Orla, now fifteen was preparing for the night that would determine the rest of her life. She had had years of preparation for this both from her pressurising parents and her head mistress. She had always shown amazing talent in all she did from a young age and once her abilities were recognised there was no turning back. From her third month at Societatis Academy she was taken out of her classes and given a private tutor and three times a week being taught by the headmistress herself. Her upbringing was harsh, but how else would she learn so quickly to be the perfect pureblood bride?

Four weeks after Orla had turned fifteen it was the annual summer ball and the most important night of her life. Her parents would attend and decide her future husband. Orla had to be the most graceful and elegant she had ever been to wow the elite pureblood families and to get the best offerings of betrothal she could get. Her parents and school expected no less than the best from her.

Having being very well known already amongst the wizarding world Orla had no doubts she would have many eligible suitors however she did not want to risk a beating for the simple mistake of tripping on her dress. Everything had to be perfect. Thus on the morning of the ball Orla found herself sitting in the grand chair she had become very well accustomed to in her head mistress' office.

"Which fork you use for salad Orla?" Miss Hemingway asked sharply with a stern glare directed at the young girl before her.

Orla delicately responded with picking up the third fork from the left with bible fingers.

"Good. That should be enough of dining manners today. We'll move onto entrances." The pair had been practicing for at least an hour of how a proper pureblood lady would eat in front of her peers.

Miss Hemingway and Orla both smoothly stood up and made their way to the stairs leading up to the head mistress' private office. The stone, curved staircase was a mini replica of the one in the ballroom but would have to do. Orla, dressed in high heels and a long dress made her way to the top before waiting for further instruction.

"Imagine at the bottom your father is waiting, off you go."

So Orla, with undeniable elegance glided down the staircase, one hand gripping the intricate hand rail. When she reached the bottom Orla swivelled to the side and curtsied to her invisible Father. Then she turned to the other woman in the room and waited for judgement.

"Good. but remember to place one foot in front of the other. A pureblood lady does not plod. Again." So for the next twenty minutes Orla repeatedly walked up and down the staircase until her style was too undeniable for the head mistress to make any complaints.

After rehearsing how to sit, dance and talk for another few hours Orla was finally free to go. There was only five hours left to prepare before the ball began and she needed to get ready.

Orla walked through the empty hallways, her shoes padding against the soft cream carpet. Occasionally she would pass another fellow student and she would offer them a ind smile but all she ever got was glares in return.

Despite being a girl of kindness after being the schools gem for so long the girls around her boiled with jealousy and hatred. What was so special about her? However after years of facing the mean stares and remarks Orla learnt to not show her hurt no matter how much she felt inside.

Finally reaching her destination Orla walked into the schools prep room. Here beauticians and hairdressers were on hand twenty four seven ready to attend the needs of the pureblood girls. As soon as she stepped inside the room hushed and all the girls stared at her in distaste. Immediately a beautician rushed to her aid and helped Orla into a seat before beginning the hairstyle she had been practicing for months. Miss Hemingway was determined that her golden girl would be the belle of the ball and had the beauty team rehearse Orla's look to perfection. After an hour of teasing and combing and spraying Orla's hair was in an immaculate up do. She sported a glamorous and sleek curled look and her hair gleamed with perfection. Then, making her way to the makeup station she endured another two hours of poking and prodding. Throughout the entire thing Orla sat stiffly, aware of the cruel remarks being whispered around her, much too loud for them to be not heard.

Orla's dress was a beautiful white colour. To represent innocence and purity. It had taken months to find the perfect one and hundreds of shops throughout France. Orla's parents had no money limit, they wanted their daughter to shine brighter than ever before this night. In was a long dress with a short train following behind. The entire bodice was covered in embroidery of the finest woven gold and the beautiful lace trim sang grace. Her heels and accessories were all simple, as to not distract from the beauty of the dress. It took Orla and two other helpers to get into the res and by the time all the last minute touches were added the dressing room was empty and the ball had begun.

Orla's hands shook with nerves and she tried desperately not to play with her hair. She waited at the grand door that led to the endless staircase that descended into the huge ballroom. Every other girl had already entered the ballroom, and after each had been announced they mingled with the guests.

Despite doing this so many times before this was a completely different situation and Orla was stuck to one spot. It was times like this she wished she had a friend to console her or a mother who actually cared but alas she was on her own. She knew her life would be like this forever, he husband would pretend to care for her in public but would ignore her in private, her mother and fathers relationship was a prime example of this.

Deciding she had put the entrance off for long enough she gently rapped on the door to alert the doorman that she was ready. She then heard two long bangs as the man hit his cane on the floor loudly. "Miss Orla Beauchene." He announced and the door was opened. Hours of painstaking practice all led up to this moment as she entered the view of the party, she curtsied low and then began her descent.

At the bottom of the steps was her Father, Mr Jean Beauchene, it was custom for the father to display his daughter. When she finally reached the last step Orla carefully placed her hand on her fathers arm and let him escort her into the centre of the grand ballroom. She could feel the eyes of almost everyone staring at her. Whether it was girls glaring in envy or adults in awe she wanted them all to go away.

"Behave well and you may find yourself betrothed to the perfect pureblood husband we've always wanted." Her father spoke out the corner of his mouth. The statement was said with a tone of maliciousness meant as a warning. Orla was to be on the best of her behaviour or else resulting in the whole family's embarrassment.

