A/N: Hey there readers *waves* *grins* okay, this is a little different from my other stories. There isn't really all that much in it, but it came to me whilst I listened to the song I kind of based this around "Le Tango De Roxanne" from Moulin Rouge. I had to listen to it repeatedly and block out the lyrics so I could get an idea of it. To better imagine (:P) this, I would recommend looking the song up on YouTube and as you listen to the music, try and picture this in your head.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this. I'm not quite sure of it as of yet but *shrugs* we'll see, wont we?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. the glorious JK Rowling does =] And Le Tango De Roxanne belongs to... uhm... I have no idea who it belongs to, but not me :P

Imagine

Imagine a darkened stage. Imagine blood red curtains swaying only slightly in an almost non-existent, heated breeze. Imagine soft, mysterious tones filling the air; the orchestral tones teasing your ears. Imagine a high toned violin rising above the rest, calling you in, to tell you a tale.

Imagine those blood red curtains dropping so suddenly, in time with the music as it suddenly spiked, making you jump in your seat. Imagine a small puppet, slumped centre stage, its strings glistening in the spotlight.

Imagine two figures entering the stage, one from either side, almost swaying in time with the music; from the left came a dark eyes figure that seemed to radiate ill-intent and from the right, in elderly figure that shined, yet seemed to hide behind lies.

Imagine the sounds of the violins picking up and freezing slightly. Imagine the tones of a delicate tango, as our little puppet rises ever so slowly. Imagine him sway from side to side, as though a part of a tug-of-war.

Imagine our two side figures moving closer to our puppet; one step forwards, two steps back. Imagine a bright light filling the stage as the music crescendos and then falls. Imagine our puppet being flung back, and imagine the warm wet droplets of blood splattering your face. Imagine the sounds of a violin, high pitched and sounding so desperate; a low whine and call for help.

Imagine the music take on a cyclone type of theme, spinning our puppet round and round, trying to decide which side to take, which way to escape. And imagine him looking at your with desperation in his large emerald eyes. Imagine the feel of his tears on your hands and the warmth of his breath against your skin.

Imagine the music slowing and the elderly figure moving slowly closer, ever so slowly, until he stands beside our puppet. Then watch as he takes our puppet into his arms, as if to comfort him. Imagine that soft whining violin return and then slow, hopeful.

But watch as the music suddenly spikes chillingly, as he throws him away, over towards our dark character. And watch as he stalks closer, the music spinning around you dizzyingly as the dark figure runs his hand almost lovingly down our puppet's cheek and place a mocking kiss on his forehead as our puppet kneels on the hardened stage.

And then imagine… And then imagine the music rise to a peak as a green glow emanates from our dark figure. And imagine the sound of the orchestral tones crashing with a suddenness that surprises you into jumping ever-so-slightly in your seat as that green glow erupts and surrounds our puppet.

And then watch… Just sit their in your front row seat and watch, as our puppet gives you such a look of betrayal and heartbreak before the light leaves him and he slumps to the stage as his shiny strings snap.

And as you stare at the darkening stage, not a sound to accompany or guide you, imagine how different it could have been. Imagine what could have been different if you had stood from your wonderful front row seat and gave into those eyes of desperation and hope. Imagine if you had held him close, held him tight and protected him.

Imagine that as you walk down that long aisle to accept your shiny, pretty, filthy, bloodstained award. Imagine that as you lie awake at night with the arms of your beloved around you and the sounds of sleeping children echoing in your comfortable house.

Imagine.

A/N: What did you think? Please review and let me know

-MysteriouslyMe