In fact, all of importance was that, while at any other day she would have committed a serious offence by staggering into the common room after midnight, it wasnt all that bad at the moment. And no, that she went largely unnoticed wasnt the cause of that For as a matter of fact it wouldnt have mattered much even if she had bumped into Sapphira or Turner in the process (Though whether either of those two had the heart to punish her for such a measly misdemeanour was throughout debatable). Ball nights, it seemed, was a notable exception from the normality; amazing as it was that a pointless opportunity to show off ones mingling skills was enough to warrant a temporal dissolution of the laws that regulated their existence.
Or, that was, at least the administration was benevolent enough to remove the curfew for the evening; understanding as they were in the realization that the general student body probably wouldnt adhere to it anyway. It was, Isabella mused as she emerged into the common room, doubtlessly a carefully measured course of action; as the decision to allow such an unheard of frivolity prevented the outbreak of a substantial student rebellion. Or something along the lines of that, never mind that the so-called partying the Christmas ball offered wasnt the typical kind to inspire mass defiance. That was reserved for rowdier gatherings, indeed, all of which doubtlessly took place far away from the proper and boring scenery of the grand Hogwarts ballroom. Like at some interesting concert, separated from the magnificence of school events; away from tidy outfits, beautiful dcor and oh so traditional dating. Or, to sum it up neatly, away from everything so positively pureblood that it was sickening.
It really was too, that being one of the reasons to why she had been against attending the ball in the first place. Not to say she hadnt, as persistent dorm-mates could do miracles to pull one anywhere, but she hadnt made an appearance other than for the purpose of shutting up Sapphira and the rest. And, of course, for the purpose of giving it a chance, though the subsequent result of that equation was the factual discovery that it was really that bad. If not even worse. Or, that was, as long as one were in a sober condition. For alcohol, as previously established, had the rather miraculous ability to improve any occasion - given, of course, that the aforementioned beverage was provided for consumption. Which it wasnt, in the sense that the school furthermore kept better check of whatever people poured into the punch; though apparently the persecution of drunken misdemeanour wasn't driven far enough for Filch to scan the secret Santa gifts for contraband. Probably on orders from Dumbledore, as she wouldnt put it past the caretaker to vandalize Christmas presents in the name of authority However, Argus Filch's belligerence toward anything student was rather irrelevant. Everything was. The only thing that mattered was that Audrey got a bottle of fire-whisky for Christmas; and, having no qualms whatsoever about taking advantage of the ball night (as well as the extended curfew) by celebrating properly, she and Audrey had withdrawn to somewhere private. It was Christmas, after all, and her partner in crime obviously wasnt beyond sharing.
The rest of the night had been entertaining, to say the least. Suitably fuelled by alcohol, the ball had turned out rather amusing; especially so due to the spectacle that was an old-fashioned party-trashing, as it had been rather hilarious to behold how the oh so well-dressed attendants got caught in the crossfire. That, among other things, as watching pompous fools getting pelted with oodles of red berries suddenly wasn't the only amusement to be had. Suffice it to say that the rest of the evening was a general blur; a hilarious mess of facts and faces and god knows what else that passed her by with the high velocity of a freight train. It was quite distressing, perhaps, but it had been a decent spot of fun; never mind that, presumably, she would feel twice as bad as she had during the start of the evening the following morning. That, however, was the sort of pain in the behind that one had to live with. As was that she, in her drunken stupor, had managed to lose Audrey at some point; but that really didnt count for much when it came to ruining the mood. For yes, despite being one of the last to return to the common room, Isabella Douhan still didnt feel particularly much like sleeping. Despite general exhaustion, despite that she probably should, she was feeling way too giddy and bouncy to simply drag herself to sleep For the prospect of collapsing on her four-poster and embracing the company of snoring brats simply didnt appeal to her.
As such, once safely back in the common room, she rather threw herself into the first couch available (possibly violently so, but whether or not she made more noise than what was appropriate was beyond her); limbs sprawling as she adjusted herself into a rather comfortable position. For a couch, though having properties similar to that of a bed (it was soft and cosy, and one could doubtlessly sleep in it), was much preferable to a bed; that namely being because it wasnt located in the dormitories. That done, she stifled a chuckle, her face involuntarily cracking up in a grin at nothing at all A grin that merely widened as her head fell back toward the back of the sofa, eyes directed at the ceiling. When no longer on her feet, she was admittedly feeling rather sleepy; though, nevertheless, that certainly wasnt an indication of that she would be better off with the aforementioned alternative. Four-posters and snoring brats aside. She didnt want to sleep, didnt want to head off to bed already, and she would be perfectly happy with just lingering in that position for the rest of the night. Staring at the ceiling, dreaming away to a whole-nother world..
Life was good.
No, it was way better than that; it was perfect! Fucking brilliant! And though she was in a dubious state, shed be damned if that wasnt just about the most beautiful moments in her life. Granted, her judgement were somewhat questionable, at the moment, and nothing awesome had occurred that justified that aforementioned title.. But what the hell. Who cared. The only thing that mattered was that she felt rather awesome; incredible; and hell, she didnt give much of a damn about anything at all at the moment, be it fancy balls or god knows what else. As such, she lingered, doubtlessly contemplating the evening; apparently distracted enough by her drunken reveries to ignore the soft pitter-patter that came down to join her from the girls' dormitories.

Sorry, but I do believe I'm just that type of girl,
I am such a bitch, (and I can't help it) I ain't gonna waste my time,
And I do believe you all just have to know..
Oh yes god, I'm such a creep,"



