Thurs, October the 31st, 1894
Unofficial Hogwarts Halloween Party

The press of bodies in the Come and Go room felt almost more suffocating than the previous year, when Millie had come here alone. The party raged in spite of all sensibilities, loud and raucous, flouting all of the rules that she was supposed to uphold as a Hogwarts prefect. As if she could march straight over to the Head Boy himself to tattle about his own misbehavior, all the while not embarrassing herself or Anne.

Anne was the only reason she had agreed to come, and all that was keeping the young witch from bolting for the door. And perhaps the glass of fire whiskey that tasted no better than when Calla mistakenly offered her one last year. It did seem to be having an affect on her, at least, Millie's hands were nowhere near her throat tonight. There was a strange sensation flowing through her veins, feeling neither anxious nor brash. Whatever lay in the middle was hers to revel in tonight, an easy whim to enjoy, floating wherever the night may take her.

She floated through the party alongside Anne, alternating between their talk and when her friend would make conversations with others. Millie didn't pretend to know everyone at the party, beyond having shared classes with some of them. It was easy to exist at the edge of conversation tonight, occasionally tipping the drink she cradled to her lips. It burned her throat less each time she took a sip, offering almost a comforting warmth to her belly the more she drank. Every so often, the young witch was drawn into the chatter by Anne's voice or laughter, just enough to react with a nod or short word to be polite.

Even with the help of the liquor, it was so much effort to pretend to be familiar enough with someone to carry on endless conversation. The young witch longed for a quieter corner for a moment to herself in the whirl of excitement around her. A hand rose toward her necklace, dreaming of having a book instead, or just someone familiar to speak with who wouldn't drift away to leave her floating alone.

Millie herself hardly noticed when her glass was empty, bringing it to her lips every so often out of habit. Just when she let it down for the third time, still as empty as when it touched her lips, someone stepped into her line of sight. Someone familiar, offering her a respite from her loneliness amid the crowd. She blinked down at the offered glass in her hand, unsure if her warm, sudden smile was for the comforting liquid or its bearer.

"Oh why, thank you," she said, exchanging her emptied glass with the refill. It was at that moment when the young witch understood what she was grateful for, and neither her necklace nor the liquor could quite measure up.

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Benedict Hunter and attn: Anne Moony

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   Benedict Hunter

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This was Benedict's second year attending this party, and it still boggled his mind that the students were allowed to get away with it, all manner of rule-breaking was going on and everyone was sword not to say. Perhaps the faculty turned a blind eye because a single night of excess helped release the pressure that built up from the usual strict nature of the school. Or perhaps Benedict was overthinking things and he should just enjoy himself. His friends certainly thought so and several of the other Gryffindor boys had already had a couple too many. Benedict was taking it slow; last year, he made an absolute ass of himself on the liquor, so he might like to keep a little more control on this occasion.

His dorm mate nudged him and gestured across the room to where Miss Potts sat, idly chatting away when needed but looking a little like a fish out of water. His friend knew of his affection for the girl and had taken much enjoyment from the recent rumour about illicit hand-holding. Ben didn't care about rumours, and he hoped Millie didn't either as he had been nothing but a gentleman. Something within him, though, kept pushing the envelope even though his and Millie's friendship was beginning to attract attention.

Millie looked like she needed some more company, so, with little encouragement from the other boys to go and talk to her he decided he should. As he walked over, she twisted and on the step, and he saw her boots poking out from under her dress; the way she sat, cup in hand and knees to one side, made him she looked pretty, ladylike and relaxed. He doubted that relaxed was the word she would describe herself with though.

