» For my Sugar Plum Fairy, Open

[Lysandra Sutherland]

Flamel's Ball

It was time that Lysandra left the stuffy Hogwarts castle. She had spent all of Christmas there so far, stuck in the castle due to the insane amounts of snow trapping the students within. Bless be to the storm which coerced her to finish all of her work on the back burner. She felt guilty for slacking off in class to do really strange, probably unnecessary things for her study towards her Animagus transformation, so the extra time refined her knowledge to where it should have been, or beyond. Besides, she really had nothing else better to do.

She sent out a letter to Olive Lovegood. Lysandra apologized for missing Christmas, but intended to make up for it by asking Olive if she wanted to attend the Flamel New Year's ball. Lysandra emphasized her need to leave Hogwarts, and tailored to the letter her excitement to see the darling Ravenclaw. Lysandra also stated that a surprise present was in store for Olive if the invitation to stay at the Lovegoods was still valid. With all that being said, Lysandra assured her presence at the ball before the feast.

It was now before feast-time at the ball, and Lysandra, along with Winifred Darcy, signed in at the entrance. After providing their signatures at the guest book, they entered the illustrious ballroom, which was almost beyond the description of words. Lady Etherium surely proved her affluence with such a display, as well as the Flamels and their contributions to the party. Even though Lysandra still felt a slight burn of resentment towards the Lady, she knew that she ought to be polite and seek her out to comment on the wondrous decor.

But that was not Lysandra's true mission, for the real mission was to locate her dear friend Olive Lovegood. Lysandra had arrived a bit early in the hopes to elongate their time together, but the Lovegoods had apparently not arrived yet. As the ball was quickly filling up with people, Lysandra briefly attempted to look over heads and around people, but her very short stature made the action almost impossible. So Lysandra waited around the refreshments with drink in hand, a place where the view to the entrance was least obstructed. She mostly ignored the guests who approached the table, but for some she did properly bow and curtsy, especially if she knew them.

tag: Primarily Ana | outfit: She is choosing to please Olive with her choice of gown; a nice, airy blue dress, representative of Ravenclaw's colors + matching blue silk shawl, and silver adornments in hair and ears | notes: --
made by Emily exclusively for Charming

[Olive Lovegood]

Olive Lovegood was excited. It was the night of the Flamel ball and she was most excited to get there and dance the night away. She would also be able to see her dear friend, Lysandra Sutherland, since she was unable to stay at the Lovegood manor due to the snowstorm they’d recently had. Even though it truly hadn’t been that long since they’d seen one another, Olive felt like it was an eternity, and the promise of seeing her again was a most exciting prospect indeed.

So with the help of her maids she quickly got into her gown for the eve and threw her hair up into a do that was appropriate for the situation. She left her face free of cosmetics as she always did, and looked herself over in the mirror to make sure everything was in place. “Lovely.” She said to herself, grabbing some shoes in her hand and running down the stairs of her home calling out to her siblings in her ever whimsical tone.

She was most excited to get to the ball as soon as possible, and sliding on her shoes she called out once more to her family. When they didn’t answer, she gave a shrug and walked out the door, chaperone in tow, content to walk to the ball alone. She had after all promised Lysandra she’d be there in a timely manner and she didn’t wish to break her promise to her young friend. So hurried to get to the ball was she that in a manner of minutes she was at the front door, signing her name and entering the Etherium ballroom that was being used to host the Flamel ball. It was a gorgeous sight, but Olive didn’t pay too much attention as she instantly began seeking out her newest friend.

She practically – and accidentally – ignored the greetings of men and women alike as she walked through the ballroom looking for her friend. It didn’t take long before she saw her standing by the drinks and gave a smile, heading over towards her. “Lysandra.” she said airily, throwing her arms wide and wrapping them around her friend, careful to avoid knocking the drink from her hand. “How have you been faring?” She asked in her ever quiet tone, unwrapping herself from her friend. She took the time to look at Lysandra’s dress, a beautiful one of pale blue that looked lovely against her skin and smiled. “You look simply darling tonight.” She complimented, waiting for a response from her friend.

