Post by MADELINE GEVA MOLDREM on Aug 8, 2011 22:52:45 GMT -5
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Something in the Way she Moves
Della stood in the back, almost completely hidden. Why was she even here? The only reason she came was because she was bored and had nothing else better to do. Her completely black dress was very simple but it fit her perfectly and hugged every slender curve she had. Even though she claimed to hate dresses and heels and anything girly, she liked this dress. It made her feel… almost… pretty. She shuttered at the word. She’d promised herself to never be “pretty.” Pretty is what you call one of those preppy, giggle box fifteen year olds. That was not what she wanted to be her label. Not that she wanted her label to be lonely and dark, though, either. She didn’t mean to be so dark, but it was just the way she’d always been. It was terrify people if she was suddenly not dark anymore. She sighed at the thought and then pushed them to the back of her mind. The last thing she wanted tonight was for her worrying about what other students thought of her to find their way into her mind.
She had on the minimum amount of makeup she thought she could put on without seeming lazy. Just a little mascara (because, honestly, her eyelashes were pretty sad looking), a tiny bit of black eye shadow, and just enough powder to cover her tiny yet annoying flaws and freckles. She rubbed her foot against her other leg uncomfortably. Even though she knew this was a formal dance, she still hated the idea of high heels. The ones she wore now were the ones her dad had given her for her birthday last year, hoping that she’d show them off and get a boyfriend. Clearly, that was working just splendidly…
Not that any of the boys here were very worth her time. Most of the semi-attractive Gryffindors were full of themselves and ran around snogging and or shagging every girl they could get their grimy little hands on. Della wanted no part in that. The only other boys there were around here were the nerdy and awkward Ravenclaws, the shy and even more awkward Hufflepuffs, and then the dark, vindictive Slytherins who wanted no part in her because of her blood status. In short, either all the boys were players, afraid of her, ugly, or hated her for her parents’ blood. She groaned slightly at the thought, but tried to ignore it. She slowly approached the refreshments table. She walked slow and steady so she wouldn’t wobble in her heels, and her dress flowed gracefully around her tiny waist. All of these miserable thoughts were making her thirsty. As she reached her destination, she managed to mutter a comment that she had unintended for anyone else to hear. “I hate dances.”
[/b]She had on the minimum amount of makeup she thought she could put on without seeming lazy. Just a little mascara (because, honestly, her eyelashes were pretty sad looking), a tiny bit of black eye shadow, and just enough powder to cover her tiny yet annoying flaws and freckles. She rubbed her foot against her other leg uncomfortably. Even though she knew this was a formal dance, she still hated the idea of high heels. The ones she wore now were the ones her dad had given her for her birthday last year, hoping that she’d show them off and get a boyfriend. Clearly, that was working just splendidly…
Not that any of the boys here were very worth her time. Most of the semi-attractive Gryffindors were full of themselves and ran around snogging and or shagging every girl they could get their grimy little hands on. Della wanted no part in that. The only other boys there were around here were the nerdy and awkward Ravenclaws, the shy and even more awkward Hufflepuffs, and then the dark, vindictive Slytherins who wanted no part in her because of her blood status. In short, either all the boys were players, afraid of her, ugly, or hated her for her parents’ blood. She groaned slightly at the thought, but tried to ignore it. She slowly approached the refreshments table. She walked slow and steady so she wouldn’t wobble in her heels, and her dress flowed gracefully around her tiny waist. All of these miserable thoughts were making her thirsty. As she reached her destination, she managed to mutter a comment that she had unintended for anyone else to hear. “I hate dances.”
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