𝑆𝐴𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐷𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑂 𝑀𝐴𝐿𝐹𝑂𝑌

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟗 - 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝

In this one chance Neville got, he smacked his cup nervously and leaned over the table.

"Please, help me, Ophelia!" he hissed. "I don't know how to dance and I don't know what to wear and I don't know if she will even come!"

The next 48 hours were spent debating which was the right clothing that would neither be too much nor too plain for this much-awaited party. Neville insisted that we kept the motives of his night from the other girls. I thought that Ginny would be a better judge on clothing but I suspected that Neville felt exposed enough that I now knew his little secret.

He asked me to lend him my mixed tapes. I assured him that I had nothing in there that could be played at a party but Neville liked to put on every rock song he could find in my collection and dance in front of the mirror.

"You used to do ballet, right Ophelia? Surely you must know if this looks okay..." he said and threw his head back and forth, messing up his curly hair. He looked dizzy.

"I used to dance to Tchaikovsky, Neville; not Kiss."

It brought memories. The Academy had held one or two dances. They tried giving us the equivalent of school dances for ballet dancers. I remember dancing with Margot. It was always easy for us to simply follow whatever music was playing and dance without caring much if we got the moves right. We spent our days repeating choreographies to perfection. It used to be liberating to dance to some pop song. Now – not so much.

Everyone was making plans for the big night. The Hufflepuffs vowed to make this the most successful party of the year. Hermione suggested that Ginny and I slept over in her dorm after the party was over – which coincided perfectly with Maya's plans (she always asked to have our dorm for herself and Blaise after occasions like these).

On the night of the party, Maya was overflowed with thrill and joy because this night coincided with the anniversary of her last night in Montmartre, the summer night when Blaise and her met in some lonely wizards' bar, the night when he had stolen her heart. Although Maya dedicated time to dress up to the nines even on weekdays, this time she exceeded herself. She closed herself up in the bathroom for hours and she came out smelling like the first breath of spring. Since she had stopped any other communication with the snobby Slytherin princesses, who had set her aside after she had laid eyes to the queen's ex, she only had me to turn to when she needed to make a decision on what underwear matched best to the occasion. I think she was beginning to feel rather lonely nowadays as well.

When I saw her getting into a little black dress (silk and delicate with drapes that complemented her stunning curves and with thin straps that left her shoulders bare) I instantly became self-conscious about my own choice of clothes. At first, I thought it was better to stay comfortable so that I could dance freely. I had decided to wear my casual pair of jeans and only switch from the shapeless and comfortable grey sweater to a black, figure-hugging turtleneck. Now, I was having second thoughts. How many chances would I have to dress up a bit differently?

"Won't you get dressed?" said Maya while curling her hair.

That did it. I replaced the jeans with a skirt; a dark brown plaid skirt. I kept the black turtleneck. I wasn't going to let myself be completely influenced by the need to fit in.

"This is so you!" said Maya in excitement. When she saw me struggling to find a pair of shoes that matched my black tights, she even offered me her ankle boots, the ones with the thick and high heels.

"Okay, what's up? Why are you being so kind to me?" I said with narrow eyes.

Maya was no fool. She knew exactly how I meant this. Politeness was not the same as kindness and Maya never showed affection unnecessarily – and neither did I. I couldn't blame everything on her temporary loneliness and friendlessness.