Millie took several more breaths to clear her head, something that the boy's perilous smiles made difficult. If he could only do that off to the side, and not directly in the face of her embarrassment. Her nettlesome thoughts lacked the barbs she might have had for another boy, particularly another Gryffindor boy. Benedict was so different than others in his house, all the Fletchers and Becks and Seacoals put together couldn't have mustered a single ounce of the mirth that the young witch forced herself to resist upon seeing his smile.
She could nod to his answers for a while, that was simple enough. At least there was no more talk of subjects that would raise her housekeeper's eyebrows, or send Millie into another fit of blushing giggles. That would hardly be the best behavior to show off in public, acting like a tittering little girl in front of this young man. There was hardly anywhere, the young witch was beginning to realize, where she might be able to act as she wished around Benedict.
And that posed the question that Millie had been evading all summer.
"Houstonia's been hunting his own food all this time?" Millie asked, and was surprised to find herself asking. It was a graceful kind of shock, at least, one that allowed her to answer the question herself in the next moment. The one about her cat, that is. She had been silly to think that her cat was getting food and handouts from other students, though he certainly acted overly affectionate when the right kind of treat was around.
The young witch tried not to think about the types of prey a cat would find around Hogwarts castle. Insects and rodents, and things worse than that, lurked in corners —and often more boldy across the floors of classes and dorms, much to her disgust when they appeared. There was, perhaps, some good to come out of a cat taking care of those pests. There were certainly none in her parents' home, or none that were any match for mum's wits, which must be the reason for Houstonia's slovenly ways this summer.
"Well, if he isn't getting his meals that way, then I suppose..." Millie ventured, waving off the notion of inviting the elder Mr. Hunter to their conversation. How casually she did so, when her thoughts were racing again now that her mouth was open. For a moment, the young witch realized, she felt at ease with the boy. Repeating that, deliberately and with conscious thought, seemed a century beyond her now.
Laying her palm out between them, the young witch resisted the urge to let her other take refuge in her necklace. She wished her thoughts to ease and her heart to slow, as if it were possible to simply will her way to the easy confidence Benedict had on display. "He doesn't seem to enjoy much more than dozing in the sunlight. Is that a spell to make him more comfortable at home?"
Millie might try it on herself were that the case, if only to be less prim and proper, less...like herself, around friends like him.