Wednesday, May the 28th, 1895 — Great Hall
Coming Out Ball
Wearing This

Millie couldn't remember what it was like to breathe without trying. Her mind had simply forgotten its task entirely, making every breath one needing conscious effort. The young witch forced herself to breathe inside the cocoon of books, to breathe —somehow!— under the eagle eyes of the OWL examiners, to breathe between tasteless bites of whatever food wound up on her plate at mealtimes. And now, at last, Millie could scarcely find it within herself to even breathe. Emotions whipped through her head as her heart pumped each one anew; elation, regret, terror, joy, sadness, relief, hopefulness.

Breathe.

She obeyed —somehow!— and gasped in the sight of the Great Hall, adorned with its majestic trappings that outshone even the Christmastime festivities. The hall was adorned with an odd sight as well, students mingling among adults that were not professors. Not even parents could make an appearance outside of a day such as this, and it all added up to feel unreal. Surreal, the young witch's library supplied, and for a moment she felt grounded again, keenly aware that she was, at last, attending one of Hogwarts' famed Coming Out Balls.

Breathe.

The reminder came with a pull of her ribs, stuck fast to the inside of the corset around her middle. It sat between layers yet commanded her nonetheless, holding her torso more upright than Millie might have thought to otherwise. Posture was the last thing she could have thought about at the moment, and the list of waylaid demands on the fifth year girl could have filled a parchment longer than the hall itself. The weight of her classes, the fate of her OWLS, the fears of leaving Hogwarts this year never to return...those clawed their way to the top, scrambling and budging among themselves to vie the most for her attention. Millie, however, could only think of one thing of importance.

Breathe.

There were others. Finding Ben in all the colorful mayhem, taking care to leave room for her skirt between the polished shoes of the gentlemen and the bountiful gowns of the debutantes joining tonight. Her soft shoes were barely visible beneath the chiffon folds of her own skirt, tapering toward the embroidered bodice that even Millie could scarcely believe had been hers to don today. The chiffon was rough beneath her fingers, scratching at them as she guided herself through the throngs of people as keen to see the procession as she was. Perhaps she might spot one of her friends instead, the Ravenclaw was certain that at least Greta would have made an appearance.

It was Ben she searched for first. That was only proper, he had excused himself early from last year's festivities to share the experience with her, every word the golden stanza of a poet's verse. Now Millie could join him in the wonder and see the procession for herself. It wouldn't be the same without Calla, without Sisse, or any of last year's graduates that the young witch had found herself looking up to. She would, of course, look up to the top of the stairs like all the others, squinting to spy the most dazzling of this year's witches, full witches at last, ready to formally step out into the world.

That wouldn't be her, not for a while. And not here if her OWLs came back to disappoint Millie, and Papa both. Her mind had used that for reasoning, shouting down the exhaustion and weariness following the completion of the hardest exams the young witch had ever faced. Even the most casual encounter with that thought made her tremble, and so great was her relief when her heart leapt before her eyes locked on, finding Ben at last just a short ways away.

Breathe.

Millie slipped her hand into his, hidden in the gossamer folds of her chiffon skirt and easy to ignore in the press of the crowd. A new sense of awareness came over her, gowned in a formal dress, of just how exposed she must have looked to the seventeen-year-old young man next to her, covered from wrist to neck in sleeves and waistcoat next to the short, puffy epaulets of her gown and the sheer fabric that, for once, refused to hide the bones of her clavicle or the gleaming links of her necklace. Her free hand gripped the rough chiffon more tightly, she was too mindful to bring it up to her throat yet, and for a moment her lips massaged the tops of her teeth.

"They're all looking the wrong way," she said at last, partly wishing it was the first time he might take notice of her tonight. What Millie wouldn't give for Benedict to be shocked speechless at the sight of a beautiful young woman who had taken his hand unbidden, to lead him later in a whirling array of dance steps, only to wind up giggling and shivering in the chill of evening air as a whole lifetime of secrets passed between them in whispers. A romantic interlude worthy of a novel, if only they were strangers once more and not already classmates, friends...and perhaps something more she dared not to speak aloud.

