Black Magic

Millie was slumped at the back of a Herbology lesson, watching the head of Louisiana rows in front of her bob up and down as she chattered enthusiastically with her classmates. Pressing her hand to her lips Millie turned her face away to stare through the expanse of green glass and out onto the grounds which, although for the most part hidden under a rusty carpet of brown and orange was suffused with the pleasant glow of a wintry sun. In front of her people began to stand up, push books into bags with sighs of relief, and Millie had realised that she no more understood the uses of arrowroot than when she'd come in, and pushed out a similar sound, of relief and boredom and tiredness.

Fixing Louisiana with a curious melancholic Millie collected her satchel and slung it onto her shoulder, blue eyes more like the sea in a storm, ripcurls and frothy grey framed by black skies and charcoal clouds. The white light from outside spilt across her shoulder as she moved towards the door, shrugging off another girl who lurched towards her as if she might start talking or asking questions (she'd been silent the whole lesson, after all), and she tumbled out into the grounds with her classmates who quickly dispersed and wandered back towards the castle. Louisiana appeared out of the crowd, looking around, decidedly lost or confused or searching until her eyes landed on Millie who, surprised to find those brown eyes trained on her didn't manage to look away.

"Millie!" Louisiana exclaimed, rushing towards her. "Millie, where've you been?"
"Oh, around," Millie replied, swallowing heavily.
Louisiana crossed her arms over her chest and said softly, "Are you OK?" Such genuine sincerity, warmth, compassion. Millie could no longer ignore it.
"Well, I've been better."
"Why? What's wrong?"
Tugging on her sleeve a little, Millie looked around, pausing before she said, "If I'm being honest with you, I heard..." Wide eyes staring back at her, frank but concerned. She couldn't speak. "In fact, it doesn't matter. It's fine."
"What? What did you hear?"
"Oh, just...Just that you and Will are going to the ball together."
Louisiana paled, cracked, jumped towards Millie, exploding into speech. "Oh, Millie, I'm sorry, I really am, only- only, he asked me when he was upset about you and Tom, and I couldn't say no, I just couldn't, I wanted to be a good friend."
"A good friend," Millie repeated, and then shook her head a little. "It doesn't matter. We all know Will and I were never exactly..." Louisiana nodded too, biting her lip with big watery eyes before she said softly,
"I really am sorry." And Millie felt so convinced by what Tom had told her that she felt like each word Louisiana was speaking was a lie but rather than speak about it Millie pushed it to the back of her mind and put on a bright face. She nodded, quiet until she said,
"So what're you doing now?"
"Divination," Louisiana said, and then touched Millie's arm. "I'm sorry, I'll have to leave you."
"It's fine," Millie said, clenching her fists a little. Louisiana squeezed her arm before she pulled away and, giving her a little wave, followed the rest of the students back up towards the castle.

Millie turned in the opposite direction and began to wander further into the grounds where older students were sat talking, faces set against the cold autumn wind. Passing close to one of those groups Millie kept her eyes on the ground, kicking gently at stones until one went skidding off and at angle, one which she pursued with all intense concentration of someone looking for a diversion. Letting out a soft cry of surprise as it came skidding back towards her she lifted her eyes to meet a darker pair, and smiled.
"I see you don't have a lesson."
"Neither do you."
Tom shook his head and said, "Where were you going?" Beside him the boy who Millie recognised as Lestrange reached down to pick at a few blades of grass from the tree stump he was sitting on which he rolled between his fingers, all without taking his eyes from Millie who shifted under his gaze.
"Oh, I don't know," she said nonchalantly. Tom raised an eyebrow.
"Were you going back up to the castle?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll walk with you." Simply, swiftly, like he'd known it was coming. Tom jumped down from his perch in the fork of the tree which towered over them all, brushed himself down, and then offered Millie an arm which she took with an air of pretended reluctance whilst the other boys groaned and sighed in disdain, saying goodbye to their friend with an assortment of knowing smirks and jealous frowns.

They set off up the path towards the castle, walking against the wind which buffeted Millie's hair and displaced her curls, curls which she fought to keep in place with hopeless pushing and prodding, something which Tom simply smiled at. A class of first-years drifted past them, staring at Tom in awe, sending confused looks Millie's way; then, a group of fifth-years wandered past with even more varied reactions, plenty of giggles, cautious laughter and knowing smiles.
Tom leaned a little closer. "You like the attention, don't you?"
"No," Millie retorted instantly, "Actually, it makes me rather uncomfortable."
"Then perhaps you should stop spending time with me."
"I don't really have a choice, do I?"
"Perhaps not." Tom laughed softly.
"I hate having to choose."
"But choices are unavoidable, don't you think? Important, even."
Millie's stomach flipped. "I suppose so."
"You know, black or white, light or dark, good or bad. You have to like one or the other, you can't like both. You could even say our choices make us..." Millie shrugged her shoulders, shook her head a little. The wind dropped and she pushed her hair off her forehead, pressing her lips together. Tom said cautiously, "Struck a nerve, have I?"
Millie tossed a rueful look his way. "Something like that." Tom paused, running his fingertips along the sleeve of Millie's jumper to the inside of her wrist before he took her hand in his, leaned closer and said simply,
"I'm trying to tell you that you shouldn't waste a second more of your time on William. He likes your friend, not you, it's obvious." Millie, shocked, pulled her hand out of his and exclaimed,
"How dare you say that!" And Tom just gave her a sympathetic sort of look, pouting a little as he said,
"You know it's true."
"I see what you're doing," Millie said, under her breath, turning away, but then she felt her hand caught up with another, and Tom was drawing her closer again, and she couldn't resist his pull.
"Didn't mean to offend you." His voice cool, almost nonchalant as waves of third and fifth years drifted past, stealing glances at the Head Boy whose jet hair perfectly waved and held in place slipped a little across his forehead, shading his quietly glittering eyes. Millie spun around to face him as the wind picked up again, sliced across her face, biting under her collar and at her fingertips, and she wasn't sure if it was the wind or the tips of Tom's fingers that traced a cold half-moon across her cheekbone.
"You didn't."
Tom squeezed her hand a little, as if reminding her he was there, although Millie knew she'd be unable to miss him either way. "You're going to like it with me," he said after a moment, tilting his head to the side a little. And this time Millie wasn't being given a choice, she was being told.
"I have to admit," Millie said, tucking her scarf tighter around her neck, "If I'd wanted a quieter Ball, I'd have stuck with Will as a partner."
Tom laughed dryly, and then said, "Oh, him. But he's so useless. You'll be glad you're with me." And as he swept his hair from his forehead to reveal a pair of shining eyes Millie didn't doubt it, either, and could only wonder why she couldn't look away.