all of them?

"What are you doing there?" Millie's voice carried with an unusually firm cadence, stepping sharply across the room to whoever was mucking around at the desk. It would be just like some of her classmates to try pranking their professor, and the young witch had enough of her classes derailed for today. "Come on out here!"

---

As soon as Max heard the girl’s voice call out his blood ran cold. The boy looked around wildly, but there was barely even enough time to duck down behind the desk. No use when he was already spotted, his pockets and hands guiltily full of chocolates. At least Max had enough sense to drop a few of them back into the drawer as he sharply snapped it shut.

“It’s not what you think!” he shot back, already sounding defensive as his lips turned into a pronounced frown. He didn’t know who this girl was; she wasn’t a prefect or anything, but he knew based on Tao that kids in her house usually hated getting in trouble. And she would probably tattle, since she thinks he’s doing something wrong (no matter that he actually was). And then he’d get in trouble and lose Gryffindors points and give Callum a reason to make Mimi hate him! The boy’s face flushed pink at the thought. He had to think of something, fast.

“Er, Professor Lissington sent me here to get some candy,” he volunteered hastily. Then, he carefully extended his hand— it wasn’t the good candy he came for, just a random one in a language he didn’t recognize. “Want one?”

---

The intruder was a student?

Millie relaxed a little, only frowning as the boy —from the sound of his voice— rummaged around behind the desk before poking back up. His house colors told her Gryffindor, and his pink, cherubic face told her trouble. Her mouth gaped at the sight, twisting at its certain conclusion in her mind. She was pretty sure it was exactly what she thought. "You're raiding his desk!"

The young witch was no prefect, nor was she in Gryffindor. She didn't need to do anything right now, she could just walk away. It was obvious that Professor Lissington wasn't in right now, she wouldn't be getting her question answered. And it was plainly obvious from the boy's tone that he wasn't here on the professor's instructions, either. Her feet moved, and Millie found herself marching up the desks toward the boy.

"No, put that back," she told him, her eyes growing wide at the offered bribe. The boy may as well just slap her, it might have stung less. If he was really that hungry, the house-elves in the kitchens sometimes took pity on a student between meals. Millie was about to open her mouth to explain that, but thought better of it. "What's your name?"

---

Max's vaguely panicked and imploring look transformed quickly into a scowl as she hurled her accusation. Raiding?! Pfft, that made it sound like he was going through Professor's desk like a ruthless pirate breaking everything. The idea here was to take only what he wanted, which happened to be most of the sweets in just one drawer, without anyone noticing. But this goody-two-shoes was about to ruin it all!

"Am not," he shot back archly, hand instantly closing around the candy he extended. Hmph. So much for that olive branch. For all his bravado he cowered a little bit though, when she marched right over to him. It's not as though she was that much taller than him but it somehow felt that way.

"No, I'm giving it to Professor like he asked," he lied brazenly, not really thinking through how this might dig his hole much deeper. He thought it was a pretty good excuse, anyway, so he planned to keep it in his defense. "My name is Callum Finnigan," he went on resolutely, nevermind that he didn't look or sound even remotely Irish as the name implied. It was the first boy name that popped into his head and he hoped she didn't know him. As an added bonus, if she tattled, he hoped it would get his mortal enemy dorm mate in trouble.

"Now move, you're standing in my way," he huffed with enough conviction to imply she was the wrong one.

---

The young witch settled into a ready understanding as the younger boy spat out defensiveness. She recognized it, even as she eschewed those kinds of tactics. Millie wouldn't resort to whining or wheedling, much less bribery, to get her way. And the Gryffindor seemed very much like the kind of boy who was used to getting his way.

Or at least one who thought he always should.

Millie didn't get luxuries like those. Or sweets stolen from the drawers of professors in-between classes. Her eyes narrowed as her brow knit together above them, irritation burning beneath the palm that tightly gripped her bookbag. It didn't seem right that he should get to indulge himself, or that the professor would ask his help to do so. No, none of this seemed right to her.

