Sixth Year (Snowbaz)

13. Halloween Ball

Simon

I wait patiently in the lobby of the Cloisters. The boys are only allowed in the lobby of the girl's boarding houses at dances to escort them to the Great Hall. A few of the other guys are gathered around me at the foot of the stairs including Dev and Niall who snicker to each other about my suit. Baz's minions are escorting Ruby Templeton and Fay Lovefields who play on Agatha's lacrosse team. They're both far too smart and good-looking for the likes of Dev and Niall. The girls probably got cornered into it, threatened maybe. But who knows, maybe those two are complete charmers to everyone but me.

Ross MacMahon, the good-looking seventh year from the football team, comes to stand next to me as he waits for his girlfriend Jane to walk down the stairs.

"Great suit, Simon," Ross says, smiling. And I think he might actually mean it. I stand up with a little more confidence.

"Thanks," I say looking back towards the staircase, waiting for Agatha.

Just as I do, a beautiful girl in a silky blush pink dress floats down the stone staircase with one hand delicately rested on the bannister. Agatha. She looks spectacular.

I beam at her and she presses her lips together, stopping herself from retuning the smile. She takes pride in maintaining a refined sort of elegance. When she reaches the bottom of the stairs I hold out my right arm for her.

"You look beautiful," I tell her.

A small smile finally appears on her face, "and you look dashing."

***

When we make our way into the Great Hall I look up to see big silvery banners draping gracefully from the ceiling. A sea of lanterns hover slowly around the room. They hover just a few metres above people's heads and cast a warm yellow glow onto the crowd of dancing couples that waltz slowly around the room.

I take Agatha by the waist and lead her onto the dance floor where the DJ's playing something slow with lyrics made for lovers. Her pale freckled hand rests daintily in mine as we drift seamlessly around the wooden floorboards of the ancient room. We all took dance classes in second year in preparation for the Winter Solstice ball that December. Penny and I were partners, and let's just say my dancing skills have improved dramatically.

"Simon," she would yell. "You're stepping on my toes again."

I vaguely remember the image of a 12 year old Baz snickering to himself as he danced seamlessly across the room with none other than Agatha Wellbelove.

Four years later, my luck had turned and now I dance just as well as Baz and I have Agatha in my arms because she wants to be there (not because a dance instructor randomly assigned her to me). Take that Baz.

She's awfully quiet tonight.

"What do you think of the decorations?" I ask, attempting to stir up some sort of conversation.

"They're lovely," is her only response. There's something sad and withdrawn in her big brown eyes. I don't quite feel like questioning her right now though. I'm scare I might ruin the moment. Although, I'm not quite sure this is a moment.

Just as I'm thinking about dragging Agatha over to the tables on the outskirts of the room for an emotional debrief, I make eye contact with Baz. He sits casually at one of the tables, dressed  in classic black just as he said he would be. Once again, just like at the back-to-school picnic there's a flask in Baz's hand. He doesn't touch the flask to his lips. He just swishes its contents around aimlessly. His eyes linger on Agatha and I as she looks empty-eyed around the room over my left shoulder.