A/N: So this chapter starts getting this rolling. The chapter title comes from the song, "Time of Our Lives" by Tyrone Wells.

Moscow could be described in one word: beautiful. The sunset over the river was gorgeous, shining in bright, extensive colours. The architecture that looked like forever swirls of multicoloured ice cream shined against the sun. The wonderful sounds of speedy Russian over the music playing through open windows of flats around the city harmonised with the distant sounds of ferries. Moscow was beautiful.

Of course, it was beautiful if you ignored everything else. The road rage, the Russian being screamed that sounded incredibly like profanity, the beggars that would try to latch onto your ankles to keep you from moving, and the constant smell of cigarettes, vodka, and petrol; it was unbearably disgusting. When Hermione landed at the airport, she thought Moscow was beautiful, but after living there for a week in the hotel she was staying in, she had seen enough of that city to last seven lifetimes.

Her scholarship with the company didn't officially begin until next Monday – a mere three days away – so in the meantime, she thought she'd meet up with one of the girls she'd been dancing with. Her name was Ana Schrattenthaler from Austria, and that's all Hermione knew. They planned on meeting in a nice café by the river to talk about dance in general, and just get to know someone so they both weren't going into this blind (this was Ana's first year too). Ana had owled Hermione, and of course she said yes.

Hermione had nothing to recognise her from, but found it extremely easy to spot her when she saw a girl with long white blonde hair standing in fifth position while ordering a decaf pumpkin spice latte. "Ana?" she asked hesitantly, and tapped the girl on her shoulder.

The first thing Hermione noticed about the girl in front of her when she turned was her eyes. They were blue. And not just blue, but an ice blue. No, ice is translucent, Hermione reminded herself, which would mean it reflects some light, not exactly giving its own colour. No, a better word was crystal blue. Crystals were often tinted blue, and that's what it reminded Hermione of: crystals. The second thing she noticed was her thin face, and her lips, which when Ana was biting them in a thinking look (like now), seemed to be like one straight line. Besides being beautiful, Ana was one of the skinniest girls Hermione had ever seen. Not unhealthily skinny (at least she hoped not. It was hard to tell while Ana wore a cardigan), but just thin. It made Hermione slightly self-conscious of her own curvy body.

"Air-mi-o-nay?" Ana said, a hint of enthusiasm in her voice. "It is great to finally meet you!" She embraced her in a full-frontal hug, and Hermione whispered a quick "It's Her-my-oh-knee, actually," while in the chest-crunching hug. However, Ana must not have heard her, for she continued to butcher her name over and over again. "Come Air-mi-o-nay, I will buy you your drink, yes?"

Hermione was about to interject and say she was completely fine, but Ana insisted, and well, she had insisted, hadn't she? With a small smile parading her lips, she ordered just a small frappecino. (She didn't want Ana spending too much money on her. Although, she didn't really know how many pounds were to 250 rubles).

They sat down at a nice, small table (actually it was very small. For such a large country as Russia was, this café sure had small tables. They were so small, in fact, Hermione and Ana's knees were touching). Ana took a sip of her coffee before speaking. "I am missing my grandfather's funeral for this," she said without a hint of a joking matter.

Out of everything that could have come out of Ana's mouth, that was hardly what Hermione was expecting. She chuckled and smiled as if Ana was kidding around, but she didn't laugh along with her. "That's a joke, right?" she asked, slowly quieting down. "Wait...you're not joking are you?"

Ana shook her head. "My grandfather died last week when I arrived here. And I could have gone home but I would have lost my scholarship. He practically raised me along with my mum, and I was really distraught from his death...But I am sure he would understand. He was always supportive of my dance career."

Out of curious habit, Hermione began to ask more questions until she had gotten to the housing question. "So where are you living?" she asked, and finished downing her coffee. It had gotten cold while she had been listening intently to Ana speaking about her home in Austria. She had four siblings who all had different talents. Her brother, Claus, played the violin; her sister, Julia, had an amazing memory; her other brother, Jakob, was a fantastic at chemistry; and her youngest sister, Bianca, had an ear for music. Or at least that's what Ana told her. She lived in a small house right by rolling green hills, and had always dreamed of becoming a famous ballerina, and she was hoping this was her chance.