"Finnigan?" she asked, a free hand reaching into the sleeve of her robes, her mind working. Did she know the Finnigans? Perhaps of them. The young witch was certain she had heard the name, but it didn't sound like one of the prominent families of Hogsmeade. She stood pondering until her ears detected defiance from the troublesome boy again. "Oh I am? My apologies, Mr. Finnigan."

She stepped aside to let him pass, but the young witch withdrew her wand, unwilling to just let it go. Her eyes found the clenched fist, his prize gripped tight in greedy palms, and her wand swished in the air behind him. "Expelliarmus!"

Millie held out her hand for the candy, waiting to catch it if she had performed her spell correctly. Using a spell on her classmate wasn't exactly proper, though it wasn't exactly forbidden either, they weren't in the corridors yet where it was strictly off-limits. Besides, she intended to turn herself in afterwards, right alongside this supposed errand boy. "I guess you won't mind us going to Professor Lissington together, then, will you Mr. Finnigan?"

---

Max mirrored the girl’s narrowed eyes as they sized each other up, the Gryffindor, for his part, thinking he might be able to push her down as he shoved past and ran away. Though as he made a move to step to the side, out from behind the desk, the girl started to apologize to him. And his heart started to pound, because she didn’t sound sorry at all.

But then she was letting him pass. Max’s eyes narrowed further. “...It’s okay…” he grumbled. Still feeling highly suspect, the boy rotated his head as he walked past her until he wasn’t able to look at her anymore (sometimes, he wish his neck worked like an owl’s, it was dumb that humans couldn’t look behind themselves!). The door was right there. He was almost to it…

Expelliarmus! The boy let out a shriek of surprise as the spell shoved him forward a step and the candy went flying from his palm to the girl’s. He wasn’t familiar with the spell at all, which felt monstrously unfair. He rounded on her with a massive scowl and a red face.

“That was mean and… dishonorable!” The boy spat out, enunciating the word ‘dishonorable’ because it was a bit of new vocabulary he liked but it was a really hard word to say. He stomped, “You just wanted the candy for yourself! You should just say so!” At the mention of going to Professor Lissington together, however, his stomach dropped. His face must’ve reflected it too, eyes widening momentarily.

And then the boy pivoted on his foot, and darted to the door to flee.

---

Millie smiled as her fingers closed around the candy, a self-satisfied sort of smile. Watching the look on the Finnigan boy in front of her sent an electric spark through her veins. She looked at her conquest, trying to read the curious lettering on the label, and let the harsh words fall on her ears. The young witch didn't think she was being mean, if anyone was dishonorable then surely it was a student raiding their professor's desk!

Her own words seemed to hit the target, and as she watched, the young witch saw their deadly effect in action. The spark warmed her limbs, tightening the grip around the candy with sense of satisfaction. Millie could have sworn she knew exactly what was going to happen, for the moment Callum Finnigan spun on his heel to head for the door, she found herself hot on his heels. Still, she called out her indignation, "Hey! Come back here!"

Feet pounded the castle flagstones as the young witch beat a rapid pace behind her quarry. She raced with her wand out, though Millie didn't have any thought of using it on the boy. Dueling wasn't in her nature, and the transition into the corridors meant that she was no longer allowed a spell without risking the watchful eyes of some prefect or professor setting upon them.

In any other circumstance, Millie might have welcomed the approach of one of Hogwarts' rule enforcers.

Now she was intent on some level of satisfaction, more than just depriving the young Finnigan of his purloined sweets. The young witch followed him with a righteous cause, one she was certain even Professor Lissington would approve of. If she could only get close enough to grab him, grasp a piece of clothing or —though it was ordinarily uncouth to do so— his voluminous hair, she could drag him to meet justice at their instructor's hands. He was the Defense instructor as well, surely he would approve of creative methods for defending herself and his honor.

"Now who's the dishonorable one?!" Millie called after the boy, reaching out with her free hand. He was so close, and still always just far enough away. She could feel the wind straining in her lungs, and her calves reminding the young witch that she was not, after all, an athlete. Much less one very good at running.

