( 𝔳𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔢 𝔦, 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊 ) — sacred twenty-eight christmas ball

The Sacred Twenty-Eight Christmas Ball was a renowned event, to say the least. The numerous galas, events, and meals attended by the most prominent pure-blood families were not so much about networking as they used to be, now just used as opportunities to flaunt wealth since connections had been established over the years.

The 1993 Ball was held at Rosier Manor, which only meant one thing — Evangeline had to be more perfect than usual. If so much as a hair on her head was out of place, Opal would most definitely see to her daughter with a hex behind closed doors.

Luckily, the young Rosier girl went above and beyond her mother's expectations. Her brunette locks were fashioned into glamorous Hollywood curls, contrasting her natural and dewy makeup. The dress was the real show-stopper, though, grasping every single pair of eyes in the ballroom as Evangeline entered.

It was a rich viridescent shade, glistering with tiny charmed pixies, which floated leaving little puffs of sparkles in their wake. The bodice itself was very tight-fitting, with luminous swirly details on the cups that gave the impression of a human butterfly. An immense, fluttered skirt completed the dress, elegantly swishing and swaying on its own accord.

Suddenly, everyone forgot about the decorations and the wine imported all the way from Italy. In that moment, only Adonis' and Opal's daughter mattered, and her alone. Mutters and murmurs of praise ricocheted among the guests, starting at Madam Selwyn and ending at some random great-uncle no one recognised.

''Evangeline,'' Cassius greeted, his eyes drinking in her appearance. Like everyone else in the room, he too was dressed formally, looking dashing in a pressed tuxedo. ''You look . . . absolutely breathtaking.''

''Cassius,'' she returned, taking his outstretched elbow. ''As do you.''

''What do you say we go and make the rounds? Father has been urging me to go and talk to some of the older men since we arrived. Something about finances, I presume.''

''I think that is a fine idea,'' Evangeline smiled, glancing around at all of society's finest milling around the ballroom like bees in a honey hive, her eyes catching on to a woman with onyx-streaked platinum blonde hair. ''I believe Narcissa Malfoy is signalling me over, collect me to dance when you are done.''

The young witch skirted the packed dance floor, making her way over to her first cousin once removed and, unfortunately, her second cousin.

''Evangeline!'' Narcissa greeted warmly, kissing both of her nieces cheeks. ''You are truly a sight for sore eyes.''

''Thank you, Aunt Narcissa.''

''Evangeline.'' Draco mumbled, nodding curtly.

''Draco.'' She returned, attempting what was meant to be a smile, yet it bloomed on her lips painfully.

''Play nice, Draco,'' Narcissa chastised, turning her attention back to Evangeline. ''How are you doing, darling? I try and find out what I can from my son, but he isn't the fondest in sending letters home.''

''I am doing quite well, and yourself?''

''As am I.''

Draco rolled his eyes as the woman talked, before finally interrupting when he was unable to locate his father's head of bleach blonde hair. ''Why must you spend so long talking to her, mother?''

''She is family, Draco. You are well aware.''

''Since when are we related to the Rosiers?''

Evangeline's smile became sickly sweet as she turned to the younger boy, fiddling with the plethora of encrusted jewellery on her person. ''Your maternal grandmother, Druella, is sister to my paternal grandfather, which makes your mother and my father cousins.''

She failed to hear Draco's response as she was quickly whisked away by Sylvia's mother.

''Evangeline, dear, it has been a while.''

''Indeed it has, Madam Fawley,'' the brunette replied, doing her absolute best to smile politely.

''I will not pretend I do not have an important matter to discuss with you, Evangeline,'' the woman whispered, leading them to a corner of the room. The young witch kept her eye's on Madam Fawley's pearl necklace as she spoke, not daring to meet her eye. ''I am aware that Sylvia contacted you after the . . . ordeal, but I do not think ill of you. I merely wish for you to pass on a message to our daughter, from me and my husband.''

''Of course, Madam, but I can not promise Sylvia will be willing to respond.''

