Victoria - Victoria, whose wealth rivalled her fame - Victoria, whose manner of carriage spoke as much of luxury, as of elegance - - Victoria, whom Andra could not help hating.

“That is my business,” she said dryly.

“You shall bring down the Castles’ name yet, Andraviona,” Victoria said calmly.

The calculated calm, the silent venom. Andra hated it, loathed it. - - Victoria Glade may be one of the most respected and feared names in the elite Wizarding class, and Victoria Glade may be her mother’s best friend, but that did not mean Andra felt any reverence towards her. She accepted the fact that, at fifty years of age, the woman’s hair was blacker than Andra’s own, and her number of suitors larger – but, despite it, or because of it, she hated Victoria.

“The Castles’ name is more my problem than yours, Victoria,” Andra said, flaring. “It is my family, and your connection to it is limited to –”

Victoria raised a hand to stifle what seemed like a small yawn. Andra felt like her frame was on fire.

“Barely a week to go to the ball, and you have not yet selected a dress,” Victoria said, smoothing out the non-existent creases in the black gown that stretched to the very tips of her toes. “The hostess has not yet selected a dress. I wonder if Alva knows –”

“Mum is fully aware –”

“– how much of a disappointment you are turning out to be, Andra.”

Andra stomped one foot on the ground. “I was going to buy it today, alright? In fact, I was just going over to the Blacks. Cissy and I –”

Victoria’s face was incredulous.

“Cissy and I? Cissy? Cissy as in, Narcissa Black?”

For the first time, Andra looked somewhat sheepish, almost like a child caught red-handed in an act of mischief. It was a mark of the depth of her dislike of Victoria Glade that she actually chose to support Narcissa.

“Yes. Narcissa and I –”

“Don’t be foolish, Andra,” Victoria cut across. “You know very well how old the enmity between your family and the Blacks is: I am fully aware of your dislike for Narcissa Black. It is no use pretending, the way you pretend in front of people to be – what is the term? –”

“– Best friends,” Andra supplied, with a kind of vindictive pleasure.

“Yes. Best friends,” Victoria repeated. “Best friends with that blonde-haired fool. Come, we will get your dress at once. It would be humiliating if that little cheek was to find out that you, despite being the hostess of a Castle ball – the prestige of prestige – have not yet gotten yourself a gown for the occasion.”

For a moment, Andra thought of resisting. But Victoria had already gotten up and, once Victoria got up, you could not turn her down. Grudgingly, she nodded.

“Yes, Victoria.”