On the morning of Christmas Eve, I awoke very early. No, it was not because of the excitement for the ball, nor for the prospect of it being the day before Christmas. I woke up with a painful feeling in my gut, and the first face that came to my conscious mind was that of Malfoy’s. I sat there, cross-legged on the crumpled sheets of my bed, thinking it over in my head. Why did Malfoy have to be the one I first thought of in the morning before I even had enough sense to formulate a thought myself? How is it that someone could possibly have that much power in my mind to completely control both my conscious and subconscious? And of all of the people in this school, why is it that Malfoy happens to be the one I am completely infatuated with? The pathetic part is that I am fully aware that fancying him is a horrible idea and that it will probably lead to an even more broken heart. I tell myself, Ginny, he can have any girl in the school he wants to have, and he has no problems with playing with any of their hearts. That’s what he lives for. Don’t let him get to you. Don’t pay him any special attention to him. Don’t make yourself obvious. And above all, don’t let him get to you. But there I was, doing precisely the opposite. I clutched a handful of sheets as my mind vainly explored the subject of Malfoy. It hurt so much to know that he didn’t care about me or at least talk to me like he used to. It frustrated me to know that I could have possibly had a chance with him, a slight one, but still a chance, but then I had to go and open my big mouth and now it’s all ruined. I felt bitter that I didn’t have his attention like the way I used to…even if it was in a small way. I’ve never captured someone’s attention like that, and getting attention from possibly the most desirable boy in Hogwarts was quite the feat. I pounded my fist into my covers, angry at myself. Lately I’ve been trying to avoid being alone. When I’m alone, I end up thinking too much about him (disregarding how I know that I shouldn’t be thinking about him) and end up feeling horrible about myself.
With that, I hopped out of my bed, the cold hard-wood floor beginning to numb my feet. I stumbled to the doorway, knocking my knee into one of my bedposts. My stomach churned a mixture of regret and hunger. As I stepped down into the common room, I noticed several random tables scattered haphazardly around the room with small house elves scurrying around, carrying clanking kettles and goblets almost overflowed with pumpkin juice. From table to table they hustled, dropping off plates, refilling goblets, picking up the ones that were finished. I had never really seen this many house elves in action, so it grabbed my attention for a moment. Someone, probably seeing the confused look on my face, mentioned to me that the Great Hall was going to be closed for the entirety of the day…up until the beginning of the masquerade. This all made perfect sense, of course.
I took a seat with a couple of girls from my year, Anabelle and Madeline. They were pretty much my year’s version of Lavender and Parvati, one could say. I didn’t mind them very much; it’s just that sometimes…well sometimes they aren’t my favorite people to be around. Now that the subject comes to mind, it must seem a bit strange that I’m mostly friends with people who are in Ron’s year. I don’t know…I think I just communicate with them better. That’s probably it.
After a while of discussing the ball with Anabelle and Madeline, I have to admit, I was pretty excited about the ball. Yes, this was despite the bitterness I was feeling that morning. When I saw Hermione come down the stairs, I was grinning from ear to ear about the Winter Masquerade Ball; Malfoy completely absent from all of my thoughts. Okay, not entirely. Anyways, I of course had to tell her about the Great Hall being closed and then a minute later, made my way back to my table. Anabelle and Madeline were still avidly chatting about the ball.
“I can’t wait to put on my robes,” Madeline said, her pale blue eyes flashing excitedly. “They’re Diagon Alley’s finest.”
“I bought some hair potion at the cutest little boutique there,” Anabelle added, twisting a strand of her dark brown hair. “They guaranteed that whenever I use it, my hair will definitely look the best.”
I ignored the overwhelming boastful tone and joined in the discussion, “My brothers bought me some new robes with their joke shop money…I think they’re really nice. I don’t know where they got them or anything, but they’re pretty.”
“Your brothers bought them for you?” Anabelle asked, surprised. “Mine would never do that for me…they wouldn’t have the money…nor the taste.”
“And how do you know her brothers have a sense of style?” Madeline asked snottily.
“First of all, my brothers own a successful joke shop, so they have plenty of money…Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes…maybe you’ve heard of it,” I said as I glared at Madeline, who gave me a disgusted look hearing about the joke shop. “And second of all, normally I don’t trust my brothers’ judgment, but you can trust my judgment when I tell you something looks good.”
I resisted the temptation of telling her that the scarf she was wearing clashed horribly with her bracelet, just to make her mad. Arguing was pointless, and I knew she didn’t mean anything of what she said; it is only her nature.
“Oh all right,” Madeline said grumpily. “I believe you.”
With that, we sped off into another conversation about which boys we wanted to see there. Madeline has a fixation for a fifth year Ravenclaw boy whom I’ve never heard of. I’ve probably seen him around here. I believe that everyone in this school has seen each other at least once; they just don’t remember their faces.
Anabelle, though, apparently has a thing going on for my brother, EW! She was barely fazed when I informed her that he was going with Susan Bones.
