“Oh,” Ralph said, taken aback. “Well. Sorry, then. What happened? Holiday a disaster?”
James shrugged. “I bodged it all up. It’s me, not her.”
“People always say that,” Ralph frowned. “But in your case, I think you may be right.”
“Thanks, Ralph.”
Ralph shrugged his huge shoulders. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I asked her out, maybe?”
James glanced at Ralph in surprise. “Seriously? You’re interested?”
“I dunno,” Ralph sighed, not meeting James’ eyes. “She’s pretty enough. Rich, too, from what I hear.”
James blew out a breath, half-laughing. “Rich doesn’t begin to cover it. They’re the most confusing people I’ve ever met. They’re like the Progressive Element, but dipped in candy, and with all the nastiness sucked out.”
“What do you mean?” Ralph seemed genuinely interested.
“Well, for starters, they’re proud of being anti-purebloods. And they do all this stuff that seems all generous and forward thinking, like hiring Muggle servants instead of using house elves…”
Ralph nodded consideringly. “Your Aunt Hermione would approve.”
“I guess she would,” James admitted, frowning. “But they don’t seem to consider any of the consequences of their choices. The house elves are all desperate for their work back. They don’t feel set free, they feel abandoned and useless. And there’s something else. Millie’s family really are nice, and they take great pains, most of them, not to judge anybody, no matter who they are or what they do. But the moment their own daughter wants to study something other than how to be a rich wizarding aristocrat, they think it’s beneath her station and not good enough for her.”
Ralph looked mildly perplexed. “What sort of thing does Millie want to study?”
James shook his head tiredly. “Architecture, of all things. Like, the maths and designs of buildings and stuff. I don’t really understand it. But her parents, they call that ‘Dwarf work’.”
“Well, it is, innit?”
“That doesn’t mean witches or wizards can’t do it, though.”
Ralph sighed briskly and nodded. He reached and clapped James on the shoulder. “Well, good for you for calling an end to it when the time came.”
“I don’t want to do it,” James bristled slightly. “I’d avoid the bloody hell out of it if I could.”
“I’m sure everything will work itself out,” Ralph said, glancing about the corridor. “I better get back to work, though. Being Head Boy is harder than I ever expected. Somebody’s been setting off dungbombs but nobody will tell me who’s responsible. I’ve gone up and down the train twice now, trying to sniff them out.”
James nodded at his friend’s distracted earnestness. “Yeah, well, happy hunting, Ralphinator.”
Ralph stood and squared his shoulders importantly. “Let me know if you hear anything. Or, er, smell anything.”
With that, he stumped away, glancing into compartments as he went.
James watched him go, then, reluctantly, pushed away from the wall, resuming his halfhearted search for Millie.
He passed the Cart Lady and bought a box of Pumpkin Pasties from her, munching them as he went on. A little later, he saw his cousins Louis and Dominique, and barely avoided getting pulled into an argument between them over whose new Christmas socks were the best.
“I’d love to settle this for you,” he said soberly, backing away, “but honestly, I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly bring myself to give a toss.”
He bumped into someone in the corridor and turned, relieved for the interruption.
It was Millie.
“You could’ve had the decency to tell me yourself!” she seethed.
Her cheeks were livid pink with rage.
“What…?” James recoiled. “I don’t—”
“I had no idea what a little blab you were!” she shook her head violently, her voice climbing to a shrill hiss. “So my family is a bunch of pompous hypocrites who don’t think about the consequences of their actions, eh?”
“What…?” James spluttered. “I mean… what? Who said…?”
“I got your message from Ralph Deedle,” Millie said, dropping her voice again to a near whisper. “He told me you were ending it with me, and then he said he thought it was really cool that I wanted to study architecture. I cannot believe you told him that!” She raised her hand to poke James in the chest, and then seemed to think better of it, as if she couldn’t bring herself even to touch him. He saw, with real dismay, that she was deeply and sincerely hurt. “I trusted you, James! I’m just… I don’t even have the words…!”
James was shaking his head. “But I didn’t… I only said…” He struggled to rally his thoughts in the face of her wounded rage. “I was coming to tell you myself. I only just ran into Ralph and… and I told him…”
“You told him everything,” she said resolutely. “And sent him to be your errand boy. Well, all I can say, James, is that your message is received.”
There were tears standing in her eyes now. Tears of hurt as well as righteous anger. James was dumbfounded by them. “Millie, look. I don’t… we don’t have to end it like this. Maybe…”
“Don’t say another word, James,” Millie said, shaking her head again so that her blonde hair swung about her face. She swiped angrily at her tears and refused to look at him again. Composing herself with an effort of will, she added in an admirably even voice, “And to think, my father really liked you, too. Even Grandmother Eunace. How disappointed they’ll be.”
Leaving her words hanging unanswered in the air, she turned on her heel and stalked away, holding her head up, settling back into the practiced composure of her upbringing and heritage.
James opened his mouth to call after her, but realized he had no other words to offer. It wasn’t that he had too little to say, but too much. And she no longer wanted to hear it. Helplessly, he watched her march away until she passed through the partition between carriages, slamming the sliding door as she went.
15. – The one to stand for all
It was the middle of the first day back at Hogwarts before James could confront Ralph about what he’d said to Millie. He caught up to the bigger boy in the hall between classes, amidst the clamor of voices and the frosty light of the high windows. Ralph seemed genuinely taken aback at first, and then sullenly offended.
“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he said, hoisting his knapsack and walking fast through the throng of younger years, parting them like a barge through a flock of gulls. “You said telling her was the last thing you wanted to do. Excuse me for trying to help.”
“That wasn’t helping! You told her I said her family were a bunch of hypocrites! How could you think that was helping?”
“I didn’t say anything like that. I only told her it was cool that she wanted to study architecture, and that it was a shame her family wouldn’t support her.”