HARRY POTTER | ONESHOTS |

14- Blaise Zabini

Please imagine Voldemort didn't go to live in Malfoy Manor until seventh year.

A firm knock sounds from Y/n's bedroom door and her mother barges in without waiting for her daughter to give her permission to come in. She's carrying a sleek, black box and presents it to her daughter.

"Put this on and make yourself presentable for seven tonight," She demands.

"Why?" Y/n asks, opening the lid, carefully putting it off to the side, and pulls out the top half of a powder pink, Regency Period inspired dress, the waistline lowered from directly below the bust to the actual waist. The satin and silks were soft against her touch, the lace detailing creating a certain charm. A small note that was previously tucked into a neat fold reads: Handmade in Italy.

"We're going to the Malfoy's for their annual Christmas ball."

That's why she wanted me here for the holiday.

"And do put in effort this time, you have people to impress."

"Yes, mother," Y/n sighs.

"Good girl," Her mother reaches over and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear then briskly walks out of the room.

Y/n rolls her eyes and walks to the door, shutting it with a little more force than usual, though not too hard as to not draw her mother back to her room for a lecture.

Already up, Y/n takes the dress fully out of the box, disregarding its matching corset, and walks across her room to her full-length mirror and holds the dress up to her frame. She must admit, it was pretty. Very pretty. She takes a handful of the skirt and lifts it up, swishing it back and forth to watch the movement in the mirror.

Her eyes trail over to her clock and notices that she has just a little over an hour and a half to get ready. She lets out another soft sigh and goes back over to the box, taking out the corset, then quickly strips from her comfortable clothes and slides on the loosely laced contraption, dressing the eventual ache her ribs will endure as soon as it comes undone later that night.

She reaches behind her, trying to pull the strings tighter herself, but decides to call in the family house-elf for help.

The small creature walks in and starts pulling the strings until they can't be pulled anymore. Y/n feels very uncomfortable but knows her mother would put up a fuss if she has decided against wearing it. Besides, the corset was giving her a prettier figure; not that Y/n cared about it all that much.

The elf ties the strings together into a stable bow, making sure that the corset remains tight and the knot is secure.

"Thank you," Y/n smiles, though the house-elf can tell it is fake as Y/n sucks in a breath, trying to adjust to the reformation and constraint on her body. She nods and timidly walks out of the teen's bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Y/n takes the dress and slips it on, this time by herself, and admires her reflection for a few seconds; swishing the skirt around once more and turning a few times. It doesn't spread out because of the way it was designed, but it does puff a bit and Y/n feels a slight draft flow up her skirt.

After a few more seconds of looking at the elegant dress, she makes her way over to the vanity where she styles her hair and applies makeup, both of which done in a way to compliment the dress.

The sixteen-year-old looks lovely.

By the time Y/n has finished, M/n walks back into her room, this time walking in without the slightest knock. She eyes her daughter approvingly and walks over to her jewellery box.

"Do you still have the pearl necklace your aunt gave you last Christmas?" She asks, digging around through the many jewels and beads, looking for the simplistic, yet elegant, string of pearls.