Black Magic

The ceiling of the Great Hall this evening was transformed into a particularly stunning galaxy full of shifting lights and translucent bubbles of soft pastel yellows and greens, oranges and lemons dripping off silvery branches, constellations as resplendent as the shimmering crowds beneath them. Millie gazed up at it in distant wonder, and she wasn't the only one; a few feet away from her a group of boys were studying it intensely, occasionally dipping their heads closer to each other to whisper their awe, and Millie smiled, caught in the collectively high spirits now that the butter beer was in full flow and that the teachers had retreated to quieter corners.

Seated at a table with a few of her fellow Ravenclaws she drifted in and out of conversation, talk which seemed more intently focused on her than usual, on her and her partner (or his whereabouts, as he'd apologetically disappeared a while ago now). Talk which she wasn't sure at first how to react to, talk which she soon realised, no matter how superficial, aimed to make her feel good: those gasps of surprise, good-natured smirks and nods of approval. She glowed. And under the everfescent night sky she looked even more beautiful, though the shadows under her eyes and around her mouth were darker, somehow crueller. A hand fell on her shoulder and she turned in her seat, eyes big with surprise, a theatrical hand fluttering to her breast as she looked up at a new and open face.
"May I dance with you?" The boy asked, smiling, and Millie racked her slowly spinning head for his name because it was there, on her tongue, she recognised him, perhaps...
"That's very nice of you to ask," she started, hesitantly, voice light and airy.
"Well, it'd also be very nice if you said yes," he replied, flashing her a broad smile, holding his hand out to her and she thought, why not, why can't I?, taking that hand which was rougher than Tom's, broader, allowing him to pull her to her feet. But then there was a hand on her other wrist, pulling her back sharply, and she turned to see Tom, eyes narrowed a hard cutting a hard look at the other boy as he said simply,
"Afraid she can't right now. She's just about to come with me."
Paling the other boy said, backing away, "Sorry, Tom, I didn't mean to, er, sorry..." And turned so hastily he almost tumbled over a chair which seemed to be waiting for that very purpose. Millie's mouth twitched a little in annoyance but it didn't take much to flip her frown upside-down, just Tom's breezy everything's-wonderful air as he drew her closer and said teasingly,
"I shall just have to keep a closer eye on you." Millie nodded slightly, feeling his hand slide across the small of her back, pressing her forwards, subtly yet insistently guiding her, and she bristled with pleasure at the simple touch, suffused with a sense of guilt that she did.

Lifting her gaze to the dancefloor for a moment Millie's look was bright and interested until she noted a familiar brunette twirling close to her, past her, enfolded in the arms of a tall, strong blonde; a familiar stab of envy, smiling tipping downwards, eyes darting to the floor, and Tom didn't miss it either, her expression. Drawing her ever closer his fingertips danced along the inside of her arm in a mildly soothing gesture before he dipped his head closer and said,
"Don't mind them. You're coming with me." Millie tipped her head up towards his face, searching it in case it betrayed just the slightest hint of what those dancing dark eyes suggested he was thinking of. She started,
"Tom? Really, but we..." But fell silent as he lifted a hand to halt her tremulous speech. She grinned. "But where are we..."
"Well, come along, and you'll see, won't you?" A rhetorical question that wanted no answer but seemed to inspire Millie into making a few stuttering attempts at a reply which soon dissolved as he seized her hand again and led her towards the doors.
"Tom," she started, her voice oddly high and trembling as she suppressed a nervous laugh, "Tom, we can't just walk out like-"
"Shh," he said, glancing over his shoulder at her, purring, "Oh, of course we can. They won't notice we've gone." That dazzling smile, there, on his lips, it reassured even though it shouldn't have, even though if she'd looked closer it would have spoken to her instead of mischief and half-concealed wanting. It faltered slightly as he caught the eye of someone lingering near the door and Millie could feel the heat as it radiated off him, the suggestion of anger, perhaps, as they passed Professor Dumbledore who did not offer a smile, only kept his solemn watch over them and the rest of the students as they moved around each other. As they rushed out onto the corridor she got lost in the uneven click-clack of her heels on the flagstones and the seconds-late echoes of the off-key music drifting out from the Hall, in the gentle hum of the midges over the gorse as they stepped out into the cool evening finding themselves confronted with with magnificent night-time landscape spilling like ink across a dirty canvas a little below them.

Tom clasped Millie's hand tighter between his as he began to lead her down the steps which led, she knew, roughly down to the lake; her head was spinning faster as she tried to work out his route, disrupted every now and again by a darkly flirtatious look he'd toss her over his shoulder or a particularly sharp step which threatened to send her tumbling. But she knew she wouldn't go tumbling, not with him leading her, not with the way he was holding her hand, a grip so tight that if they fell it would be them together. Breathless, a hand flying to her chest, Millie gasped,
"Tom, slow down," but they were already reaching the bottom of the steps and the midnight drama of the lake was stole her breath, a cold breeze agitated the tops of the heather and she knew there wouldn't be any slowing down, there wouldn't be any relenting at all. Releasing her hand abruptly he turned to her, a row of white teeth pressing a gentle indent into his bottom lip, the smile now in his eyes which sparkled like cut onyx.
He asked, "Have you been down here before?"
Millie lifted her eyes past his shoulder to fall, finally, on what seemed to be their destination; the Boathouse, looming out of the darkness, eerily beautiful in the night. Rows of tiny lights glowed in the windows, reflected here and there in the ripples of water across the lake, and Millie felt a lump rising in her throat. And Tom was taking her hand and leading her further, and her heart was beginning to thud in her chest. The sheer magnetism of his persona was enough to make her follow, if not simply the promise that something was about to happen which she couldn't even imagine.