She nodded and meekly replied, "Yes Father."

After waltzing around the ballroom at least five times with double the amount of boys Orla finally got a rest. Her father had waited for the song to end before he swooped in and graciously retrieved his daughter from the boy desperate for her attention.

"Orla, the Malfoy's have personally asked your Mother to be introduced to you." he spoke and Orla's heart immediately began to beat harder than usual.

The Malfoy's were one of the sacred twenty-eight. The most elite pureblood's in the wizarding community. The Beaumont's had never managed to enter the exclusive circle and it was Orla's Father's dream. The Malfoy's were one of the wealthiest families in the wizarding world, they consisted of an ancient line of pureblood wizards and if Orla was ever to wed into that family she knew her Father would be proud.

Growing up with only corrections and no praise made Orla the self-conscious girl she was. Despite having being handpicked by her head mistress for her beauty and grace Orla always felt second best. With no friends and no parental figure Orla desperately strived for approval. She just wanted to be liked.

"If this goes well…" Her father paused, "We can finally be one of the most elite pureblood families in the world. You be on your best behaviour now or there will be hell to pay Orla."

Orla simply nodded in reply, "Yes Father."

From across the grand ballroom Orla could see her Mother conversing with an incredibly striking pair. She assumed they were the Malfoys. Mr Malfoy had bright, bleached blonde hair with stood out ominously from the crowd. His wife, with the typical pureblood black hair and sharp jawline looked bored but beautiful.

As Orla and her father got closer to the small group Mrs Malfoy noticed her and Orla could immediately feel her eyes judging her every feature. When they finally reached them Orla immediately dropped into a beautiful curtsey.

"Jean Beauchene." Mr Malfoy addressed Orla's father.

Orla knew her father must have been shaking in both fear and excitement at being addressed by Lucius Malfoy but he did well to cover most of his modesty.

"Lucius Malfoy, may I introduce to you my daughter." Jean Beauchene spoke. As a child he had never been taught english, so now, in his older years his accent stood out like a sore thumb. Orla herself found it incredibly difficult to pronounce words in an english accent despite her rigorous teachings.

"Yes, quite the beauty i must say." Lucius replied as he looked the young girls up and down, assessing her. "How old are you?" He asked the girl.

"Fifteen Sir." Orla replied in the most sophisticated voice she could muster.

"And how well are you in your studies?" He questioned her again.

"I excel in all my studies, especially potions and transfiguration Sir." Orla replied. She could feel the glares of jealousy burning into her back from all her classmates around her and knew they were rolling their eyes at her statement. They all thought she was stuck up and this only proved her point but she needed to impress the Malfoys to please her Mother and Father.

"My son Draco also specialises in potions." Lucius Malfoy said simply. The conversation immediately lulled before Narcissa Malfoy stepped in.

"Draco studies at Hogwarts, he will be going into sixth year after summer."

"I hope one day i should meet him." Orla replied with a graceful nod of her head.

"Yes." Lucius spoke with a calculating stare in the young Orla's direction. He then continued. "Jean I would like to have a small talk with you before the evening is up." Is all he simply said before he and his wife departed.

Orla was unsure of what to think. Was she going to be engaged by the end of the night? She didn't know whether to be happy or not. The though of being betrothed to someone at the mere age of fifteen terrified her, but the prospect of pleasing her Father by marrying into one of the sacred twenty-eight appealed to her endlessly, the chance of finally receiving love from her parents made up for any terrible marriage.

Beside her Orla's parents were almost quaking in excitement. Lucius Malfoy had implied he would like to arrange a betrothal to their daughter and the mere thought of being associated with a family such as the Malfoy's caused their hearts to beat erratically.

"Just imagine Jean, our daughter marrying the heir to the Malfoy legacy. Think of the money and status." Orla's mother whimpered to her husband.

They both muttered to each other endlessly in their own language the entire evening whilst Orla was subjected to dance after dance with other suitors. Everyone had seen her talk to the Malfoys and all of them knew if the Malfoy's wanted her they would get her and that the only way to have a chance was to woo the life out of Orla and her parents.

Jean and Belle Beauchene after their chat with the Malfoy's already felt like royalty and immediately snubbed anyone who tried to communicate with them. Orla was partially terrified that by the end of the night their would be no proposal and she knew the anger her parents would feel at her and she was terrified of taking the blame, knowing how harsh her Father's punishments could be.

It was done. The betrothal was confirmed. At the end of the ball Lucius Malfoy and my Father met again and decided the terms of the engagement of myself and the Malfoy heir Draco. Nothing could ever compare to the sheer excitement on Jean Beauchene's face as he walked out of their meeting. He rushed over to his wife and announced the news immediately, they were finally involved in the sacred twenty-eight. Orla stood beside them just waiting for the praise she was yet to receive. There was nothing she could do to please her parents more, she had finally earned their respect.

However, as the night ended and all her parents could do was praise themselves she slowly began to lose hope. Orla finally accepted the fact that no kind words were to be spoken to her after her parents announced they were leaving. There was still another week left of the school year and as Orla walked alone to her private bedroom she realised that she could do nothing to get the loving parents and friends she always dreamed of. And as she went to bed that night with tears trickling down her face Orla lost all hope of ever being happy.