The frantic pace set by Millie's heart left her focus frayed. It made her limbs itch as well, her body's suggestion that she wanted to be anywhere else. It left the young witch even more flustered to feel so wound up and be unable to move, her feet seemed frozen to the ground. Waiting for some signal, some permission to move.
"And on a Sunday of all days. Don't you think you might be a little early if you leave now? "
If it was permission that she was looking for, Mr. Hunter's words were not it. Her own caught in her throat, straining to offer an explanation for the slip of the tongue. A tongue that was now stilled the same way her feet were frozen, making Millie feel like a rather dull statue. She was no Mr. Podsnapper, she had no real experience as a stone child, and now was perhaps the worst time to consider asking the Hufflepuff about it.
When Benedict turned his attention elsewhere, Millie took the chance. Her feet nearly flew off her legs, taking her out of the library and far from her confusing new reading partner. Mr. Hunter's interest was only natural, she told herself, he only enjoyed books the way she did. There was nothing untoward about discussions of literature with peers, especially in the well-lit, well-supervised library spaces where they planned next to meet.
No, there was nothing the young witch needed to worry about. She could breathe easier now, though it wasn't clear to her whether that was due to the conclusion or her own distance from the boy. It was worth taking in stride, Millie decided, pressing the book a little closer against her body. There were chapters to read, notes to take, and with enough time for homework mixed in it meant that the rest of her day was suddenly filled to the brim.
Anticipation for a good book was a lot easier to deal with than fretting about perception. Books were easy to read. People, as she had only just been reminded, were much more of an adventure. At times, those were something the young witch would definitely rather read about.
"And on a Sunday of all days. Don't you think you might be a little early if you leave now? "
If it was permission that she was looking for, Mr. Hunter's words were not it. Her own caught in her throat, straining to offer an explanation for the slip of the tongue. A tongue that was now stilled the same way her feet were frozen, making Millie feel like a rather dull statue. She was no Mr. Podsnapper, she had no real experience as a stone child, and now was perhaps the worst time to consider asking the Hufflepuff about it.
When Benedict turned his attention elsewhere, Millie took the chance. Her feet nearly flew off her legs, taking her out of the library and far from her confusing new reading partner. Mr. Hunter's interest was only natural, she told herself, he only enjoyed books the way she did. There was nothing untoward about discussions of literature with peers, especially in the well-lit, well-supervised library spaces where they planned next to meet.
No, there was nothing the young witch needed to worry about. She could breathe easier now, though it wasn't clear to her whether that was due to the conclusion or her own distance from the boy. It was worth taking in stride, Millie decided, pressing the book a little closer against her body. There were chapters to read, notes to take, and with enough time for homework mixed in it meant that the rest of her day was suddenly filled to the brim.
Anticipation for a good book was a lot easier to deal with than fretting about perception. Books were easy to read. People, as she had only just been reminded, were much more of an adventure. At times, those were something the young witch would definitely rather read about.
![[Image: Aoane36.png]](https://i.imgur.com/Aoane36.png)