the girl who lost it all [d.m]

fifty eight: requirere

requirere: seek, find, desire

———

ELARA stared at her reflection and wondered if she was looking at the same person.

The night of the Masquerade Ball had arrived and although she tried to tell herself everything would be fine, she'd been jittery and on edge all day. She'd barely been able to manage eating and hadn't swallowed more than three morsels before she'd retired up to her room and tried to busy herself with learning about Blood Curses.

And when the clock had finally struck ten in the evening, she'd even entertained the idea of giving up completely and calling in sick. But when Val peeked her head into her room a half hour later, Elara had already been standing in front of the mirror, dressed and ready to go.

"You look gorgeous," came Val's awed whisper as she slipped into the room, closing the door behind her. "Wow."

Elara managed a tight-lipped smile in response. Her stomach seemed to be doing an acrobatic number, flipping this way and that, her heart already beating fast against her ribs.

The dress was certainly beautiful. A tight bodice with a sweetheart neckline, the skirt made of black chiffon, flaring slightly outwards before ending at her shins. Simple but sophisticated—Elara had no idea how Jasper and Val had managed to transfigure it from old black drapes lying around.

She'd accompanied it with simple black heels and a diamond choker that Maya dug out from somewhere. Hermione had helped tame the wild curls of her hair into a sleek knot at the base of her neck and Elara couldn't fathom how she'd managed to make it look so neat.

She'd kept the makeup to a minimum. She knew she wasn't supposed to attract attention at the Ball and the black mask that she'd slip over her eyes felt more like a shield than anything else.

But there was an added accessory that she'd debated on for nearly hours. In the end, she'd clasped it around her neck, watching the snake charm settle right in between the dip of the sweetheart neckline. She hadn't forgiven him—but it was a nice addition to the dress.

"You're nervous." Val tilted her head, coming up behind Elara in the mirror and busying herself with fluffing the skirt of the dress up a bit more.

"Can you blame me?" Elara sighed, sliding a thumb underneath the spaghetti-thin straps of her dress and adjusting them to fit on her shoulder better. "If anything goes wrong, I'm quite honestly a sitting duck."

Val shook her head, placing both hands on Elara's shoulders. "You'll be fine. Malfoy will be in the same room. He won't let anything happen to you."

And the way she said it was almost a question. As if she were trying to find out if it really was true, if there was really something deeper behind Elara's relationship with Draco.