Jemima was so glad the school year was over. The stress of OWLs had been next to nothing; the worst that could have happened was failing all her classes, in which situation she supposed she'd had reasonable trauma this term to account for it, and if she had to leave school, then that was wonderful, she could lie low for a few years until everything was forgotten, never have to see half the people in the school who hated her again, and possibly even leave the country to ensure it.
Of course, she hadn't been looking forward to the Coming Out ball as much as she had hoped all last summer. Not that she was Coming Out yet (and it would be her last if she failed everything), but this was still her first time attending. And an excuse to wear a pretty dress. She may not have the prettiest of characters - the world knew that well enough by now - but she could, at least, put on a nice frock and fake it for a day.
Unfortunately, the awkwardness was proving difficult to shake off. Everywhere she looked it was a valiant struggle to meet anyone's eye - friends or foes, or even the professors lurking in the corners! - and Jemima didn't dare do anything to make a fool of herself tonight.
So, as yet, she had not dared do anything, except stand safely by the wall in her lilac dress and look positively engrossed in the sky-ceiling. She was trying to figure out whether the constellation she had pinpointed was actually Cassiopeia, when -
Care to dance?
"Oh!" Jemima said, tearing her gaze away and alighting on a young man she knew to be a quidditch player. And a former Hufflepuff, though he wouldn't remember her. "Yes, of course," she said breathlessly, reaching out her gloved hand for him to take just before she realised... he had not been talking to her at all, but the debutante in white just beside her. Fuck.
Of course, she hadn't been looking forward to the Coming Out ball as much as she had hoped all last summer. Not that she was Coming Out yet (and it would be her last if she failed everything), but this was still her first time attending. And an excuse to wear a pretty dress. She may not have the prettiest of characters - the world knew that well enough by now - but she could, at least, put on a nice frock and fake it for a day.
Unfortunately, the awkwardness was proving difficult to shake off. Everywhere she looked it was a valiant struggle to meet anyone's eye - friends or foes, or even the professors lurking in the corners! - and Jemima didn't dare do anything to make a fool of herself tonight.
So, as yet, she had not dared do anything, except stand safely by the wall in her lilac dress and look positively engrossed in the sky-ceiling. She was trying to figure out whether the constellation she had pinpointed was actually Cassiopeia, when -
Care to dance?
"Oh!" Jemima said, tearing her gaze away and alighting on a young man she knew to be a quidditch player. And a former Hufflepuff, though he wouldn't remember her. "Yes, of course," she said breathlessly, reaching out her gloved hand for him to take just before she realised... he had not been talking to her at all, but the debutante in white just beside her. Fuck.