"You're welcome, may I?" he gestured to the spot next to her and sat down. There wasn't a lot of room, so it was a little closer to a seating arrangement that would be usual with a member of the opposite sex, but perhaps it was the alcohol that helped them both look past that. She seemed happy to see him; she always seemed happy to see him, which was obviously a good thing. "How are you liking the party? It's all a bit crazy, isn't it? Your necklace is probably taking a beating." he nudged at her playfully, by now she would know he wasn't teasing her for her anxiety, he was trying to be the charming boy who accepted her for it and hoped to bring her out of it. He took a sip from his drink and looked over the rim of his cup. "Has Miss Moony gone off to do drinking games with the other players?" he asked. He knew they had come together; luckily, this absence gave Millie a little space to chat to him instead.

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Millie Potts

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   Millie Potts

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As the young witch was only attending the party at the behest of a friend, it seemed only right that a friend should be there to make it worth her while. The easy part was to take the offered glass, ignoring the voice that bore her prefect badge proudest of all to take another sip of the burning liquor, and to make room on the bench for him. She could feel every pulse of her beating heart, hear the whisper of a conversation ten feet away, and Millie tried to take another sip of the drink to help herself forget about that. She had been told that liquor would help forget all her worries, but it didn't seem to be working very well for her.

Millie tried offering Benedict a wan smile, reacting to his presence more than his words. It was hard to ignore his presence, it wasn't so much the heat of him she could sense when he sat down. The feeling was hard to describe, it was similar to the spark of joy that lit inside her whenever Anne turned from one of other other friends to her, only not quite. Perhaps there was something else to it, something the young witch couldn't quite place. The same something that had caused her to write a letter to her cousin, whose response helped assuage the guilt she still felt at deceiving Dahlia.

It helped allow her to nod as well, pushing her lips wider. That was not the hardest part. She trusted Benedict, and far more than she did most of the attendees of the party. It wasn't just the boys that seemed like a risk to her, her current company notwithstanding. Millie knew implicitly how fast rumors spread at Hogwarts, the mere thought of the latest made her cheeks ignite once more with an embarrassing pink. She took another sip of the drink, nodding again before she looked up at her friend's face.

The hardest part was not thinking about what everyone else thought.

"We're probably not supposed to be seen together like this," she mused aloud, unable to help the corner of her lips pull wider still. Millie wished the rose on her cheeks and the butterflies in her stomach could both go away, banished along with the rest of the partygoers. If it was just the two of them on the bench, she would happily chatter away the hours with Benedict. "Oh, I think she's still around."

Millie tipped her head, glancing off to the side where she had last seen her effervescent friend. She found Anne there, nursing a new drink in her hand. Was it the glimpse of her eyes that Millie caught, just for a second, or was it her nerves and the drink mixing intolerantly again? If she stared long enough, the rest of the room slipped into a blurry haze, leaving the young witch satisfied enough with that much privacy. "Anne's not watching, exactly. More of...minding us...minding ourselves."

That seemed funny to her all of the sudden, prompting an abbreviated laugh to come out in one quiet huff. Millie felt a sudden awareness of herself again, and where her body was. Her feet were tucked out of the way, with one hand on the drink glass. That only left the other to sit awkwardly on her thigh, pressing into her skirt in the absence of anything else to press against.

There was a good chance that might become the hardest part of sitting next to Benedict tonight.

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   Benedict Hunter

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He was pleased to sit next to his friend, and there was something pleasant about the way that the seating pushed them that little closer together than was normal; it also meant they could speak over the music quite happily and enjoy her smile and her other quirks.

Benedict could feel the little tension in her body and she struggled with exactly how to feel and behave so near to a boy. Her comment about them not being supposed to be seen like this made it obvious what was on her mind. "I can move if you'd like?" he asked politely, looking for a response in her eyes, he saw no indication that she genuinely wanted rid of him. "Anyway a couple of friends having a chat is hardly the worst crime going on here. It's one of Black's parties; it's kind of agreed that no one talks about what happens here... can you imagine the carnage if it got out?" he laughed; the headmaster's son hosting parties involving drink and drugs on school premises? There is a good chance expulsions would follow and then perhaps even a change in headmaster. Not that that would likely be much solace to Millie as she was still here after all, but so was everyone else including most of the prefects.