Millie didn't need to be fast today, she only had to be quick.

---

Max half expected the girl to chase after him already, but the fact that she did made things no less disconcerting! No I will most certainly not, he sneered in his head. She didn’t even have a prefect’s badge, so who did she think she was?! In any case, the Ravenclaw knew a lot more spells than him, that was for certain. So Max knew he couldn’t win a duel one on one (he’d only just joined the dueling club anyways, if only for an excuse to find a different time he could come raid Lissington’s desk– too bad he’d been too impatient to wait until the meeting later this week, because now he had to deal with this snooty little–).

The Gryffindor gasped when he saw an opportunity, and slid sideways on his heel so he could veer into a dark corner. Behind the same armor suit he hid behind last time, actually. (Only, it was at a dead end in this hall – which he thought he had walked down earlier? So that’s weird, but this must just be a different suit of armor? Nevermind that now.)

Sinking lower into the shadows behind the suit, the boy smirked to himself as he watched the girl emerge a second too late. She looked around wildly for him, eyes glancing right over the suit he hid behind. Smirk turned a smidge into a scowl, though, when she called him dishonorable. Pffft! It didn’t look like she was running off in the other direction either, choosing instead to linger in this hallway and mope about her loss. Max worried for a minute with bated breath. Why wasn't she just leaving??

Fine. She had left him no choice.

As soon as he saw an opening where she maybe wasn’t looking, Max sprang from behind the armor with his wand brandished. Hoping he could subdue her long enough to scamper off, the boy cried out, “Rictusempra!”

---

How could a little boy be this fast?!

It wasn't just that he was fast. The Finnigan boy was reckless and crafty, sliding around corners and nearly losing her until she could veer back around them. Millie did her best to keep on his heel, everything pulling on her every resource short of another spell. Not in the corridors now, that wasn't allowed.

The young witch's reluctance earned her the sight of Finnigan disappearing from view. She blinked; one moment he was there and the next there was no trace of him. Doubling back to the corridor she had passed, Millie found it empty but for a suit of armor. Shadows curtained the sides of the hallway, leaving plenty of room for the boy's darker complexion to hide from her.

Wasn't Finnigan an Irish name? Millie pondered that for a moment, wondering how an Irish lad could grow as dark as this boy. He should have shone like an ivory statue in the dim light, a brilliant spotlight to her eyes. Perhaps he never ventured outside to turn pale like the cloudy skies and pearly snow. Maybe he stuck his head too close to the fire and it burnt the Irish flame-red hair right out of him. It would complement him well, she decided, when she held his feet to that flame.

Millie ran a thumb along the back of her necklace, opening her palm to inspect the candy she had taken from the boy.

A sharp intake of air startled her, and the young witch was surprised to hear that it was her own. The sound of the incantation shook her composure, jerking Millie's attention to its source like a hand from a hot iron. She let out a giggle, and wondered what about this was so amusing. Nerves, perhaps, or anticipation. There! She spied the boy hiding in the gloom, grateful that his spell had failed, and her body squirmed as another giggle ushered forth from her mouth.

Then another.

The young witch was overcome with a fit of giggles, echoing out from the stubby hallway, wiggling this way and that from an unyielding tickling. She gaped at the boy, her lips quivering with the unending giggles. Millie struggled to regain her senses, laughter overwhelming her instead of thoughts for the counter-charm. Tickles erupted all over her body, and she could hardly bear it, laughing harder while her lungs strained to keep up.

She put her hand to the side of the wall, steadying herself. The young witch concentrated, trying to form words or aim her wand. Nothing would come out right, nor would her wand hand stay steady. Millie simply couldn't escape the effect of the charm long enough to counter it, much less keep the Finnigan boy from besting her at last.

On the bright side, Millie was too busy laughing to be disappointed about it all.

