Emerson Wilmore was an exemplary Ravenclaw student, known for her unwavering dedication to academics and an unyielding moral compass. However, things took a twisted and deviated turn in her life after her boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, was murdered by L...
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Emie and Liv's outfits
Saturday arrived with a quiet sort of violence.
Emerson hadn't left the Ravenclaw Tower all day. She skipped breakfast, lunch and even dinner, avoiding the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch final entirely. She made excuses that she didn't feel like going and had too much study. But the truth was simple: she couldn't face Mattheo. Not yet. Not when her body still remembered every place he touched, and her heart still ached from every word he wouldn't say.
The sun arced across the sky and dipped low behind the castle windows without her once stepping outside. She stayed curled in her bed, letting the hours pass over her like waves, each one a silent effort not to think about him.
Even just the shape of his name in her mind sent her heart stumbling.
But Olivia didn't let her drift too far into the dark. As the evening settled and the castle lights dimmed, Olivia stood at the foot of her bed with a determined look, holding a hanger like a sword and tossing Emerson's usual modest wardrobe choices into a pile on the floor.
"You're not wearing a cute knit jumper tonight," Olivia said flatly. "I love you, but no."
"I don't care what I wear," Emerson muttered.
"Well, I do," Olivia yanked them back with a single motion. "And I know him. If we're going to this party, we're not going quietly. We're going to haunt him."
Emerson blinked up at her. "You sound terrifying."
"I am. Now stand up. You're letting me dress you."
By the time Olivia finished, Emerson stood in front of the mirror. Her best friend transformed her piece by piece, not into someone else, but into the most striking version of herself.
The outfit was effortless and devastating: it was a silky, deep sapphire-blue slip dress that clung to her body like a second skin, the thin straps sliding over her shoulders with delicate ease. It fell just above her thigh, which meant that she was comfortable enough to wear it when she wasn't feeling at ease. The colour brought out the golden undertones in her eyes, and somehow glowed faintly under the soft light of the dormitory sconces, like starlight trapped in fabric. It was a dress Olivia borrowed from Elena, on the condition that Elena could also come to the party. It didn't look borrowed on Emerson. It looked made for her.
