Peter swirled his impromptu date around and around as the music coaxed them, remembering the lessons he had attended with his more prestigious peers before school with cool satisfaction, rather enjoying how light his partner was on her feet as she moved through the familiar steps so fluidly, and in response easing his displeased frown into a more relaxed line. The weather outside on the grounds was slightly chilly weather and lightly raining. A domed ceiling depicts stuff in the colored glass that is glowing overhead, with floating flowers and candles drifting lazily through the air above their heads.
Peter noted that girl in his arms had dazzling blue eyes, beneath the mask, and decided to take a moment to weigh her fashion sense with an aloof air, making no attempt to conceal his approval. Her perfume was floral, but a subtle under tone, though, reminded him warmly of a dusty library and also candle wax, making his lips go from a straight line into a thoughtful smirk. Her dress was a long, sheer black robe, traditional witch formal garb, with open, flowing sleeves and a red sash which tied the overlapping front of the robe together, falling to the floor with a stylish hem. The collar of the robe swept backward into a feeble, red-lined pointed hood that looked more for decoration than use. Her dress, underneath the see-through robe, was a red that matched her sash and the embroidery and other little embellishments in the sleeves and bottom of the over-laying thing. It was a simple dress, perfect for complimenting the main attraction of the robe, and looked very nice against her skin tone. Her hair was down a waving mass of curls, and for a moment his inner poet said she was an ocean; stormy blue eyes, hair that billowed like the sea, an addicting ferocity in her spirit that even sailors couldn’t seem to master or resist. For a moment he was intrigued with this thought, almost deciding to give up on the pink-clad girl and go for the Ravenclaw, but then he remembered, regrettably, the fact that she had spoiled everything and also remembered Izzy and the job he had left undone, aka: demolishing the Gryffindor to lion-dust, but his thoughtful smirk still became more-so. All things considered, the Slytherin was pleased that he could not say he didn’t have an adequate partner; both in looks and footwork.
He lead her into a spin as she gave a half-answer to his question, noting, mildly impressed, that she had nice hands for an Eagle; her fingers were slim and cold, coming to a gentle taper at the tips. She probably, being a Ravenclaw, even had a little hill of callus on the uppermost joint of one of her middle fingers, showing her to write often, probably long essays just-for-fun at teatimes. Her voice seemed to dance in mocking circles around them, slight tweaks in her expressions able to convey a different message than her lips expressed, as if a conversation about jam and toast could just as evenly be referring to the rising tensions between Turkey and Chili over imported goods as it could be to the tasty snack.
“Wherever did you get the idea I
am trying to impress you
?” he said as she grinned laughingly, and at her steady aloofness his ears began to redden with a rising fluster that he carefully didn’t let show on his face but let crease his brow in what might have been perceived as the stern frown a father might give a misbehaving child. He had a feeling she knew his every move, and he didn’t like it. “From your rather uncouth petition for my attentions, I am lead to assume that it is you
trying to impress me
.” It was true, not just a ruse he was using to throw the ball back in her court, that he had no idea why she had interrupted his acquisition of the Hufflepuff, unless, of course, she wanted all of his attention to herself, which he had no problem with. In fact, normally, if left un-coerced in that direction by external sources, he would have devoted his whole evening to such a fair lady gladly. It was the way the pairing had come about that put him at odds with the match and made him seek liberty from it!
She said that she was surprised by his accurate guess at her house, which made him one hundred percent sure that she was a Ravenclaw, though he was already very sure of which House she was in, and he smirked contentedly at what he took as an implied compliment to his intelligence. “Well, we Slytherins are
perceptive; you’ve got to be that if you want to be as cunning as we
have a reputation for being.” He bragged with a wink, letting go of her waist for just a moment as he tapped his temple. “And, bet your loaf, you are dancing with the future Minister of Magic! I must have cunning and ambition for that, don’t you know!” It wasn’t a moment after he had begun the steps of the waltz once more with her that the soft piano music came to an end, and a Head Girl stepped up and announced a more upbeat change in music genre.
Talk, talk, talky-talk. Peter thinks, and rightly so(wink), that Ariel is hitting on him… Also, whoever wants to can pick the music; I was thinking maybe some modern rock by a “(insert magical being here)-band” by live players or something, but yeah. Include a link to the Youtube… that would be fun!