“Oh, aye,” Céilidh replied. Her eyes were tracking a different couple, however. If there was one part of her plan that she wasn’t completely comfortable with, it had been how Forster’s date might react. Her fears were laid aside when she happened to catch Dierdre’s eye while Fors’ back was to her, and the Slytherin girl shot her a wink and a hi-sign. She held her arm out, “Shall we?”
Several things happened on the way to the dance floor, and nearly all of them involved Céilidh’s costume. It seemed that between one step and the next, her hemline dropped to just above the knee and her cape grew to cover her rear. Another step and her blouse untied, smoothed itself out, and tucked in neatly. Had she not stopped to try and find the person responsible for the alterations, she probably would have ended up arse over kettle on the floor as her spiked heels shortened themselves into respectable pumps. Foozle chuckled and pointed.
“Keek ower thare.”
Céilidh followed his finger across the hall to where Professor McGonagall stood wearing an expression as though to ask if there was anything else they needed to discuss. The redhead smiled sweetly and curtsied to her head-of-house. The Professor nodded back and the two friends continued on to the dance floor.
“Yer nae gaun take a maddy ontae us, are ye Ginger?” Foozle asked, taking one of her hands and placing the other on her hip.
“Ach no, Bigby,” she replied with a laugh. “The hairm is duin. A’m ah bit more cantie now onyways.”