Ballet

"Mummy, come on," moaned Rose, bouncing on her toes as Hermione applied makeup with her wand. Rose's usually wild tangle of fiery curls had been tamed into a little bun on top of her head, and her lavender skirt fluttered with every bounce. "Mummy, we're going to be late!"

"Rosie, dear, we've half an hour 'til your lesson starts, and the dance studio is a twenty minutes' car ride away. We won't be late." Rose made an impatient noise and ran out of her mum's room. "Don't rip your tights!" She slowed to a power walk and hopped down the stairs. Grabbing her new black bag with sparkly pink stars and ballet shoes all over it, Rose hurried to the door and stood there, once again bouncing like a jack-in-the-box. Ever since watching a movie about a young ballerina on her Grandpa Arthur's Muggle telly, Rose had been enchanted with the idea of learning ballet. Finally, her persistent badgering had convinced her mum to sign her up for classes at the local studio. Today was to be her first day, and she was so excited she thought she might pop.

What seemed like an eternity later, Hermione appeared. As soon as she saw her mother, Rose all but sprinted into the car house and was in the Ford Explorer before Hermione had even finished putting on her shoes. She swung her legs anxiously, sending up little puffs of dust each time they hit the seat. Why on earth was her mum so slow? Finally, finally, Hermione was in the car and backing out of the driveway. Rose held back a squeal and just kicked her legs faster.

"Rose! Please stop kicking; you're raising dust." Rose managed to restrain herself, kicking her feet in midair instead.

Five minutes later, Hermione said again, "Rose! Stop kicking the chair!" Looking down, Rose realized that she had subconsciously started kicking again.

"Sorry Mum," she mumbled, crossing her legs tightly.

"That's alright, honey, I know you're excited. But you really have to control yourself during your lesson because you might do accidental magic in front of the Muggles if you get too carried away. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mummy."

"And you mustn't talk about magic with any of the children, not even Roxanne."

Rose looked up. "Why? She's a witch too!"

"I know, but we really can't risk the others overhearing. So just pretend that you're a normal Muggle girl, okay?"

"Okay, Mum."

Hermione couldn't help but sneak a glance at her daughter as she drove. Rose currently had her legs locked to stop them from kicking and was pressing her face to the window, seemingly searching for her first glimpse of the dance studio. Hermione smiled, returning her gaze to the road.

Five minutes before the lesson started, they pulled into the parking lot. As soon as the car had come to a stop, Rose was out, bag on her shoulders and begging her mum to hurry up. As they reached the door Rose, insisting on doing it herself, pulled open the door and was immediately hit by a strange and foreign scent. It was sort of… leathery and sweaty and woody and sweet all at the same time. And there was something else that she couldn't quite place at first, but taking another sniff, she realized that it smelled like her mum in the mornings when she had just put makeup on. All throughout the narrow hallway, tall, lithe girls in colorful leotards stretched and chatted, lacing shoes and tying back hair. Rose couldn't help but step back a bit. They were all so big.

"Go on, Rosie," said Hermione, giving her a little nudge. Rose stepped inside and turned to find herself faced by a linoleum counter that she could barely see over.

"Hello, I'm here to sign in Rose Weasley for the pre-ballet class," said her mum to the person behind the counter. Rose stepped back a bit and craned her neck, but all she saw was the top of a woman's head.

"Great. I just need to check to make sure our information is right, if that's okay with you." The lady sounded very young and had an American accent.

"Of course."

"Alright. Rose Weasley, six years old. Parents Ronald and Hermione Weasley, phone number 020-9716-7512. Signing in to Pre-Ballet taught by Susan Chambers. Social security… er, ma'am, there's nothing here-" Rose saw her mum pull out her wand quickly and make a brief, complex movement with it before slipping it back into her purse just as quickly. The lady began to speak again, her voice sounding dazed. "Oh… never mind that. I could've sworn… Alright. You can go on in. Studio A." Hermione ushered Rose to one of the benches and pulled her ballet shoes out of her bag, helping her slip them on.

"Mummy, did you just use… um, the 'M' word on that-"

Guilt flashed briefly across Hermione's face. "There was a bit of Muggle information- it's called a social security number- that we didn't have, so I just wrote down a number and tweaked her memory a bit. You know, Rosie, that I normally don't approve of using magic on Muggles, but just this one time… I don't think it did any harm. Now go on, your class is about to start." Rose slid off the bench, wiggling her toes in her new ballet shoes. "Good luck, dear. Love you."

Standing on tiptoe to kiss her mum's cheek, Rose said, "Love you too, Mummy." And she hurried into the classroom where about ten other girls her age sat in a circle around the teacher. Scooting into the spot next to her cousin, she saw that the teacher was calling roll, but she knew that she would be last or close to it, so Rose twisted around to watch her mother leave. Feeling her daughter's gaze, Hermione turned around and gave a little wave, which Rose returned before saying "Here!", standing up with the rest of the class, and heading towards the bars.

"How was your lesson, girls?" asked Hermione as she led Rose and Roxanne by the hand through the parking lot. Apart from pinker cheeks and messier buns, the girls looked exactly the same as they had upon entering the studio forty-five minutes ago.

"Ooh, Aunt Hermione, it was so much fun!" gushed Roxanne. "We learned a… er… what's it called again?" She turned to her cousin.