He glanced in the direction of Anne. "I like Miss Moony; she's a good friend to you, isn't she?" he wondered what Anne might think of the now barely masked affection he had for Millie. He and Anne got on fine, so he liked to hope that she wouldn't be too uncomfortable with the friendship that had developed.

The Gryffindor took a swig of his drink before looking a the glass thoughtfully. "Have you drunk at parties before? What do you think the situation is with the staff? They can't not know that something is happening here, right? My theory is that they think an annual breach of the rules lets everyone feel rebellious without causing discipline problems the rest of the year?" he shrugged, then blushed. Was this drunken philosophical Ben coming out.

His other hand, free of the glass, rested on his own thigh, sliding down to his outer leg between him and Millie. He reached his ring and pinkie finger up and placed them gently on Millie's side of the point where their legs connected. He was certain he could feel her heart beating beneath the fabric of her dress but it was probably his own as he risked this subtle but intimate gesture.

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Millie Potts

  

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If the party was a storm raging around them, then Benedict was a safe harbor. The young witch had never thought of herself as a boat, yet the longer he was by her side, the less she felt aware of the others around them. Until he mentioned them, Millie could have drifted here alongside him for the whole night. Resisting being drawn back to the maelstrom that was the Head Boy's party, her mind obeyed the rules of the conversation nevertheless.

"If only someone would talk of it...perhaps in passing to the Headmaster," she answered without mirth, knowing such a thing would incriminate herself as well. Millie's duties as a prefect should have insisted she be the one to tattle, but just as last year, she had lost the spirit as soon as she stepped foot through the door. Taking another sip of her drink helped the thought fade away, along with the storm once more. It helped coax a smile back to her face as well, "Anne is—Miss Moony," she corrected herself, feeling more lucid than she had for a while, "is one of life's true delights!"

Now that was something to make her laugh, and one that Millie indulged in for a few blissful seconds. Together, Anne and Greta had, despite all of their differences, made her treasure the time she spent at school. Without them, the young witch couldn't have imagined herself indulging in such an off-color experience as tonight's party. Her shoulders shrugged in response to Benedict, it was an act that felt so improper and yet so appropriate for the moment. "I suppose they simply don't wish to think more of it than that. Then again, it's possible that next year's attempt will find itself shut down without such a well-connected sponsor."

Millie didn't really wish to think more of it than that. Here she was, flouting the rules and shirking her duties. Which didn't seem so bad with the drink in her hand, the customary flurry of thoughts in her head seemed less of an intrusion to her now. She let them wash over her, flowing on out past the safety of her harbor. Here and now, she could let herself feel at ease.

That is, until Benedict put his hand onto her leg.

All at once, the young witch felt the roar of thoughts in her head again. She could have sworn that a glass shattered, the music stopped, and all the eyes in the Come and Go Room swiveled to point directly at her. Millie did the only thing that seemed right, sliding her fingers underneath his hand to grasp it firmly. Here in her safe harbor, the storm could rage beyond them, unheeded. In the fragile calm of the moment she made a decision, choosing to believe in her cousin's advice and ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

"Let us talk about something else," Millie implored him, gripping his hand as her only lifeline. "has Houstonia shown up in your Common Room again?"

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   Benedict Hunter

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Benedict opened his mouth in fake aghast, how could she be wishing someone spoke to the headmaster, it wasn't all that surprising and he suspected many of the usually more disciplined students probably felt quite uncomfortable that something like this was allowed to continue unchecked. He nodded along as she gave her theories on the matter.

The young man felt the moment of tension as she detected his touch on her, but she didn't pull away, she reached down and their hands met with their fingers intertwining. Benedict smiled to himself and he felt a very good feeling inside, he liked having her grip on him very much. It felt even more proper now than it did the first time, was this their new normal? He certainly hoped so.