Tag: Lysandra | Words: 423 | Outfit

[Lysandra Sutherland]

The anticipation was racking her, causing her to shake slightly and even perspire. She felt rather unbecoming of a lady at the moment, including a peculiar, nagging and rather awkward self-consciousness. Perhaps it was because she felt filthy in her mind, like she was horribly nervous to publicize a feeling for Olive that she knew was completely faux pas. And speaking of which...

Lysandra's throat had dropped into her stomach. Or maybe it was her heart leaping up into her chest. Was it love or a desire to vomit? The beautiful Olive had finally arrived in a flash, taking Lysandra slightly aback in surprise, especially after Olive had chosen a hug over the norm.

The hug felt more like a metaphysical clinging than a physical one, but the touch of flesh still felt wonderful, however painful. Lysandra thought that a curtsy would have sufficed...but who or what was Lysandra trying to kid? She wanted to feel Olive's embrace, and it was like Olive had already read her mind from across the ballroom. With drink still barely in hand, Lysandra tried relaxing herself into Olive. And it felt like the drink would slip away, as Lysandra wondered if it was because Olive made her feel weak. Lysandra stole a whiff of Olive's hair, and then the fabric of her dress, smells that would surely be found in a powerful amortentia. Moments passed, sadly fleeting, for it could not last forever. Lysandra told herself to back away out of fear, but fear washed away at the sight of Olive's smile.

Then reality had hit, with a complimentary side effect of dumbfoundedness. As was the nature of Victorian woman, the next response after a greeting, whether secret or overt, was to judge the figure and fashion of one's company. Having spent at least a tedious hour, if not several, on her own appearance, as well as her own tedious, meticulous movements not to ruin her perceptually pristine visage and figure, Lysandra couldn't quite come to a conclusion on Olive's choice of fashion--or perhaps lack thereof.

Still discombobulated, Lysandra stuttered her first few words. "You look--" and with a slight pause and a slight change in tone, "your hair is on end! Oh you poor thing!" Lysandra's natural reaction was to reach Olive's hair very methodically and place the flying strands into place. However, Lysandra did this with little success. The golden renegade locks would not stay.

A moment of reflection was reached at the closeness of the two. Lysandra had brought herself too close to the woman, unintentionally, as she was running her quick fingers through Olive's hair.

"I suppose you can not tame a wild creature like yourself, lady Lovegood. You look rather stunning, I must say." And it was completely true. It was wonderful that makeup was not in style, for Olive's complexion was to die for. And even though her hair was quite in disarray from standard fashion, Olive was coming to the ball as herself. She did not desire to deceive. She was pure. An innocence that was highly admired by a girl who needed someone to look up to.

Jealousy. It stabbed hard and swift. With such a quick turn of thought, Lysandra wondered if her night would be ruined. Lysandra felt a deep sense of selfishness, for there was always the possibility of men looking for courtship. Even worse, maybe Olive wasn't alone.

"Did you come alone, perchance? I see your brother has not made any appearance, nor any other Lovegood as of yet." Lysandra paused for a moment from a strike of dread. "Are there any in your company?"

[Olive Lovegood]

Smiling at Lysandra’s compliment, Olive rocked back and forth on her heels. “Well my chaperone is here somewhere.” She put her finger to her lip and gave a confused look. “But I seem to have lost her.” She giggled at the thought and grabbed Lysandra’s hands. “We should dance!” She seemed thrilled at the idea of dancing with Lysandra, but Lysandra was not budging from her spot and Olive frowned slightly. “My siblings should be here any time now.” She mused with a smile, completely forgetting about dancing but still holding onto Lysandra’s soft hands.

She didn’t quite grasp the impropriety of what she implied. That two young ladies dancing together was quite queer. She didn’t see anything wrong with dancing with a friend, be it from naivety or simply not caring about what was deemed proper. She loved Lysandra dearly and weren’t you supposed to dance and be merry with those you loved? That was what the girl thought but she was so flighty that it didn’t really cross her mind to push the subject of dancing.

“Lysandra, dear, do you want a drink.” She said at random. “I find myself quite thirsty indeed.” And with that she dragged Lysandra closer to the table that held punch and poured them both a helping of it. “Delicious.” She said when she took a sip. “Tonight seems like it will be fun, wouldn’t you agree?” She tilted her head to the side slightly, looking at Lysandra with her wide, doe eyes.

