Millie was used to being alone in the crowd, the least interesting flower on the wall. While she didn't revel in the lack of attention, it had afforded her the chance to be present or listen in when others didn't think she was. The object of fascination was always someone else, the celebrated relative or the popular socialite. Never her. Never Millie Potts.
As a flower, she withered under the attention of a crowd.
The young witch made an effort to listen to Benedict's words, holding her gaze there and not on the eyes attached to the whispering lips of a crowd. No, if she looked they would not be there, focused instead on what passed for idle conversations in a crowd. And yet, that little voice in her head, the urge that compelled her hand toward the safety of the necklace at her throat, those whispered otherwise in her ears. That Millie Potts, the girl who could pass unnoticed, was being taken notice of tonight in the same moments she wasn't paying attention.
And still he spoke, those dulcet tones calling her attention instead. A lighthouse that guarded the edge of that safe harbor, shining its light on dangers to be warned of. It made her blink and see what truly was in the moment. Her hands never left their places and her necklace never felt their touch. The crowd that might have drowned her only lapped at her heels instead, little waves of idle chatter with words that had little to do with the young witch. Sitting next to Benedict, with her fingers entwined in his and his words on her ears, she could be truly safe.
Millie even managed a giggle at the bawdy descriptions he made of her cat. "Oh Houstonia, if only we could all have such easy lives." She felt a squeeze between their palms, and was shocked to find that it came from her. Speaking quickly, Millie willed herself to relax instead. "It's no small wonder he was moping so much this summer, this castle has everything he could ever want. Food to catch, and admirers to fawn over him.
It felt right to nod and laugh at Benedict's little jokes, as odd as they were. The perks of a cat sounded rather like those of a young man, though not near enough to arouse the young witch's suspicions of the young man seated right next to her. He was too playful with words for them to be anything too serious, all his time spent reading had its own perks.
"Someday I might learn enough transfiguration to spend a day as a cat and try out his life." Millie said, sipping intermittently from her drink. It was nearly gone, but the loss of it didn't bother her as much as it had before. Here next to Benedict, she could spend the rest of the party in her own form of idle chatter, far more interesting than talk of quidditch or how student badges were handed out under Headmaster Black. "I suppose there might be a potion for it, if only that wasn't my worst subject. Besides, a human transformation would be a real challenge, not just cooking up some foul-tasting brew."
Emptying the rest of her own foul-tasting brew, Millie let her attention wander to the glass as she turned it this way and that in her hand. Even more than a cat, it might be much simpler to spend life as a glass, to be filled and emptied whenever someone had a thirst.
Or, something deep inside her reminded, to be left ignored on a shelf for years. Like she found herself, passed over for a fascination with another glass, another flower, another cat. If Millie could only transfigure her worries into something more interesting, something to capture another's fascination for just once in her life. Then maybe being alone in the crowd wouldn't be so bad.
As a flower, she withered under the attention of a crowd.
The young witch made an effort to listen to Benedict's words, holding her gaze there and not on the eyes attached to the whispering lips of a crowd. No, if she looked they would not be there, focused instead on what passed for idle conversations in a crowd. And yet, that little voice in her head, the urge that compelled her hand toward the safety of the necklace at her throat, those whispered otherwise in her ears. That Millie Potts, the girl who could pass unnoticed, was being taken notice of tonight in the same moments she wasn't paying attention.
And still he spoke, those dulcet tones calling her attention instead. A lighthouse that guarded the edge of that safe harbor, shining its light on dangers to be warned of. It made her blink and see what truly was in the moment. Her hands never left their places and her necklace never felt their touch. The crowd that might have drowned her only lapped at her heels instead, little waves of idle chatter with words that had little to do with the young witch. Sitting next to Benedict, with her fingers entwined in his and his words on her ears, she could be truly safe.
Millie even managed a giggle at the bawdy descriptions he made of her cat. "Oh Houstonia, if only we could all have such easy lives." She felt a squeeze between their palms, and was shocked to find that it came from her. Speaking quickly, Millie willed herself to relax instead. "It's no small wonder he was moping so much this summer, this castle has everything he could ever want. Food to catch, and admirers to fawn over him.
It felt right to nod and laugh at Benedict's little jokes, as odd as they were. The perks of a cat sounded rather like those of a young man, though not near enough to arouse the young witch's suspicions of the young man seated right next to her. He was too playful with words for them to be anything too serious, all his time spent reading had its own perks.
"Someday I might learn enough transfiguration to spend a day as a cat and try out his life." Millie said, sipping intermittently from her drink. It was nearly gone, but the loss of it didn't bother her as much as it had before. Here next to Benedict, she could spend the rest of the party in her own form of idle chatter, far more interesting than talk of quidditch or how student badges were handed out under Headmaster Black. "I suppose there might be a potion for it, if only that wasn't my worst subject. Besides, a human transformation would be a real challenge, not just cooking up some foul-tasting brew."
Emptying the rest of her own foul-tasting brew, Millie let her attention wander to the glass as she turned it this way and that in her hand. Even more than a cat, it might be much simpler to spend life as a glass, to be filled and emptied whenever someone had a thirst.
Or, something deep inside her reminded, to be left ignored on a shelf for years. Like she found herself, passed over for a fascination with another glass, another flower, another cat. If Millie could only transfigure her worries into something more interesting, something to capture another's fascination for just once in her life. Then maybe being alone in the crowd wouldn't be so bad.
![[Image: uHwnE8q.png]](https://i.imgur.com/uHwnE8q.png)