Ana's eyebrows knit together as she took the final sip of her latte. "Er, well, I am staying at Tantsor Flat. TSR for short. Have you not heard of it?" When Hermione shook her head no, Ana elaborated. "It is basically this flat where a lot of the dancers partaking in the company room together and pitch in to pay rent. It has been going on since the company started about one hundred years ago. Most of the girls at that time were fourteen or fifteen, and a lot were not native to the area. So they all decided to room together, practise ballet together, just do everything together so no one was in much danger. They rented TSR years and years over again so much that now it is automatically given to the dancers of the company the next year. Neat, huh?" she asked after explaining. "It is a rather nice flat, and about eight other girls in the company live there. I think the other ten are from Moscow."

"That's quite amazing," Hermione said. "Brilliant, actually. I just thought we had to come here and fend for ourselves. I'm staying in a hotel for the moment, and I was actually nervous about housing arrangements." She still seemed in awe as she talked. "Really, that's great."

"You can move in," Ana said plainly. "You do not have to ask or wait for me to invite you to move in. It is giant. It comfortably fits about eleven or twelve and right now there is nine of us," she said. "TSR is a great place to be, Air-mi-o-nay. I am sure Esther would not mind another flatmate."

Hermione drew away her rather full cup and took Ana's from her, tossing it in the trash as well. "Esther?" she asked as they stood up. "Who's she?" They exited the café with much regret. Immediately Ana wrapped her cardigan around herself, and Hermione repositioned her hat, which had been slightly tilted off-centre by a gust of cold wind.

"The oldest girl in TSR," she explained. "Oh, not age-wise," she corrected after Hermione had begun to do the maths on her fingers. "She is the oldest experience-wise. She entered the company when she was thirteen through their junior company and has been involved for about eight years. Everyone else has been around seven or less, like you and I being the new people," she explained. "Esther does not really have a say on who gets to stay, but she does get to decide how many are allowed to stay. She has not booted anyone yet, so I doubt she will. But there is just something about her..." Ana shivered at the thought.

"Something about her?" Hermione asked, almost fast-walking to keep up with Ana; her long legs made it able for one step to be equal to three of Hermione's steps. "What's wrong with her? Does she not like...Mudbloods?" she asked quietly.

"No!" Ana exclaimed, looking completely offended. "Nothing like that. She is just...very different, I guess you would say," she said. "You will see what I mean. And use that kind of language around me, and I will tell Ms Gunin. She will kick you out immediately." Ms Gunin was the current owner of the company, having it been passed down through generations of Gunins. Apparently, she was very strict and very meticulous about the people in her company. It was a miracle Hermione even made it in. "I will come with you to get your things – you are staying in TSR now."

Unable to think of a way out of the offer, Hermione brought Ana back to her hotel to grab her only belongings in Russia – all of her clothes, her dance belongings, and her hair products. She stuffed them easily in her bag with the Extension Charm ("You really did that when you were 17? Impressive!") and then went on her way. Ana led the way to TSR, which, surprisingly, was only a few blocks away from her former residence.

When they reached the door to the flat, Hermione could automatically tell the difference. Unlike the many doors residing on its side, TSR's door was shiny, as if polished daily, its knob crystal while the others' brass, and there was a gold plate directly in front of Hermione with the bold words, "Tantsor Flat: Reserved for Tantsor Dancers Only" in both Russian and English carved in it. "Oh, er, nice," she said quietly.

Ana rolled her eyes. "I know, it is a bit gaudy, but that is how Ms Gunin likes it. The gaudier, the better." She began to rummage through her bag. "Now where is that blasted – there it is." Ana unveiled a wand that wasn't one of Ollivander's, for his were never such a light shade of blue. On the side was a dent that varied in depth and size as you went along the scar.

"What kind of wand is that?" Hermione asked, stepping a bit closer to observe it. It almost seemed to sparkle as Ana twirled it around her fingers.

"Oh, this? It is a Poppmeier. Poppmeier's makes the best wands in all of Austria. Perhaps the world! The wands come in a rainbow of colours and to each owner it has a different look and speciality spell," she explained. "For example, my wand sparkles in my hands, so you know it is mine. And the speciality spell is the Summoning Charm. The moment I learned it, the cloth I was aiming for came right to my hands." She gave a small pout. "It is sometime unfair though. Bianca's speciality spell is the Patronus Charm..."