---

The boy stood there with his wand still raised, eyes wide, wondering if he was so lucky to hit his target. If he wasn’t then he most certainly was doomed, but then… the girl just stood there. Got fidgety and squirmy-like, and then–

“Hah!” Triumph flooded his expression at her little giggle, and before long she was utterly overcome with it. That’s the funny thing about laughing, isn’t it? If you hear one person laughing hysterically you can’t help but laugh too. So Max let out his own little giggle, but it was more devious than it was uncontrollable. Finally– escape! And she didn’t even know his real name to boot. He might just get away with this!

Max skirted past the girl with his back pressed against the opposite wall, grinning like a maniac as he whisked by. Then, he took off full throttle down the corridor. Freedom! He was getting away with it! A little hiccups here and there, but he used his wand and successfully unlocked the drawer and subdued the interloper! Tao wouldn’t believe it when he told him. Soon enough he’ll be in the common room and he’d find Mimi or Sloane and he’d offer her candy and–

“Oooooof!” Max had just turned the corner when he careened, face-first, into something soft but extremely solid. The momentum sent him ricocheting back, landing hard on his rump so he could only stare up at none other than Professor Lissington himself.

---

---

His fourth years were most energetic bunch of the day and he found getting them up and working ensured that they burnt off some of their excess energy; they liked to line up and throw the current spells they were learning at each other while he supervised. It was a win for everyone. If it was too cold out (hey, he didn’t like to feel like he was freezing to death, even on the balmiest of days) they took a lap around the castle while he blabbered on about something relating to the lesson or demonstrated something that caught their attention long enough before venturing back to the classroom.

Today Gus had pushed them out the door toward the Black Lake to look for Grindylows now that they could expel them, although they hadn’t managed to see a single one. Struck with a small pang of disappointment, he’d dismissed them from the lake to walk back to his own classroom, although he did stop by to watch Basil teach; he was transfiguring something, probably a quill or something, and Gus couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose as he turned away. He still hated Transfiguration class, and was thankful he didn’t have to sit there and pretend like he understood what in the world was happening. Thankfully he had Basil in his life now to help him with all his transfiguration needs.

Raking his fingers through his hair as his stomach rumbled, Gus turned on his heel to return to his classroom. He had a hankering for something sweet, and something in his drawer would have to hold him over before he could eat his weight in desserts at dinner. Yes. Maybe they’d have one of those pumpkin tarts with the whipped cream that just the right amount of cinnamon sprinkled on top —

Gus blinked down as he felt someone run into him, and couldn’t help but frown as he saw Mr. Beck on the ground. He looked… horrified? Confused? Like he wanted to bolt? Gus wasn’t sure but it certainly wasn’t a smile. Instantly he was squatting toward him. “Mr. Beck, are you alright?” Behind him he could hear someone laughing and his eyebrows knitted together in concern; he stood up and offered the first year his hand, although he had a feeling it’d be ignored or swatted away. “Is… everyone alright?” His mind went to the Peeves. Oh. He didn’t want to deal with them right now.

---

Millie laughed.

She laughed and laughed, quite certain that something about all of this was funny. The young witch laughed until her side split and her stomach ached with the effort. Her laughter coughed up from her lungs, falling down on weakened knees. She was tickled silly, confoundedly amused, ringing peals of echoing laughter down the hallway. Definitely not the way the young witch had expected to comport herself this afternoon, but at least it was funny!

Nevertheless, being so funny was starting to get seriously painful. Millie gripped her wand at one point, staring at it with a bundle of absurd joy. It looked so odd in her hands, a little stick of wood. Swish, swish, swish, went the stick of wood, waving about so splendidly in the air about her. She laughed even more, delight sparing her only mildly from the soreness and hurt the laughter brought upon her.

If she could only recall the way to end it. Millie paused for the barest of moments, glancing at her wand, before she burst into a renewed round of laughter. What a ridiculous idea, to stop laughing! She would sooner stop breathing, there was nothing better in the world than to laugh. Laugh all her problems away, laugh along the hours, laugh at the sorry state of her grades. Laughter was the cure to all the young witch's ills, what a funny thing to consider stopping at all.

