Evening shadows pooled through the narrow, enchanted windows of the Slytherin girls' dormitory, where the murky green glow of the Black Lake pressed against the glass like a living veil. The walls seemed to hum with the restless excitement that had taken hold of the Hogwarts. From the common room below drifted the sounds of laughter, hurried footsteps, and the sharp rustle of dress robes. The Yule Ball was only hours away, and anticipation hung in the air—thick as the cool dampness that always clung to the stones of the dungeons.
Eira sat quietly at her vanity, brushing her long white hair with steady and careful strokes. Each movement was deliberate and graceful, like an artist working over the finest silk. Her hair caught the soft green glow from the lake outside, shimmering with a faint iridescence that made it look almost otherworldly. It flowed past her waist like a river of moonlight, and every few strokes she paused to decide how she wanted it to fall for the evening.
It needed to be beautiful, she told herself. Not because she wanted to dazzle or impress anyone, but because tonight was special. Tonight, she would be standing beside the one person whose smile always softened her heart.
She held a section of her hair, considering the texture. It was impossibly soft, light as feathers, and thick enough that any style would hold elegantly. She lifted two front strands and twisted them thoughtfully. Something regal, something delicate. A style that crowned the rest of her hair rather than hiding it. She imagined Fleur's laughter as the French witch would no doubt tease her lovingly about taking too much time. Eira smiled to herself at the thought.
Behind her, the dormitory door opened with a flourish. Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson stepped inside, both wearing dresses that were clearly quite expensive. Daphne's gown was a soft green that shimmered like leaves kissed by dew, with silver embroidery along the collar. Pansy wore a darker emerald piece adorned with small gemstones that caught the light whenever she moved. The two girls exchanged a few whispered comments, excitement spilling from every word, before they disappeared out the door again in search of their partners.
Eira watched them go and shook her head in amusement. The thrill of the night had clearly gotten to everyone.
As she returned to brushing her hair, the door swung open once again. Tracey Davis practically skipped inside, happiness radiating from her like a warm breeze. Her light brown hair had been braided beautifully into a loose over-the-shoulder style decorated with tiny silver charms that twinkled when she moved. Her dress perfectly complemented her features. It was a charming creation in deep sapphire blue, the kind of gown that swayed like soft waves when she walked. Tiny sparkling stars were embroidered along the bodice, giving it an elegant yet whimsical feel. It was a dress that made her look confident and dazzling, ready for a night under the enchanted starlight of the Great Hall.
Eira could not help but admire the transformation.
"You look stunning," Eira commented, genuinely pleased for her.
Tracey twirled once, showing off her gown like a model on a runway. "I know. I am absolutely going to make jaws drop tonight."
Eira laughed, setting down her brush. Tracey quickly walked over and leaned close, eyes glimmering with mischief. She tapped the surface of Eira's vanity with a fingernail.
"Which of your perfumes is good?" she demanded. "I need to smell perfect tonight. My date will not survive if I do not smell like a goddess."
Eira raised one eyebrow, amused. She opened a polished silver case built into the vanity with a soft click. Inside were neatly arranged vials, each sealed with a miniature crystal stopper. Gleaming labels marked the fragrances in elegant script.
"There are different scents here," Eira explained. "Take a look and choose whichever one suits you."
Tracey wasted no time. She reached for the first bottle and opened it, taking a quick sniff. Her nose wrinkled. She tried another. Better, but not quite. A third scent made her hum thoughtfully.
But the fourth bottle caught her attention. The moment she opened it, a soft, captivating floral fragrance drifted into the air. It was fresh yet romantic, like the first blossoms of early spring.
Tracey inhaled deeply. "Oh. This is the one. What is this scent called?"
Eira smiled. "Fleur de Lune. A rare French flower that only blooms under moonlight. Its perfume is very unique."
Tracey sprayed a little onto her wrist and closed her eyes with delight. "It has a good scent. Exquisite and mysterious. Perfect for tonight."
With newfound energy, she turned her attention fully toward Eira.
"Come on, what are you still doing sitting here? Hurry up. Your partner will be waiting for you."
Eira glanced at the clock on the wall. "We still have an hour before the Yule Ball starts. Relax."
Tracey sighed dramatically, placing one hand on her hip.