"Plee-ay, I think," said Rose.

"Yeah, that. Look!" She stopped walking, carefully positioned her heels so that they touched, and bent her knees, wobbling a bit as she came back up.

"That's lovely, Roxy," said Hermione, smiling, "but you mustn't stop in the middle of the parking lot. If a car didn't see you, you could be hit." Roxanne jumped out of first position and trotted ahead to the car.

"What about you, Rosie? What did you think?"

Rose looked up at her mother, a strange fervor in her eyes. "It was lovely, Mummy. I want to be just like Ms. Susan when I grow up."

Unlocking the car door, Hermione looked at Rose curiously. Of the many things that Rose had tried- piano, gymnastics, and karate were just the tip of the iceberg- she had never expressed such interest. Perhaps she really would stick with ballet. But, thought Hermione as she backed out of her parking space, she had probably better hold on to that receipt for those ballet shoes. Just in case…

Rose pulled the door open, finding it to be much easier than it had been her first time eleven years ago. She was no longer the little girl of six with round cheeks and a slick bun, but rather a young woman of seventeen, tall and slender with a waterfall of orange curls. The lady behind the desk, now easily visible, had changed several times throughout Rose's years of lessons, and the woman who currently sat behind a fancy Muggle computer was unfamiliar. But the smell was the same: the leather of dance shoes, sweat, wood, and hairspray. She stopped in the threshold, taking a deep whiff.

"Er…Rose, I can't get in…" Scorpius's voice brought her back, and she saw that she was still standing on the threshold.

"Sorry," she murmured, stepping in properly so that her boyfriend could enter.

He sniffed. "Sort of smells like the Quidditch locker rooms," he commented.

Rose smiled. "Yeah, I s'pose it does." She stepped forward and took a peek into Studio A, the site of her first class. Inside, Ms. Susan, although a bit older, was teaching a class. Ten year olds with long, gawky limbs struggled to imitate her graceful movements, and Rose felt a smile creeping onto her face, remembering how important Ms. Susan's compliments were to her when she was that age. Scorpius, who had come to stand behind her, sniggered, watching a particularly clumsy girl nearly start a domino effect when she lost her balance.

"Scor!" scolded Rose, slapping his arm halfheartedly. "Don't make fun of the poor kid!"

He rolled his eyes, grinning. "Course not."

Tearing her gaze away from the ballet class, Rose made her way to the front desk. "Excuse me, ma'am." The lady looked up. "Er, I was wondering when the class in Studio A gets out." Seeing the woman's bemused look, she added, "I wanted to talk to Ms. Susan."

"Ah. Hm, let me see…" She riffled through some papers. "Five fifteen."

"Thank you." She went back to Scorpius, who had taken a seat on the long bench. "We're staying 'til 5:15."

"What?"

"That's when the class gets out!"

"Why're we staying until the class gets out?"

"Because I want to talk to my old teacher!"

"But-" Rose glared.

"Okay," he said, putting up his hands in surrender. "Y'know, you're cute when you argue." Rose blushed. "And when you blush."

She elbowed him. "Oh, stop it!" But she couldn't keep the pleased smile off her face. Scorpius leaned back against the wall, his grin matching hers, and they were content to sit like that for another fifteen minutes.

Then, the door of the classroom opened and girls came pouring out, sweaty and panting, racing for the water fountain. Rose stood quickly, waiting until all the girls had gone by. In the mirror that lined the front of the room, she could see Ms. Susan sitting down and taking off her shoes.

"D'you want me to come?" asked Scorpius, getting ready to stand.

"No, no, it's fine," she said quickly. "I want to do this by myself." He nodded and leaned back again.

Taking a deep breath, Rose stepped inside the classroom. Within, the scent of sweat and leather was even stronger. Approaching her former teacher, she said quietly, "Hi Ms. Susan."

Ms. Susan looked up, confused at first, and then recognition flashed in her eyes. "Rose Weasley?"Rose nodded, smiling shyly. "Good gracious, Rose! It's so good to see you! My, you've grown so much!" She gave her a hug. "How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. You?"

"Ah, you know. Getting older." She smiled. "But that's to be expected. So how was that boarding school you went to?"

"It's been really good; it's my last year, actually." She looked around. "But I've missed dance," she added wistfully.

"We have missed you. You were one of the best dancers that I have ever seen at your age."

Rose blushed. "Thank you. I wish I had been able to stick with it."

"As do I."

"Rose," called Scorpius quietly, poking his head in the door. "Your mum said we had to be back by five thirty."

Rose resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Yeah, I know." Then, turning back to Ms. Susan, she said, "Ms. Susan, this is my boyfriend, Scorpius. He goes to my school."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," he said, nodding.

"And you," said Ms. Susan. "You two had probably better get going if your mum's expecting you home soon. Come back and visit, won't you?"

"Of course," said Rose, giving her teacher a hug. "And thanks for everything. You were the best teacher."

Ms. Susan smiled. "Anytime." Rose turned to leave.

Stopping at the door, she inhaled one last time. The smell of the dance studio filled her lungs, and she smiled.

"D'you miss it? Dancing, I mean?" asked Scorpius once they had slipped into the alley, taking her hand to Apparate.

Looking back longingly, she replied, "All the time."

Thanks for reading; please drop me a review! ;)