By the fireplace, a knot of sixth-years had claimed the best spot. Draco Malfoy lounged against the arm of a velvet settee, mask pushed up onto his forehead like he couldn't be bothered with the theme. Blaise Zabini stood beside him, arms crossed, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed the room.

Then she walked out.

Black gown. Fitted like it had been sewn to her skin, hugging every curve before spilling into a soft train. Silver mask, delicate and ornate, covering the upper half of her face. Dark hair cascaded past her shoulders, catching the lantern light like spun silk.

The room went quiet.

The first note hit.

And the entire room forgot how to breathe.