I walk down a small path, lined on both sides by trimmed hedges and white and orange lilies. Here and there I see a tiny light in the bushes or trees. I wonder if they're fireflies or pixies. As I walk deeper I begin to hear the unmistakable sound of trickling water; I follow it to a small circular clearing. It's surrounded by trees and all kinds of flowers. In the middle sits a small fountain with a thin stream of water trilling through it. Off to the side, at the edge of the circle, is what looks like a park bench. It seems I'm not the only one in need of a bit of fresh air, for there's a bloke sitting at the end of the small bench. He has his legs stretched out in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest, and even through his mask I could tell he is staring intently at the fountain that stands a few meters away.
I walk over to the bench. He seems not to have noticed by presence, for he made no movement whatsoever. The noise of my clicking heels on the stone ground sounds obnoxiously loud in the serene silence of the clearing, even to my own ears. I reach the bench, and by that time he is looking up at me through the plain black mask that covers three quarters of his face.
"May I sit down?" I ask. I'm going to sit down whether or not he agrees, but I'm just trying to be polite.
He stares at me for a moment and then waves his hand lazily towards the empty seat on the bench. I sit down on the opposite end, but the bench is so tiny that there's barely half a meter between us. He immediately returns to staring at the fountain, and I look up at the sky. Nothing is visible, save for the outline of the moon behind on of the numerous think white clouds that cover the sky. I try not to think about what a pathetic misery this night has turned out to be and instead concentrate on finding any starts visible through the clouds. I was just beginning to feel better when the bloke next to me speaks. I jump slightly; I'd forgotten that he's there at all.
"I'm sorry?" I asked, slightly annoyed that he'd startled me out of my thoughts.
He's looking at me now, though the rest of his body holds the same position I first saw him in. "I asked," his voice is smooth and barely above a whisper "how come you aren't in there like everyone else, dancing and enjoying yourself?"
I think for a moment, "Well, I could ask you the same thing," I respond.
He shifts, so that his upper body is now turned toward me. I notice that his suit is very simple and clearly not made of anything fine or expensive. His dark brown hair falls to the top of his ears.
He smiles, a very nice smile. "I'm not really the type, y'know, for dressing up and dancing and whatnot," he responds.
"So why come at all? I imagine you would have had a much more enjoyable evening up in your dormitory doing something other than sitting here on your own, staring at a fountain."
"My mates convinced me to come," he responds.
I definitely know what that's like. "I see" is all I say.
A moment of silence, and then, "So, you didn't answer. Why aren't you inside dancing?" He asks once again.
I relent. "Because it's stupid. And because boys are pigs," I say bitterly. "No offence," I add as an afterthought.
Another smile. "None taken" he says.
We lapse into silence again. After what couldn't have been more than five minutes, he speaks again. "Well, to be honest, staring at this fountain is starting to become quite dull. Why don't we take a walk?" He suggests.
"Alright," I stand up and lead the way out of the clearing.
The December air is quite chilly, and by this point I am shivering in my thin gown. I think longingly of the shawl that I left on the back of my seat in the Great Hall.
"Are you cold?" The bloke asks. He's following behind me as I lead the way, and he's so close I could hear his voice right in my left ear.
"Yes," I respond, "but don't give me your jacket."
"Why not?" he sounds surprised and also immensely amused. I can't help smiling to myself.
"Because that's so cliché," I say.
He pauses for a moment. "Would you like me to warm you up a different way then?" He suggests. I can hear the humor in his voice.
I ignore the sexual reference, not bothering to grace it with an answer.
"Sorry, couldn't resist" He apologizes, although there's still a hint of amusement in he tone. I roll my eyes, at least he's not trying to touch my arse.
We reach the end of the garden; the lake in the distance looks dark and ominous. Suddenly, an idea comes to me; I bend down and take off my shoes. "I'll race you to the lake." I challenge. He looks startled for a moment, but I don't wait to hear his response. I bolt, heading towards the lake, my shoes swinging wildly in my right hand. It only takes him a second to catch up, and two seconds to be a good deal ahead of me. By the time I reach the edge of the lake, he's already conjured two blankets, side by side, and is sitting on one. I drop down on the one beside it, panting hard and taking in great lungfuls of bitingly cold air. My hair, despite the charm I put on it, is a mess and my makeup is surely smudged, but all I can think about is the adrenaline still pumping through me and the exhilarating feel of the wind in my face and hair. I lie down and stare up at the sky, trying to regain my breath and calm my panting body. I could feel the bloke's eyes on me; I try to block him out, to focus on just me and the vast sky.
When I'm breathing normally again, I stand up and walk to the edge of the lake. I stare out at it; I can just make out the opposite shore in the distance. The lake isn't sparkling or shimmering; instead it looks deadly. I pick up the skirt of my dress from one side and gather it around my thighs.
"I wouldn't do that! It's going to be bloody cold!" The bloke calls out toward me.
I go in anyways, just far enough so that the water is up to my ankles. "Fuck! That is freezing!" I can only bare it for a few seconds before I have to get out. I sit down on the blanket again, and conjure another one to put around my shoulders. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that my anonymous companion is now lying down, staring at the night sky like I had been moments ago. I see his chest rise and fall gently, and his blue eyes are glazed over as if he's looking at the sky bust seeing something entirely different.
I turn my head fully now, openly staring at this stranger I'm sitting beside. He's taken off his jacket, despite the weather. He has his arms behind his head and his nose has turned red from the cold. I'm trying to think of the perfect, one word to describe him, but I'm interrupted in my thoughts.
