firecracker ???

The Yule Ball transformed Hogwarts into something out of myth.

The enchanted Great Hall no longer resembled the familiar space of lessons and meals—it had become a cathedral of winter. Stars glimmered overhead, scattered like diamonds across a velvet night sky, and frost clung to the enchanted fir trees that stood tall between the archways. Icicles twinkled like chandeliers. The walls shimmered with frost spells, and snow fell soft and silent, disappearing before it touched the ground.

But then Elestara Black arrived.

The room hushed.

She wore black—deep, true black, the colour of still water before a storm. Her gown was strapless, sweeping the floor with tailored precision, the bodice fitted like sculpted silk. The skirt flared only slightly at the hem, the fabric catching the light with every step like ripples on a moonlit lake.

She looked like a black swan carved from winter.

White gold hair fell in waves down her back, tumbling past her bare shoulders like liquid starlight. Silver combs tucked behind her ears glittered with tiny obsidian stones. Around her neck, diamonds nestled at the hollow of her throat. Emerald drop earrings winked coldly beneath her pale jawline. Every piece of jewellery looked old and priceless—family heirlooms from a line that had ruled from velvet chairs and marble halls.

Her face was untouched by the cold. Skin porcelain, cheekbones high. Her eyes—the soft grey of early dawn—held none of the nerves everyone else wore like perfume. Her mouth was curved just enough to make you question whether she was amused or simply bored. She moved like she was meant to be watched.

And she was.

Theodore Nott, tall and dark in traditional dress robes lined with Slytherin green, offered his arm without a word. She took it without hesitation. Together, they descended the staircase like royalty.

Across the hall, Harry Potter forgot how to breathe.

Parvati, beside him in fuchsia, nudged his elbow. "You're staring."

Harry didn't hear her.

He'd grown used to seeing Elestara Black in motion: walking the corridor, cutting people down with words, standing cool and cruel in the Slytherin common room. But this—this was something else. This must've been the feeling they described of her at the Yule Ball in their first year.

Harry Potter watched her descend.

He had never seen her look like this before—icy and distant, elegant in a way that made it hard to breathe. She looked like a swan in the middle of a storm. Untouchable.

He forgot, briefly, how to blink.

Parvati tugged on his sleeve. "Harry. Harry. You have to walk."

He started, nodding like he remembered where he was. As a champion, he was meant to open the dance.

He took Parvati's hand.

And tried not to look back.

She wasn't just beautiful. She was untouchable.

And Harry hated how much he wanted to try anyway.

-

He danced with Parvati, of course. Badly. She was patient until she wasn't, and eventually vanished into the swirl of music with someone who wouldn't step on her dress.

Harry didn't mind. He didn't care about dancing with her.

He cared about the girl in black.

Elestara had danced twice—first with Theo, then with Blaise. Both slow, elegant, and entirely without misstep. But afterward, she moved off the floor. She stood near the enchanted windows with Daphne and Pansy, snow swirling behind her like she belonged to it.