Millie quickly moved the topic away from the subject of the morality of this party and Benedict was happy to oblige. "He has, I wonder how he finds his way from the loft to our common room but I caught him being smoothed by one of the seventh years just the other day. He is popular, you have a very handsome young man." he said charmingly complimenting his friend's beloved pet. He let out a little laugh, "I hear it's a common trait amongst men of a certain class, to leave their lady wondering whose bed they are sharing at night, what a cad, what shall the gossips say?"

Benedict hoped to never be that man and he found himself squeezing Millie's hand back. Why was his involuntary response to want to reassure the girl of his intention to never leave her like that? Was his brain implying that his rightful place was beside her? His own heart was racing at this realisation, he knew he liked Millie, a lot, but an actual consideration of an actual real-life relationship with her still made him panic a little. He hoped that she just enjoyed his little joke and didn't judge him for in introspection. She never did, and neither did he judge her for those moments when he spotted her rooting around inside herself. "Maybe you'll have to put a summoning charm on him? Can't have your feet getting cold at night as the winter comes in." he joked again and laughed taking a draw on his drink to calm his surface nerves. He placed the bottle down beside himself and twisted his body slightly more towards Millie as they chattered away, still holding her hand with his others.

He watched as the girl's actions mirrored his and she too took a swig of her drink, he saw the glistening beer on her lips as she finished and his heart fluttered again as at that moment he decided how he wanted this evening to proceed.

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Millie Potts

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   Millie Potts

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Millie was used to being alone in the crowd, the least interesting flower on the wall. While she didn't revel in the lack of attention, it had afforded her the chance to be present or listen in when others didn't think she was. The object of fascination was always someone else, the celebrated relative or the popular socialite. Never her. Never Millie Potts.

As a flower, she withered under the attention of a crowd.

The young witch made an effort to listen to Benedict's words, holding her gaze there and not on the eyes attached to the whispering lips of a crowd. No, if she looked they would not be there, focused instead on what passed for idle conversations in a crowd. And yet, that little voice in her head, the urge that compelled her hand toward the safety of the necklace at her throat, those whispered otherwise in her ears. That Millie Potts, the girl who could pass unnoticed, was being taken notice of tonight in the same moments she wasn't paying attention.

And still he spoke, those dulcet tones calling her attention instead. A lighthouse that guarded the edge of that safe harbor, shining its light on dangers to be warned of. It made her blink and see what truly was in the moment. Her hands never left their places and her necklace never felt their touch. The crowd that might have drowned her only lapped at her heels instead, little waves of idle chatter with words that had little to do with the young witch. Sitting next to Benedict, with her fingers entwined in his and his words on her ears, she could be truly safe.

Millie even managed a giggle at the bawdy descriptions he made of her cat. "Oh Houstonia, if only we could all have such easy lives." She felt a squeeze between their palms, and was shocked to find that it came from her. Speaking quickly, Millie willed herself to relax instead. "It's no small wonder he was moping so much this summer, this castle has everything he could ever want. Food to catch, and admirers to fawn over him.

It felt right to nod and laugh at Benedict's little jokes, as odd as they were. The perks of a cat sounded rather like those of a young man, though not near enough to arouse the young witch's suspicions of the young man seated right next to her. He was too playful with words for them to be anything too serious, all his time spent reading had its own perks.

"Someday I might learn enough transfiguration to spend a day as a cat and try out his life." Millie said, sipping intermittently from her drink. It was nearly gone, but the loss of it didn't bother her as much as it had before. Here next to Benedict, she could spend the rest of the party in her own form of idle chatter, far more interesting than talk of quidditch or how student badges were handed out under Headmaster Black. "I suppose there might be a potion for it, if only that wasn't my worst subject. Besides, a human transformation would be a real challenge, not just cooking up some foul-tasting brew."

Emptying the rest of her own foul-tasting brew, Millie let her attention wander to the glass as she turned it this way and that in her hand. Even more than a cat, it might be much simpler to spend life as a glass, to be filled and emptied whenever someone had a thirst.

