𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞 | 𝐃𝐌

FORTY THREE

ꜱᴘᴏᴛɪꜰʏ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʙɪᴏ
♱
ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟʟ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

D A V I N A

The day of the ball came around far too quickly and I have so far spent the day in my dormitory. I showered a few hours ago, which was a mistake because every single girl was there in preparation for the evening. Luckily I was out of their quick and only received a few snickering looks and a handful of muttered 'sluts'. And I have been sitting in my dorm, in my towel since, hair dry and with no urge to get ready.

Until a knock came on my door.

My eyes darted to the wooden thing, coming out of a daydream. The knock came again and this time I stood, made my way over and opened the door.

I was greeted with Harrington and instant shock hit me like a hammer to the head.

"Shit," I muttered, gripping my towel tighter around my chest.

"Uh—Miss Arden, I'm sorry to intrude," Harrington said, his eyes suddenly finding his shoes very interesting, "but I have someone who insisted on helping you get ready for the ball."

My eyes drifted to those familiar, breathtakingly beautiful eyes of Cécelia. Her smile was of kind excitement and in her hands she held two dress bags.

"Hello, Davina," she said in a perfect French accent.

I smiled, relief falling down my chest and I had not realized how desperate I was for Cécelia's help. If anyone knows how to look beautiful, it's her. I realized I had been putting off getting ready out of fear I would make her regret choosing me to wear her stunning dress. That I wasn't good enough or that I wouldn't be able to pull such a sensational dress off.

"Well," Cécelia looked between a very awkward Harrington and me, "we better begin. We have only one hour."

"Enjoy yourselves," Harrington said and then quickly dismissed himself.

Cécelia giggled as she stepped into my small dormitory. I closed my door after her and watched as the gorgeous woman set two dress bags onto my unmade bed and held a large bag full of god knows what in front of her.

"So, hair or makeup first?" she asked, raising a brow.

"Uhh—?" I shrugged. I had no clue in what order we were meant to do this in. This is all new to me.

"Makeup," she said when she saw my confusion, "come. Sit," she ushered me to my desk, pulling out my chair for me to sit. I did so, and then gazed up at her and felt her soft hands cup my jaw. She was beautiful.

"You're so pretty," she told me. She told me.

And then began by putting a soft cream on my face. I was facing away from the mirror so I couldn't see what the tubes and powders she began putting on my face but I assumed one or two of them were blush and bronzer. She took her time and asked me questions about how I was enjoying Hogwarts.

I told her it wasn't what I was expecting—I was not expecting there to be nuns who tortured us as punishment or for there to be two Ghostface killers running around. I especially didn't think I would be taunted by two killers and forced to remain quiet. But I didn't tell her any of that. I told her that I only needed to stay here for a year. That if I'm good, if I stay out of trouble, then after a year, I will be free.