"Alright, Andromeda, open your eyes."
She did, as slowly as she dared.
She had to admit, her sister had done wonders. Half her hair was pulled up in an elegant bun, while the rest touched down just past her shoulders, a gentle curl fanning it out behind her.
She hadn't thought make-up was necessary, since the mask covered half her face anyway, but Narcissa felt differently. Her lips were now a deep red color, like wine, while her eyes were so decorated she couldn't tell where they ended and her blue and gold mask began. Extending out past the mask were swirling, sparkling lines that made it seem as though her entire face were one intricate, glowing design.
She had thought her dress, at least, would come up short. She'd been shocked at the dress her mother had sent her, a simple blue gown that seemed more like sleepwear than formal wear as it was uncharacteristically plain. And it was simple, made of a dark blue, satin-like material. It was extremely tight in places, accenting her tiny waist and flaring hips. Her full bosom peaked out over the uncomfortably low neckline. And there was some sort of charm on the fabric; whenever she moved it shimmered like a sapphire catching the sunlight. It was sleeveless, but gold chains and jewelry curled around her neck and arms, giving her pale, exposed skin a gentle glow.
She was beautiful. She was beyond beautiful; she was ravishing.
And it scared her. It was like an alien was staring at her from that mirror, a stranger inside her own body.
"Well, what do you think?"
"It's, my, Narcissa it's incredible."
"I know," she squealed, clapping her hands together, and then she added in a husky undertone, "Rabastan won't be able to take his eyes off you."
The thought made Andromeda's blood boil, or freeze, or both, so she tried not to think about it.
"Cissa?" A dark-haired girl, one of Narcissa's roommates, poked her head into their room. Gabriella Parkinson was her name. "Are you ready yet? We need to go."
Narcissa flicked her wrist at the girl. "Almost," she said, crossing over to her dresser and grabbing a jade pendant, which she carefully clasped around her neck. "There."
However good Andromeda looked, she was nothing compared to her sister. Narcissa was positively glowing in a shade of dark green that set off her eyes. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with her dark eyes and matching jewelry; she looked like a green avenging angel.
"Meda, aren't you coming?" Narcissa pulled Meda out of her reverie.
She shook her head. "You go on. I'll be along in a minute."
Narcissa pinched her face together, like she was trying to puzzle through something, but failed. "All right." She gave Meda a strange look as she closed the door behind her.
Andromeda placed her hands on the vanity, breathing heavily, but it did little to slow her heart beat.
She hadn't seen either Ted or Rabastan since her fight with Ted. She still wasn't sure what was happening between her and Ted, but whatever it was, it was over. Somehow, that made the idea of seeing Rabastan all the worse. When she was with Ted, she felt in control, like there was some part of her life that belonged to her. Rabastan felt like a cage. A cage with soft, red lips that made her feel dizzy and warm all at once.
She didn't want to go to the dance. She wanted to curl up in a good book and never think about boys again, at least not real ones. But life wasn't about what you wanted; it was about what was expected of you. She turned to the door. If only she could leave her confusion behind her.
She barely recognized the Great Hall as she stepped inside. It had been literally transformed into a glittering, mystic ballroom. Glowing orbs scattered around the corners provided the only light on the dance floor. A wispy black mist swirled around the whirling couples, coming up to about her waist. The dancers looked like they were floating through it, the graceful ones at least.
She made her way to the side table as subtly as she could, but every time her dressed passed under the lights it glimmered, attracting attention. A few guys shifted towards her, openly looking her up and down as they tried to decide who was behind the mask. As she was forced to come in closer contact with people, she could feel a few people whispering, and from somewhere she heard a few whistles. She stopped, instinctively looking around, but it was impossible to tell where it was coming from.
She did her best not to run, walking towards the table in a far corner of the room, and then she tried even harder to keep herself from collapsing into the chair. She breathed out deeply, trying to sort through her jumbled thoughts. She should probably find her sisters, or Magdalena, one of her fellow sixth year Slytherins. Magdalena wasn't from one of the old wizarding families, so she wasn't quite in the circle. But she'd always been friendly to Andromeda, and Andromeda supposed she would consider her a friend. She was also one of the few other people who didn't join in the common room rants at night, which gave them something to bond over. But she had no idea where to find her, or even what she'd look like.