Or, something deep inside her reminded, to be left ignored on a shelf for years. Like she found herself, passed over for a fascination with another glass, another flower, another cat. If Millie could only transfigure her worries into something more interesting, something to capture another's fascination for just once in her life. Then maybe being alone in the crowd wouldn't be so bad.

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   Benedict Hunter

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The party was in full swing with a veritable maelstrom of activity surrounding the pair of students in their little bubble together. Benedict found it quite easy to ignore the passersby in favour of focusing on his friend as she chatted, smiled and even took it upon herself to give his hand a squeeze in affection. He twisted in his seat a little more to face her as they continued.

”Yeah, turning into a cat and prowling around the castle does seem fun. Does make you wonder if anyone else has done it.” It would probably be best not to dwell on the fact that a cat sat on your bed while you sleep might be some Slytherin prankster. He laughed and gave a little “Oh crumbs” expression on his face, he liked that he could be himself with this young lady and he spent a few seconds just watching her face in silence with his charming smile on until he spotted her spotting him out of the corner of her eye. She looked back at him but he couldn't really tell what she was thinking, his encroaching body language had not been rejected in horror so at least there was that on his side.

With his heart racing Benedict reached over and placed his opposite hand onto Millie's knee which naturally turned them into each other. He felt like he should have some charming line to use, or perhaps just ask her how she felt about him, but instead, all that came out was ”I really like you Millie” in a voice which was almost entirely inaudible to anyone but himself over the sounds of music playing in the background. If only just for a moment she could read his mind and know what he wanted, just a small nod, or some indication that he wasn't about to throw away their friendship in a terrible error.

With him turned to face her now, their private bubble seemed to take on a conspiratorial mood. Millie's thumb rubbed over the side of the glass in an idle fidget, one that she didn't need at all. His hand felt warm through the layers of her dress, its pressure reassuring her enough for her lips to pull at their edges. The drink let her feel that this was the easiest thing in the world, the two of them just talking about nonsense. No one else might understand, and part of her enjoyed that about it. "Can you imagine? There must be so many places a small creature could find that we can't. Sometimes it's as if Houstonia can pop right out of the walls, so there must be far more to explore!"

He grinned, partly at her continuation of their discussion of feline mischief but also, he felt, that the small smile she kept even as he crossed into her personal space meant that she accepted him fully. "We shall have to find some way to ask him some time" he responded moments before making his final move. Benedict leaned in and placed his lips onto Millie's. He had thought what this might be like for a while now but perhaps it was the drink and the atmosphere that finally made him brave enough to do it. Of all the other crazy or forbidden things going on in tonight's celebration it seemed fitting that this would be the perfect moment. Millie didn't seem inclined to push him away so he drew his hand up from her knee to the side of her head underneath her hair and continued to share his first kiss with his best friend.

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Millie Potts

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   Millie Potts

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There was a warmth in these moments between the young witch and her friend that made her feel truly comfortable. The kind of comfort she needed no drink or necklace to feel at ease in, the kind that seemingly made her immune to the fear of idle stares and whispers. She had no place for it in her mind at the moment, and all it took was trusting in what her cousin wrote to her. Yes, she could be good friends with a young man of her age, with a touch and closeness that only reflected how deeply he felt toward her in kind.

In those moments, she felt a rare and easy kind of comfort. Millie could relax and simply respond, enjoying herself in the conversation between them. Speaking of Houstonia and their shared amusement at his silly antics might have been written off as idle chatter to anyone else, but then they might have missed what it really meant. Her friendship with Benedict was no mere folly, just as Dahlia had suggested. It was just the sort of thing the young witch should be cultivating at Hogwarts, right alongside knowledge.

She was only grateful there was no exam for friendships.

