Chapter 6 : Of Dips and Bad Dreams
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I Can Dance (I Will...)
Listen to me now,
Listen to me,
I am a person you know!
I have feelings too!
Just stop forcing me to do what you want me to do.
When standing on my toes seems hard,
Can I reach out, take your hand?
Though I can't guarantee,
That I will,
All I can do is try,
Try to dance,
Try my best,
Try not let you down.
Hold up now!
Hold on a second,
Give me a break,
Let me breath!
Stop showing off with the perfect way you land.
When standing on my toes seems hard,
Can I reach out, take your hand?
From arabesque to pirouette,
All of it is a mess,
I just can't dance,
I try, I try,
I just can't dance.
I try, I try,
You try, you try,
You try to teach me,
But it's hopeless,
You look at me,
I look at you.
You adjust my position,
Say "Try again",
I do thought I'm not sure I can.
You never were this nice,
Never were this kind,
Help me to dance,
Help me to fly,
Soar off into the sky,
To my heaven,
Where all my dreams come true,
Where I can dance.
Hold up now!
I can dance,
I will dance!
If I try, if I try,
I might just get there.
When standing on my toes seems hard,
Can I reach out, take your hand?...
Isn't that awesome? I love getting stuff like that *hugs* Also: I'm looking for dancers to aid in my research. My email is listed on my personal website, as is my AIM and MSN . . . feel free to contact me with stories . . . experiences . . . anything at all. (Oh! In case you were wondering the research is for this story . . . as you all know, I do dance, but some of this is beyond me.. that's where research comes in . . . pretty convincing though, eh?)
This chapter is dedicated to Miss Angie Longbottom of TFO (aka Harrys_Patronum) Happy Birthday Love!
The darkness around her was suffocating as she tried to breathe in deeply. She couldn’t see before her, or in any direction around her. The hushed voices of the girls standing around her were deaf to her ears as she reached down to adjust her shoes. Her stomach was fluttering and her toes were numb.
A small line of light appeared on the ground before her and began to expand as the darkness disappeared. She held her head high and plastered a smile on her face, the whispering around her instantly dissipated.
Step, touch, turn, kick.
Step, kick, land. Smile.
As the sweet sound of music filled her ears, she changed her pose with the floating melodics. The bright lights were obscuring the view ahead of her, only emitting darkness. She, however, had no problem with that.
Her legs moved of their own accord, her arms changing positions without thinking. Her entire body flowed with the sounds that she had grown accustomed with over the months.
Turn . . . 3, 2, 1 and step-touch.
Not a glitch. Not a single misstep.
Soon, everything around her had disappeared: it was only her and her body, evolving into the music itself. The music quickened; her pace quickened. The music slowed down; her movements slowed down too. Her smile faded as her face changed into one of concentration. As her movements changed, they became more difficult, but all the same, they were enchanting, fluent and exotic.
Step touch, allemande, 4 ,5 ,6 and plie 3, 2, . . .
As she raised her arms above her head, she paused for a moment to rethink all her moves, just as she had planned. Her feet were pointed, and she smile once more to the darkness ahead of her.
She lowered her hands, but held them outwards from her body, as she moved her feet daintily, traveling in a circle of small leaps and jumps. As she twirled to the side, she stopped, positioning her arms and her legs in an arc that would soon help her.
A roar like the wind; the noise of approval.
The sudden change of music made her quicken her feet as she gently ran before raising both of her legs in the air, falling once more to the ground. With the conclusio nof this move, she prepared for the finale.
As the music slowed down and was held on one note, she raised one of her arms in front of her chest, angled to the right position, the other pointing towards the opposite direction, angled downwards. She breathed in deeply, trying to concentrate as hard as she could.
She turned abruptly, in a perfect pirouette, then stepped forward once more.
She pointed her toes with all her concentration, before raising her leg in the air so it would be parallel to the ground.
