Atropos → george weasley

xlv. ottilie the secret agent

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

forty five

ottilie the secret agent

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Sensing she didn't want to talk about it, Graham and Viktor pretended that nothing had happened when she rejoined them for lunch later that same day. In fact, neither brought it up ever again.

Ottilie didn't tell anyone and pretended she didn't know what they were talking about when her Hufflepuff friends asked her why she had been in a bad mood throughout the next couple days.

She stewed in her disgust at her father's betrayal, and loathed her mother's allowance for it, until the night of the Yule Ball. By then, it had been replaced by a nauseating sense of dread. She didn't want to put on that dress, she didn't want to stand in front of the whole school with it on, and she didn't want to socialize for hours straight.

Finally, she cast a nonverbal Alohamora on her dresser to unlock it and gently brought the box with her dress out onto her bed. Before locking it again, she ensured that her latest letter from her mum was still in there, safely tucked away from prying eyes.

Daphne had just finished doing the other girls' hair and makeup. Now, Millicent and Pansy were gushing over Tracey's dark purple dress, but Ottilie caught Daphne's reflection looking at her from her hand mirror as she lifted it to check her hair.

Ottilie glared back at her until Daphne returned to focusing on her own business. Then, Ottilie quickly got into the dress robes.

They still hugged her around the middle in a way that made her feel tight in the chest, and she wasn't sure if she liked how her shoulders looked sharp and bony exposed like this. She did, however, like the way the long, straight skirt made her seem taller.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She still just didn't understand what Susan had said—that this dress was her. What about this was her?

"Please stop making that ugly face. If you insist on wearing such a beautiful dress, I won't let you ruin it."

At first, Ottilie didn't realize that Daphne was talking to her. It didn't register until her roommate stood from her vanity and walked over to Ottilie. She had already done her makeup, gold suddenly shimmering in her brown eyes and her skin completely flawless.

She'd been complaining for weeks about how many invitations to the ball she'd had to turn down, and it was easy to see why.

"Piss off, Greengrass," said Ottilie.

Daphne didn't even react, stepping right next to Ottilie to examine her face in the mirror. "Let me do your makeup and hair for you."

"After three-and-a-half years of going to school with me, you really think I'm that stupid?" said Ottilie dryly, noticing that the other girls in the room had stopped talking to listen in.

Daphne rolled her eyes. "I will think that if you don't let me do something with this." She scowled, gesturing towards Ottilie's hair as though she was not sure what to make of it. Ottilie had to admit it was a bit tangled, but she was planning on brushing it out and putting it into a neat bun like her mother had once taught her.

"I'm obviously not going to leave it like this!"

"No offense—actually, offense. I have no faith that whatever you do to your hair will make it better. And, trust me, if you think this dress brings out your eyes now, you won't believe it once I do your makeup."