That smile of his was alarming to the young witch. Her fingers dug into the silver links at her throat, picking at his words with her thoughts. If only Mr. Hunter would be more forthright with his actions, she could only parse his intentions so far as she could react. Millie felt her tension easing as his agreement came easily across the table, freeing her head to tip into a nod again.
She had to be more mindful of propriety, Millie reminded herself. Passing notes and meeting with boys for long discussions would draw eyes, and even more whispers. Enough of them had passed along from her mouth that gave her pause, though not enough to claw her back from embracing a new reading partner. "In that case, Mr. Hunter," she started, surprised to find her own smile creeping back from its hiding place again, "Perhaps that should be your first priority. You might fall behind if you have to wait for it from a bookseller in town."
Millie tightened her smile a little more to realize that she had been teasing him, and turned back to the books in question. The instructions of Charms for Confidence would have to wait until next week, she decided. Tonight she would start on Echoes of Eternity: Chronicles of the Wizarding Realm, if the young witch could maintain enough self-discipline to stick to her class priorities in the meantime. Her eyes glanced longingly at the cover, but only pulled it back once Benedict had written the title down. His attention, as it turned out, was elsewhere, so the young witch turned to look.
Her flushed face must have been visible to the librarian for just a moment before Millie whipped her head away. So quickly that her hair tumbled down across her face like a curtain, a courtesy so gratifying she didn't even think to wonder if it was a coincidence. Awkwardly fumbling with the chair, the young witch stood and started gathering her things. "Well, this may be..." she started, then shook her head and continued in silence.
Her muscles were as stiff as a statue's, making every movement laborious. She pushed through anyway, keenly aware that even in the library whispers could be louder than any shouted defense. Millie had already stayed too long speaking with Benedict, and without the kind eye of any professors or house matrons at that. Tidying up her things, the young witch pressed the book against her in one last act of propriety.
"I don't want to be late for my next class," the young witch said by way of explanation, suddenly heedless of the day's date. Or headless, rather. Which she might have been if her eyes could manage to wrest it off in their quest to look absolutely anywhere but on the young man across the table.