"That's extremely exquisite!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes still looking eagerly on the shimmering wand."My wand comes from the best wand shop in Britain, Ollivander's." She pulled her wand out, suddenly realising how dull the plan brown was against the blue that matched Ana's eyes. "It doesn't do anything special, it's just a normal wand, but I find it rather great," she said, a bit protective of her wand and its maker.

Ana's face widened in surprise. "No, I do not think your wand is bad," she said quickly. "I am just partial to my own. Poppmeiers are great and all, but in Mongolia their wands can emit quick messages through smoke particles back and forth to each other to form words instead of using owls. Of course, that only works with two of the same kind of wand...but I am digressing!" she exclaimed. She pushed her wand through the sleek hole straight through the middle of the knob and turned. "We will get your wand branded, do not worry," she said quietly. She pocketed her wand with the patterned dent looking slightly more scratched than before.

When Ana talked about branding, Hermione instantly thought of Draco and the Dark Mark he bore in their sixth year. She never got to ask him how that felt, or whether he regretted it fully or not. She guessed she was just a little too scared to ask. But now it didn't seem like she would ever get the chance to find out. Her imagination and theories were her only friends now, it seemed. And perhaps Ana.

"Esther?" Ana called once she crossed the threshold. She sought past the entryway and down a short corridor. She stopped briefly at the end of the carpeted hall and turned to her left. With an unappreciated snort, her hands snapped to her hips. "Did you not hear me call your name?" There was some mumbling that couldn't be distinguished before Ana spoke again. "Well, we have another squatter. I am joking, it is another Tantsor dancer, wanting to room...She is from England...Her name is Air-mi-oh-nay...Just come meet her!" Ana persisted.

Hermione was rather good at imagining book characters while reading interesting and descriptive novels, or thinking up how authors looked when they took a quill to parchment and wrote a long, 1600 page textbook on Potions, but for some reason, she was having a hard time picturing her fellow dancers, and that went for Esther as well. For Ana saying she was different and a bit strange, and perhaps intimidating, Hermione was expecting a tall, burly, man-like woman. Instead, the girl in front of her could not even be five foot. "You're Esther?" she asked, in a way that was not supposed to sound offending, but still did.

"Yes, is that a problem?" Esther asked, pushing back her almost hip-length ebony hair. "Good," she said after Hermione shook her head so much her hat fell off. "Leave it until we're done talking," Esther commanded, seeing Hermione's knees begin to bend. "So, what's your name?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because I'm pretty sure it's not 'Air-mi-oh-nay'," she lolled, hitting Ana's accent perfectly. From behind Esther, Ana slumped and opened the door to a rather spacious room, mumbling obscenities as she entered.

"Oh, er," Hermione began, suddenly caught very much off-guard. "It's er, close. It's Hermione. I'm Hermione Granger, from London, England," she said, and extended a hand.

"Pleasure," Esther said, tightening her crossed arms. "I'm Esther de Wit, Amsterdam," she said. "Now that the formalities are over, shall I kick you out of TSR or do you have a better option?" She gave a smile that would have been sweet on any other face, but on hers it was like poisonous darts at Hermione's helium balloons that created her heart.

However, she cleared her throat and tried to bring down her beaming red face. "Well, I was just wondering if I may stay here. Please," she added after a moment.

Esther's eyes narrowed as she scrutinised Hermione and her body. "How can I be certain that you are a part of Tantsor Dance Company, besides the fact you just had coffee with Ana?" she asked, noticing Hermione about to speak. "And yes, I know you had coffee, I can smell it off your breath just vaguely, meaning you only had a little bit, like you didn't like it, or were too busy talking or listening to finish drinking it. Probably the latter, since you were most likely trying to get to know Ana, and everyone knows she can talk for days," she answered Hermione's puzzled look. "I'm observant."

"Like Sherlock Holmes?" Hermione asked, quite in awe still, and put her hand to her mouth, as if it would cover the smell.

"Who?"

"Never mind," she sighed. "I am part of Tantsor, I can show you my letter," she said, and pulled out a neatly laminated letter from a small pocket in her luggage. Esther scoffed, and Hermione shot her a look. "Er," she mumbled, and pulled it out of the lamination sleeve and handed it over to Esther. "There you are." There was a blood stain on it, and a small rip at the top. Hermione had cut her finger on the owl's talons as she had tried to pry it from him, which was where the rip came in.

