Evan Rosier (Harry Potter Fanfic/ Prequel)

3 | 35 | The Rosier Summer Ball

Friday, July 5

The Rosier Manor is open for the ball at 4:30 tonight.

It is past lunchtime now, and we have just a couple of hours to get ready.

My parents are wearing green, my mother in an immaculate dress and my father in an emerald suit. They are truly a power couple.

My mother chose not to be so flashy in terms of makeup, so she's doing mine.

She powders my face with blush, makes my lips big and glossy, and applies strong eye makeup. Eyeliner (so hard to use, props to my mother), dazzling royal purple eyeshadow, and mascara. As for the rest of my face, my ugly spots are covered.

For putting on what seems to be a pound of makeup, my mother made me look good. Really good, in fact.

But it takes a long time, and we still have to do my hair and I have to get dressed.

I slip on the dress and my mother spends several minutes pinning it in place. She spices it up with a bit of enhancement to the belt of diamonds around my waist to bring more attention to it.

I tie on my shoes and socks, and all we have left is the hair. By now, it's evident we're going to be late, but just a tad bit.

Mother ties back my hair into a curl at the back of my head, but leaves several pieces of hair to frame my face. She adds specks of silver as a final touch.

"Have you got the dish?" Mom asks my father. He's already holding it. "Oh! I forgot. Arabelle, come with me!"

She takes me to her room and rummages through her jewelry box. I wait patiently until she holds a diamond necklace in my face. "Beautiful, right?" She asks, obviously in awe. "It matches perfectly to your dress."

She drapes it on my neck and I stare in wonder until she grabs my hand and leads me outside.

We Apparate to the Rosier Manor, much to my disgust. I manage to hold in my lunch.

It is around 4:50, twenty minutes past the due time. We enter with dignity- and honor.

The ballroom is in another room and my father hands me the dish of our specially prepared Italian dinner rolls. "Will you go put this in the kitchen with the other dishes?"

"Yes, father."

They enter the ballroom and I hear awkward words of greeting.

I go left into the kitchen and notice how many dishes are already there. There must be hundreds of people here to use all this food.

I set the rolls on the far left with other breads and head to the ballroom, closing the door behind me.

"Bella! So wonderful to see you!" I am already bombarded by Heather and Pierre, Evan's parents (who I adore).

"It's lovely, the ball," I burst out, smiling and looking around. "Forgive us for being late."

Heather waves a dismissive hand. "You were only a little tardy, my dear. Come see Evan! He's been waiting for you all night."

She pauses and scans me. "You look gorgeous!"

"Mademoiselle, you clean up very nice," Pierre tells me, grinning from ear to ear. "Evan's jaw will have dropped when he sees you."

"Thank you," I say, my tone impossibly polite. I glance around the room for Evan and notice him around a girl that I recognize from Hogwarts. She has a very respected family and happens to be one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

I decide to wait to let him finish his conversation with the frustratingly beautiful girl.

Finally, Evan meets my eye and we don't drop our gaze for a solid few seconds, until he looks at the rest of my body. I gulp and force a smile. His parents were right, his jaw is practically on the floor.

I notice him quickly cut off the conversation to walk over to me, his date.

"Belle, you look spectacular," he starts and I scan his attire.

He's wearing a fitting black suit and very polished shoes to match. His hair seems to be gelled down, and his cheeks powdered a bit. I wonder how embarrassing it was for him.

"Very pretty," I tease, tracing my hand over the buttons on his suit, stopping at the last one. We jolt out of our wistful state and chuckle.

"Now that you're here, we can get the food out," he tells me.

"We?"

"Well, not us, the house elves." We look over the kitchen and already see the house elves pushing the carts of food into the ballroom. They pull the carts to a side of the room with long drapes and curtains.

Evan holds out his arm and I take it. It feels like the most natural thing ever.

He takes me to the food, says, "Ladies first," and allows me to fill up my plate first.

I choose a spatula full of Alfredo pasta and our Italian dinner rolls, while Evan waits for every other woman to get their plates first.

I catch a few girls eyeing my plate, as if I got too much food. I thought I was holding back.

When Evan can finally get his plate, I allow myself to eat. It would be rude not to wait for him.

We finish not much later, get desserts, eat those with much gratitude, and throw our plates away.

Evan stands up and holds his hand out as music starts to play, signaling the end of eating and the beginning of dancing.

"May I have this dance?" He asks, almost mockingly. I giggle and look around me. Girls from all over look on with clear jealously.

I grin. "Don't have to ask me twice."

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Published 6-20-20