The Sacred Twenty-Eight Christmas Ball was a renowned event, to say the least. The numerous galas, events, and meals attended by the most prominent pure-blood families were not so much about networking as they used to be, now just used as opportunities to flaunt wealth since connections had been established over the years.
The 1993 Ball was held at Rosier Manor, which only meant one thing — Evangeline had to be more perfect than usual. If so much as a hair on her head was out of place, Opal would most definitely see to her daughter with a hex behind closed doors.
Luckily, the young Rosier girl went above and beyond her mother's expectations. Her brunette locks were fashioned into glamorous Hollywood curls, contrasting her natural and dewy makeup. The dress was the real show-stopper, though, grasping every single pair of eyes in the ballroom as Evangeline entered.
It was a rich viridescent shade, glistering with tiny charmed pixies, which floated leaving little puffs of sparkles in their wake. The bodice itself was very tight-fitting, with luminous swirly details on the cups that gave the impression of a human butterfly. An immense, fluttered skirt completed the dress, elegantly swishing and swaying on its own accord.
Suddenly, everyone forgot about the decorations and the wine imported all the way from Italy. In that moment, only Adonis' and Opal's daughter mattered, and her alone. Mutters and murmurs of praise ricocheted among the guests, starting at Madam Selwyn and ending at some random great-uncle no one recognised.
''Evangeline,'' Cassius greeted, his eyes drinking in her appearance. Like everyone else in the room, he too was dressed formally, looking dashing in a pressed tuxedo. ''You look . . . absolutely breathtaking.''
''Cassius,'' she returned, taking his outstretched elbow. ''As do you.''
''What do you say we go and make the rounds? Father has been urging me to go and talk to some of the older men since we arrived. Something about finances, I presume.''
''I think that is a fine idea,'' Evangeline smiled, glancing around at all of society's finest milling around the ballroom like bees in a honey hive, her eyes catching on to a woman with onyx-streaked platinum blonde hair. ''I believe Narcissa Malfoy is signalling me over, collect me to dance when you are done.''
The young witch skirted the packed dance floor, making her way over to her first cousin once removed and, unfortunately, her second cousin.
''Evangeline!'' Narcissa greeted warmly, kissing both of her nieces cheeks. ''You are truly a sight for sore eyes.''
