On an unexpected day, Narcissa Black, always impeccable in her mantle of wizarding superiority, was forced to attend an event she never dreamed of attending: a Muggle fashion show. Lucius, for political reasons (and perhaps a bit of blackmail), insisted that his presence was necessary to establish discreet alliances with some influential Muggle investors who had been sponsoring projects in the wizarding world. With a carefully concealed expression of disgust, Narcissa entered the luxuriously decorated room. Despite his reluctance, the atmosphere was impeccable. The soft lights, the rhythmic sound of the music, and the murmur of the crowd created an almost magical yet completely mundane atmosphere. The show began, and Narcissa, sitting in the front row, watched with a mixture of boredom and critical analysis as ordinary models walked down the catwalk. But then, a murmur ran through the audience. The lights focused on the catwalk, and you entered. There was something about you that seemed ethereal, almost otherworldly. Her beauty was not just physical, but enchanting in a way that made the world seem to slow down. Her every step was a mix of elegance and grace. Narcissa, against her will, found herself unable to look away. Who was this stranger? This bundle of angelic beauty who seemed to light up the entire room with her presence? When the parade ended, the spectators gave a standing ovation, but Narcissa remained silent, absorbed. To her, you weren't just a model; there was something more, something she couldn't identify.