[Lysandra Sutherland]

The conversation continued. Mainly about the awkward oddities of fruit punch, a conversation of which Lysandra had strangely started, and actually enjoyed. Of course, with several interjections about the health of the Lovegood family. Obviously any conversation with Olive was always vivacious and intriguing, even if it were about something as silly as a delicate punch bowl filled with a red, fruity punch.

Lysandra clung to the word dance when it came from Olive's mouth. At first, she had felt a sickness in her stomach beyond the extra tightness of her corset. She thought about dancing with a man, and this did not sooth her. A random, uncaring man who cared less about her delicate intricacies. She then thought about how nice it would be to dance with the person of her desire, the golden beauty in front of her, and how wonderful it would be if the world didn't shun it so. How cruel and unfair was the society around her, a society that deemed her true feelings demonic and treacherous. Of course I would love to dance, Lysandra thought to herself. But she avoided the notion for a moment to listen to Olive's further musings.

And this is where the conversation lead to punch bowls. And then to where Olive interjected with "tonight seems like it will be fun, wouldn't you agree?"

Nervously, but then overcome with a half visible emotion of glee, "Tonight will be quite entertaining. On that note, I have a surprise for you, a gift that I have been preparing before Christmas, and not yet had the opportunity for you to receive it yet. You will certainly receive this gift in due time, however, it must be after the ball, or for whenever you are prepared to leave to return to the estate."

"So, shall we dance?"

[Olive Lovegood]

When Lysandra brought up dancing, Olive smiled widely, gave a bow and said, “My lady” before grabbing Lysandra’s hand and tugging her to the dance floor. She brought them into a nice little dance, focusing more on having fun rather than properly executing the steps. She twirled Lysandra around and giggled with glee at dancing with her good friend. “That was quite fun.” She said with a smile. The next song started and Olive grinned to her friend, dancing with her once more.

Olive either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the looks they were getting. Some were completely affronted that two young ladies were dancing together, while others were smiling, their happiness in dancing becoming infectious. Either way, no one said anything to the pair who continued to dance for the next few songs, engaging in idle chatter while they did so.

After ample time of dancing, Olive dragged Lysandra back to the drink table and had a drink. “Would you like to walk to my home now so we can exchange gifts?” She hadn’t gotten Lysandra a gift, but while they were dancing came up with a brilliant idea for a gift. She knew Lysandra would love it and she was glad to be able to give it. When her friend agreed, she linked arms with her and walked them out of the ballroom.

It took them about ten minutes to arrive to her home in Wellingtonshire and when they did Olive lead Lysandra to the couch that was sitting in front of a magical fire. They sat down together and Olive smiled. “Would you like to go first?” She asked with a smile, grabbing Lysandra’s hands in her own. No one was home, the maids having gone home for the night, so the two girls were alone. She waited for Lysandra’s answer, still smiling broadly.

[Lysandra Sutherland]

The hand touch was enough to make Lysandra's blood vessels practically explode as the blood rushed fervently through her body. Lysandra had been rather overtaken by the sudden excitement of Olive's strong, strong gesture. With her heart now all aflutter, the dancing commenced, much to Lysandra's nervous demeanor.

The first few steps were the most difficult, for Lysandra's rigid, proper movements kept her stiff, and even stumbling at one point. But Olive spun her around in such a way that the statue of a girl turned into a whirling dervish, weaving about with uncanny elegance that Lysandra felt she could probably not ever reenact again. But only for a brief moment. Lysandra on several occasions tried taking the lead, mostly out of social anxiety, but Olive would once again throw her off her senses. Sensibility aside, Lysandra deep down enjoyed every second of it. As well as hated every second. At least for Lysandra, the dance itself was a horribly confusing one, but a tremendous and terrible beauty nonetheless.

The nervous moments were ticking away, all counting down to the one poignant moment where they would eventually leave and return to the estate. As Lysandra had hoped, Olive's desire to leave was a little before the new year was upon them, leaving just enough time for Lysandra to complete her gift in a timely manner.