Hermione had read the letter so many times that she had it memorised. She watched as Esther read the words and mouthed them as she did: To Miss Hermione Granger, We at the Tantsor Dance Company (that is to say, I) think that the audition you performed for us was exceptional in the categories of creativity, training, and technique. Your ability to pick up choreography was a bit rusty, but still qualified you for our company. We (that is, I) expect to see you at the Tantsor Dance Company Studios in Moscow, Russia on the 1st of September. Failure to exceed our expectations on the first day or failure to appear will give a promising boot of our program. Lovingly, Ms Gunin.

Hermione had assumed the 'lovingly' part was sarcasm, for Ms Gunin did not seem like the kind of person to be loving. Anyhow, she had read the letter over and over again when she got it a few days before Christmas. It was her favourite present.

She could not lie and say that every time she slept with Malfoy she didn't think about her scholarship. She would wake up in the morning and just think about telling Malfoy, especially when her feelings began to get stronger. But she stopped herself many times until that horrible morning just weeks ago. Hermione shuddered at the thought of it. She didn't want to remember anything about Malfoy or that relationship (if you would call it that) that they had. She cleared her throat and focussed her eyes on Esther instead.

Esther was biting her lip so much it was bleeding. Her eyes kept travelling over the letter, hoping to find some way that it was fake. Her fingers moved against the sharp parchment, but it was authentic. With a sigh, she handed it back. "You take the bed by Ana off of the door to your right, my left, straight to the last door in the back. Don't ask me to repeat it again, you'll find it. Carry your own luggage," she said. "Oh, and don't forget your hat," she added before turning on her heel and slamming the door she had entered from behind her.

"I told you she was different," Ana sniffed, wiping her red eyes with a handkerchief Hermione had let her borrow. She had entered their room to see her sniffling and crying. "She says the most awful things, but she is a great dancer. It is unfair, really. That people with horrible personalities can just be so talented."

Hermione sighed and rubbed her back slightly, trying to make Ana feel better. "I'm sure you're a great dancer," she told her with a genuine smile. "You must be. This is the best company in all of the world for witches and wizards. You're in the best!"

Ana shrugged. "So is she. And so are you." She sighed, and then moved back to her bed. "I am going to go to bed, it has been a long day for me. I am glad you are staying though, Air-mi-oh-nay." She waved her wand silently, and the lights went out, giving Hermione no choice but to sleep as well.

The next two days were slow, and Hermione spent most of her time meeting the other dancers as they all stretched together in their living area. Esther stayed in her room, stretching on her own. Ana explained she does that often, she didn't really like being around everyone.

Hermione had met everyone in Tantsor, and found them all a hell of a lot nicer than Esther. There was one girl, Elaine, from America, who had unruly curly black hair. "You don't have much of an American accent," Hermione had told her. "I mean, you do, just not like an obvious one, like a Southern or New York or Jersey accent," she had said.

"That's because I'm from Indiana," Elaine had said. "I don't think we have much of an accent. But a lot of people think I do."

Now that Hermione was staying in TSR, there was a total of ten girls sharing the flat. Herself, Ana, Esther, Elaine, Ingrid from Copenhagen, who was even taller than Ana, and a bit big boned, but had a great laugh; Estela, from Costa Rica, who always wore a bandana; Carley, from Sydney, who loved reading as much as Hermione did; Li, from Beijing, who could lift her leg over her head; Hanna, from Helsinki, who often talked in fast Finnish over a Muggle telephone; and then Erika, who was from Dublin, and had bright red hair that would make the Weasleys run for their money. During the first day, Hermione had good hour long conversations with each girl (minus Esther) and for a bonding moment before their first day as part of the company, they all (except Esther of course) decided to go to a local shopping centre before their schedules got hectic.

Li, being as polite as she was, opened the clear door for everyone as all nine of them piled through. Hermione stood wide-eyed in the shopping centre, completely in awe. All the other girls must have popped in her a few times, so they did not find it so interesting, but Hermione did.

