With her burdens lifted from her hands, Millie let herself breathe again. It took a moment for her to come back to her senses, taking the towel from the professor when she did. Her lips hesitated with the question of a smile, perhaps a word of thanks, something to show her gratitude. Instead, the young witch quietly wiped off her hands, dabbing at the stains on her sleeve.
The towel turned a light shade of lavender as she worked, with sleeves that still carried the stubborn stain of the shrivelfig's juices. Millie kept at it, with her expression turning more and more dour until she looked, exasperated, up to the man's kindly eyes. He seemed to sense that his words weren't having much effect on the flustered third year, and she heard him better the second time he made a suggestion.
"Would you like me to take care of your sleeves?"
Millie gazed at the professor numbly for a moment. She was almost resigned to it now, it was one less set of robes she'd be able to wear until the holidays. If she could make it through the rest of the day without becoming the talk of the third years, that is. Her eyes traced over the stains on her sleeves, and then lifted back to the professor with a renewal of hope.
"Could you? I didn't know what spell to try, and we aren't going to get to household spells 'til next year in Charms, I think." Her eyes fell again, hoping this wasn't another test or assignment. "I could just go to the library, I'm sure there's a book on it to learn from..." No, she decided, the professor's words trickling back to her. He'd already assessed her work as improved, and none of her teachers had ever played pranks with grades like that. Millie didn't know what possessed her to think such things, and she stopped talking before Professor Skeeter really did find something to mark her off on.
Hope flooded through the young witch as she offered her sleeves up to the professor, letting them open to their full length to reveal some of the stains as high as her elbow. She nearly blushed again at the sight, nerves tickling the urge to giggle at the misfortune, holding back if only to wait for the relief she would feel when it all vanished away in a moment or two.
The towel turned a light shade of lavender as she worked, with sleeves that still carried the stubborn stain of the shrivelfig's juices. Millie kept at it, with her expression turning more and more dour until she looked, exasperated, up to the man's kindly eyes. He seemed to sense that his words weren't having much effect on the flustered third year, and she heard him better the second time he made a suggestion.
"Would you like me to take care of your sleeves?"
Millie gazed at the professor numbly for a moment. She was almost resigned to it now, it was one less set of robes she'd be able to wear until the holidays. If she could make it through the rest of the day without becoming the talk of the third years, that is. Her eyes traced over the stains on her sleeves, and then lifted back to the professor with a renewal of hope.
"Could you? I didn't know what spell to try, and we aren't going to get to household spells 'til next year in Charms, I think." Her eyes fell again, hoping this wasn't another test or assignment. "I could just go to the library, I'm sure there's a book on it to learn from..." No, she decided, the professor's words trickling back to her. He'd already assessed her work as improved, and none of her teachers had ever played pranks with grades like that. Millie didn't know what possessed her to think such things, and she stopped talking before Professor Skeeter really did find something to mark her off on.
Hope flooded through the young witch as she offered her sleeves up to the professor, letting them open to their full length to reveal some of the stains as high as her elbow. She nearly blushed again at the sight, nerves tickling the urge to giggle at the misfortune, holding back if only to wait for the relief she would feel when it all vanished away in a moment or two.
![[Image: uHwnE8q.png]](https://i.imgur.com/uHwnE8q.png)