Millie brought her eyes up to his, looking out the sides of them so he might not spy the crook of her lips in the other direction. If she blushed, it could have hardly been noticeable under her pinked cheeks, the faint redness of her painted lips. Just enough, the young witch had made sure, to look like someone other than herself for tonight. Watching Miss DeCroix this year had given her enough ideas of how far to go, and she hoped it was enough for Ben to take notice. She certainly was taking notice of him. "The gentlemen should really be on display as well."

And Ben among them, though she left that unsaid. Millie might let a great many things go unsaid tonight, worries and fears and secrets were of little importance to the few moments that elapsed now, her palm in his, finally here after all this time.

Finally, at last, able to breathe.

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Benedict Hunter

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Benedict Hunter, seventh year, he didn't quite believe it but with the coming of the ball, his penultimate year in Hogwarts was drawing to a close, how could time have gone so fast, it made little sense and yet here he was watching the only cohort of students ahead of him getting ready to leave the castle, perhaps never to return. It was a big deal, but it wasn't the only thing that was playing on his mind. Ben had never thought it possible to lose sleep over someone else's exams before, that was a novel feeling indeed.

He had done everything to be there for her in the run-up to her OWLs, he knew how important they were to her and he liked to think he had been a good friend even when there were times that maybe her anxiety had manifested in ways he found a little cool towards him. Everything about it though had galvanised in him exactly how he felt about the Ravenclaw, a simple friend doesn't tell his buddies "I can't come out tonight, Millie is studying" when she was not even in the same building. She was his person now, his happiness seemed bound to her comfort, and he had read enough mushy literature to know what that meant.

He was deep in his thoughts when he felt the softest hand slip into his like it knew it belonged there. He heard her voice and turned towards her. His eyes lit up at the visage in front of him, the girl he had fallen for was there, but layered on was the trappings of a lady and she wore it beautifully. "By Merlin, you look… words escape me. I.. You look so beautiful, Millie." he squeezed her hand as he mumbled his words. The boy wished he could throw his arms about her and kiss her right now, if he did he might not stop until the candles were out and the sevenths were long gone across the lake. That would have to wait though, for a much more private opportunity, it would also not do to spoil her wonderfully applied make-up. "I can't see why the gentleman would even get a look in when the ladies attend so angelically, but I hope I meet your approval." Benedict believed himself to be handsome and took pride in his appearance, but was too much of a gentleman to succumb to vanity so valued every soft smile she sent his way.

He had seen many a man kissing women on the hand as a greeting so he would allow himself that unless Millie's anxiety caused her to withdraw he would lift it up and kiss the back of it politely before allowing both of their hands to slide back into the folds of her dress. He unleashed his fingers from hers and pulled something from his waistcoat.

"I figured that girls only get dance cards if they are out, so I made you this." he looked a little bashful and smiled in the goofy way he always did when he wasn't sure if his gesture would be well received. Ben couldn't even remember if the fifth and sixth years actually got dance cards and she might reveal hers to make him look a fool, but he proceeded anyway. He presented her with a small piece of card threaded with a ribbon. On one side in his neatest handwriting, it had the words.

Beauty, be not caused, It Is.
Chase it, and it ceases
Chase it not, and it abides

Overtake the Creases

In the Meadow, when the Wind
Runs his fingers thro' it,
Deity will see to it
That You never do it

E. Dickinson

On the other side, it had what appeared to be a dance card list, empty, except it had the name Mr. Benedict Hunter at the top. "I hope its ok."

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Millie Potts

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   Millie Potts

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It was forever at the most public of places where she felt that he saw her the most clearly. Perhaps only because everything seemed so heightened in her mind, that naturally he must as well. That did little to assuage the young witch's heart, whose longing for more than his hand and words could never be satisfied when surrounded by so many eyes. Halloween had taught her just how many lurked over shoulders and through the tinted glasses of drinks which she would have liked to preoccupy their holders just a bit more.

Why Millie had never thought to come here with him before now, attired as now in their very best, to spend their evening within an empty hall, came as a shock to her in retrospect. The fantasy made itself no less obviously known to her than the procession of the seventh-year girls, debutantes now, descending from the staircase in dazzling splendor to curtsy and twirl before her. And then it faded as she did, into the crowd around her and the weight of all their eyes, set so briefly upon the same procession as hers but with the promise of wandering to find her hand entwined with Ben's eventually.