Even though Lysandra's heart was leaping out of her chest to leave, she tried to convince Olive otherwise. Lysandra had to be certain that Olive have no discomfort or ill will for leaving early. Lysandra made it a point to seek Andren and excuse Olive and herself from the ball on the account of feeling faint, which in actually was not really the case. Once Andren confirmed that the return of the Lovegoods would not be until after the stroke of midnight, Lysandra's whole body trembled with joy away from view.

Sitting now by a warm fire, dresses flowing everywhere over the furniture, the two laid back on a love seat, relaxing for a moment before Olive went to reach for Lysandra's hands.

Lysandra's heart began to race. The heat of Olive's hands were causing hers to perspire, even among the still cold temperature of the room. Olive awaited her gift, and Lysandra had hoped she could perform under the pressure.

The piano had already been supplied, thank God, so there was no need to summon her own, even though she prepared for days if she had the need. It looked cozy tucked away in the cold, darkened corner. The piano awaited Lysandra's attentions, so she gathered her strength and lifted herself from the seat, breaking her grip from Olive, and skirted to the piano and opened the somewhat dusty case.

Lysandra quaked from anxiety. She wanted this to be absolutely perfect, just as she had practiced for days, nay, weeks, to master and temper her feelings for Olive. "I have prepared a song for your enjoyment. A song of which I feel best describes your whimsical, beautiful and intriguingly and memorizing fae-like nature, for you are the most fantastical creature I have come to ever know. Please relax and enjoy Tchaikovksy's "Sugar Plum Fairy."

She gently plucked the song from memory, adding great emphasis to the dynamics of the soft tune. And even though she could not see Olive's face, she had hoped that if there was a God, Olive would be smiling.

The song eventually finished. Lysandra felt a tinge of self-consciousness, hoping that Olive had actually enjoyed the gesture.

"Would you care for another song?"

[Olive Lovegood]

Olive smiled at the great compliment Lysandra paid her as she sat at the piano. Perhaps the weight of Lysandra’s words hadn’t quite dawned on Olive, but perhaps they were for the whimsical girl could be far more perceptive than most would believe. She watched her lovely friend perform for her with a smile on her lips. She enjoyed every moment of watching her beautiful friend play for her, and Lysandra certainly was a beauty. When she asked if Olive would like another song, she shook her head. “Perhaps after I give you your gift.” She giggled slightly.

Rising from her seat she walked over to Lysandra and took her hands and pulled her up to her full height. She was just an inch below Olive’s five foot two stature and Olive smiled. “I didn’t get you a real gift. Silly me, it slipped my mind. But a thought occurred to me as we were dancing. Now close your eyes.” She remembered hearing all about this, how one’s eyes were supposed to be closed. And when Lysandra obliged, Olive smiled and said, “Good.” Without missing a beat, for the girl was not in the least nervous, she placed her lips over Lysandra’s and let them linger for a moment, applying the slightest bit of pressure.

When she pulled away, she giggled. “It occurred to me that you might fancy me. So what better gift to give than a kiss? I love you after all and if a kiss from me would make you happy then I’d be happy to oblige.” She didn’t care or didn’t realize the impropriety of two girls kissing. “Would you like a more intimate kiss?” She wondered with curiosity dripping off her tone. She’d heard about something called French kissing and wondered if Lysandra would like a kiss like that. If she did, Olive would be happy to provide. She wanted to make her friend happy, after all, and when someone fancied another that meant they wanted to kiss them. So why wouldn’t she gift her friend with what her heart desired?

[Lysandra Sutherland]

Fancy her? Fancy Olive Lovegood?

She trembled immeasurably for a moment after their lips pressed together in the dark. Surely Olive could feel the vibration with their hands clasped together; the shocking nightmare of joy was coming down upon Lysandra swiftly, her body uncontrollably radiating an aura of frightened ecstasy. The surprise was so jolting that any self-conscious thought was thwarted before they could begin. The lips continued to press. Lysandra had imagined the thought in her mind so many times she couldn't count, but she had always known in her desperate mind that relationships like this never came to fruition, that meeting someone like Brett was like being struck by lightning.