And somewhere here was Rabastan. She couldn't ignore his request, but the idea of dancing with him… images of him kissing her kept swirling in her head. Every kiss had been different. When he kissed her hand he was cold and formal, but when he kissed her cheek he was gentle and warm, and when he kissed her lips he was demanding and breathtaking. Was there really a difference? He always seemed like the same outrageously confident, smug, mysterious, seductive…. person that she'd known before, and yet, not. Perhaps he was a different person when he was away from his family and his fan club of girls. He'd certainly seemed different, a little more vulnerable, human.
She closed her eyes and another face crept into her thoughts, a face she wasn't allowed to think about—
"Andromeda?" She looked up, startled. Before her stood the last person she'd ever expect to approach her in a setting like this, Roldophus Lestrange.
Roldophus was technically a year older than his brother, but he'd completely missed his fifth year. No one knew why he hadn't come to school that year, but rumors were rampant. Some said he'd been really sick, while others thought he'd been sent to Azkaban. Some thought he'd been bitten by a werewolf and told he couldn't return, but then he'd come back the next year. He'd been forced to repeat his fifth year, obviously, which landed him in the same year as his brother. He was different after he came back, less inclined to interact with the other students. He'd always been mysterious, like his brother, but where Rabastan was charismatic and popular; Roldolphus was legendary, and completely isolated. tTe loner. But as far as Andromeda could tell, it was what he wanted. He was a bit like her older sister in that regard.
"How could you tell it was me?" she asked.
She'd meant it light-heartedly, but he didn't even smile, at first. And then it was only a small, amused smile.
"Only you are so beautiful, and so determined to hide." His words were oddly chilling.
"Do you need something?" she tried to keep her voice steady.
Another long silence, then, "Bastan was looking for you, and I offered to bring you to him." He held out a hand. "Shall we?" "
However unsettling Rabastan might be, he would never come within leagues of his brother. But to refuse would've been impolite, and if he was to be her future brother-in-law, she'd better start getting used to him. Goodness knows she needed the time.
He led her through the many groups of dancers and chatterers to a group near the center. It seemed all of the wealthy Slytherin families had decided to band together for the occasion. It made sense. They'd grown up going to these sort of things together, it was what they were used too. Both her sisters were there, as well as Evan Rosier, Lucius Malfoy, and Claire Zabini, a fellow sixth year. But Rabastan Lestrange was missing.
Claire turned towards her, her dark eyes flashing. "Is that you, Andromeda? My goodness, don't you look ravishing." Andromeda had never got the impression that Claire liked her, but she supposed she dared not say anything with Bellatrix so close. The only reason her own reputation had survived this long is no own dared insult the sister of Bellatrix Black, and she couldn't exactly say she was ungrateful.
"I'm glad Roldophus found you," Claire continued. "It's a madhouse here. You can't see anyone, and even if you could you can't tell who they are. No way to tell if the boy running his hands up your ass is a mudblood or wizard. Ughh, can you imagine accidentally dancing with one? The thought's revolting."
"I vote we just hex them all," Amycus Carrow cut in, "save ourselves the trouble."
"Meda!" Narcissa cut in, sparing Andromeda from having to respond to either of them. "Where have you been? Rabastan's been waiting for you!" She grabbed her sister's arm, throwing her forward.
"Do you see that light?" She indicated to a glowing blue orb in the center of the hall. "Go stand under it. Your dress will just absolutely glimmer and when Rabastan sees you and asks you to dance… oh! It will be so romantic! Go on." She gave her sister another shove forward, and before she could protest, she was standing alone in the middle of the great hall.
She took another deep breath, waiting. She'd only promised one dance, that was it. He wouldn't expect more, would he? Or would we? They were engaged after all, maybe she'd be expected to dance every dance with him, spend the whole evening with him…
"Andromeda?"
Her breath stopped. He was here, there was nothing more she could do. She turned around to dance with her fiancé.
