Disclaimer: characters and situations in this story are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Bros.
Music of the Night
Out of the woods she came, the deliciously forbidden forest that had seen so many lovers in its days. Music followed her; it swept about the glade with a soft, haunting beat. Full Moon's beam glanced off of her white limbs. A star shone in her eyes, that even in the semi-permeable darkness was bright and unmistakable.
In the grassy glade she danced, amid the fresh scent of roses, sharp and edged in their beauty, and the bruised grass. Her hair flowed around her, an unending sea of red, tipped with diamonds and flame. Her shift, airy and translucent, seemed merely an extension of her body. Her face, ever tilted toward the heavens, was a mask of serenity.
She closed her eyes then, and gave herself up to the music. Faster and faster she spun until she was no more than a blur of white mingled with red. Her arms, slender and frail, lifted above her head. The music, now almost frenzied, continued to fill the air, weaving a web of sound over the small clearing in the deep dark woods.
He stepped out of the shadows.
Abruptly, the music changed. Her eyes, flashing in the darkness, locked onto him. She beckoned silently; her dance was unceasing, untiring.
He strode forward then. Slowly and silently he stepped until he stood in a pool of moonlight in the centre of the clearing. Still as a statue he seemed, looking out from under thick, dark lashes. His eyes, almost black in this half-light, followed her every move.
The music ceased. She came to a halt in front of him, eyes lowered. Slowly, almost languidly, she raised her head to meet him. His arms crept about her, drew her close. She quivered in the night air.
Beneath the gaze of the cool Moon and the stars, strewn like diamonds across the black sky, they danced to a music unheard by any living soul.
A/N: idea courtesy of the wonderful people of GASP, over at FictionAlley. Title came from an Andrew Lloyd Webber song on the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack.
Con crit is appreciated.