As the sound of pleased mutterings hit her ears she was suddenly reminded of the voice that was not adding to those whisperings
The voice that would not ever again.
Breathe deep, raise arms, 3, 4, 5, 6, up.
She suddenly felt her mind turning inwards on it's self, falling inside her own fears, her vision became black. Angry voices dimly echoed in her ears as tears stung her eyes.
He wasn't coming back this time, she had said. It was done now, they would have to move on.
She took a deep breath but it was already too late as she lost her balance and everything fell around her. The hard ground was jarring against her knees, and the pain was so acute that the darkness that had overcome her vision cleared.
And then suddenly, crashing down.
The lights were dimming.
Hermione awoke and sat bolt upright in bed, panting and sweaty, her sheets twisted hopelessly about her. She looked around the room and was surprised to find her self in her bed; safe.
She swung her legs off the side, gasped as her sore feet touched the ground and then choked back a sob as her head fell into her hands.
After she had regained her breath she pushed herself off of the edge of the bed and tried to stretch her sore muscles out as she padded her way lightly down the hall towards the bathroom.
Tonight’s the second practice session with Malfoy. She thought as she softly made her way to the end of the hall. I’ll never survive this.
So lost was she in her thoughts she didn’t knock as she reached the bathroom and pushed the cracked door open the rest of the way.
“Didn’t you ever learn to knock?” He didn’t even turn around to face her.
Good thing too because her face was a furious tinge of pink and she could not tear her eyes from his back, his shoulder blades, his spine which disappeared beneath the waist of the uniform Hogwart’s trousers.
After enduring a moment of her silence he turned around, casually leaning against the sink, he arms across his chest, a scowl on his face.
The room was suddenly very small.
“I .. . I-I’m sorry.” She managed to get out before turning to go.
At the sight of her limp he called her back. “Wait.”
She stopped and turned to face him, wondering what in Merlin’s name the prick wanted now?
“Sit on the edge of the tub.” It wasn’t a question.
She silently acquiesced, a tad frightened to be in the room, such a small room, with him.
He disappeared for a moment and then calm back bearing a glass jar and a roll of tape.
He held the items out to her and she stared at them in shock. Was he being . . . Kind?
“I don’t have all day, Granger.” He said in a very unkind tone.
She was shocked at the sudden switch of emotions and her muscles locked,.
With a frustrated gruff noise he took her right foot, dipped her hand in the salve and forced her t orub it over her sores. He then roughly bandaged it.
“I’m not going to listen to your groaning tonight.” He said as he went to leave. “Put that salve on two more times before you come meet me tonight. And make sure you change those disgusting bandages before hand too.” There was no kindness in the words and he immediately left.
Numbly she rubbed the salve on her other foot and bandaged it as well, a tad surprised that the achy feelings had all but disappeared.
The day went by irrevocably quick paced. She was miserable and dreading that night so acutely that even Dianna’s class flew by in a painful blur and she suddenly found herself across from two scowling red heads and a less than pleases black haired Potter.
“Mione are you sure you’re alright?” She cringed at the nickname but nodded.
“Of course I’m alright.” She insisted.
Ron glanced frustrated at Harry who awkwardly cleared his throat. “It’s just . . . You’ve been ver distant this year.” Harry said.
Now Hermione scowled as she finished the last of her pumpkin pie and raised her eyes to the frowning expression of Ginny Weasley.
“Are you worried too?” She asked as she gathered her bags.
The red head frowned but did not respond.
“Where are you going?” Ron demanded as she began to walk away.
“I have to get changed.” She said apologetically. “I have tutoring.” Then she darted off through the large doors.
Ron violently stabbed at his food. “Bloody Malfoy.” He grumbled.
“Ron we know she doesn’t like having to go to tutoring with him.” Harry tried to reassure him.
“She spends an awful lot of time with the prick.” He stabbed his roast beef again. “Especially considering how much we all hate him.”
Seeing that Ron was sinking into one of his moods again, Harry withdrew.
