Ecstasy// Snape

9.

"You look absolutely stunning," Harry utters in awe as we walk into the Great Hall together. I smile lightly, taking in his appearance as well. He's simply wearing a misty grey, almost charcoal colored tux. But the handkerchief is the same blood red as my dress, outlined in similar fabric. Hermione really did match us. Even our masks are practical clones, with the exception of mine being the lacy gold.

"Thank Hermione for that," I laugh. "If not for her, I would be attending this in my uniform."

The Great Hall is adorned in authentic oranges, dark reds, and obsidian. Hovering pumpkins are the only source of illumination, and because of their shape, it emits a minimal source of light. Students and teachers alike are dressed in ball gowns, cocktail dresses, and gaudy tuxes. The most magical part of it all are the masks. Near everyone is camouflaged in fabrics, hiding identities which no doubt will bring out some unfamiliar confidence. There's a sense of euphoria in the air, one you don't usually find in the castle which adds to the evening even more. Everybody is already used to magic, with the exception of some occasions, but a ball is an utterly different level.

Headmaster Dumbledore greets everyone who is now gathered inside. He speaks a few words, but I hardly pay attention. I'm too busy looking around at who all came,trying to match the mask to the personalities. The teachers are the easiest, however. Professor McGonagall has a cat pattern wrapped around her face, while Professor Trelawney came with just a new pair of glasses. There is one that I have yet to notice, but that doesn't bother me too much.

"With that being said, will the Prefects please begin the dance?"

Everybody forms a wide circle for those students to start in, and Beethoven is promptly established. Marcus Flint is dancing with some other girl who looks absolutely thrilled from the outcome. It turns out Foster's illness was worse than we thought. Poor Percy and Padma look utterly miserable, he can't dance if his life depended on it. But completely, they all look impeccably amazing while dancing and it is amusing to watch. All too soon, it's announced for everyone else to join in on the waltz.

Harry looks like he was just told Voldemort is here, and I snicker quietly. We waltz as best as possible, but it turns out a dancer is only as good as her partner. And Harry is quite possibly worse than I am. It's safe to say that he us not nearly into this as Snape was; but then again that fact isn't a deal breaker. There's no romantic feeling in the air like most other students may have, but I am perfectly fine with that. Frankly, I love his attempt to do it well. It goes on for the remaining ten minutes, and I can tell he is becoming fatigued from it all. The Chosen One can't even get through a single dance without collapsing; that's a tad concerning. But much to Harry's pleasure, Beethoven's rigorously enchanting piece concludes. Those who are tired step off the dance floor while everyone else gets into the more upbeat music. I'm fairly sure Dumbledore's idea of a ball was to be all night; however that is far from the case.

"Am I allowed that dance now?" Fred appears out of nowhere, and Harry looks too spent to try and keep me for himself. Giggling once more, I follow Fred back onto the god forsaken ground and he begins a routine of mindless slow dancing. Not the charming kind though, but slowly head banging to the music and moving his limbs in a way elderly people would be offended of. No one even bothers to make a comment, at this point it is just expected for the Weasley's to act like this. I however, make sure to judge him harshly. His dancing is just about as great as the ensemble he's put together. Every single joke those two have created, are labeled and stuck to his dress robes haphazardly, and I suspect George looks the same.

"Fred, how about you go dance with Angelina over there? I've seen her eye you a couple of times," I encourage. The poor girl has gawked fixedly at this boy since he entered the room I'm sure. Fred halts his satanic cult-like gestures and nods hesitantly. After he stands in spot for a moment too long, I forcefully shove his shoulder in Angelina's direction. He quite literally stumbles over to her, causing me to smile. I should have a minute to myself now; only an hour in and I'm already looking forward to sleeping. Heading up to the dessert table, I examine what is spread out before deciding there's nothing of my interest.