"Fine. But tell me this. Is the person I think your partner for tonight?"
Eira's lips curled into a small smile. "You are exactly correct."
Tracey let out a victorious little squeal that she tried to cover with a cough. "I knew it. Lucky girl."
"And who is your partner?" Eira asked in return, raising a curious brow.
Tracey grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. "Now that is a surprise. You will find out in an hour."
Eira laughed softly. "Now you have made me very curious. Do not tell me you cornered a first year into being your date."
Tracey gasped in mock horror. "Very funny. Professor McGonagall would surely kill me if she saw me dragging a first year little fart behind me."
Eira burst into laughter, shaking her head. "Oh do not worry. They hardly care about those things."
"Regardless," Tracey announced as she flipped her hair back confidently, "my date will be waiting for me. And I simply must make an entrance. Wish me luck."
She winked dramatically and hurried out the door, humming a festive tune that lingered in the air even after she left.
Silence returned, soft and calm. Eira let out a gentle breath and picked up her wand. With a graceful twirl, she directed the magic toward her hair. The strands lifted and twisted on their own, enchanted by the subtle spell. The style formed quickly, wrapping into a twisted crown braid that circled the top of her head like a delicate halo. The remaining length of her hair flowed down her back in soft, weightless waves, as though touched by moonlight itself.
(Hair style)
She ran her fingers through the lower strands and smiled at her reflection. It was perfect. Elegant and royal, yet entirely her own style.
Next came the dresses. On her bed lay two exquisite gowns delivered only days ago by Emma. Both were crafted by the famous French couturier Madame Rochelle. The craftsmanship was immaculate. The fabrics were rare, shimmering under even the faintest light.
One dress was a breathtaking shade of deep red, the color of fresh blood against snow. It was daring and bold, the kind of dress that could command an entire room's attention and silence. The other dress seemed simple at first glance, yet its sophistication was undeniable. Silver in color and cascading like a waterfall of starlight, it embodied grace and the quiet power of elegance.
Eira stood still for a long moment, debating.
The red dress was beautiful. It would have suited her effortlessly, perhaps too effortlessly. Yet something felt wrong about wearing it tonight. They were in the midst of an academic celebration. A formal school event. The meaning behind the red dress felt too sharp, and intense, like a declaration of dominance. The last thing she wanted was to outshine her lover who's a champion of this event, so it wasn't appropriate to wear it.
Her fingers brushed along the silver gown. Its surface seemed cool and soft, almost like it was woven from strands of pure moonlight. Yes, this was the right choice.
(Dress)
She carefully slipped into the silver dress, letting the fabric glide over her skin. It hugged her figure perfectly and flared gently near her ankles, creating a silhouette that was both noble and enchanting. As she moved to fasten the final clasp at the back, the dress reflected the soft light and made her appear as though she were wrapped in stars.
Once dressed, she applied a light touch of makeup. A hint of shimmer on her eyelids, a dusting of blush to bring warmth to her pale complexion, and finally a stroke of red lipstick that contrasted beautifully with the cool tones of her gown. Her lips looked like fresh rose petals against moonlit snow.
She stood before the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the reflection staring back. She looked regal. Confident. Beautiful in a way she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge. For a moment, she remained completely still, tracing her gaze over the details. The twisted crown braid. The soft waves cascading down. The elegance of the dress. The poise of a noble witch who carried power with grace.
She allowed herself just a small smile.
To finish, she reached again for the silver perfume bottle Tracey had used. Fleur de Lune. The scent felt appropriate, soft but unforgettable. She sprayed a gentle cloud around her neck and wrists, and the fragrance enveloped her like a soft embrace.
Her wand was the last thing she prepared. Instead of hiding it in a handbag like most girls, she placed it into the small spatial pocket only she had access to. It disappeared instantly into her system space, safe and ready whenever she needed it.
Everything was set.
Eira took a final look at the dormitory, now emptied of the excited chatter from earlier. Only the soft sound of the distant lake surrounded the place, making it a tranquil sanctuary for just another heartbeat.
Then she drew a quiet breath, letting her pulse steady. The Yule Ball would begin soon. And someone very important to her was undoubtedly waiting.
With a calm and elegant stride, she walked out of the door.