But Olive was like lightning. The girl was almost completely unpredictable in her own chaotic order of things of which Lysandra admired greatly since day one. The rigid Victorian life was dismantled at the very instant Olive entered the room, where sensibility was not sensible anymore and a fae-like insanity reigned on Earth. Olive and social propriety were like water and oil, a mixture which can not marry, or even potion elements that seem to rebel against the hand that drops them in the cauldron. The mystical wonder that is Olive is certainly a manifestation of all that is charming and endearing, and this exact moment where the two had melded into one by a physical exchange of lips certainly demonstrated to Lysandra a special glimpse of the Sublime, all facilitated by the wonderful, heavenly creature beyond her closed eyes.

How was Olive so brave? Lysandra mused the thought in her mind. The dancing. The executed design of assuring their privacy. The kiss. It had to be love. At least those were the words coming from Olive's mouth, a mouth that was an angelic idol to the shaking, awe inspired girl. The words had calmed Lysandra just enough to sink into a pseudo tranquility, a moment of comfort, where Lysandra could respond to her new love.

A more intimate kiss? At this point, everything in Lysandra's body said "yes." And those were the only words she spoke and she wrapped her arms around Olive's neck and brought herself once again towards her. Olive's tiny guidance, her soft initiation, had given Lysandra the free reign of which she had dreamed of since the first exposure to those attractive lips and magnetizing eyes that beckoned her since that day in the library when they first met. A desperate passion now released, the slightly smaller girl pushed upon the other ever so upward.

Tears of joy began running down Lysandra's face. She brought herself down from Olive, with her arms still around the girl. Her smile wider than she ever thought possible. "What time is it? Has the new year come?"

[Olive Lovegood]

Olive smiled when Lysandra seemed so happy by the kiss. She was happy that her friend seemed to have liked her gift. When she said yes to having a more intimate kiss, Olive mentally revised what she’d heard. Not a moment too soon, Lysandra’s lips were upon her own. Olive let her tongue run across Lysandra’s lips until she was granted access to let their tongues tangle. Lysandra tasted sweet, like the punch they’d been drinking only moments before and Olive found that she most enjoyed this French kissing thing. She could see what all the fuss was about, it was nice and fun. She let her tongue explore Lysandra’s mouth a bit more before Lysandra pulled away.

When she asked the time, Olive looked over Lysandra’s shoulder and to the grandfather clock that read just past twelve o’clock. “Happy New Years, friend!” She hugged Lysandra tightly. “I hope you enjoyed your gift. Kissing is quite fun, I now understand what the fuss is about!” she said it gleefully. She didn’t think of the fact that sharing a kiss like she had shared with Lysandra was wholly inappropriate for two young women to share with one another. To her, things like that didn’t matter. A kiss was to be between people who loved one another, and while Olive held no romantic love towards Lysandra, she did indeed love her. So in Olive’s mind, it was perfectly normal for the two to share a kiss.

Smiling still, she said, “Would you like some chocolate and wine? I’ve got this delicious bottle of white wine that Alice bought me. And a great box of chocolates from Switzerland. We can share them.” She smiled broadly. She wanted to share her favorite chocolates with her dear friend. And the barely drunk bottle of wine too. She figured they could both have a glass and not be worse for the wear. “So what do you say? We can play music and dance and have a merry time!” She sounded excited. But that wasn’t hard for Olive; she was easily excitable.

[Lysandra Sutherland]

"A merry time, indeed! We have the piano at our disposal!" The thought of celebrating openly with Olive was invigorating. No longer did Lysandra feel the need to hide her true emotions about Olive, at least for the moment. Plus, the chocolates and wine sounded like the perfect way to close the New Year.

Lysandra was a silly fool for drinking too much of Alice's wine. It had made Lysandra more vulnerable to her feelings, and at certain intervals throughout the night, Lysandra took a few more passes towards Olive. At any attempt to evaluate her feelings, along with Olive's, Lysandra failed, and was merely left with succumbing to each seemingly romantic moment Lysandra placed herself in. The freedom she currently had with Olive was not unlike her freedom with Brett, she remembered. And the freedom gave her a strength and a confidence she so deeply craved. She held onto the feeling with such a death grasp that when it even came to considering how Olive really felt about the whole ordeal, Lysandra refused to incorporate any other thought besides "Olive must really love me." And that was the last thought drifting in Lysandra's mind before she fell asleep.