"You didn't have to do this," Millie found herself genuinely surprised at Ben's thoughtfulness, though she had little reason to be. Had he ever been anything but the most upstanding gentleman at Hogwarts since they had met? The lines of verse on the dance card, her dance card, sent the young witch hurtling back into her fantasy, this time with a Great Hall decorated as clearing in the forest of her dreams. When she turned the card over, her eyes came back to the present with a vision of Benedict, not the fantasy or the evening's debutantes now, filling them this time.

A gentleman first in line on his gifted card, naturally.

Unlacing her fingers from his did not come easily. It was a necessary task, however, her hand had lingered too long as the procession of their older, finished classmates came to a close. Her lips drew into a thin line that did little justice to her nerves, or his, raising her hand up to reveal a dance card. It was as plain and unadorned as all the others, already hanging by a simple cord from her wrist. "All the girls, my apologies, all the women get one at a dance. Perhaps you were a bit distracted on the day we covered that in etiquette classes."

Now the young witch felt her lips curl into a smile, one she tried to make as warm and charming as he was. Suffering the headache and insomnia of OWLs found her trying, in the midst of it all, to cling to this one night in her future. Living it now, Millie wished she could capture it with a charm, stretch it out until forever eclipsed eternity somehow. All that had consumed her in that time, when she could no longer fret over the contents of her studies or the penalty if she failed, was a thought of sharing a dance with Ben here. One that Millie was going to see through with his dance card hanging from her wrist.

"Will you help me with yours? I would like it on my wrist instead." It seemed silly to expect him to come with the tools or material to do so, though perhaps they could make do with what they had in the moment. The young witch was tired of examiner prodding her for solutions to problems, but there was one part that she could do. A firm yank on the dance card freed it, with the tiniest of tears in its corner, from the cord on her wrist. Offering her wrist, and his card, back to him, Millie gazed up over the bare skin of her arm, filling her eyes with him in trust and anticipation.

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   Benedict Hunter

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Benedict would have liked to say he enjoyed watching all the debutantes on display in their finery, they were beautiful after all and many of them had had the boys fawning over them for years, but Ben's eyes were only in one place, he wanted to watch Millie, watching them, getting to enjoy what she missed last year. And then they were done, mingled in with the crowd and dancing the last vestiges of their childhood away, seven years of work boiled down to a glance exchanged by eager men across the room.

He wasn't here to dwell on all that, he was here for Millie. The Gryffindor boy smiled as Millie accepted his gift warmly and seemed quite taken with both the gesture and the item itself. He enjoyed seeing her pretty smile, it was certainly a change from the anxiety ridden frowns she had been sporting in the last few weeks. I guess I must have been” he laughed as she commented on his error in recollection ”Next thing you know I'll be eating my salad with my fish fork like some kind of animal.” He would have made this gift anyway even if he had known, he loved her and wanted nothing more than to show her it.

Did he?

He had a private smile to himself as he asked himself a question he had considered a few times but suddenly it posed itself and seemed to demand a proper answer. The interlude of placing the new ribbon quietly around her wrist after she tore the old dance card away gave him a moment where he could hide the expression his face. He knew he dare not say it, but dare he think it? She had been in his life and his best friend for more than a year and he knew that if this fantasy of a courtship was happening between them in only a half dozen years time, society would expect him to have asked her father for her hand already. But now, right here, right now. The only truthful answer he could give himself was yes.

His heart fluttered as he finished tying the ribbon in its delicate bow and kissed the place where the threads met with the politeness of a ball goer, but with a softness that their personal connection demanded. ”Perfect! And now it's official that I have a dance booked with the diamond of the season.” he said with a slightly goofy. He held her hand a little longer and then turned to allow her to reposition next to him and place herself into the fold of his elbow.

The music for the previous dance was ongoing and he held her. It would be their first proper dance together so he wouldn't rush it, not just to savour it but he keenly suspected Millie might be nervous. He had missed the dancing last year for his own chosen priority so this would be the first for both of them. It would mean nothing to the multitude of other dancing couples swirling around. But it meant a lot to Ben and Millie.

