February 19th, 1895 — Library, Back Corner

Thunk! Anne's head hit the book on the table in front of her a second before she not-screamed into the book, her displeasure swallowed by the old pages. Anne's hands went to her hair as she gave her forehead one more frustrated book-thump for good measure. "This is bloody impossible!" She groaned, her mini tantrum giving way to a pout. She was supposed to be finishing an essay for History of Magic, but the margins of her parchment were a mess of scrawling notes and scribbled out ideas. What did she care about history when she couldn't figure out her future?

"We have our OWLs in three months, and we have to pick our NEWTs before we come back in the fall. We can only continue with seven classes, which means l get to drop three, but I'm going to add Alchemy, so I really need to drop four, but I don't hate four classes!" To her credit, Anne kept her rant to an appropriate level for the library, but she still sounded like she was ready to flip the table they sat at. Dropping an overdramatic arm over her mess of notes and books, Anne whined, "Millie, I don't know what to do."

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   Millie Potts

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MJ about made me cry with this one!
Thread Log | Help Anne Blame the DJ

There was a time when the library had seemed like a fond friend, whose visits were a reprieve from the world beyond. In there, Millie could free herself from its chaos, leaving her cares behind shelves full of books on every subject she could have imagined. Most were not novels, yet they held fantastical adventures nonetheless, some deep into history and others that promised talents she could only dream of showing off someday.

Now, as it seemed to the young witch, the library was a houseguest who might have overstayed its welcome. She sat among its shelves more often than she could count this winter, and even the sessions of her book club in its lonesome alcoves couldn't measure up to the same reprieve it used to offer her upon just setting foot within its en-tomed halls. Perhaps life outside the library simply didn't exist any longer for her, that Millie only dreamed of adventures beyond, of sitting in classes and eating in the Great Hall where something, anything, different might occur.

"This is bloody impossible! "

Anne, naturally, had a different perspective on the circumstances than her friend. Millie often welcomed her presence, despite the frequent moments when the Slytherin girl would take a firmer command of the table than a professor at his blackboard. Even those guided moments had formented a healthy respect for the likes of Potions and Astronomy in the young witch, and she was usually willing to help Anne work through a segment of History in return. Usually, too, they worked on separate assignments now more often than not, but today was one of Anne's firmer moments again.

"You needn't remind me of OWLs," the Ravenclaw intoned quietly into the spine of her book, looking up more carefully as Anne carried on about her class loads for next term. That was the impossibility for Millie, even thinking of that made a dark corner of her stomach twist and begin to sink into a bottomless abyss that pulled at the rest of her. Just surviving her OWLs wasn't enough for her, not when Papa expected so much more from his youngest daughter. If she wasn't passing with all Es or better, then it wouldn't matter how much planning Millie did for the next term.

Without a demonstration of perfection, or near enough, on Millie's part, Anne would be sitting at these tables alone next term.

"Only seven shouldn't be a difficult number to achieve for someone so adroit in Arithmancy." Perhaps it wasn't right to use such a sharp tongue on a friend of hers, though the young witch knew she could take it. Her smile hid easily, but not her fears, marked plainly to Anne by the fingers that clasped the chain of the necklace at her throat. Books forgotten in a moment Millie would rather not dwell upon, she let out a longer breath than she'd meant.

Millie didn't need to lean over to look at Anne's scribbled lists to double-check, she knew already what would be at the top of them. "Would Alchemy not substitute neatly for Potions, there?"

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   Anne Moony

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Whether Millie could see it from her position in her book, Anne stuck her tongue out all the same. Turning her face to meet her friend, the sly grin on Anne's face spelled nothing but mischief. "Oh, and when in Transfiguration did you learn to turn Hunter from a grimy boy into a prince?" Anne took the easy shot, anticipating Millie turning brighter red than the Gryffindor crest. Anne gave a wag of her eyebrows, daring Millie to push her tongue further. Of course, outside of their little bubble, Anne would hex anyone that so much as looked at Millie wrong. Anne could tease her friend, but that was a friend privilege. Merlin help anyone that crossed the 'rude' line with Millie in Anne's presence. Seeing Millie reach for her necklace was all the clue Anne needed to play nicer, remembering she wasn't the only one with worries.

