Sometimes in her dreams, Millie played out this very moment. A charming young man, who was often in the form of Ben, would come to her in a twilight hour. She might be wearing a dress for the gaiety in his step, but most of the time her attire was something more plain for everyday wear. With a laugh, he would shrug it off, defy the absent tempo of music, and sweep her away into broad arms with a firm confidence behind each step.
Here in the afternoon hour of the Hogwarts ball, there was music in the air, and real breath in her lungs. Dressed as she was for the affair, the young witch only yearned to be swept away. Every step was her own, every move intentional as she recalled the dance lessons of etiquette class. Across from her, the charming young man was Ben himself, looking nearly a mirror version of each of the other men, both young and old, in the dance line opposite the women.
For everything Millie had wished for, the reality turned out to be a lot more work. Step right here, back up there, and don't go too far. Avoid getting too close to Ben, lest her skirt crumple against his legs when she turned. And most of all, perhaps the most disappointing of all, she could never stay near enough to him for more than a second at a time. A brief flirtation, and then away on her own, where a mountain could nearly fit between them.
"I do enjoy myself, Mr. Hunter," she told him during one of their brief dancing liaisons, an answer to him between a brief interlude. Millie found it took a conscious effort to breathe and speak in among the dancers, and in the spins themselves she was grateful for his hand of support. She would have liked to take both of his hands in her own, instead, to share in a dance of their own making. This style of dancing felt less like her dream and more like clockwork. Something mechanical, to be wound up and set loose as a performance to others.
And yet Millie couldn't deny that being part of it sent a thrill through her heart, one she had to temper lest she lose her step.
Ben might as well cause it himself, and as she carried his racy suggestion away with her, back to the line with the other women across from their gentlemen, the young witch had to work hard not to laugh at it. The book had been his playful suggestion, but naturally she read it cover to cover. So when she came back around to him, Millie broke from the cadence of her steps to press a light finger against his lips.
"Forgetting our lessons again, Mr. Hunter?" Millie retorted quickly, having only a second more until the next step would carry him an arm's length away...and out of earshot to her quiet voice. "You shouldn't be thinking of anyone but the lady in front of you."
Keeping a dour expression, in a vague impression of the professor who clicked a tongue at their dancing missteps, was harder than Millie intended. Her teeth bit the back of her lips, keeping them from spreading into the telltale grin that had plastered itself on Ben's face already. If she didn't know better, the young witch might have nearly thought he was trying to throw her off balance during their first dance.
The only thing that might throw the young witch off balance was if she let herself get swept away into her dreams. A ballroom dance might be less than her visions, and yet it was everything she could hope for. Millie wasn't about to squander it for the distance between them, or the depth of Ben's imagination. Her own could get lost enough in the swell of music and the mechanical cadence of the steps as she fell back into the dance line.
Across from Ben, exactly where she was supposed to be right now.
Here in the afternoon hour of the Hogwarts ball, there was music in the air, and real breath in her lungs. Dressed as she was for the affair, the young witch only yearned to be swept away. Every step was her own, every move intentional as she recalled the dance lessons of etiquette class. Across from her, the charming young man was Ben himself, looking nearly a mirror version of each of the other men, both young and old, in the dance line opposite the women.
For everything Millie had wished for, the reality turned out to be a lot more work. Step right here, back up there, and don't go too far. Avoid getting too close to Ben, lest her skirt crumple against his legs when she turned. And most of all, perhaps the most disappointing of all, she could never stay near enough to him for more than a second at a time. A brief flirtation, and then away on her own, where a mountain could nearly fit between them.
"I do enjoy myself, Mr. Hunter," she told him during one of their brief dancing liaisons, an answer to him between a brief interlude. Millie found it took a conscious effort to breathe and speak in among the dancers, and in the spins themselves she was grateful for his hand of support. She would have liked to take both of his hands in her own, instead, to share in a dance of their own making. This style of dancing felt less like her dream and more like clockwork. Something mechanical, to be wound up and set loose as a performance to others.
And yet Millie couldn't deny that being part of it sent a thrill through her heart, one she had to temper lest she lose her step.
Ben might as well cause it himself, and as she carried his racy suggestion away with her, back to the line with the other women across from their gentlemen, the young witch had to work hard not to laugh at it. The book had been his playful suggestion, but naturally she read it cover to cover. So when she came back around to him, Millie broke from the cadence of her steps to press a light finger against his lips.
"Forgetting our lessons again, Mr. Hunter?" Millie retorted quickly, having only a second more until the next step would carry him an arm's length away...and out of earshot to her quiet voice. "You shouldn't be thinking of anyone but the lady in front of you."
Keeping a dour expression, in a vague impression of the professor who clicked a tongue at their dancing missteps, was harder than Millie intended. Her teeth bit the back of her lips, keeping them from spreading into the telltale grin that had plastered itself on Ben's face already. If she didn't know better, the young witch might have nearly thought he was trying to throw her off balance during their first dance.
The only thing that might throw the young witch off balance was if she let herself get swept away into her dreams. A ballroom dance might be less than her visions, and yet it was everything she could hope for. Millie wasn't about to squander it for the distance between them, or the depth of Ben's imagination. Her own could get lost enough in the swell of music and the mechanical cadence of the steps as she fell back into the dance line.
Across from Ben, exactly where she was supposed to be right now.
![[Image: uHwnE8q.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/V68t8zfV/uHwnE8q.png)