Arabesque by CelticKisses
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Watch the World Burn
Hours became a painful ticking of seconds. The edges of the world were blurring. Her eyes were swollen shut or pinned open; she couldn’t tell through the pain. Either way, she couldn’t see. All she knew was the tight circle of his arms. The soft tickling of his breath on her neck as he held her. The way it felt to curl into his side and hope for oblivion; wish for the end. She was wishing for it - most profoundly. She no longer wanted to go on, to live like this.
Of Professor Dianna de Loustre and Triple Pirouttes
He flinched. So much for his reputation. “Jazz, lyrical, ballet, and ballroom.” “You’ve already studied ballroom?” She wondered disapprovingly. “Merengue, mamba, samba, cha cha, and the tango.” He answered. “There’s a delicious image.” A girl quipped and was shushed immediately by her Slytherin friends. “Tango, huh?” Dianna said. She pointed to the floor before the mirror. “Show me a backwards triple pirouette. “
Of The Power of The Inner Beat and The True Meaning of Dance
She gathered her things up in her arms. He probably wouldn't she thought to herself as the memory of yesterday's performance came back to her. She shook her head as if to shake the offending thoughts away. For years she had dreamed about that man she had seen on that television show, dancing the tango. The way he had moved, the lithe power he possessed.
Of Dreams and Failed Planning
His laughter echoed up to her as they turned the last corner. “You really can’t dance can you?” He said out of nowhere. She stopped cold. Her eyes closing of her own volition as the pain swamped her. “That’s none of your business.” She said as soon as she had recovered.
Of Private Lessons and Bloody Feet
Hermione was eating her lunch very slowly, simply dreading going to Dianna’s class. She hadn’t improved any and the rest of the class was well aware of her frequent escapades to Dianna’s office where Dianna would rant and rave about her disappointment with the girl. Why didn’t she just fix it? She sighed and laid her spoon back on the silver plate. Because it hurt too much. That’s why.
Of Dips and Bad Dreams
“Do it again.” He commanded as she did another small joyful dance in her mind for nailing the move again. She braced herself again, he pulled her in, she executed the step perfectly, neck poised,, on her toes. He suddenly bent over her, and her world tilted backwards as she cried out in alarm, her arms flying around his neck.
Of Changed Paths and Sudden Discoveries
He struggled again and pulled against those who were holding him back and the blonde staggered to his feet. She caught him in her arms and they shared a slow, deep kiss. He felt nails biting into his biceps now but finally he broke away and began to run towards them. Everything started to go black as he struggled forwards. It was as if he was running through water, and with every step he took they were two more steps away. Soon they had all but disappeared and the black completely came across his vision. He woke up panting and sweating in his own bed.
Of Disease and The Future
The two boys fell back from each other, both regarding her with bright burning eyes. Draco had a small tendril of blood snaking over his brow and from the corner of his mouth. Ron was gingerly padding at the area slightly above his eye which was bright red and raised. Both were breathing in and out laboriously as if they had run around the castle grounds multiple times.
Of The Vixen and Jealousy
“You failed today,” he pointed out.
Of The Beginning of Draco and Hermione
Her cup almost slipped from between her fingers. “What?” she turned to him. “I’m a muggle, Draco. At least, I’m muggle born. That’s half of who I am.”
Of The Head's Loo and Bruises
“Want to talk about what just happened in the hallway?” he tried after a minute.
Of Tradition and An Unwanted Date
“Draco,” she said in a scratchy voice. “You said you’d catch me.”
Of The Malfoy Manse and The Demise of a House Elf
The portraits were a family tree of sorts, chronicling the great house of Malfoy and it’s counterparts. Draco had spent hours staring at the faces, wondering if he would be as great as them some day. In such favor with the dark powers. Now as he passed it he did not see the faces of people he admired. It was remarkable what happened to people. Remarkable how a picture could move and speak and act as representation of a true being, yet be nothing more than the echo of a promise that never came to the light.
