Making her Mark [Open]

[Missy Dragonov]

The soft hum of excitement filled the Great Hall as students began to file in, but Missy Dragonov stepped through the oak doors as if she were arriving at a royal gala. Confidence was as much her accessory as the silver-trimmed emerald gown she wore, which shimmered faintly with every movement. The delicate fabric draped off her shoulders, accentuating her poise, while her dark hair was pinned back into an intricate twist, a few loose curls framing her face. No date? No problem. Missy had never needed one to turn heads.

The sight of the transformed Hall was almost enough to steal her breath—but not quite. She took in the enchanted snowfall, the glistening ice sculptures, and the dazzling fairy lights with a subtle smile, as though she had expected nothing less from the Professors’ planning. They had outdone themselves, no doubt, but Missy wouldn’t have let them see her awe. A Slytherin knew better than to let their guard down completely, even for something as trivial as decorations.

After a moment of surveying the room, her eyes landed on the punch fountains. Of course, the Gryffindors were already clustered around, laughing too loudly as they sampled the drinks. Typical. Missy moved gracefully toward one of the tables near the edge of the dance floor instead, her heeled steps clicking softly against the enchanted floor.

She reached the table just as Julian finished his speech, raising her glass to the toast. “To a night of magic, laughter, and unforgettable memories,” she murmured with an amused quirk of her lips before taking a sip of the sparkling beverage. It fizzed pleasantly on her tongue.

Missy allowed herself a small moment to enjoy the atmosphere before scanning the Hall again, catching sight of her fellow Slytherins scattered throughout the space. A few older students were already mingling with the other houses, but most of her year remained in tight-knit groups, casting glances at the dance floor as though it might suddenly collapse beneath them.

Pathetic. Missy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. If none of her housemates had the nerve to step up, then she’d just have to show them how it was done.

Setting her glass down, she smoothed the fabric of her gown and made her way toward the edge of the dance floor, where a group of Ravenclaws were discussing something animatedly. She brushed past them to head to the dance floor and started dancing on her own. As the music began to swell, Missy’s eyes sparkled with determination. It didn’t matter that she was only a fourth-year, and it certainly didn’t matter that she hadn’t come with a partner. Tonight, she intended to make her mark. After all, what good was a ball if you weren’t the one people remembered?