A small part of her wanted to tug the card away from him, the same part that looked out to the dance floor with a pang in her heart. Perhaps it was her heart out there, and her head here, in front of Cadogan. She kept her arm steady to let him write out his name, letting her head and reason win. The words rattled through her head, only a practice exam and practice exams are useful. They could both speak the words, but could they dance their meaning?
Before she could find out, Millie was forced to make her own use of the etiquette lessons today. There was no curtsy with Ben, but with Cadogan she bent a knee behind her as the girls had been taught. The folds of her chiffon skirt gathered in her hands, dipping once, before she restored them, and herself, back to normal. All that disarray simply to confer a wordless acknowledgement, but a mere warm-up for the pageantry that lay ahead of them.
"We shall, Mr. Glynn," the young witch returned, a classroom model of behavior. The etiquette felt more like playing pretend, yet the grip of Cadogan's hand on hers could be nothing but real. As they found a place on the dance floor, Millie ignored the desire to look out to the rest of it, she tried her hardest to ignore everything but the partner in front of her. Her eyes met his, or at least they almost met his, looking just a little above them to his brow. It was smaller, different, more shapely...no, it was only the brow of Mr. Glynn, and nothing was the matter with that.
The only thing that mattered was that she dance with him; an offer accepted was a promise Millie had to keep.
Millie kept her promises, just as well as she paid attention in class. She did at least try that much, and in their shared etiquette class it was much too difficult to do otherwise. Her feet had learned the steps, her arms had learned the movements, and however much she might lack in flourish or passion this time, her embroidered dress offered its own in recompense.
"Isn't this enjoyable?" she asked, almost breathless as they came together once during the dance. Millie couldn't that fathom it was his doing, not for this dance. Dancing with him wasn't making her lose her head like her first, no, this time Millie could feel herself hitting every step along the way, and only missing Cadogan when he was out of sync somehow. She knew what it was she felt dancing with him, and it made her want to ask all the questions they weren't permitted during a proper dance:
How were your OWLs?
What was your hardest question?
Do you plan to stay for NEWTs?
Which do you suppose you'll make it into?
And the one she could never bring herself to even consider asking: Why did it take you until tonight to be nice to me?
Instead, as etiquette demanded, Millie remained stuck on the easy questions. Just small talk, the patter of nothingness. It was, as the girls were taught, supposed to be a litmus test for the profoundly astute gentleman who could hold his own in words as well as wits. The young witch found it profoundly stupid, but asked something stupid regardless. "A little performance for a little practice...much better than spending a night in the stuffy tower, don't you think?"
Before she could find out, Millie was forced to make her own use of the etiquette lessons today. There was no curtsy with Ben, but with Cadogan she bent a knee behind her as the girls had been taught. The folds of her chiffon skirt gathered in her hands, dipping once, before she restored them, and herself, back to normal. All that disarray simply to confer a wordless acknowledgement, but a mere warm-up for the pageantry that lay ahead of them.
"We shall, Mr. Glynn," the young witch returned, a classroom model of behavior. The etiquette felt more like playing pretend, yet the grip of Cadogan's hand on hers could be nothing but real. As they found a place on the dance floor, Millie ignored the desire to look out to the rest of it, she tried her hardest to ignore everything but the partner in front of her. Her eyes met his, or at least they almost met his, looking just a little above them to his brow. It was smaller, different, more shapely...no, it was only the brow of Mr. Glynn, and nothing was the matter with that.
The only thing that mattered was that she dance with him; an offer accepted was a promise Millie had to keep.
Millie kept her promises, just as well as she paid attention in class. She did at least try that much, and in their shared etiquette class it was much too difficult to do otherwise. Her feet had learned the steps, her arms had learned the movements, and however much she might lack in flourish or passion this time, her embroidered dress offered its own in recompense.
"Isn't this enjoyable?" she asked, almost breathless as they came together once during the dance. Millie couldn't that fathom it was his doing, not for this dance. Dancing with him wasn't making her lose her head like her first, no, this time Millie could feel herself hitting every step along the way, and only missing Cadogan when he was out of sync somehow. She knew what it was she felt dancing with him, and it made her want to ask all the questions they weren't permitted during a proper dance:
How were your OWLs?
What was your hardest question?
Do you plan to stay for NEWTs?
Which do you suppose you'll make it into?
And the one she could never bring herself to even consider asking: Why did it take you until tonight to be nice to me?
Instead, as etiquette demanded, Millie remained stuck on the easy questions. Just small talk, the patter of nothingness. It was, as the girls were taught, supposed to be a litmus test for the profoundly astute gentleman who could hold his own in words as well as wits. The young witch found it profoundly stupid, but asked something stupid regardless. "A little performance for a little practice...much better than spending a night in the stuffy tower, don't you think?"
![[Image: uHwnE8q.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/V68t8zfV/uHwnE8q.png)