"What?" He asks. He must have noticed me staring.
Turning slightly pink, I answer his question with another question, "What are you thinking about?"
He quirks one eyebrow, and sits up. He turns toward me, "How do you know I was thinking about anything?" He asks softly.
"Your eyes and your face" I'm gesturing ridiculously with my hands, trying to convey what's in my head, "You just seemed like you were thinking about something." I finish lamely, my face thoroughly pink at this point. He looks amused.
"Stop smirking." I snap.
He doesn't stop. "I'm not smirking, I'm smiling."
I try not to, but I can't stop myself from smiling as well.
"There you see, it's not so hard." He says, his grin wider than ever; I try not to stare at his lips.
"Shut up," I mutter, but I have to admit I'm amused as well, and he is quite funny…
A loud noise shatters the silence. 12 dongs are let out by the clock tower, indicating that it's midnight.
"It's midnight" I say, stunned.
"So?"
I hesitate. "Traditionally, at masquerades, midnight is when everyone takes off their masks and discovers with whom they'd spent their evening."
Silence.
"Oh," he finally responds. "So are you going to pull a Cinderella on me?"
"A what?"
"Oh, you're pureblood" he smiles, "never mind".
"No, what is it?" I demand.
"Just some stupid kid's story."
More silence. I try desperately to think of something to say. Do I want to reveal myself to this bloke? Do I want to know who he is?
"Let's not" He says, startling me from my frantic thoughts.
"Not what?"
"Take off our masks." His voice is soft.
"Oh. Right." An immense feeling of relief and disappointment wash over me, both at once. "Ok." I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to cry. I lie down once more, stare determinately at the sky, and again, try to control my emotions. Mr. Anonymous lies down next to me, a lot closer this time; he's on the very edge of his blanket. He however, is not looking at the sky, but has his head turned toward me. He lifts his hand and brushes his fingers over the part of my arm that isn't covered by my second blanket. I shiver slightly, and I can feel goose bumps emerging all over my body. I turn so that my body is facing his, our faces mere inches apart. I look up at his eyes. They aren't like the blue of Stacey's eyes, which are sparkling and friendly. His eyes are the blue of a sunny summer day's sky, the kind of blue that is unyielding.
We stay in this position for a few moments longer. Neither of us moves, nor speaks. He doesn't try to kiss me as I expected him to, as any other boy in his place would have done.
When I can no longer handle the cold, and my teeth are beginning to chatter, I tear myself from his gaze and onto my feet. He rises after me.
"This was nice" I say softly; what surprises me is that I actually mean it.
He nods. "Yeah. It was," his smile is sad. I know how he's feeling because I feel it too. The feeling of dread, of not wanting this to end. Tomorrow morning we'll wake up and it's back to reality. Boring, pathetic reality.
For a fleeting moment, I consider suggesting that we take off our masks. But that idea scares me even more than not knowing. I don't know exactly what I'm scared of, I just know that if I find out who this bloke is, I'll regret it. I must accept that this was a one time thing, one night embedded in my memory. And it doesn't matter than nothing significant happened. Sometimes, nothing has to happen, it's just a feeling, and you know that something is special.
We walk back to the castle together, a heavy silence between us. There's significantly less students in the Great Hall now; I imagine most of them have gone to bed, hopefully their own beds, by now. It's almost 1 am. My companion and I separate upon entering the hall. I head over to the table I had been sharing with my friends earlier that evening. I meet Penelope there, who judging by her pink cheeks and breathless demeanor, has just gotten off the dance floor.
"Where's Stacey?" I ask.
Penelope rolls her eyes and smiles, "In a broom closet, snogging Arnold I expect. Where have you been all night? And why are you still wearing your mask?"
"I'll tell you about it later. I'm going up to bed. Coming?"
Penelope looks over to the other side of the hall, where Tyler is sitting, trying to look as if he's not staring straight at us. I suspect he's waiting for Penelope, or rather, waiting for me to leave. "Erm…" Penelope hesitates, turning even pinker.
"Never mind" I smile, "enjoy the rest of your night".
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Penelope and Tyler reunite on the dance floor as I head out of the hall and up to my dormitory. "Puking Pasties" I tell the Fat Lady, and she swings open for me. There's no one in the common room. Upstairs in the 6th years girls' dormitory, only Rose is present; she's fast asleep. I vaguely wonder where Tallulah could be.
I lie in bed, trying to fall asleep, but it's frustratingly difficult. Images of the night flit through my mind. The last thought I remember as I lie in bed only half awake is of a crowded Hogwarts corridor. It's between classes and the corridor is full of students and every single one of them is wearing a mask.
Aaron's POV
Irene.
I wasn't sure it was her at first, but all doubt had evaporated when she made that comment about men being pigs. I can't help smiling at the memory. The next image that comes to my mind is a picture of her, just after we'd raced down to the lake. Her face was pink from the cold, her hair wild and falling around the nape of her neck and her brown eyes shining. I've never seen a girl who could look that untidy and yet that beautiful. I remember her chest heaving as she panted for breath in the tight dress she was wearing; the sight of her pale legs shining in the moonlight as she hitched up her dress to go into the lake.
I let out a groan, muffled into my pillow. I hate that she has this effect on me. More so, I hate that if she ever found out that I was the one she'd spent tonight with, actually enjoyed tonight with, she'd probably hate me even more. If that's possible.
AN:
There it is! The ending of the ball! And a much longer chapter than usual. There's much more to come as things take a turn for the worse in Irene's life. Let me know what you think in a review.