October 21, 1893 - East Ridge Farm, Outskirts of Hogsmeade, @the Autumn Festival
If Hugh had been uncomfortable out in the fields for the festival this afternoon it was nothing on how he felt in the press of people that had flooded into the barn for a dance. He'd promised he'd make an effort, but now that he was here all he wanted to do was escape back to the quiet of his rented room with his books and quills and forget all about this. Instead he hunched in on himself and stood near the very edge of the room. He just needed to ask one lady to dance and then he could report back that he had tried when he was asked later. After that Hugh would be free to go.
Problem was that there wasn't a single lady Hugh even felt he could approach. They were all bright eyed and smiling and he.... well he had always been an outcast, someone better suited to shelves of books and the dusty research rooms than to conversations and dancing. He wasn't even sure he knew the steps to this dance. Or the last one. Or the one before it. And the room was sweltering around him, too many bodies making him all to conscious of the sweat that was forming. He'd spent so long in the hot climates of the equator that he would have thought nothing of the scent, but as it were, this was not Egpyt, or India, or the Ottoman Empire. No, it was Britain, and here he highly doubted any lady would want to dance with him if he were sweating, no matter what cologne charms he'd used before coming.
Hugh swallowed, looking around the room. The crowd parted for a moment and there she was - a lady on her own, Hugh accidently met her gaze and knew that now he'd have to interact with her. He started toward her, trying to feel some confidence but as the crowd filled back in between them and he had to wind his way to her he found that he couldn't quite approach her and so he tried to walk right on past her as if he'd never even been looking at her in the first place.
Penelope Fawcett
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