midnight of the masquerade | d. malfoy

three ; announcement

The class stretched for the remaining few minutes; my irritation growing as Malfoy began playing footsies without my permission. It seemed as when your one desire is for a class to end, it only extends.

"Will you quit-" my tone starts incredibly threatening, unknowingly capturing the unwanted attention of my professor.

"Alana." He looms over my shoulder, announcing his presence before my finished sentence. A mental bucket of ice is spilled along my bare spine; and I am forced to sit still as Snape continues. "Something wrong, here?"

I tilt my head at the boy grinning across of me, as my position was shifted to face him. "Yes, actually." I bit the answer from my lips, directing it more to Malfoy than the man asking.

I expect a punishment, or a warning by the least ; my expectations are proven wrong.

"Save the attitude for tonight, Ms. Blanchard." Snape's voice is a disguised, venomous jab at the mind as he covers words with a heartless tone.

My eyes are then diverted to my professor, unknowingly grateful to which he has pried my sight off unwanted attention. He takes the quirk of my eyebrow as a silent question - and I swore to myself that his expression desired to groan at my curious state.

"A ball, Ms-"

"Yeah, Blanchard." I stop his utility of my last name, evidently intrigued by the announcement. "When, sir?" I am then leaning the tip of my chin along my palm; rested against the table.

"Information will be given tonight." He stalks off with the words, leaving me be with the hushed excitement building messily from the pit of my stomach, reaching the brain.

I was unable to work properly - or, work in general considering I never exactly participated much in class - throughout the remaining few minutes without earning a giddy shiver of my hands.

Oh, what could possibly be so wrong about a ball?
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The school definitely took no hesitation as to gossip of the upcoming event. Celeste, using her hands to add 'effect', blabbered on about dresses, dates - all that. I found it amusing as she felt so privileged to be a 5th year, considering 4ths and down weren't allowed an entry.

The familiar, delicate tinkling of metal hitting glass is echoed through the hall; creating a wave of silence in mere seconds.

Dumbledore stood proudly, a smile graced his lips as he peered at the impatient students. "As your professors have informed you," his soothing voice is somehow boomed across the big piece of Hogwarts, "there will in fact, be a ball."

His confirmation is then returned with an expected crowd of squeals, accompanied with a few groans which I assumed came from boys, and those who were unable to attend.

"A masquerade!" Our headmaster claps his hands together as he creates yet another, applauding response.

Peering at my own figure, I have come to realization of how active my legs were acting. They bobbed up and down in rhythm, practically smacking the bottom of the table. Celeste gave out a snicker at my mixed emotions of this dance, only earning my burning eyes against her own.

I continue to stare at the galloping action of my body, until a mask is then crusted out of the thin breeze; plopping against my thighs which had instantly calmed to a stop.

Knowing Celeste had paid more attention than myself, I turned to her in hope of an explanation. She rolls her eyes at my lack of participation, nudging me to hide the accessory with the small size of my hands. "Masks, for the ball. It's so we won't recognize one another."

I give a lopsided grin, exhaling in relief. "At least, I don't have to face the embarrassment of not having a date."
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