Author's note:
*This chapter is going to discuss some more serious topics, such as mental illness and panic attacks. Please read at your own discretion. *
The music from the Great Hall echoed into the corridor. I sat on the floor and watched at least ten other girls sob into their friend's shoulders.
I didn't know what to do. I had no desire to go back to the hall and face Dean, but I was also tired of listening to the cries of teenage heartbreak.
I eventually stood up and walked down the hallway, barefoot, because my shoes were still at my table.
I wandered down corridors, not sure where I was headed. I made my way out of the courtyard and all the way down to the Black Lake without a second thought.
As I sat down in the snow, tears started to form in my eyes. They slid down my face and onto my dress.
"This is stupid," I said aloud to myself. "It's just Malfoy. He just said that to get under your skin."
But the tight feeling in my throat and the pounding in my chest did not go away. I felt as if everything was closing in on me. My hands were shaking and there was a ringing in my ears.
I cried harder. I felt as if I was about to die. But why? I had been fine a couple minutes ago.
"You're not going to die," I muttered. "You're overreacting. You're fine."
Everything got blurry. My head was aching terribly, and my hands were still shaking.
"You are not a freak. You are not a freak." I whispered to myself, over and over.
But the more I said it, the less I believed it.
"You are not a freak."
"Ella? Are you alright?"
I looked over my shoulder and saw Hermione hurrying toward me. I cleared my throat and tried to wipe away my mascara-stained tears.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
I tried to speak, but no words came out. This only made the panicky feeling worse.
"Ella, are you hurt?" Hermione asked, this time with more urgency in her voice.
I shook my head slightly.
"Can you tell me what's going on?"
"I— I don't know..." I croaked.
"What's wrong?" she questioned.
I couldn't form words. I let out a loud cry. Hermione quickly sat down next to me and took my face in her hands.
"Hey, listen to me. It's okay, you're okay." she said reassuringly.
Hermione sat with me for what felt like hours. The feeling of death slowly slipped away, and I felt somewhat fine.
"What was going on?" Hermione questioned when I had finally calmed down.
"It's so stupid," I said in almost a whisper. "But I felt like I couldn't breath. Like I was dying."
"Did anything happen? Was someone mean to you? Hurt your feelings?"
"Well, just Malfoy, but that usually doesn't cause this." I replied.
"I'll look into it, okay? Maybe you're just stressed."
"I hope you're right, Hermione."
"Aren't your feet cold? We should go back and dance. I think someone might be waiting for you." she said with a small smile.
"I doubt it. Dean's probably gone by now. Remind me to apologize for ditching him."
"I wasn't talking about Dean, Ella."
Before I could ask any more questions, Hermione pulled me off the snowy ground and we walked back to the castle.
As we approached the Great Hall, Hermione suddenly gasped.
"What is it?" I asked, looking around.
"Your makeup! Oh, you have to fix it! Go, hurry!" she pushed me towards the girls' bathroom.
"What is this about, Hermione?"
"Just fix it!" she called.
I shrugged and went over to the sink and wet a paper towel. Carefully, I wiped the dried mascara off my face.
"Do you need some?"
In the reflection of the mirror, Angelina was holding mascara in my direction.
"Oh— no— I'm fine—"
"Take it— you'll want it, I'm sure." she said.
I took the tube from her.
"Shouldn't you be out there with Fred?" I said hesitantly.
"Oh, I'm sure he'll be fine." she replied simply.
"Well you shouldn't abandon your date," I said quietly, hoping she wouldn't hear.
"Actually, we're just friends," Angelina said. "I fancy someone else, anyway. And I'm sure he does as well."
I gave Angelina the mascara back and thanked her before heading back out to find Hermione.
But Hermione was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the hall was completely deserted. Confused, I walked into the Great Hall.
There was soft music playing from a bewitched piano, and only a few couples remained on the dance floor. I spotted Ginny and Neville a few feet away, but Hermione wasn't there.
There was only one other person standing alone. He grinned when he caught my eye and quickly ran toward me.
It was Fred.
"Hey, Hart," he said.
"Hi, Fred," I breathed. "What's going on? Where's Hermione?"
"Dunno, but now that you're here— what do you say to joining me on the dance floor?"
"That's sweet, Fred, really, but Hermione said—"
"Ella— I mean this is the best possible way," Fred interrupted. "But you're the dumbest girl I've ever met."
"Seeing as this is coming from you, I'm not offended." I chuckled.
"Great," he smirked. "So come on, let's dance."
"But—"
Fred didn't give my complaints any attention. He simply took my arm and led me to a corner of the Great Hall.
"Well? Don't you know how to dance?" he questioned.
"Of course," I said, clasping my hands behind his neck.
Fred pressed his hands against my waist, and I felt goosebumps form on my skin.
"Where are your shoes?" he said, glancing down at my feet.
"I took them off, they hurt too much."
We shared a laugh and swayed to the music. After a minute or so, Fred started leaning in closer.
By the end of the song, my head was on Fred's chest. I breathed in deep, and he smelled of fire and cinnamon.
Slowly, couples started trickling out of the Great Hall. By the end of the next song, it was just Fred and I.
"Was Hermione in on this?" I asked, finally breaking the silence.
"Of course, I couldn't have done it without her." he said softly. "How else was I supposed to get you to dance with me?"
"So if you wanted to dance with me, why did you ask Angelina?"
"I think that will remain a mystery," Fred teased.
We fell back into silence. I wanted to ask him if he was going to ask me to the ball in the first place, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.
"You know," Fred said at last, "you smell like peppermint."
"Really?" I let out a laugh.
"Yeah. Peppermint and—" he paused for a moment. "—vanilla."
We danced for a while longer until the piano stopped playing. At around one in the morning, we walked back to the portrait hole, careful to avoid Filch.
The common room was almost empty when we entered, except for George and Lee. They were sitting on the couch by the fire and mumbling quietly to each other. When they noticed us, they quickly hurried up the boys's staircase.
When they were gone, Fred turned to me as if he wanted to say something, although he didn't.
"Well, I should probably go to bed," I whispered at last. "Thank you for a lovely evening."
But as I turned to go up the stairs, Fred called out,
"El, wait!"
"What is it?" I asked.
"A true gentleman kisses his date goodnight," he smirked.
"Well, I don't see a gentleman anywhere," I broke into a grin. "So I guess I'll just have to go to bed without one. Goodnight, Fred."