She turned around slowly, admiring the way her dress skirt trailed behind her. It was her favorite dress. A deep, dark, jet-black number, with a v-neck, spaghetti strapped top followed by a flowing, angled skirt that stopped just above her knees. She whirled around once more in front of the mirror-lined wall, drinking in the whole effect. She loved the clicking sound her Jimmy Choo three-inch heels, dyed to match the exact black of her dress, made on the newly polished, wooden dance floor. She admired her hairstyle from all angles. Her light brown hair was swept up in ringlets, resting along the back of her head with diamond-studded clips holding it all in place. The clips matched her diamond necklace and earrings, which were straight from Tiffany's. She was hoping for another addition of diamond jewelry that night, for the fourth finger of her left hand was feeling very bare.
She then elegantly glided over to the seat at the table set for two. Here she nervously sat, waiting for someone. She began to twirl her hair in her hand, as she usually did when anxious. However, she then realized what she was doing and stopped, for she did not want to ruin her hairdo. She stole another glace in the mirror, to make sure her appearance was still flawless. She noticed how flushed she looked, and tried to calm herself down.
Suddenly, she heard the door slowly start to open. She held her breath. It was him. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. He silently strolled over. His shining black tuxedo jacket and pants perfectly matched his raven hair, which was, surprisingly, neatly brushed and groomed. The look made his piercing greeb eyes seem even greener, if that were possible. As he walked, his shoes, too, made the same clicking noise as hers. The sound made her heart skip a few beats. She anxiously awaited his arrival to her side, her breathing coming in short, rapid successions. Her eyes engulfed his entire being. The dimples in his cheeks and the crinkle in his eyes made her knees weak. He hypnotized her completely.
She could no longer stand the suspension; she shot out of her chair and dashed into his awaiting arms. Her arms encircled his neck and she held on close. He enveloped her welcomely, his hand searching for the perfect spot around her waist. She laid her head on his shoulder softly, lovingly looking at his neck.
All of a sudden, music began playing. A soft, slow, romantic tune wafted through the air, coming to rest in the ears of the lovers. He gently took hold of her hand and began to dance. It was as if she was floating on air. He twirled and dipped her in the most gentlemanlike fashion. She wished the song would never end. However, as all songs must, the music faded away delicately into nothing.
She had her eyes closed, and her head back on his strong shoulder. He slowly turned his head toward her, and, as his lips tenderly caressed her ear, he whispered, "Marry me, Hermione."