A few seconds later, Millie was convinced she would have failed. It was the only thought that she could hold in her head, while the nervous coil in her stomach bounced painfully against her ribs and her shoulders shook with laughter. They were little laughs, but enough to turn her flushed and breathless, punctuating them with little pauses to gasp in enough to continue. The young witch made an earnest try to calm it, if she could steady herself then perhaps they could go back to the moment when Benedict had pushed past friendship and put his lips on hers. She would have taken the failing grade in friendship just to relive that moment again.

If his hands were warm in her palm and on her leg, his lips set hers on fire. She touched them, almost not believing they could have kissed someone. Her fingers felt the same lips as always, but when she pressed her hand against her mouth it wasn't nearly the same as when Benedict had done so. He was still close, so close, and yet she felt the urge to push herself back. With a little more space between them, with her hand clamped to her mouth, maybe Millie could stop laughing.

Maybe they could start again.

She looked away as her eyes blinked back a dampness that had never been there before. Even nervous or scared, Millie was never so distraught as to cry. She took in a breath, determined to stop herself from one mistake, at least. The young witch might have already tarnished her friendship with Benedict, who might never speak to her again after this. To turn the night into tears would be unthinkable, inviting back in the storm she thought had already calmed.

Her shoulders still shook, shaking out the hair she had so tactically placed behind them. When it fell around her face, the young witch felt a wave of relief wash over her. That nearly swept away what little she had of her defenses, drawing a long, gasping breath in one last-ditch effort. A hand found her necklace, leaving her none with which to reach out to him, and that might have been the worst part of it all for Millie.

She searched with her eyes, looking through strands of hair for something, someone to hold onto. Millie Potts had never wanted someone to set an impossible expectation onto her as she did now. Spotting Anne in the crowd again wasn't hard, but the Slytherin girl had only a withering expression for her. Her heart nearly fell apart alongside her courage, and her eyes made their way back down to her lap, almost missing the one sturdy thing in front of her.

The one she could count on to be there, even when she messed up. A friend still, wasn't he? At least he hadn't run away, even Millie was shocked by that. It might have sent her back into laughter, and that was the last thing she wanted. She already felt frozen in place, stuck in that fear that had already sent her laughing once. There was no affording twice, she decided. "Ben..."

A pause. She could look up at him, she had to. Her hand came away, freeing up her voice again. Half her vision was clear, hair tucked back behind her ear again, the other waiting until it wasn't only her necklace she could cling onto for dear life any longer. "Can we go back? I'm so embarrassed, Benedict, I feel as if I've ruined everything."

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   Anne Moony, Benedict Hunter

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Their kiss lasted only a few moments before Millie took herself into what seemed like a mixture of amusement, disbelief and nerves, but at least it was enough to feel like it had really happened. He gave her a little time to recompose herself in her adorable way before he said anything. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea after all, but it had happened now and if they never kissed again he was glad that it was her that he had shared romantic first with.

As she pulled away a little he did not follow, to make sure that she did not feel set upon, but he still left his hand affectionately on her leg.

She was apologising? A half smirk made its way onto his mouth as he considered it. "If that is what you want Millie then I shall acquiesce to chivalry and agree.

But don't apologise, please, you have ruined nothing." he hoped to be reassuring to her, his care for her was genuine and if romance was not what she wanted he would happily live with her friendship. He watched as she fiddled with her necklace. "I'm quite enjoying this novel, the author knows how to slip in a curve ball? Don't you think?" he laughed, trying to help her relax back into the evening. It was likely too late for that now and she was looking around the room, perhaps for an escape, their Slytherin friend was about somewhere it might be better to exercise discretion and help her find Anne. He was a gentleman, and even with this kiss, that shouldn't change.

Spotting Anne he gestured with his eyes towards her to help Millie. "I think she's looking for you too. Maybe she might join us for a drink?" to him, encouraging her to wave Anne over gave her that escape without giving her the impression he wanted her to leave, he hoped.

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Millie Potts

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   Anne Moony, Millie Potts

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