Walking in, it looked like an old ordinary shopping centre, but as you turned the corner, about a thousand clear spiral staircases of various heights led to different floors. Shimmering light off of crystals danced across the entire area, glittering and illuminating everything around it. Additional sunshine shown down on the multiple shops, spotlighting many of them. It was decorated with golden birds hanging on strings and the Russian flag was hanging on the other side of the main entrance. There were other fall decorations, like the carousel in the middle had been painted brown, orange, and red; many of the shops were having fall sales; and, although Hermione couldn't see them, she could smell some roasted pumpkin seeds.

"This is...amazing," she said, finding her choice of word not satisfactory at all, but at the moment, she could not think. Besides the beautiful simplicity of the shopping centre taking over her, and the smell of the seeds, she picked up a distinct whiff of something else that smelled divine. "Do you smell...pretzel?" she asked the other girls. She hadn't eaten yet today, and something about a cinnamon and sugar pretzel just sounded like it would hit the spot.

The girls all looked at Hermione with the same face, their eyebrows all knit together, and their noses scrunched as if trying to smell what she could. "Er, no," Erika said, shifting in her shoes uncomfortably. "But there's a pretzel shop by the food court over on the other side. Want to go?"

"Can we?" Hermione asked excitedly. "It just...it sounds good, don't you think?"

Everyone else shrugged in response, rather indifferent. "I think a pretzel sounds lovely," piped up Hanna. "I have been wanting to try the raisin one for a while." Soon all the other dancers were on board, and they headed to the other end of the shopping centre, where they were all greeted with scents of sausages, Chinese food, pretzels, pizza, and other stereotypical food from around the world. Estela was especially offended when she saw on the Hispanic menu that the in the English characters "quesadillas" was spelled "kwaysadiyas".

"Well, I'm going to get a pretzel, who will join me?" Hermione asked, heading toward a stand that read "Granny Sue's Pretzels". Soon, she was accompanied by Hanna, Ingrid, and Carley, leaving the others to get whatever food they desired.

"Why pretzels?" Ingrid asked as they sat down at a very small table in the middle of the food court. "I mean, I like them a lot," she said, looking at her salted pretzel, "but that's such a random food, don't you think?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's not that random, really. Most shopping centres have them, and I could smell them, and it sounded good. It's not science." The other three girls looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Hermione remembered vaguely that they were all pureblood. "It's not Potions," she replaced, and then they finally smiled.

"I can twist like this pretzel," Carley said, standing up immediately. One thing about the blonde in front of Hermione was that she was always daring, and did not get embarrassed at all. "I'm probably more flexible than any of you," she smirked. Almost as if her legs were just wooden sticks attached to her body by string, Carley pulled her left leg up at a 180 degree angle. She smirked and wrapped her back around the side of her leg and smiled.

"Hey!" came a strongly accented Russian man from the side. His voice went up slightly, and his voice echoed slightly. "Got anything else you can twist for me?" he smirked, his eyes looking almost black.

Carley unravelled herself and gave an equal smirk back. "Yeah," she called. "Your neck." She sat back down in her seat, leaving the man with widened eyes and absolutely speechless. She looked back at Hermione, Hanna, and Ingrid, who were speechless too. "Guys used to come onto me all the time. One night I stayed up writing comebacks. Seems to be working."

The rest of the day the girls spent shopping, looking for cute clothes. However, Hermione and Carley sneaked off halfway through the day to a book store, and read up on ballet books in both English and Russian, trying to prepare themselves for the next day. Although together, they hardly spoke a word to each other besides the occasionally, "the upside down 'u' makes a p sound, right?" or "isn't the backwards 'n' pronounced like an 'e'?" When all was settled, they headed back to TSR, fell asleep quickly, and got ready to wake up at five o'clock the next morning.

TSR was a frenzy in the morning. Bobby pins flew like jets across the rooms, hairspray took up eighty percent of the air, tights were ripped as they were hurried on, pointe shoes ribbons were being magically sewn on in haste, and leotards were being slipped on with speed as all the girls hurried to get ready for their first class; the one that would let them stay or cause them to leave.

"Everyone line up by the front door!" Esther called, who had been ready since everyone else woke up. "We're going out to class now! Everyone, single file, behind me!" Many of the girls grumbled at Esther's act of superiority, but went over to the door.

"What makes you the leader?" Hermione burst out. "We can walk on our own, thanks. None of us are seven, you know. I'm a good number of years older than you."