"The next dance starts soon, you ready?

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Millie Potts

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   Millie Potts

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Millie could hardly keep the mirth from her face as she watched him, watched his hands at work. Those were hands that could, she knew though rarely had seen in person, could handle magical creatures both big and small. Tonight, she could deign to be a creature for him if such a pretense might help. Her arms had no fur nor feathers, her fingers held no hidden claws, but Ben's deft fingers worked just as easily to fasten the ribbon about her wrist. She might have appraised it with a more guarded admiration than he did, when his lips touched her skin for the second time that night, the young witch let out a giggle.

A real giggle, soft and capricious, like it was Millie's turn at making her rounds at the ball already.

He was too charming tonight, on far more than his best behavior. Ben was giving a performance, she realized, and the little jolt it sent inside her was enough to dissuade her fingers from flying north. With so many people around, with eyes watching, it felt unusual. Unnatural, even, for the pair who had to hide their affections for so long. Here, Millie could return them openly, if only a bit disguised, so long as she played a part in return. A lie, if she thought about it too hard, and those did not come very easily to her. Yet the giggle had come easily enough a moment ago, and unbidden, making the young witch certain she was at least capable.

"Perhaps an emerald, Mr. Hunter, let's not get too ahead of ourselves," she returned, while her free hand gently swayed a clutch of her cashmere skirts toward his eye. Despite her own doubts, Millie did seem to still be able to play pretend, as if she was a far younger witch than sixteen. Perhaps it was not all that much pretend any longer, though it still did not feel entirely like herself. Her eyes fell to somewhere near his collar, glancing beyond his stately shoulders to glance at others in the hall.

A dance.

A real dance.

With Benedict!

In...public.

That no one was looking at them was little salve to the fears that knitted themselves a bridge between her brows again. Rumors whispered again in Millie's ears, words that she might have repeated about someone else but held her name, and his, on their ghostly tongue. Those had died down soon enough with the passage of time, only lingering still with her. She tipped an ear toward the music, hoping to rid her thoughts of them, gazing back up at Benedict's face to fill her vision with him alone.

"I think so," Millie said in her own voice once more. She nodded, a bit more confident now, taking the step that would place her next to him. Letting her arm rest in the crook of his elbow, the young witch couldn't ignore the knot growing at the base of her throat. Whether nerves, or excitement, she couldn't tell. Her skin bridled with anticipation, laying gently next to the fabric of his formal costume, and Millie forced herself to breathe.

Then she nodded, even yet more confident. Determined, at the very least, knowing that this was something she had wanted —even dreamt of— for months now. Perhaps Millie had wanted it ever since she was sitting across from Ben in the library, a year ago, listening to him regale her of the night's procession, the dazzling pomp and circumstance, and imagining herself in those idyllic scenes as well.

Now, as she stepped forward with him to join others on the dance floor, that moment had finally arrived. Millie had expected her heart to soar, and all she could find within herself was the urge not to trip.

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   Benedict Hunter

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Having Millie next to him felt right. Like they were an adult couple allowed to promenade with the best of them. He grinned as ahe compared herself to an emerald. "Perhaps a sapphire for your house?". He tried to put her at ease, he could feel the tension in the girl crooked into his arm, but as she breathed and readied herself he suddenly realised that he was meant to lead. He was leading this beautiful woman into her first adult dance, it was an honour, it was a responsibility, he wondered whether he was up to it. It was uncharacteristic for Ben to feel nerves like this but it seemed quickly like a much grander deal than he had initially thought. Was he ready?.

Well it was too late now and as the music began the young couple made their way to the dance floor and began to dance, hand in hand, heart to heart. "I'll try not to step on your dress" he said with a nervous laugh and his fingers interlaced with hers. The dance being played was pleasant, and a nice level of intimate, allowing the pair to enjoy each other both at a distance and briefly pull each other in close so he could hold her close. He had to admit, his favourite part was when he lifted his hand and the brunette spun beneath him to allow her dress to fill the gap between their legs. She was beautiful and the light showing of her collarbones through the dress had not gone unnoticed. During a brief closer moment he smiled, finally relaxing from his nerves from moments ago. "How are you enjoying yourself, Miss Potts?" his grin widened and he joked in a flirtatious tons "Is it improper that I am thinking about poor Miss Pompadour?" he laughed in his usual light hearted manner.

