He found her in the garden, sitting on the edge of the fountain and dangling her bare feet in the water, her white slippers lying on the grass forgotten. There wasn't any doubt in his mind that she knew of his presence – she simply didn't acknowledge it.
"Managed to escape then, did you." he heard himself say. At least, he thought it was he who had spoken. His voice seemed out of place in the cool night air, seemed too abrupt and piercing, seemed to disturb the calm of the night. It had come out sounding like one of those Muggle plastic doll's with a voice box and a string.
She never looked up, instead choosing to keep her gaze focused on the sparkling water rippling in the fountain pool. "Yes." Her voice was soft, gentle, and barely audible over the tinkling sound of the water falling over the fountain to land in the pool.
His brain worked frantically to think of a reply. Usually he was coolly collected in situations where conversation was required, but in her presence he usually wasn't his usual self. "Why did you escape anyway? The other girls were falling over themselves to dance with…" He never completed the sentence. With me. That was possibly the stupidest reply he'd ever come up with in his whole life: she probably thought he had an inflated ego, now. Trying not to think too much into the situation, he kept his gaze riveted on her dark hair, which shone in the moonlight and tumbled in curls and waves to her shoulders.
"With you?" She sounded slightly amused. Good, finally some emotion that I may be able to read.
"Uh, yeah." Uh? Uh! There must be something majorly wrong with his voice box and brain. Never again, he told himself. "Uh" is not a sound you want to make again.
She laughed. The sound of her laughter buoyed his confidence, so that he took the courage to walk forward a few steps and sit on the edge of the fountain too, except with his legs facing outwards. Staring at his hands, which were twisted in his lap, he waited for her answer. There was a long silence, which was broken so suddenly by the sound of her voice that he jumped and had to fumble to save himself from toppling into the fountain pool. Smooth. Really smooth. So busy was he berating himself that he barely caught her whispered words.
"I'm not like most girls." She put her hands on the rim of the fontain seat, leaned back, and turned her head to look- finally!- at him. The moonlight cast shadows on her face, preventing him from discerning her expression, but he was sure that he saw a flicker of a sad smile pass across her face. But just then, her large, deep blue eyes found his, and locked them in the most intense gaze he had ever been put under.
He tried to lean forward to kiss her, but she leaned back, edging away from him and breaking the spell her eyes seemed to put him under.
"What are you doing?" she asked. In an unaccusatory tone, even. She sounded simply curious, as if she had really no idea that he was captivated by her presence.
"Um… nothing…" As if "um" is any better than "uh"…
She blinked at him. "Okay." Then, she turned away from him, lifted her feet out of the fountain pool, put them back into her slippers, and walked out of the garden.
He stared after her, and did not take any movement to leave for a long time. Until he broke out of his trance, and went back to the house to participate in the mandatory dancing.
Through the whole night, he was tormented by her face, and her hair, that could somehow shine in the moonlight already dulled by obstructing clouds. It wasn't until he lay in bed that night that he remembered he didn't even know her name.