Esther scoffed. "And you're proud of that? Wow..." She snapped her fingers, and the rest of the girls lined up. "Follow me, girls! Ms Gunin hates tardiness."

With a sigh, Hermione followed, occasionally checking her bag to make sure she had her correct pointe shoes. Her wand was securely fastened in the side of her bag, ready to take out if necessary. However, Esther led a good route to the studios, and in no time, Hermione was standing in yet another line, behind about fifteen other girls, ten of whom she had never seen in her life.

At the front of the line was Ms Gunin (according to the picture Hermione had received in the mail). In her wrinkly, veined hands she held a crimson wand. She waved it ever so slightly, and a measuring tape flew out of nowhere. It spun around, as if pirouetting, and zoomed toward the first girl, who had a pudgy nose and heavy lidded eyes. She looked unperturbed as it began to measure her. It flew between her legs, across the width of her arms, and finally, around her waist, where it squeezed her the most. Ms Gunin looked closely at her waist and then the tape measure flew back, and idled by her for a moment. "Khrosho," she said, which according to Hermione's little knowledge of the Russian language, meant 'good'.

The next nine girls, who all looked scarily similar to the first in body size and stature, all were given a "Khrosho" and moved to the studio to pin their hair again and to put on their shoes. Esther was next, and Ms Gunin measure her exactly like everyone else, letting her go through without even examining her waist. She didn't really need to. Anyone could look at Esther and know she was thin enough to be a prima ballerina.

When Estela came up, Ms Gunin's frown fell even more as the tape measurer sped around her body, getting a bit bigger measurements than the other girls. "You have gained weight," she said, looking up at Estela. "Turn into a size chetyre and you're out," she said in a thick Russian accent. "Oh, and off with the bandanna," she said, grabbing the blue fabric and pulling it off Estela's head, exposing her little hair.

Hermione felt his heart jump to her throat. A size four? She thought she was a size three...She kept thinking about sizes and weight and getting fat and didn't notice that she was at the front of the line.

"Miss Granger," said Ms Gunin, making Hermione snap out of her trace and jump forward like a scared rabbit. "Ballerinas are meant to be precisely on time with the music and with their moves. You have not made a good first impression...You get no second chance." Immediately the tape measurer began to twist it's way around Hermione, giving off normal measurements except around her breasts, thighs and stomach.

"Ow," Hermione thought as the tape measurer tightened itself around her body. She let out a sigh as he flew back over to Ms Gunin, and she gave a small smile.

"Lose weight. And soon," she said, letting Hermione pass her

As if avoiding the plague, Hermione sprinted into the studio, and joined the others getting ready. She looked down at her stomach as she tied on her pointe shoes with ease. When she had done a few warm-ups, she found Estela. "I'm so sorry about your bandanna," she said.

"It's okay," Estela sighed. "I just was always self conscious about my hair. I've only been cancer free about a year," she explained.

"Cancer – ?" Hermione began, but Ms Gunin had barged in, and began yelling in Russian that all the girls she have been waiting patiently at the barre, not talking.

"We will begin!" she yelled. Hermione hurried to her spot she had picked, right on the end of the barre, and gave a last roll-up before settling her feet in first position. "Pliés, first. Two demi-pliés, then a grand plié, then seven possés, a triple pirouette, and then second position," she said, not giving the tempo. As the music began and everyone got into their place, Hermione realised how fast the music was, and how hard it would be to just do pliés.

By the time they had gravitated into centre work, all of the TSR girls, besides Esther, looked beat. Carley raised her hand as she stood in a poor third position. "Ms Gunin?" she asked. "Could we maybe get some wat-"

"Het vody!" she yelled. "No water!" Hermione jumped slightly at her booming voice. For such an old, wrinkly woman, she had a loud, intimidating voice. "To the corner, Dawning Lady variation!" she yelled.

Everyone headed to the corner, and some girls marked the variation while others went to the front of the line, going through each step in their head so they knew it perfectly. Hermione stood in the back. She had never even heard of the Dawning Lady, or knew the variation! She stood back and watched the first seven girls go, and thought she had the hang of it. By the time she went, she completely messed up on the fouette turns – her ankle had wobbled slightly which caused her to have only five fouettes, not six, and then she went too fast on the pas de couru, so the rest of the variation was off. She felt sick to her stomach as she rejoined the line to try again, this time only doing slightly better.

