His Butler, and the Problem with Magic

Chapter 1

The great hall, quite frankly, looked like Valentine's day threw up on it. Those lurid pink flowers from lunch still lined the walls, but now bright streamers glided across the ceiling, big, shiny hearts fluttered in the air, reflecting mood lighting, and bubble hearts popped out of bouquets of roses, (each flower cut into hearts). The ceiling itself not only continued to drop confetti, but was blighted by puffy clouds that read the same banalities you could find in every Sweethearts box; Be Mine, and True Love, and XOXO. (The clouds may have actually read that outside too, but Ciel didn't want to check.) The burly cupids from earlier in the week lumbered about the room, continuing to pelt people with off-key music, and cards that only the most hopeless and idiotic of romantics would provide, filled with the same empty statements the clouds read—(every once and a while a howler burst forth, and the actual band would come to a shrieking halt at "YOU'RE REALLY CUTE").

Lockhart had insisted a Valentine's day ball was in order—(a lurid end to a lurid day)—and remarked with a toss of his perfect hair and blinding smile that it would be 'just the thing' to brighten everyone's moods.

The fact that Lizzie had been the first (of many, mind you) to offer her decorative expertise and assistance may or may not have contributed to the overall... valentines-day-puked-and-so-will-I vibe of the room.

Currently, said mission to lift the general spirit was failing; aside from the few school lovebirds, (who were already widely despised and avoided, without school-sanctioned and overly sugary displays of affection) most people took this as the perfect opportunity for your daily dose of sulking at the sidelines, and contemplating if magic was quite worth this amount of suffering. Not least of all Ciel, who was currently propped against the wall behind the food table. (Lizzie had pried him away from his brooding earlier to dance, but now he happily returned to the indent he'd made in the wall). He had made many attempts throughout the evening to sneak a piece of chocolate cake, but Sebastian always magically appeared to slap his hands away whenever he got too close.

Most people would have stayed in their dorms, given the chance. Lockhart, however, had sent everyone cards with his kissy face on them, telling them flirtatiously not to dawdle, and his commands got more sugary, and insistent, (not to mention awkward) the longer they stayed indoors, and floated over their heads until they dragged their butts to the ball. This was particularly affective at making sure everyone was there, because the girls melted for his voice, and the boys wanted to shut him up as soon as possible.

"Isn't this wonderful, Ciel!" A certain Indian prince put his arm around the earl's neck and noogied him.

"Wha—No!" Ciel struggled like a fish out of water. Upon release he wiped his hands on his dress robes (the robes Sebastian had thrown together for the event—his 'thrown together,' of course, looked like others 'spent-months-laboring-over-this')—as if he didn't want to catch Soma's contagious happiness. "And I'd thank you to not touch me so casually!"

"I'm sorry Ciel, it's just seeing all this love in the air makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside!" he spun around, "Doesn't it do the same for you?"

"That's called acid reflux."

Soma pouted.

"Ciieel!" Lizzie's hug was a torpedo. She snared his hands and spun him around, "Come dance with me!"

"Ack...I just danced with you ten minutes ago! How many times do I have to dance with you before you're satisfied?!"

"Don't you want your fiancé to be happy?" Her green eyes, (which were already big), became the puppy dog eyes of a little girl who wants an expensive toy.

"Don't you?" he grumbled.

"I'll dance with you, Elizabeth!" Soma came to the rescue. "It would be an honor to dance with such a lovely young lady!"