''Yes, I imagine as such. A couple of the women have already been inquiring about her whereabouts since she is not present, but I will find a way to hush the whispers. Anyhow, we revoke what we last spoke to her, and please let her know we are willing to hold out one final olive branch.''

''I will make sure she knows, Madam.''

''Thank you, Evangeline.''

Evangeline was saved by the redhead as Juliet glided over, looking as stunning as usual.

''Madam Fawley,'' she greeted. ''You wouldn't mind terribly if I stole Evangeline away, would you?''

''Oh, of course not, she is all yours.''

Sylvia's mother was cut off by Juliet's squeal as she grabbed Evangeline's wrist with her gloved hand, pulling her through the crowds.

''I have been waiting to speak to you all night, Eve. You don't understand how mundane Apollo's conversations have been. Where is Sylvia?''

''I don't know,'' Evangeline lied. ''I haven't seen Pollux either this evening. Perhaps they have snuck off together somewhere?''

''It would be most inappropriate without a chaperone,'' Juliet huffed. ''Come to think of it, though, have they both not seemed odd to you as of late?''

''Define odd, Juliet.''

''Pollux is more withdrawn than usual. He mentioned on the train journey to Hogwarts at the start of the year about some romance that had not worked out, but I can't imagine a womanizer like him would be so concerned for months on end. As for Sylvia, I have no clue what it is, but something is going on and I am going to find out about it if it is the last thing I do.''

''You know how Pollux is, it is just best to leave it alone until Cassius and Apollo badger it out of him. And Sylvia is . . . normal.''

''Sylvia is anything but normal, Evangeline. Madam Fawley pulled me aside before she spoke to you, and it seemed as if she was hinting at something, although Merlin knows what it could have been. You are most likely right about Pollux, though, but I can not imagine Apollo and Cassius have his best interests at heart since he defended Dumbledore.''

''Trust me about Sylvia, Juliet. If push comes to shove, just ask her outright, although she is fine. I will advise Cassius to speak to Pollux when I get the chance.''

''I just can not seem to shake this peculiar feeling. As if . . . as if a lot is about to go wrong, and I have no influence to stop it.''

''Juliet, you must calm down,'' Evangeline told her. ''It is probably nothing, just pent-up stress from the wedding. The date is coming closer and closer, after all.''

''Do not remind me,'' she huffed. ''But I mean in terms of our group. It is like a dark cloud is hanging over us, thundering.''

''Believe me, there is nothing to worry about,'' the brunette promised, subconsciously smiling as Cassius approached the two girls. ''Now, wish me luck. I not only have a feeling, but confirmation, that all eyes are bound to end up on me again later tonight.''

''Eve—''

''Ladies,'' Cassius addressed, ''I do hope I am not interrupting anything of importance, but I was wondering if you would like to dance, Evangeline?''

''It would be my pleasure,'' she accepted, taking his hand.

He led her to the dance floor, which was lit up by the thousands of dazzling icicles floating mid-air. Her elbows rested on his broad shoulders whilst her hands linked together at the nape of his neck, as his hands rested comfortably on her cinched waist. Evangeline leaned her head against his chest gently, careful to not disturb her hair, listening to the erratic pace of his heartbeat.

''What has gotten you so nervous?'' She whispered, leaning up to speak into his ear. Already heads were turning to the couple, and the last thing she wanted was someone to overhear their conversation.

''There is something I must do,'' he admitted. ''However, I do not wish to put any pressure on you.''

''I know what it is,'' she confessed. ''And I am not going to say no, Cassius. I want to accept your proposal.''

He chuckled, detaching himself from her arms. She studied his movements , a small loop of nervousness knotting in her stomach, as he got down on one knee. As she assumed, this was enough for every pair of eyes in the room to swivel to the two. There was a shiny black leather box held out in front of her, graced with holding what would bind her to him. The ring was ornately blackened by age the way antique silver does, yet the stone glittered like a sun-kissed ocean lapping smooth sands, a brilliant green hue so vivid it reminded her of her crystalline soul.

''Will you marry me, Evangeline Rosier?''

''Yes. I will.''