''𝙅𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙖𝙡𝙡. 𝙄'𝙙 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬- 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙣.'' Loving you was the most exquisite form of self destruction.
- VOLUME I of the HOUSE OF B...
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• ── ≪ ✧ ◦《✩》◦✧ ≫ ── •
JAMES POTTER DIDN'T UNDERSTAND why the Potters still attended the Sacred Twenty Eight Balls. Every year they attended without fail despite loathing what it stood for.
When the Sacred Twenty Eight had been formed, centuries ago, the blood pact that bound it together had to this day remained unbreakable.
No matter how many times Fleamont and Euphemia had sat at home on the eve of the Ball, when the clock struck nine they were inevitably forced to attend by some unseen and ancient magic. The same magic that had bound each member of the Pureblood Twenty Eight.
Even now, with their son, the family was still bound into attendance by the ancient oath.
Thus, little James now found himself in the vast ball room of Black Manor, dressed head to toe in a starchy black suit, surrounded by the aristocrats of pureblood society.
Every year the families were forced to mingle together despite the fissure that had cracked the original twenty eight apart.
A quarter of the families here tonight no longer stood for the old pure blood supremacy beliefs, yet the majority firmly stood by what their elders had beat into them.
That they were somehow better, more worthy, than those not born of magic blood.
It was only on the special holidays that the balls were held, thus the Potters, Prewetts, Weasley's and so forth were only forced to attend a few times per year, yet the evenings were still no feat to look forward to.
The children of those families often spent the evening together, counting down the minutes before they could leave, yet this time, instead of heading deep into the maze that was Black Manor, James Potter found himself in the main ballroom gazing upon the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.
She stood a great distance away, across the expanse of the Hall, yet James could see her features clearly.
He didn't know if it was the impetuesnous of his heart that made him cross the Ballroom towards her, or the naivety of his youth, yet somehow he found himself walking towards the young girl. She looked just about his age, no older, no younger.
James knew who this girl was. Everyone did. Her name was Estella Black, the second eldest child of Druella and Cygnus Black.
Just as he was about to near her, the girl began to walk out of the Ballroom and onto the balcony that dipped off the edge of the floor, overlooking the expanse of the gardens.
