I'm so sorry for the long wait! Pants and Chloe especially, I'm sorry, but it is done! Please don't hate me! School hurts.
On another note, if ya'll care :) I've just recently learned to swim! It's an accomplishment for me, but don't judge me.
On that note, I suppose we can get on with the chapter. :D
After lunch, Luna was all business. Gathering up all of the makeup I owned, she complained in a very impatient, un-Luna like way.
"Ginny, don't you have any makeup at all?" she asked me crossly, looking through one of my drawers.
"Not really," I say. I never really needed, wanted, or much used makeup.
"Don't you even own mascara?" Her incredulous tone was beginning to annoy me.
"No," I say, "I have an eyeliner, but that's it." I point to the offending black pencil with distaste.
She sighs one last time before picking up my mask (none to gently) and pulling me out of my dorm with a force I didn't know she had.
Harry smiles at us as we leave from his perch on a windowsill, doing homework. "Have fun!" he calls, eyes dancing with glee at my plight.
I pull a face while Luna beams at him and he laughs.
When we get to the Room of Requirement, Luna fiddles around with the makeup, setting bottles upon bottles of makeup onto the large counter.
The Room has once again amazed me, and has transformed itself into a giant bathroom.
"Can I just see my dress once?" I ask exasperatedly. "You had it all weekend!"
She groans, "no, Ginny, you may not. The dress goes on last." Glaring at me, she points threateningly to a powder pink pouf, "sit."
Whereupon I endure the most torturous two hours of my life being poked, prodded, glossed, and drawn on with glorified coloured pencils.
Finally, she's done, and pulls out the pair of white high heels with aquamarines sewn into white flowers, and my mask.
I pulled the mask on my face, careful not to touch my hair, which was put up into a braided crown of red, sparkling blue rhinestones dripping from the loose curl that lines my face.
Then I slip my feet into the heels, instantly wishing that I hadn't.
Luna, seeing my grimace, said, "beauty is pain."
"What's gotten into you, Luna? You're all...peppy."
"Just happy," she says, "now put on your shoes!"
"Not shoes," I correct, "torture devices." But I slip into the shoes, already feeling blisters blossom under my feet.
Finally, Luna pulls out my dress, slowly, as if showcasing a masterpiece. And a masterpiece it was.
She had really done a fabulous job. I slipped it on, and turned to look into the large, tall mirror.
What Luna had done was not fabulous, but breathtaking. The makeup was perfect, black eyeliner emphasized my eyes, and ruby red lip gloss emphasized my lips.
The dress fell down to my ankles, falling slightly past. The waist cinched in perfectly, and flared out mid hip into a white sheet of fabric that cut away lithely. How she'd done this without using me as a model, I would never know.
The spaghetti straps were covered by sky blue, sparkling flowers, and the bodice dripped with gemstones.
Even the cutout back that I'd been uneasy about was perfect. The crisscrosses felt cool against my back, an alien feeling.
The mask glimmered in the lights of the bathroom, and I felt like a princess.
I tried to help Luna as much as I could, and she finally shooed me away, with the stern reminder to "not mess up my work!" in true Ravenclaw fashion.
I sat on the couch, reading another book. The cover proclaimed it to be by a muggle named Suzanne Collins, and, though slightly confusing, it had been one of the best muggle books that I'd read so far. Today, however, I just couldn't get into it, my stomach tossing and turning uncomfortably.
Finally, after hours of waiting, it was time for the ball.
The door opened, and Harry stepped in, looking handsome in a forest green set of robes, hair messy as always and face slightly flushed.
"You look nice, Gin," he says, flashing me a nervous smile. "Where is erm...Luna?"
I smiled at him. Still clueless about girls, some things never did change. "She's just finishing up, be here in a moment."
"And, um, where's Mal-Draco?"
I smiled at the effort he was making. "Oh, he'll be along in a moment."
As if on cue, or if the man (who could not call him a man after what he'd endured?) behind it had been eavesdropping, Draco made his grand entrance.
For a moment, we just stared at one another, both reluctant to tear our eyes away and speak.
I finally broke my gaze away from his eyes, drinking him in like water. "Draco."
He walked toward me, and I felt Harry shy away from me, Draco's intense gaze meeting his. Harry inclined his head, "Malfoy."
"Potter."
In a clean cut black set of robes with a crisp, silver shirt and green tie, he looked slim. Tall. Powerful. No longer was he the bullying ferret of old, he was Draco. Flipping. Malfoy.
