Heliophilia; d.m

V

I think we both had unpleasant, painful feelings about Christmas. But that time, and all the subsequent times, we were able to push out all the bad things so that only the good ones remained. We were able to push out everything dark so that only the light would remain, and we were able to push out all the cold so that only the warmth would remain.
At least, that's what we thought.

—

VIOLET

That winter evening I stood in the middle of the empty common room, waiting for Kristen, who's been preening for ages, to finally come down.

By that time everyone was gone and I was a little nervous, thinking that we might have gotten more attention from people than we should have, and maybe that's what Kristen wanted, but it was unusual for me and it didn't suit me at all.

Glancing again at the clock on the wall behind me, I smoothed my sweaty but cold hands over the fabric of my dress when I finally heard footsteps on the stairs, signaling Kristen's approach — and even though it was just me in the common room, Kristen was walking down the stairs as if she was being watched by a whole crowd of admiring eyes.

With a perfect smile on her rosy face, she took slow steps, holding the hem of her long, lilac dress in her hands; in the dim light, I also saw a small silver butterfly brooch on her bodice.

"What fairy tale did you come out of?" I spoke under my breath, brushing away the curls that framed her face.

Kristen beamed, happily squeezing my hand,

"Violet, you have no idea how excited I am, this is my first ball."

Her hands trailed down the hem of her dress, then she shook out the golden-blonde curls that fell from her ponytail, and with a deep sigh, she grabbed my elbow, pulling me toward the exit.

And at that moment, it was possible to see again how different we were, not only externally, but also internally — I felt nothing but a slight nervousness and curiosity as we approached the great hall, where our first ball was to be held, while Kristen acted like she was walking down the aisle — with her shoulders squared, her smile never fading, and a glint of anticipation in her eyes.

"Do you think I look good?" She asked when we were a couple of steps from the stairs leading to the hall, her hands once again touched her hair, then smoothed the fabric of her dress, then touched the brooch, her hand trembling slightly.

"Kristen, you're exaggerating. You look dazzling, no need for this jitters, let's go."

I tried to speak in a reassuring voice, squeezing her hand, as she always did, to calm me, to encourage me, to support me, or to tacitly show that she was on my side — she was always on my side.

"You look even better." She whispered with a smile, running her hand through my hair, which I couldn't get into a hairstyle.

And in the next second, we started down the stairs, and the only thing I could think of was how not to fall and roll head over heels.

DRACO

As I stood near the entrance to the great hall, surrounded by the crowd and the hum of voices, I felt a stiffness that suffocated me even worse than my tie.

From the back of the hall came the soft melody of the orchestra and from all sides I could hear conversations that were impossible to understand, because all the words, all the laughter, together with the music created the feeling of a single sound, enveloping me from head to toe, making me only wish that everything was over soon.