It was painfully obvious that Ron was harboring romantic notions towards their friend and he agreed she was spending far too much time with the blonde haired Slytherin.
Thirty minutes later she flew through the studio doors, utterly out of breath.
“I’m sorry, you weren’t waiting long were you?” She asked politely as her bag dropped to the floor.
He had been leaning against the mirror, arms crossed against his chest, when she had entered and now he pushed himself towards her with a scowl. “Long enough to make me irritable.” He responded.
“And that’s different from when?” She mumbled to herself.
As he reached her, he grabbed her hand and tugged sharply causing her to twirl into him and upon his release twirl out, landing so quickly that she had no time to gain her footing and she fell backwards with a loud plop onto her bottom.
He turned away from her as she collected her bruised dignity.
“Today we are working on a basic turn. I saw your attempts in class and felt almost bad for that first year you were stepping all over.” He said with a scowl.
She followed him to the mirror, purposefully avoiding her reflection.
“Take my hand,” he said as he held his arm out towards her.
She silently acquiesced, questions in her eyes, his hands was smooth, like polished marble, and very cold.
“Now, I am leading. Do not begin to turn yourself into my arm. I will pull a certain way and you will come to me.” He tugged her arm without warning and his arm wound around her midriff until she found herself wound against his chest, his scent was overpowering and oddly warm. “All you need to worry about is holding your head’s position and your opposing arm’s.”
He pulled again and she spun out once again. This time, instinct took over and she landed well balanced, one foot before the other, her opposing arm held just so.
“Good.” He said. She knew this was the best praise she would receive and celebrated in the small victory, slowly relaxing and preparing to spin again.
Without warning he spun her in again, this time she did not allow her opposing arm to her caught under his arm, holding it across her so that when she came to a halt their palms were touching.
He spun her out again without warning, but due to her mental rejoicing, she was caught unawares again. She stumbled and he scowled . “Do it again.” She had to do it four more times before she got it well enough to satisfy him and then at least seven more times when he added her neck posture to the mix.
By now she was dizzy and the heady scent of his cologne, or whatever it was about him that smelt so good, was overpowering her senses.
“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.
“Granger!” She slowly peeked open her eyes. “Granger I’m not going to drop you.” He ground out.
She gulped. Yeah right. But loosened her hold.
“This is a dip.” He said. The blood was rushing to her head. “Keep your arms around my neck but loosen them before you strangle me.”
She blushed slightly and did as she was told.
“Now allow you head to fall back.” He said.
She allowed all the tension in her neck to fall away, leaving her throat entirely and uncomfortably exposed to him.
“Good.” He shifted her hands slightly. “Now wrap your left leg around my waist.”
She pushed herself back into a standing position. “What?” She cried incredulously.
He scowled at her. “This is a dip from the tango, Granger.” He said as if that were explanation enough.
He stepped towards her again, hands on her back, dipping her violently backwards.
She remained stiff.
“Leg up!” He demanded.
With a frustrated groan she hooked her leg around his waist. He was apparently unsatisfied because he grabbed her thigh, pulling her leg up higher. “There.” He said gruffly. “Now we’re going to do the spin again, only a double. On the second spin you use your leg to turn around me as I throw you into the dip.”
He released her suddenly, causing her to stagger backwards as she regained her center of balance. Her head was spinning. She grit her teeth as he took her hand once again. “1..2...3.” He counted before spinning her in quickly.
She spun in once, out, then in again so quickly her head reeled. As she came into his body again she found that wrapping her leg around him allowed her to keep her balance as he gracefully dropped her inches away from the ground. The drop was quick, and he caught her smoothly, her head tilted back, and her hair falling from it’s pony tail and splaying across the ground. Her heart was suddenly pounding violently and she realized she had been holding her breath.
She slowly raised her head for the verdict, praying he wouldn’t ask her to do it again.
She was surprised by the closeness, her leg still wrapped around his waist as he held her in the dip.
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