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Millie Potts

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   Millie Potts

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Sometimes in her dreams, Millie played out this very moment. A charming young man, who was often in the form of Ben, would come to her in a twilight hour. She might be wearing a dress for the gaiety in his step, but most of the time her attire was something more plain for everyday wear. With a laugh, he would shrug it off, defy the absent tempo of music, and sweep her away into broad arms with a firm confidence behind each step.

Here in the afternoon hour of the Hogwarts ball, there was music in the air, and real breath in her lungs. Dressed as she was for the affair, the young witch only yearned to be swept away. Every step was her own, every move intentional as she recalled the dance lessons of etiquette class. Across from her, the charming young man was Ben himself, looking nearly a mirror version of each of the other men, both young and old, in the dance line opposite the women.

For everything Millie had wished for, the reality turned out to be a lot more work. Step right here, back up there, and don't go too far. Avoid getting too close to Ben, lest her skirt crumple against his legs when she turned. And most of all, perhaps the most disappointing of all, she could never stay near enough to him for more than a second at a time. A brief flirtation, and then away on her own, where a mountain could nearly fit between them.

"I do enjoy myself, Mr. Hunter," she told him during one of their brief dancing liaisons, an answer to him between a brief interlude. Millie found it took a conscious effort to breathe and speak in among the dancers, and in the spins themselves she was grateful for his hand of support. She would have liked to take both of his hands in her own, instead, to share in a dance of their own making. This style of dancing felt less like her dream and more like clockwork. Something mechanical, to be wound up and set loose as a performance to others.

And yet Millie couldn't deny that being part of it sent a thrill through her heart, one she had to temper lest she lose her step.

Ben might as well cause it himself, and as she carried his racy suggestion away with her, back to the line with the other women across from their gentlemen, the young witch had to work hard not to laugh at it. The book had been his playful suggestion, but naturally she read it cover to cover. So when she came back around to him, Millie broke from the cadence of her steps to press a light finger against his lips.

"Forgetting our lessons again, Mr. Hunter?" Millie retorted quickly, having only a second more until the next step would carry him an arm's length away...and out of earshot to her quiet voice. "You shouldn't be thinking of anyone but the lady in front of you."

Keeping a dour expression, in a vague impression of the professor who clicked a tongue at their dancing missteps, was harder than Millie intended. Her teeth bit the back of her lips, keeping them from spreading into the telltale grin that had plastered itself on Ben's face already. If she didn't know better, the young witch might have nearly thought he was trying to throw her off balance during their first dance.

The only thing that might throw the young witch off balance was if she let herself get swept away into her dreams. A ballroom dance might be less than her visions, and yet it was everything she could hope for. Millie wasn't about to squander it for the distance between them, or the depth of Ben's imagination. Her own could get lost enough in the swell of music and the mechanical cadence of the steps as she fell back into the dance line.

Across from Ben, exactly where she was supposed to be right now.

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   Benedict Hunter

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Beautiful, it was all he could use to describe her, her appearance, the way she moved as she danced, the way she played with him, it was all so perfect, and he could see why last year's Ben had noticed her and taken such an interest in her. An interest which was frowned upon by some of their peers and by society as a whole for some strange reason. Except tonight it wasnt, tonight he was a gentleman and she was a lady and they were expected to dance.

He felt her put pressure on his lips, a confident touch of a woman who knew that he belonged to her perhaps? He laughed. "My apologies Miss Potts, where are my manners, Miss Pompadour who? I shall swear to our etiquette coach that my eyes will not leave you for the rest of the night." he grinned and raised an eyebrow as he took her hand back towards him and their bodies met again. There was another couple to their side and Ben noted the strange way that she looked at him. A fake smile almost like she was in pain as a man three times her age smelling vaguely of elderflower cordial danced with her and talked about showing her to his holdings in Pembrokeshire or some other nonsense.