Of The Virus and Blood Tears
She was standing before him, her hair wet and covering her face. Her back was hunched. A white nightgown trailed about her feet. There was a small trickle of red making it’s way down her cheek from her eye. She was crying blood.
Of An Abduction and Infection
“It’s the Christmas holidays, Gustave,” Lucius said lowly as his mind formulated the final touches to his abduction plan. He turned to a portrait of a bent old woman to his left. “Go to your portrait in Hogwarts. Find out if Hermione Granger is in the school for the holidays.” He turned back to the fireplace as the frame emptied. Gustave thrummed his fingers on the side table as they waited. A few moments later there was a squeaky voice from the portrait.
Of A Sudden Bout of the Floo and the Unfortunate Mistake of Huey the House Elf
Draco pushed himself into a sitting position and pulled his sweat soaked shirt over his head. He felt disgusting. That simply action made his muscles feel like rubber and he sank back onto the couch cushions with a groan. He turned to the fireplace again and noticed a body on the floor next to the couch.
Of Harry's Overreaction and An Unconventional Tango
Draco did not meet her eyes. “All we have to do is prance around the hall a few times together and then we can resume pretending to despise each other.” He turned to find Hermione staring vacantly ahead, her eyes not focusing on anything directly. He too allowed himself to stare vacantly before him, catching her hand in his. “I don’t like Pansy. I did for awhile, but then, well things changed.”
Of The Long Anticipated Ball and Long Anticipated Battle
Hermione flinched and Draco instinctively stepped between the two of them. “She’s given you her final word, Weasley. Take it and go. Don’t torment her anymore.”
Of the Death of a Loved One and Isabella the Unfortunate
Rumors circled viciously, the worst of which saying Hermione had stabbed the boy to death at breakfast while everyone looked on and the silliest of which that said he had eaten a rotten piece of meat at breakfast that had festered in his stomach until he died. Everyone agreed on one thing however; it had not been his time to go.
Of the Eulogy for a Black and The End of a Rope
There was a sudden loud bang from the common room and Hermioe whipped aroud, fear seizing her heart. As she turned bloody water flew from her hand and splattered against the wall and across the tile floor. Her eyes widened in disbelief as a tall, lean blonde woman stood from the hearth and stepped ueasily into the room. She hugged her cloak tightly about her.
Of Black Satin Ribbon and Cold White Ice
He grabbed a corner of one sheet and gave it a great tug and, much like a giant snake, the sheet slithered up from the floor; a long rope of bed linen. Draco closed his eyes against the new knowledge. He didn’t want it. He dropped the sheet and walked stiffly towards his mother’s bed. She had done it. She had killed herself. He knew it in the very marrow of his bones.
Of the Lord's Anger and A Discussion Between Cat and Mouse
“Incendio,” the man said in a gravelly tone and fire shot from the end of his wand. The slab of obsidian was suddenly completely aglow. Draco was forced to raise his eyes from the fire that lapped over his mother’s skin and through the flames he finally caught his father’s attention. Lucius raised his chin higher. Never, he seemed to say. Never shall she escape. Never has she held power over her own self. Never. Not even in death.
Of the Nature of the Ultimate Sacrifice
Her voice wouldn't call out, so she couldn't say his name, even whisper it into the dark room. As tears of frustration were about to spill over her cheeks, the ward door was thrown open and Dumbledore strode across the room, his robes billowing behind him. He was followed by an anxious looking Professor McGonagall and a very tired looking Madame Pomfrey. Madame Pomfrey detoured from the group as another patient began to cough and Hermione was abruptly reminded of the black cloud that was slowly taking over Hogwarts.
Of the Burial of a Brother and the Decay of a Granger
The Perfect Arabesque
I remember that reality was a distant cloud in the days after he returned to me, his father’s blood on his hands. I remember there came a point where the world would stop spinning and I would find myself standing there, looking down at what had happened and wondering how I could fix it. Fix everything. Fix me. Fix him.
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