The Consequence of Ambition

Playing Dress Up

The dress was uncomfortable. She was uncomfortable.

Tonight was the highly anticipated Annual Slug Club Christmas party, and the Gryffindor common room was bubbling over with a combination of juvenile squeals of excitement as the girls did each other's hair and the hushed, jealous whispers from the others who weren't invited. This was a highly exclusive party and Lana should be excited, but to be truthful she had no time or care for such exclusivity and favouritism. She wasn't sure what she had done that had warrant her invite, but she rested on the conclusion that it must have something to do with her blood status, as she wasn't particularly gifted at potions. The whole thing felt much too classist for her but Hermione had insisted she come and there was only so many times she could keep on letting her down. So here she stood, decked out in her mother's old dress staring at her reflection, trying to find a shred of herself buried underneath the lavish garments. The dress would have been beautiful on anybody else, it was a deep emerald green colour made with a soft satin material that shone when the light hit it just right. The bodice was a love heart shape with a low neckline bordering somewhere between modest and revealing but Lana clearly wasn't as blessed as her mother had been in that area, and she hardly filled it out leaving little gaps above her cleavage that wouldn't lie flat no matter how much she tried to adjust it. The bottom of the dress flared out around her and finished about mid thigh, she hadn't intended on it being so short. She remembered when it was too long. It had been her favourite dress when she was 5 years old, her mother would take it out of the wardrobe and let her try it on, she would then twirl around the house, drowning in the excess material as it continuously slipped off her shoulders and pooled around her on the floor. She felt so magical in it, so happy and pretty. Now she felt out of place, uncomfortable, shrouded in a ghost of her mothers past the satin cold against her skin. She didn't feel beautiful at all, the fancy dress up was just a compensation for the darkness in her mind and the ugliness of her nightmares. She awkwardly adjusted the flimsy straps, this dress was never intended to be practical, and sighed at the realisation that the ridiculously thin shred of material holding her dress up made no attempt to cover up the scar on her shoulder. In fact it actually accentuated it. The scar had been small and barely noticeable when it was first acquired, but after days of scratching away at it, the skin was left raw. Nails on scar tissue, nails on blood, nails on a fresh wound. Some sort of grim metaphor for her life. She just couldn't leave things alone.

"You look beautiful" Hermione was leaning against the door frame of the girls dormitory her eyes lighting up as she took in the girl stood before her.

"You look breathtaking Hermione" And that she did, her dress was a delicate pink. Delicate just like her. She came and joined Lana in the mirror.

"I mean it you know Lana. You look stunning, and you'll have a good time tonight. I promise you'll forget about whatever it is that's worrying you." How could she promise that? She had no idea of the extent of her problems, the promises she had agreed to keep, the deal's she had made, the devil who resided so uncomfortably comfortably in her thoughts and on the pages of her journal. Becoming a familiarity.

"You know I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising. Everybody needs some time to themselves and their thoughts" She didn't want to be spending time with her thoughts.

"I don't think Harry sees it like that"

"He doesn't see it like that because his whole life he has been alone and now he has people who he loves. He doesn't understand why someone would consciously choose to isolate themselves." Lana faltered. She had never thought about it like that. As usual, Hermione was right.

"I should talk to him."

"I think he would like that. But wait until after the party, please. Just try and enjoy yourself tonight, forget about everything. Whilst you're at this party, pretend that none of it exists, no war, no Voldemort, no Death Eaters, no consuming thoughts. Just friends and bad music." Lana offered her up a half smile, trying her best to convince her she was still the same girl, but the almost mocking reflection in the mirror said something different.