Ben and Millie spun away from the other couple. "My lady Potts, I do declare this to be the ball of the season, might our next dalliance be at my Estate in Waffleshire, Hunter manor looks positively indubitable in the summer." he quaffed his voice in the style of old money as he tried to impress his lady, or make her giggle so she got lemonade bubbles in her nose, one of the two. If he was honest he didn't care which, her smile made his heart so warm and he hoped that her first grown up ball was as special as she had dreamed.

They didnt have long until this dance would finish and he would have to hand her over to some other man who wished to decorate her dance card with his name. He was not typically the jealous sort, he thought he would look forward to seeing her dance and smile with men around the room. Perhaps he was the jealous sort just a little bit.

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Millie Potts

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   Millie Potts

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Millie found it troublesome to memorize all the steps of dances when she had practiced in classes. It didn't seem practical at the time, not when such fanciful ventures as balls and courting seemed so far away. There was the thrill of imagination, of course, but none of it ever compared to the real thing. Under the lights glittering above them and the scenery whirling around, Millie eventually found herself losing track of her steps. She should have panicked, thrown a hand to her necklace and bowed out of the whole affair, and for a moment she nearly lost her footing waiting for it to all sink in.

That was before the young witch realized her body had learned to keep up all on its own.

Her relief came with a bright, bubbling sound that carried u p through her throat, nearly into her nose! Ben would have the giggles she hadn't known he was waiting for, and Millie would have her last few minutes of blissful fantasy come true until the music came to a close for this dance. Her face was alight as it drew near to Ben again, enjoying herself much more now that her feet could manage themselves and her heart wasn't thrown into rapid courses at his word of suggestion. His flippant conversation now seemed right, it felt natural for two young people dancing at a ball, and the young witch still couldn't believe one of those was her.

"Hunter manor could only look dubious without the proper sounds, and smells," Millie returned, trying hard to keep a straight face as she played along. His facade was so vapid and forward that she might have almost believed him if he opened his palm now to a fistful of galleons. He would need more than a leprechaun's gold someday to afford such an estate he painted in her mind's eye, which wouldn't be complete if it didn't have the Hunter charm as the shop on High Street. "With prancing hippogriffs pulling your carriage, or those racing jabberwocky you're always talking about."

The Hunters, of course, had none of these creatures in their reach, not even in the pet shop. That didn't dissuade Millie from dreaming about it as she whirled away once more, the soft smile on her lips the result of seeing a jabberwock win a race in her mind's eye. What an adventure a future like that would be, chasing down literary creatures with the only man who could share a belief that they might be real someday. It didn't matter that Millie knew they lived only on the page of a novel, she would gladly make a career out of folly if she could do it with Ben.

"I may have to make you break your promise, Mr. Hunter," the young witch noted, unsure if her voice carried sorrow or the same pleasantries they had been exchanging. Her eyes lingered on the fellow young witch across the hall, then back to her dancing partner. "But not until after this number has come to a close."

And before then, Millie hoped she would spin in his arms several more times. Or, at least, as close as etiquette would allow.

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   Benedict Hunter

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Hippogriff drawn carriages and racing jabberwocky? Now it was Benedict's turn to chuckle as he pictured it. "Our carriage shall be the finest in the land." he said to her, playfully but sincerely. He would never likely be able to afford all the trappings of wealth that everyone craved, but a fine carriage didnt need to be plated in gold and led by thoroughbreds. "I will fill it with your favourite books so the trips across the country are filled with stories."

He pulled her in close and his forehead touched hers for a few steps so their eyes could meet and they could kiss without lips. The music ended and he stood with her in his arms for a few more seconds before all the couples in the room began to separate and chatter replaced the lull in music. He allowed his hand to linger on her skin a little as they parted and it ran down her arm to the end of her fingers.

"Thank you Miss Potts, you dance most beautifully, I hope this can only be the first of many dances we share." he gave a small and very polite bow to the beautiful ravenclaw. Ben's eyes stayed on her, a little disappointed for the dance to end, but of course it had to unless they wanted more accusations of inappropriate closeness. He knew a few other girls might dance with him tonight but none would compare to Millie, his Millie.

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Millie Potts

  

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