𝙸𝙷

Every year, Wizarding society waits for the social season to begin, and with it comes the Ministry’s selection of the Season’s Diadem. You’ve always been far more interested in the countryside than drawing rooms, spending your days disappearing into the fields surrounding your family’s estate and riding your mare, Melon, until the moon hangs over the vast lake of lilies. Unfortunately, fate has never been particularly considerate, and neither has Lady Whistledown, whose endless observations seem determined to turn every glance, dance, whispered conversation, and accidental encounter into something far more complicated than it ever was. By the time the first gala arrives, you’re beginning to wonder if there’s anywhere in Wizarding society you can disappear without someone noticing. (For those of you who have been here since I started posting (wasn’t a lot of you) then you probably remember this story. I took it off last month or the month before unsure but this is a rewrite!)