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?"
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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