glistering ice draped languidly across the ancient stone arches of the great hall, enchanted snow falling thinly across the bobbing sea of heads sweeping across the dance floor. as you entered, the sharply refreshing scent of fallen pine needles filled the air, emanating from the thickly-brushed trees standing proudly at the very front of the hall, dusted in chalky snow.

and lounging lazily at a circular table made of ice, surrounded by his fellow silver-tongued slytherins, theo watches the festivities moodily. the tall, lanky boy’s arms are folded over his chest, his deep green dress robes complementing the shade of his skin and of his dead grey eyes, looking the picture of utter boredom. but handsome boredom, undoubtedly.

from across the hall swirling with charmed snowflakes that appear to melt instantly before melting uncomfortably on the party-goer’s skin, theodore looked up sourly and noticed your figure examining the lavish decorations with wide eyes.

and though you might not have happened to catch it, something unreadable flickered in theo’s cold, cold eyes, and he brought himself to his feet, quietly making his way through the throng of dancing students to you. “evening, piccolo fiocco di neve,” he drawled in that low, soft tone, idly tugging at his crisp, dark tie. “care for a dance?”