Closed Dancing in the Dark pv: Fang Hui-Ming

English | Parseltongue
interacting: @Fang Hui-Ming
backdated: a Saturday night at the end of November 2021, just before curfew

She reached for the door but stopped herself. Della's hand was shaking. She had to get her nerves under control. She had to get her mind to move at a normal speed.

Della Barfield was standing outside the Hogwarts ballroom. The door was currently closed, and she couldn't hear anything on the other side. Not that she expected to, if all was well and this wasn't a misunderstanding or some elaborate prank, there should only be one person on the other side of that door. And if all was well, he wouldn't know that Della was standing on this side of the door, working up the courage to walk in, struggling to get her shaking hands to still.

She was here to meet Ming. The strange, quiet, Slytherin boy that had invited her to the ball. She was looking forward to her first date, if they could call it that. She still wasn't sure if it was friendly date or a more-than-friendly date. They both hadn't got the chance to answer that question. The ball came crashing down on them—literally. Della spent most the night dragging Ming's body to safety.

He had written her an owl apologizing for that night. Like it was his fault or something. If anything, the school should be apologizing to them. Della shuddered to think what her mother would say if she found out about the safety concerns at Hogwarts. But she had written her mother to say the ball was great; her frog's performance at the beginning was especially memorable. Which was sorta true, so it was only a small lie.

Also in Ming's letter, he had offered to do a re-do. Not his words exactly, but that's how she had interpreted them. He wanted to get their date right and had asked Della to meet him here at this time. She had no idea what was in store for her: She was still unsure if this was a friendly thing or a more-than-friendly thing, hence the nerves. And while she was viewing it as a "re-do" situation, she had to admit to herself that it would be quite different than the ball. First, it would only be the two of them. Second, it would only be the two of them. Third, it would just be the two of them. Della would be alone with the handsome Slytherin boy, and she would have to think of things to say; there wouldn't be other students or events to distract them or provide conversation.

Here standing in front of the door, she realized that she knew very little about her date. Where he was from—wasn't he muggleborn? At this point, Della couldn't say for sure. Who was he close friends with? Did he have close friends? What made him a Slytherin? Is that something you can ask someone? She still had grasped the etiquette of Hogwarts houses. Was he good at school—Della had to guess he was; he seemed like the type. Did he like her—

Okay, enough. Just go in, she commanded herself. Time to be a Gryffindor, whatever that meant. And she opened the door.