The Slytherin Common Room, the night of the Yule Ball
Spica emerged from the girls' dorms and slowly descended the staircase, trying to imagine that the various chatting groups of students were in fact admiring her in awe. Her ball gown was a shimmery green material that flowed into black ((lol, like mine, only mine was blue)), the perfect Slytherin combination. Her hair was twisted up into tight coils that spilled back down over her shoulders like snakes-- the effect she had wanted (Slytherins have weird taste, lol . . .).
Most had not even noticed her. It made her heart flutter with apprehension the way a shyer soul's would have in a crowd. She was used to attention, and now suddenly it was absent.
I had better find some boy to escort me, and quickly, or whatever will I tell Mother when I write home about the ball? Simply going with no one is positively unacceptable.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she sighed and simply stood, feeling pathetic-- an emotion with which she was not at ease.