“Susan Bones? She’s no competition,” was her retort as her hazel eyes glazed over with passion (sick!).
But seriously, I find it all kind of gross. Especially since Anabelle is the type my brother would probably go for. Although there’s no way I’m telling her that.
“So, what about you, Ginny?” they asked. “Do you want to see anyone special there? Harry, maybe?”
“No, it’s not Harry,” I said, almost laughing. I barely considered telling them about Malfoy as he flashed into my mind, making my stomach lurch. What a big mistake that would be. Then again, having feelings for him in the first place was a big mistake. “Well, there is that Terry Boot,” I said thoughtfully. It was partly true. I met him the other day after we won the game, and he is a really fun kid. If I didn’t know better, I would say that having that much fun around a person isn’t legal. And I only was with him for a few moments.
“Yes, he’s quite something,” Madeline and Anabelle said, giving me an approving look.
“You’ve talked to him before, haven’t you?” Anabelle asked.
“Of course,” I responded, almost rolling my eyes. “I don’t think I could ever fancy someone I haven’t even talked to before,” I said as Anabelle blushed, probably thinking of Ron.
After this part of our conversation, we realized that our food and plates were long gone, so we made our way back up to our dormitory to begin getting ready for the ball. I left to take a shower, and when I came back, Anabelle and Madeline had their robes laid out and everything. I took a look at the clock, and saw that we still had several hours to get ready, it only being barely past noon. I sunk beneath my covers, with a short cat nap in mind.
Later, I was awoken by someone shaking my shoulders. I groaned as I blinked and squinted my eyes to see who it was. Unsurprisingly, it was Madeline and Anabelle.
“What is it?” I said, rolling over in my bed.
“Get out of bed, you sloth,” Madeline voiced.
“The ball is in a few hours,” Anabelle quipped. “You need time to get ready.”
It was then that I took a long look at the both of them. Completely dressed in their ball attire, they made me feel out of place as under my ragged black robes I was wearing one of Bill’s old oversized Chudley Cannons shirts and a pair of plaid fleece pants that barely fit. I did happen to notice that Madeline was right about her robes as they shimmered and changed color every few seconds. They reminded of a chameleon. A pretty sash was tied loosely around her waist as she looked at me expectantly.
“So what do you think?” she asked me. “Are these robes gorgeous or what?”
I nodded drearily, my mind still bogged down from sleep. Anabelle’s pale pink robes weren’t as extravagant; however, she still looked very pretty.
“All right,” Madeline said, hauling me out of bed. “It’s time to get to work,” she said as she nodded at Anabelle, who took out my robes for me, along with a bunch of intimidating potions hidden under a façade of tiny pink-tinted glass and tidy white bows.
I raised my eyebrows, unsure of what they were going to do, but then they ordered me to put on my robes. When I came out of the bathroom wearing my white satin robes, the girls gave each other a satisfactory look. They told me to sit in a chair while they worked together soaking my hair with various concoctions, styling it this way and that way, often arguing about what they were doing next. Eventually they settled on leaving it down, and somehow, I don’t know how, but they somehow managed to calm my thick hair and make it silky and shiny.
“Doesn’t it look great?” Anabelle asked me as she ushered me in front of the closest mirror. “That potion I bought works wonders, it does.”
“Thank you, both of you,” I told them. “I really never expected having help for the ball.”
“Oh it’s nothing,” Anabelle said humbly.
“It’s what we live for,” Madeline replied. “Don’t worry about it.”
I slipped on my shoes and took out my mask, which was made of white satin and adorned with two white feathers positioned upwards from the side at an angle. I took out some light jewelry, just a small bracelet and necklace that I received when I was younger as a gift, and put in on. Surprisingly, it was almost time to go. I decided to wait downstairs in the common room for Hermione.
When I got downstairs, I looked around at everyone decked out in evening wear. It was quite the sight. Everyone looked elegant and looked very much like royalty. I took a seat and began to watch the clock.
As the time came to leave, Hermione was still yet to make an appearance. People were beginning to leave for the Great Hall, leaving me almost completely alone in the room. Actually, five minutes later, I was completely alone in the room. I was hoping almost desperately that Hermione decided that she was going and that she wasn’t going to back out. I knew how much Harry counted on seeing her there. I could tell…everyone could tell. Thankfully, another five minutes later, she walked in through the portrait hole, smelling strongly of various perfumed soaps.
As I predicted, she hadn’t planned on going to the ball. I managed to convince her to go, and waited for her downstairs as she got ready.
Finally we made our way downstairs -Hermione looked amazing by the way…the light blue silk was stunning- and into the Great Hall. It was beautifully decorated, and I especially loved the intricate ice chandeliers hovering precariously over every table. We sat down at a table, and I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Hermione. Here she was, out on a limb, feeling very vulnerable with hurt in very close contact with her heartstrings…oh, wait a second…that was me. I could tell that Hermione felt bad for me, especially when I mentioned Malfoy’s presence at the ball. I spotted him across the floor, from his platinum blonde hair the culprit of my identity match to him. My heart sunk like a stone when I saw that none other than Pansy Parkinson was draped on his arm like some sort of trophy. She makes quite the wretched trophy, by the way. Anyways, I was just glad everyone was wearing a mask. Other than Malfoy, I couldn’t recognize anyone else there. It made me feel better, somewhat, as well. No one would have to know how I was going to sit out the whole ball pretending not to watch Malfoy and Parkinson have a grand old time. Fortunately (and surprisingly), a boy came over to our table and asked me to dance.