"Fini-haha-te!" The word came to mind, as silly as her thoughts were coming now. It seemed so amusing to try it out. "Finni-hehe-tehe!" Millie couldn't even stop laughing long enough to say the full word, and that was enough to send her laughing once more. A final effort, her lungs gasping for air between bouts of her giggles, the young witch gave her wand a flick and spoke the clearest she could through her snickering mirth, "Finite!"

A gasp filled her lungs with more air than she had drawn in a thousand moments before it, leaving Millie to gasp again at the shock of it. Real, painless air filled her up, clearing her mind of the giddy thoughts that had clouded it before. With her desperate counter-charm finally succeeded, the annoyed young witch knew exactly who to blame for waylaying her for these unending seconds.

Callum Finnigan!

It wasn't even funny anymore, not that it ever had been! Millie rose to her feet, dusting what she could off her robes as a bristling glower set upon her face. Wand in hand, the third year stalked out of the hallway, on the march for her curly-haired thief and assailant. He had no right to place that charm on her, especially out here in the corridors where no magic was allowed! Well, if that's the game young Finnegan wanted to play, then Millie would just have to beat it.

Then she would drag young Finnigan to a professor or the closest prefect.

"Petrifi—oh, Professor!" Millie stopped in the middle of her charm, lowering her half-raised wand as quickly as she could. She had only seen the young Finnegan as she rounded the corner, already conveniently on the floor in front of her approach. At least she wouldn't have been accused of hurting him, after all! She might have mentioned that to the professor himself, if he hadn't filled her vision so completely as she stared at him with wide, hazel eyes.

A hot rush blazed from her cheeks, turning the chilly corridor unbearably hot now. The young witch shuffled in place, sparing a glance down to the sprawled-out boy, only to find her eyes looking elsewhere. "I was..." She was suddenly lost for words now, her appetite for vengeance vanishing with the sudden presence of Professor Lissington himself before her. "I'm glad you're..."

This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all!

"He was taking candy from your desk!" Millie pointed, wand away now, at the boy laying between the both of them. The professor needed to know that, she decided, it was the boy's fault. If not for him, the Ravenclaw would have patiently waited without causing a ruckus in the corridors. Surely a Hogwarts professor would see that she was blameless here, too. "I was just about to bring him to you, you see? I was simply..."

Her tangled words had the young witch backed into a corner now, face pale but for her flushing cheeks.

"...having a laugh?" She pressed a hand against her forehead, flustered and grasping for words. "Oh! That's not what I mean at all!"

---

Oh great, what a steaming pile of merda this escape was turning out to be! First the Professor, who he actually sort of liked, bearing down on him with a look of grave concern. Then he heard Miss Perfect’s squeaky little shoes as she scampered around the corner to find them, and then he knew he’d really be in trouble! Ugh! So close to freedom– he wasn’t about to let it go now!

Candy wrappers conspicuously crinkling in his pockets, the boy took Professor’s hand for help up. Then Miss Perfect started in on him, and the boy went red in the face as soon as she began. This is bad, bad bad bad-- so Max did the only thing he could do to correct the situation. As soon as she spit out that he was stealing from Professor’s desk Max cut in, attempting to talk faster and louder.

“Nuh-uh! That’s not what happened!” he stomped for emphasis, looking wildly between the two of them. “I’m not alright at all Professor! This girl was chasing me, she’s not even a prefect, then she started laughing like a maniac,” Which she admitted, what with having a laugh, nevermind that he caused it– “Then! Then! She threatened me! With a full body bomb! Body bum! Body– brine-blind-bind,” His accented voice stumbled incoherently over every English variation he could stutter before he landed on the one that sounded right.

---

Gus wanted to rub the bridge of his nose as Miss Potts came around the corner with a spell already against her lips, pausing only when she saw him. Instead he raked his fingers through his hair and sighed softly as he listened to the jumbled words of both Miss Potts and Mr. Beck at once. He didn’t consider her a liar, but at the same time he wouldn’t peg the Gryffindor as one either; it might be his fault for eating candy during class to begin with that caused this.