Near the end of their first four hour long class, Elaine looked like she was about to faint, Li had muttered something under her breath that sounded like a prayer, and Erika had tied and retied her shoes three times. Hermione panted as she watched Ms Gunin talk about form and yet one more variation they would have to perform.

As they practised the new variation over and over again, Hermione felt like something was off. It was a very jumpy variation, and Ms Gunin was looking over at all the girls, her eyebrows knit, wondering about something. "Miss Granger," she said quickly, "will you stop jumping!" Out of shock, Hermione paused, and her face turned a bright red. "What kind of shoes do you have?"

"Gavillians," she sped out of her mouth as if the word was already waiting on the tip of her tongue.

Ms Gunin spat onto the floor, and made a gagging noise. "Get new ones. They're too loud and look disgusting on your feet! A pair of Tesalls works, or Prestibs, or even Liolias. Just not Gavillians. And I say that to everyone. Pyat, shest, sem, vosem!" she counted, and everyone got in place.

Being self-conscious now, Hermione did poorly on the jumping variation. Her shoes practically echoed throughout the room, and she thought she could hear some of the native girls snickering at her Italian fouettes. She blushed as she bowed in finish, and waited for the end of class.

After a short combination that made Hermione feel sick again, the girls bowed and left. As if it were the only water remaining on earth, Hermione took her water bottle and downed it quickly, splashing some on her face. After a moment, her stomach lurched, and she bolted to the bathroom. She puked into the toilet, getting rid of all of the water she just drank and some stomach acid. In the stall next to her, she heard another girl vomit. "Who's there?" she asked with a hoarse voice.

"Elaine," she said quickly before throwing up again. "I'm not used to this intense training..." Both toilets flushed simultaneously, and the girls almost mirrored each other with their bushy hair and pale faces.

"Neither am I," Hermione said as she washed her hands and face. "Is this your first year, too?" she asked curiously.

Elaine nodded. "Yeah...But if throwing up happens every time, I'm not so sure I want to keep going," she sighed. "Li told me getting sick is normal after your first class. Ms Gunin is really cruel, she said. No water, no food and only dance. You can only drink water and eat on your own time...It's sickening."

"Yeah," Hermione said quietly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Did she gain weight? Her face was slightly fatter and maybe her thighs too...She couldn't really tell about her stomach, but maybe she had just gotten curvier. She ran a hand along her neck, desperately hoping she would not get a double chin one day.

"You're not fat," Elaine said quietly. "Don't think you are...Every girl at one time or another looks into the mirror and finds themselves unhappy with their body. Maybe they think they're too short, too tall, not curvy enough, too fat, had a small chest, had a large one...For me it was my eyebrows. I always swore I had a unibrow," she laughed. "But you should not be thinking you're fat, Hermione. Because Ms Gunin is full of bullshit. You are the perfect size, you're beautiful, and no one should ever tell you you aren't. Any guy would be happy to have you, as would any dance company." Elaine gave a sad smile and left the bathroom without another word.

Any guy would be happy to have me? Hermione thought. But he's not just any guy. He's Draco Malfoy. And he doesn't have people. He hurts them. She brushed aside a tear and took a deep breath before going back for their second class of the day.

A/N: I AM SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY for the delay! I know lots of people were wondering if this story was finished or abandoned. THIS STORY WILL NEVER BE ABANDONED, OKAY? And you'll know when it's finished :)

I've been really busy these past couple months. I've had a recital, finished school, had funerals to go to, read, write my own novel, and I've had writer's block :( BUT I'M BACK. And I hope this chapter is suffice for the wait :) And yes, I will be writing about Draco's life next.

On the 25th, I am leaving for a mission trip until July 4th, so I wanted to get the update out before! I want to wish you all a happy summer, and that I'm still sorry! Also, for those of you who are still sticking with me even though it's been a while since I've updated, I love you!

Also, I wrote the Russian with English characters so you could see how it is pronounced. Would you rather me use Russian letters? Tell me in a Review! Also, guess my age! I won't tell you what it is, but guess it!

As always, Favourite, Follow, and Review! I love you all! Give me a hundred Reviews for me to read when I return!

-Eagles xx