“Would you like to dance?” he said staring intensely at me. I felt my cheeks heat up as I flitted my gaze to Hermione. He was incredibly gorgeous, with ruffled dark brown hair and chiseled cheekbones. The midnight blue robes he wore seemed to establish a poised persona, and his figure, mainly they way he carried himself, made him look very distinguished. I began to wonder if I had met him before.
“What do I do?” I managed to hiss to her, my face still feeling red. …He was so handsome…but I was still feeling horrible about Malfoy.
“Go on,” she urged. “Remember, tonight is your night. Go have fun.”
“Are you sure?” I whispered back, my voice faltering. “I don’t want to leave you here.”
After she insisted that she would be fine, I finally let it go and accepted the masked stranger’s invitation.
He took my hand and gently led me to the dance floor. At first, I had the time of my life rocking out with him to the Weird Sisters. However, when they went on a break and brought out some musicians with violins and cellos, I expected that the boy wanted to sit out.
“Do you want to sit this out?” I asked tilting my head in the direction of the tables and glancing at their set up on the stage.
“Are you kidding?” he responded as the musicians began to play a beautiful harmony. “This is the best part,” he breathed deeply in my ear as he pulled me close.
With that, he guided me along the dance floor into a medium-paced rendition of a waltz. One, two, three, turn. One, two, three, twirl. Again, one, two, three, turn. One, two, three, twirl…so on and so forth. I’m sure I’ve made the picture clear. I must admit, he was the most amazing dancer I had ever met in my life. I really began to wonder who it was. Now I get butterflies remembering how he put his hand on my hip and held my hand with his other. Especially how I felt his gaze on me the entire time we danced. Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite observe his eyes, as they were shadowed by his mask. We even danced the Minuet and the Foxtrot before we left the floor to sit at one of the tables and get some chilled beverages. Okay, so it was just water. The boy handed me a champagne flute filled with it and poured one for himself.
“So have you figured out who I am yet?” he asked as he gave me a dazzling smile as he absent-mindedly drummed his fingers on his glass.
“Oh, um, no. I hadn’t really given it much thought,” I said, a bit startled. I couldn’t really figure him out. After a while, I started to wonder if it was Terry Boot. He certainly had his hair.
“I’m sure you would never guess,” he said with another grin.
“Have we met before?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” he replied. “Indeed we have.”
“What makes you so sure that I am who you think I am?” I countered.
“Ginny, I could never mistake you for any other girl in a crowd. Ever,” he said looking at me deeply.
“I-I…wow. Who are you?” I asked breathlessly. It was then when I really began to wonder who he was. Who could it possibly be? I wagered heavily on him being Terry Boot. Or at least, I was sort of hoping he was. Terry is a really nice guy, and I could easily identify him with this masked student. And the way he said my name! Oh, for some reason, the way he said it made me tingle with electricity. Whoever this boy was, he certainly knew how to charm.
“Come with me,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out for me. He brought me to the furthest bench that was facing the paintings. “Here, sit down,” he said, patting the empty space next to him.
“I can’t…well…I mean…I don’t really know what to tell you,” he said, his elegant facial structure seeming strained.
“Just tell me who you are,” I beseeched. “Dumbledore says we’re to take off our masks at midnight anyways.”
“What if I don’t want to spoil the surprise, Tinkerelma?” he said with a playful smile.
“Don’t you mean ‘Cinderella’?” I asked, trying not to laugh, but giving him a big toothy grin instead. He obviously didn’t know much about the muggle world. Neither do I, but that’s not really the point.
“Yeah. Her. Whatever,” he said as his face flushed. “That’s what I meant. You know what I meant,” he said sounding embarrassed.
“It’s all right,” I said, reaching out timidly and touching his cheek.
“Everyone loves a good mystery. Would you really like to spoil the surprise?” he said as he sighed deeply and put his hand over my hand that was on his cheek.
I nodded. “Very much so.”
He then brought my hand to his mask. “All right then. Go ahead. Take it off,” he said with an uncertain tone. “But before you find out my identity, I’d just like to know if you had a nice night.”
“Oh yes,” I assured him. “It was perfect,” I said, pushing Malfoy out of my mind.
“Okay, thank you. I needed to hear that,” he said taking his hand off of mine. “Well go ahead, nothing’s stopping you now.”
My hands almost shook with the anticipation of finally being able to look this boy in the eyes. I carefully removed the mask from his face, causing some of his dark brown hair to fall over his forehead.
Then I gasped with an overwhelming sense of recognition. He was right.
I would have never guessed.