Holding his hand up to silence them, he first turned to Mr. Beck. “What’s in your pockets, please.” Gus knew the sound of candy wrappers better than he knew most sounds (his sweet tooth was unrivaled, even if it was a bit embarrassing to admit). He held his hands out to him, having no doubt that the girl was correct that he had been in his classroom.

“And you Miss Potts,” he turned toward her, “Shouldn’t toss spells at other students, unless in a duel.” Especially ones he knew most of his students hadn’t perfected yet. What was she planning on doing? Bringing the kid to him petrified? He also had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Beck had used a spell he’d recently taught to his first years, too.

This was a mess.

“I’m going to deduct fifteen points from both you. Miss Potts, for using a spell against a fellow student, and Mr. Beck, for taking something that doesn’t belong to you.” It sounded harsh to call a child a thief, and while he appreciated Miss Potts’ willingness to protect his belongings, he didn’t want to praise her too much. She’d also broken the rules. “That also comes with an automatic detention. So I’ll see you both tonight after dinner in my classroom.” Gus hated hosting detention. He raked another hand through his hair.

“Now, are you both alright from whatever you hit each other with?” That was the most important thing to the professor.

---

"Fifteen points?!" Millie gasped in shock, her ears closed to the professor's next words. Fifteen points. That was three correct questions in class. That was an exceptionally well-worded essay. That was a perfect potion, which she already knew was impossible for her. The young witch blinked at such a heavy infraction for something that was not even her fault. "But he—"

"That also comes with an automatic detention."

Color drained from the young witch's face, leaving her pallid and cold inside. A dead weight fell upon her stomach, dropping it like a stone to the floor. Millie couldn't swallow, she nearly couldn't breathe! "De...ten...tion?!" the chilled witch rasped, her voice thready and distant. When a shiver ran down her spin, Millie was shocked to find herself numb to it. It surprised her even more to find that she couldn't cry, either.

The points were a black stain upon the ever-worsening reality of detention settling over the young witch. Never, never ever, in her time at Hogwarts had she earned herself a detention. A few point infractions, a sharp word from a prefect, even a stern lecture from a professor once. It all paled in comparison to now.

"Ple—"
"Pl—"
"P—"

She couldn't get her mouth to form the words anymore, the plea dying on her tongue. The small, smooth links of Millie's chain necklace ran underneath her fingers, easing some tense part of her brain. They went there automatically, even involuntarily, responding to a need more basic than the relief she so desperately desired. That soothing desire met its needs underneath her fingertips, passing over silver links she knew by heart until her mind found calm again.

"I'm sorry, Professor." Millie's eyes stared down at the floor, her head brought low by the circumstances. By her own doing, she reminded herself. She never meant to get so caught up in pursuing the young Finnigan, or worse, raise her wand against him. The third year knew exactly where she could practice magic, and the corridors were strictly off-limits for that. She was just doing the right thing, by stopping the boy's escape she could make sure he'd learn not to steal from professors again. Except now the right thing had turned into the wrong actions, and it was all her own doing that landed her in this mess.

Detention!

Millie wanted to protest even more, just like the boy had done. It wasn't fair that she was being blamed for using a spell when it hadn't even worked! Particularly after the Finnigan boy used a spell on her first! It was humiliating, being accused of an unauthorized duel when she couldn't even cast her own response. Still, the young witch bore that humiliation quietly, demure in the face of authority. Nothing was going to move the weight of the Professor's judgement now. Her sentence might as well have been written in stone.

A breath sneaked in through her nose, raising her head along with it. Millie shook it, letting the weight on her tongue blow out with her breath again. "I'm fine," she said, adding only too late in the littelest voice, "thank you, Professor."

The young witch wanted nothing more now than to head straight to her dorm and bury her head in her pillow. If not to muffle the sounds of crying when it finally came back to her, then at least to stop everyone else from seeing the shame on her face.

"May I go now?"

---