I felt his tense muscles constrict when he hugged me, careful to not disturb my dress.
"You look beautiful, Genevieve."
"Not so bad yourself, Draco."
Finally, Luna came out, looking beautiful in her green dress. The expression on her face when Harry shyly took her hand was blissful.
Tilting his head towards the blushing pair behind us, Draco took my hand and said, "shall we?"
"We shall," I looked at him and grinning.
He held my hand silently as we descended upon the masses already gathered for the Ball, down the clear, glassy stairs into the Crystal Ballroom.
It was perfect. The entire floor was see-through, the walls a frosty, translucent white. Long, elegant tables with roses strewn on them held the assortment of foods we'd laid out, and small, two person tables were scattered about the edges of the circular ballroom.
What wasn't glass was made of pure, sparkling crystal. Draco picked up two crystal flutes full of pumpkin juice and handed one to me.
"Thank you," I said, "This really turned out well."
I ignored the stares that Draco and I were still getting, pulling him off to the sidelines to sit at white linen clothed table.
We sat down on intricate white chairs, and, pulling out his wand, he produced a boquet of blood red roses, holding them out to me.
I accepted them, breathing in the floral scent. "Thanks."
We sat in comfortable silence for a mere couple of minutes before I break the silence.
"I should really be making sure that everything is going..."
He presses his finger to my lips, "Don't."
"But-"
"Don't even think about it. It's okay."
Just then the band starts up, stringing the first instrumental on a violin.
"Dance with me?" he smirks, eyes lit up like a little boy with a present.
I stand up, "sure."
A few people I know wave, and I see Hermione talking animatedly with Grant, swaying from side to side, disguised as dancing.
Ron glowered at me and then at Hermione, and Padma glared at him in turn for ignoring her, stomping on his foot in a rage and fleeing to the bathroom.
Good choice.
But tonight it wasn't about Ron, who'd taken off after Padma, or Hermione, or even about Harry and Luna. It was all about Draco and I.
He led me into an effortless waltz, curated, I was sure, by years upon years of dancing lessons. His movements were graceful, and, unlike the disastrous Yule Ball, he didn't step on my feet once. How far away this night seemed from the other!
"You really do look wonderful, Gin," Draco purrs in my ear, making my hands tremble on his shoulders.
His head is bent down next to mine for an instant before pulling away, ploy having worked.
I blush up at him, sneaking in a quick peck on the cheek.
After a few more dances, my feet are aching.
"You alright?" Draco asks, grabbing me when I stumble in my high shoes.
"Fine," I smile, albeit a little weakly, and he notices, pulling me off to the side and setting me down in a chair like a china doll.
He pulls off the stilettos that I don't want to admit are hurting me and shakes his head.
Pulling his wand out of his robes pocket, he murmurs a spell.
"There," he said, satisfied, and standing up, "I put a cushioning charm on your shoes."
"Tha-Oh, not this again!"
This time it was Pansy, followed by her entourage.
"So," she sneers, "you weren't lying."
I don't turn around to look at her, instead putting my shoes back onto my feet, meticulously, one at a time, tightening and clasping the straps silently. I feel Draco bristle beside me, and I put my hand on his arm with a stern look that Pansy doesn't miss.
"You're pathetic, Draco. You used to mean something. Now you're sorry. brainless. A whipped, good-for-nothing Hufflepuff."
Draco stands up, and so do I. But what surprises me most is when Harry comes up to us and stares Parkinson. Down.
Luna comes up beside me and whispers, "plot twist."
I snort, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Hey, I never claimed to be even remotely perfect.
Because someone has to start this bitchfest, and my feet are feeling oodles better, I speak.
"That's rich, coming from you, Parkinson." I mimicked her, "'But he's right there, someone grab him!' You sure are a brave one."
Harry laughs as if that night wasn't still haunting him, "What do you want to bet that she was the first to leave?"
"Oh, I don't have to bet," Luna says, staring Pansy down as if to dare her to disagree, "I know."
"This is not about me," Pansy defends herself, "what I'm talking about is the two of you!"
"The two of us what exactly?"
Pansy opens her mouth, gaping like a fish before spinning on her heel and darting away.
"Deja vu, anyone?" I ask, and we all begin to giggle like inane idiots.
Okay! We did it! :) But this is not the end of the story! *cue mutterings of 'of course not'*
Till the next chapter, I am steelgray.