name is up in lights (but i think you got it right)

for Em

HPFC

The Official Forum Title Exchange (February 2018) - for Shay's title - "name is up in lights (but i think you got it right)."

Can You Make It To The End Challenge - Round 8 - "Write one fic about an important event in Ginny Weasley's life (doesn't have to be canon compliant."

Ultimate Writer Challenge - "Write a gift fic for a fellow participant." - 1/5 complete

Lumos!

Ravenclaw House - Emotional Range of a Teaspoon Challenge - "Devious."

Ginny lightly brushed her fingers over the tips of her beautiful gold mask, making sure it was secured over her eyes and nose.

When she was sure that it was covering enough of her face to make her unrecognizable, she took a deep breath and strode into the ballroom.

Under any other circumstance, she would have been awed by the splendor; King Parkinson had obviously used his endless wealth to his advantage, making this masquerade ball the grandest one in all of Slytherin kingdom.

The room was immense, made of glimmering marble studded with jewels of all shapes and colors. Diamond chandeliers cast rays of bouncing, glowing light across the floor. The place was swarmed with nobles, draped in all their silks and finery, twirling around without a care in the world.

Ginny resisted the urge to scowl. How dare they dance like that, so free and happy, when it was no secret that the rest of the kingdom was suffering in poverty? How dare they have fun when the king slaughtered countless families per day, murdering anyone who dared defy him?

Her family had been one of those families.

She had been the only survivor.

For a moment, a searing, bubbling rage streaked across her vision, and Ginny forced herself to tamp down the anger, the grief.

She would think clearer if she was level-headed.

It was time.

Ginny set her jaw and glided smoothly into the crowd.

With her crimson skirts billowing out around her, her flaming hair tied up in an impeccable updo, and her intricately-made, hand-crafted gold masquerade mask, Ginny blended right into the crowd.

She looked just like a noble.

She forced herself not to gag.

Her repulsion only grew when she spotted the throne in the back of the dance hall.

It was made of pure obsidian, dark and looming, and there was no mistaking the tall, beady-eyed man who sat proudly atop it.

King Parkinson.

He was wearing a suit so black it seemed to fade into the devouring darkness of his throne. His silvering hair was held back by an iron crown, and his fists were clenched on the armrests of his hideous throne.

He surveyed the dancers, watching like a predator, making sure everybody was pettily absorbed with enjoying themselves.

For a moment, he glanced up, and his eyes met Ginny's.

Ginny quickly looked away, lifting a velvet-gloved hand and pretending to wave at somebody across the room. He felt his gaze leave her, and her shoulders relaxed in relief.

Ginny wove through the crowds of dancing nobles, keeping an eye out for where King Parkinson's sentries were stationed. She was sent here by the Resistance to gather information, to try and spot any weaknesses King Parkinson had.

And then the Resistance could overthrow him.

Her lips curved upwards in a smirk as she edged to the side of the room, where the left wall was lined with a long buffet table overflowing with finger foods and desserts.

Ginny played the part of the young, giggling duchess as she hovered around the food table. She winked and fluttered her fingers prettily at any guard who looked too long in her direction.

Nobody was suspicious. So far, the plan was going perfectly.

And then there was a tap on her shoulder.

Ginny whirled, nearly tripping over her own skirts. Behind her stood a woman who she recognized instantly, despite the silver wing-tip mask that concealed most of her features. Her gown, dark green and slim, swirled slightly around her narrow waist. She wore no jewelry at all, save for the silver circlet that rested gently atop her long, dark hair.

Even so, it was easy to know who she was: Pansy Parkinson, daughter of the King and heir to the Slytherin throne.

And despite how delicate her intricately carved mask and circlet looked, there was a darkness in her midnight eyes that chilled Ginny to the core.

Ginny dropped into a deep curtsy. "My lady! How are you on this fine evening?"

Pansy snorted. "You can drop the act now. I know you're a part of the Resistance against my father."

Ginny froze mid-curtsy. Now what?

She straightened to her full height, desperately trying not to be intimidated by the promise of malice that clung to the woman like a second skin.

"I- I don't know what you m- mean, my lady," Ginny stammered, clinging to her cover story even as her heart hammered in her chest. Would she be locked up? Executed? Sweat pooled in the back of her corset. "I think you must have me mistaken with someone else."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Last week, when your group attempted to attack the castle, I saw you there. Your hair is kind of a giveaway."

Ginny's face flamed and she self-consciously touched her red locks. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke again. "Well? Are you going to throw me in your dungeons?"

Pansy scoffed. "No. I was going to ask if you needed any help."

Ginny's eyes widened. "What?"

Pansy grinned, and her expression was terrifyingly wicked. "I am under no impression that my father is a kind man. Once he is gone, I will be queen of this kingdom."

Her pulse still throbbing in her veins, Ginny shook her head fiercely. "Liar. You're lying. This is a trap."

She hated how her voice trembled.

But Pansy's face was neutral, expressionless… except for the rage that smoldered in her eyes.

"I've seen things," Pansy commented offhandedly, like they were talking about the weather, but Ginny felt her tone grow colder, filled with icy knives. "I've seen the things my father has done."

"Like what?" Ginny whispered, barely breathing.

Pansy's fists, clad in black lace gloves, clenched. "A long time ago, I had a friend. Her name was Daphne. She was a commoner. Father had her killed."

Ginny blanched, her nerves fading. Even though she knew Pansy could very well be lying, the fury written in her features said otherwise.

Ginny held Pansy's gaze, unwavering. If the woman was anything like Ginny was, then she wouldn't want pity.

She would want revenge.

And revenge was something Ginny could completely understand.

"Your father killed my family," Ginny said as a response.

Pansy nodded once and gave no consolation, no words of sympathy, and Ginny was grateful.

"So," Pansy said, tilting her head to the side. "What do you say?"

Ginny held out a hand. "I say we bring this kingdom to its knees. I say it's high time Slytherin has a new queen."

Pansy offered a small, cunning smile and took her hand. "I still don't know your name."

Ginny entwined their fingers. "It's Ginny. Ginny Weasley."