Her mother's voice invaded and reminded Anne that she had manners and wasn't raised in a barn. She was young and able and didn't need to be sprawled out over the table. Anne hated that she listened to her 'mum voice' even when no one was around to tattle. Bloody hell, if this was growing up - constant subconscious reminders to 'behave' - Anne wanted a way out; preferably not another spell or potion to memorize. She shook her head as Millie looked over her notes. "No, I need potions." Anne didn't need to say whether personally or professionally; potions were just part of who Anne was now, and she was good at them. It was the OWL she was least concerned with."Alchemy's like potions and transfiguration together, but written in runes." Anne made a face at the last bit, still bitter she didn't know better when she chose her electives. "History of Magic can bury itself with Merlin for all I care and Muggle Studies is pointless. I think I'm stuck in Herbology, which is ridiculous. What am I going to do, carry around fanged geraniums and throw them at dark wizards?" Anne scoffed, even though the idea seemed like a delightful prank.

Anne grumbled and shoved her notes away, arms now firmly crossed. "What about you? Do you know what you want to take next term?" Anne refused to acknowledge the ultimatum hanging over her friend. She would not survive sixth year without her best friend. Absolutely not.

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   Millie Potts

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MJ about made me cry with this one!
Thread Log | Help Anne Blame the DJ

There came her sigh again, as if the air she blew out could carry her worries away upon it. The young witch was certain that her necklace was laced full of them as well, nerves and fear coating it like a layer of polish. Perhaps it was irony that she reached to burden the weight around her neck in order to lift her heart, but at least the motion carried her through Anne's withering riposte that stuck fast to Millie's affections for a certain Gryffindor.

"No one needs Potions," Millie said at once, when her tongue had seemed safe to speak again. It might have judged things too hastily, she quickly regretted the statement that seemed made too much in spite than in jest. Her collar still felt warm from thoughts of Ben, and Anne's quick work to drag him into their conversation. The young witch already knew her friend disapproved of her affections, if only her heart could obey the whims of shame as easily as her tongue did. She could not so easily dismiss her feelings as she could her words. "Truly, I would entirely believe if it were ever discovered that Potions were created purely to torment its students for seven years."

Millie would not, she knew in her heart, be taking Potions again after this year. No matter how her OWLs were returned, she couldn't bear the thought of another minute in that stuffy dungeon with its heady fumes and unsettling noises. She was convinced that Professor Valenduris bred the cockroaches that patrolled the corners of the rank classroom, infested with far more than just insects that might be harvested one day to become potion ingredients the next.

"Next term?! Anne, I can hardly keep on top of this term's classes." Millie's hands reach up, not to clutch at her necklace but at her nose instead, embracing it with prayer. She rubbed it once, and found it utterly unsatisfying. It was hardly proper, either, a young witch such as herself putting on such a dramatic show over her worries. She only needed to last until the end of this term, through her OWLs, and then perhaps propriety would be the only thing she need worry about.

"I don't know how I'm going to manage passing in every class. I can't think much more about the future right now." She let herself complain one last time, and then let down her hands onto the pages in front of her. A small chuckle turned at the back of her throat as Millie looked at them dourly, "I suppose I'd make a rather poor dark wizard to contest you someday, with all your advanced knowledge. On the other hand, I could be the witch growing those geraniums for you to mistreat so readily."

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Anne's face did all the talking at the idea of dropping potions. It didn't matter if Anne liked the subject, she was bloody good at it. Anne was panicking about many upcoming life events, but her Potions OWL wasn't one of them. It was a guaranteed 'O' as long as she showed up for the exam. That wasn't the issue, but she still felt compelled to say, "Potions are art and science, and it takes real magical talent to make them work. Any muggle can throw things in a cauldron, but only a witch can make it powerful." Anne had fully puffed up in defense of her beloved discipline simply because it was an easy fight to pick.

She turned sharply to Millie, her eyes disapproving. "Don't talk like that. Of course, you're going to pass all our classes. It's just tests Millie, and it isn't even for people you know. Who cares what some Ministry examiner thinks about our Charms? They score us, forget us, and score someone else. Forget them and just cram the things in like you do with your books. You know everything that happens in your books, Mills."

"And, for the record, I think you could be anything you'd like," Anne paused, looking her friend up and down from across the table, "but I think you'd be bloody rubbish at dark magic." Anne snickered at the thought of Millie haunting children and using spells that could harm anything bigger than a spider or Jimmy Fletcher.

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   Millie Potts

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MJ about made me cry with this one!
Thread Log | Help Anne Blame the DJ