"Rabastan?" she asked, but he didn't respond, just held out his hand. She took it, and he led her away to a far, secluded corner. Her pulse sped up. That didn't seem like Rabastan, he always preferred to be where everyone could see him, the center of attention. His motives for wanting privacy could only be things that made her very uncomfortable.
"Where are we going?" she asked, but he still didn't answer. Instead he stopped, whirled her close to him, and began to dance. Andromeda's breath caught. She could feel his body gently brushing up against hers, his hand sliding across her waist, and his warm hand in hers.
The world spun around her but this one moment stood still, outside of time. She couldn't think, she could barely remember to breath, but even though her heart was still racing a part of her just gave in, gave into everything, the moment, the feeling, and then…
And then he stepped on her foot.
"Ow!" She looked up at him in shock. His hands fell away from her, nervously twitching at his side in a very familiar fashion.
"Sorry, I'm not actually very good at this whole dancing thing."
Andromeda took a step back. "Ted?" she said, her mouth hanging open.
He attempted a smile. "Who else?" Andromeda didn't laugh. She'd thought, after the way things had ended between them, that he'd never want to speak to her again, much less dance with her. It didn't make any sense.
"We're you ever going to tell me it was you?"
"Uhh…" He ran his hand through his hair again. "Eventually. I was kind of afraid something like— this— would happen."
"I see." Andromeda took another deep breath. A part of her wanted to reach out and strangle Ted, but she resisted. "I hope you enjoy being right." Then she whipped around and stormed off.
"Andromeda, wait!" He caught up to her."Look, I'm sorry all right?"
She faced him, surprised. "You're sorry?" Sorry about what was the real question. Sorry that he hadn't told who he was or sorry that…
It seemed the same question was on his mind, and that he didn't know the answer. She shouldn't wait for him to figure it out, but here she was. Waiting.
"Look, can we just start over?"
Something inside her shifted, but she sighed and said, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
She couldn't quite see his face under his gold mask, but his shoulders slumped a little.
"Is that a maybe, then?" His voice, however, sounded hopeful.
"How did you even know it was me?" She dodged his question.
He just looked at her, like he was unsure what to say.
"Because you said you liked blue?" he said it like he was trying to see if she would actually believe him.
She just huffed, her hand still tangled in her hair. She could feel some of the curls coming down around her face. What would her sister do if she knew Meda had already ruined her hair? The image made her smile, but it was quickly replaced by the image of Cissa seeing her with Ted. The smile slipped off her face.
She looked at him again. She hadn't really had the chance to see him before, but now she could.
He was wearing a simple black dress robe that even looked a bit frayed, which would've been her first indicator that it wasn't Rabastan if she'd been paying attention. Still, it was a snug suit and she could see the outline of his solid build through it. She tried not to think about what she'd seen under his shirt, but the image slipped in anyway. What really caught her attention was his simple gold mask. It was just a shade darker than his thick golden hair, which looked as messy as it usually did. It was kind of funny looking, a nice mask and then, just above, Ted's mop of straggly hair. She almost smiled, almost. And then there were his eyes, which somehow seemed even brighter under his mask, or maybe it was because they had never stared at her so intently. She found herself meeting his gaze.
She broke the connection, hastily gathering up her skirts. "Goodnight, Ted."
"Would you just…" He moved in front of her, blocking her path. "I know we have our issues, but before then we had a nice thing going, and I just think…" he rolled on the balls of his feet, shifting restlessly, "I think that's worth enough to… to give this another shot."
It certainly sounded like a nice idea. And as she looked at him, she wanted so badly to say yes. But they'd been playing with fire, and it was probably best to let it go out.
"I'm sorry." Ted looked away, so she couldn't see his face. Ignoring the sudden heaviness in her chest she started forward, but he stepped in front of her.
"Can we at least, you know, dance? As a commemoration of our brief but meaningful friendship?"He held out his hand.
She shouldn't take it. She knew she couldn't take it, but she couldn't stop herself.
"Just one dance," she stammered, trying not to trip as he flung her forward, "And if you step on my foot again I swear to God I'll—"
He stopped, wrapping her in his arms again.
"You'll what?" he prompted, his eyes dancing.
She stared at him. "Hurt you," she whispered, breathless. He just smiled.