Black Magic

"A couple of fingers?" Millie spluttered, and Louisiana exclaimed,
"I know! Isn't it exciting? Matthew's up there now seeing if he can find out how it happened!"
'I don't think he will," Millie said instantly, and surprised herself.
"What?"
"Nothing," Millie said, hastily, eyes dropping to her feet. "I just...Would you mind going back to the common room? I'm coming in a moment, but just tell, um, just tell Will I'm on my way, I'd like to see, er, see him in a second, OK?"
Louisiana eyed her suspiciously. "Are you alright?"
"Of course!" Louisiana pursed her lips and Millie added, "I'm just feeling a bit unwell, I think I'll just go to the girl's bathroom to..."
"Well, I'll come with you, then-"
"No. No, I want to be alone. If you don't mind."
Louisiana shrugged and then said, "Well, OK. But tell me you're OK."
"I'm fine! I'd just like a moment to myself, Lou." For a moment she doubted Louisiana would go but then she backed away slowly, still pursing, and said,
"I'll see you in a minute, then."
"Yes." Gripping the window-ledge tightly between white-tipped fingers Millie waited until the echo of footsteps had died away before she moved, and she moved quickly, with intent, her heart beginning to beat in her chest, an omniscient foreboding feeling welling inside of her, her body trembling a little with denial, denial of the thoughts that were whispering terrible things to her.

She barely paused as she strode up to the door that warned her not to go in. The Charms corridor was, as was usual for that time in the evening, quiet, and she could hear her breaths, faced flooded red when she realised how quickly and irregularly they were coming. Calming herself she pulled herself up, straightening her back, pushed her chin out, and entered.

The first thing she saw was the backs of the heads of two boys, both dark before they flashed into faces as they turned. Clouding with confusion one went to speak, pulling away from where he was standing, revealing another boy half-reclined across a desk, one leg crossed over the another, reposed.
"Who's that?" The first boy, approaching, seemed to be reaching for his wand and Millie panicked, reaching for hers.
"Who?" Millie's eyes were wide as she watched Tom pull himself up, his face changing considerably when he noticed her, the corners of his mouth lifting, eyes moving slower, dragging across her body to her face, she felt. He smirked.
"This is Camilla," he smiled, lifting an arm to her as if it was a formal presentation. "Camilla, this is Crabbe,"he paused to point at the boy who had stopped in front of her, "And this is Lestrange." Camilla hardly offered a glance in the second boy's direction instead, riding on a wave of foolhardy insolence, said,
"And where's Rick?"
Tom's face didn't move an inch. Shrugging his shoulders he said,
"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps you do, though."
"Yes, yes I do!" She exclaimed, as Crabbe and Lestrange began to snigger. "What are they laughing at?"
"Oh, no reason," Tom said, frowning, jumping to his feet. "So, what's happened?"
"He's in the Hospital Wing, apparently. Lost a couple of fingers." Tom continued to watch her quietly. "I don't- I don't suppose that's anything to do with you?"
"Absolutely nothing to do with us," Tom said earnestly, shaking his head slightly. He shoved Crabbe aside a little as he slipped past to stand in front of her. Millie took a step back instinctively but found herself covering the distance again as she swayed forwards a little, faltered, started,
"But- but you're lying, of course."
"Now, really, Camilla, why would you accuse us of something like that?"
"Not them- you." He raised an eyebrow, and, smiling charasmatically, turned to the other boys and said, "Can you give us a moment, Lestrange, Crabbe?" Amidst groans of protest they dragged themselves up and out and it seemed to Millie that there were years between their leaving, but when they'd finally gone, Tom nodded his head to a chair and said,
"Well, take a seat."
"I'd rather not. I'm not staying."
"Go on," he said, and, slowly, she drew it out from under a desk and sank lower and, when she was settled, Tom, moving slowly, perched on the edge of the desk, and leaned down a little towards her. In the shadows his eyes looked darker than ever, deeper, full of shadows and sombre colours that shifted in the flickering light in a mesmerising way. His perfect jaw was sharpened by the light of the candles behind him, his lips were drawn together in the slightest pout of indignance and he smelt of something indescribable, strong and clean and fresh. Millie couldn't pull away.

Taking in a breath she said, "I can't believe I just accused you of that. I'm so sorry."
"It's no trouble," he said, eyes brightening. "Sometimes we run away with ourselves, don't we?"
"I don't even know why I said it. I just thought..."
"Honestly, it's no-"
"...I suppose I jumped to conclusions, you know, after the other day, and now I've been like that in front of your friends, and they'll think I'm-"
"Absolutely charming. Really. It doesn't matter." Millie fell silent and Tom shifted a little, placing one hand in his lap, leaning back on the other one. She said,
"So how do you think it happened?"
"Well, if someone else did it, I'd say the most likely thing is, well, a finger-removing jinx. If not I guess he got them trapped in a door. In fact, it's probably that."
"Probably." Millie's lips moved imperceptibly, she studied the grain of the desk beneath Tom's fingers, inhaled, and then lifted her eyes to his. "So it absolutely wasn't you?"
Tom studied her closeley for a moment, so closely she felt like his dark eyes were burning like coal and that she was being scorched beneath them, the sort of look that's so full of something that you don't know how to tell what that something is, what it means or where it begins or ends. Then he smiled, gently, placing his hand over hers for a moment, pressing it to the desk. Silent.

"I've got something I'd like to ask you," he went on after a moment, standing up and turning away and, flustered, Millie replied,
"What?"
He glanced at her over his shoulder, holding her with that same dark gaze before he said,
"I'd like to take you to the Halloween Ball."
Millie swallowed painfully. "What, as your...?"
"Yes. As my."
"But I hardly I know you."
"And that's hardly a reason to say no. What did Professor Dippet say the other week? It's an evening for good-natured frivolity and friendly socialising. I think we fit in there somewhere, don't we?"
"But I'm- I'm going with Will, of course."
"Has he asked you?"
"Well, no, but I'm sure he will," Millie said, pulling herself onto unsteady feet, head swimming with unthinkable intolerable possibilities.
"I wouldn't count on that," Tom whispered, and tapped his nose. Holding Millie's arm with the gentlest touch that, to her, had the effect of scorching a hole through her sleeve, he said, "He might've asked someone else."
Millie paled. "What? But how would you know?"
"I know lots of things, Camilla-"
"Please call me Millie-"
"-and after all, I do know William, people like us move in the same circles, after all. It was that friend of yours. The brunette one."
"Lou."
"Louisiana? Yes. That one."
"Her..." Eyes glassy, look resigned, she lowered her eyes to the floor and said simply, "Yes, I'll go with you, Tom."
"Wonderful." A slight swish of dark robes, the gentlest kiss of a breeze around her ankles, and she felt his presence next to her before his fingertip stroked her chin and eased it towards his face. And softly, with only the slightest of emotion, "You can go now, if you like." Like she was his to release, like it was no longer her own choice. Millie savoured the feel of his touch on her skin before she nodded and pulled away and, with a tentative smile on her lips, left.