As this movement is a waltz, the verses are grouped three at a time in sets of eight with the interruption of the idée fixe at the halfway point, emulating the three-quarter time and phrasing of the dance.
Snow fell silently, masking the stars.
As James entered the Great Hall, he tasted silk and gold, satin and silver.
Decorated pines stood in the corners, filling the air with the scent of the holidays.
She was waiting for him, dressed in her best.
Deception was the word furthest from his mind as he smiled, offering her his hand.
A violin's frenzied waltz inspired the dancing students.
Finding the table set for their usual four, he greeted Sirius and Remus in a swirl of midnight blue.
Embryonic death watched them from a corner.
"Shall we dance?" asked Sirius.
His eyes were obsidian, dark and lustrous and lit with the night's tinsel.
Something in them made Remus remember obsidian's origins of ash and destruction.
The four had exchanged gifts that morning,
Ribbons tight with the knowledge that next year they might not be together,
Paper thick with their history.
They spent their afternoon in their common room,
Weaving a web of friendship around the fire.
Peter had almost told them.
He had drawn air for the sentence,
Changed it into something insignificant.
They had not noticed as he fumbled for his words.
Would they care?
Was his insecurity so much a part of their group that they no longer thought about it?
The others would rescue him from a life of being second best.
"James," he thought, "please forgive me."
"Have you seen Peter?"
"He's around here somewhere."
"Somewhere," muttered Snape, with a glance to a far corner.
"He has an assignment for you," said Malfoy.
"One you should find easy.
"He wants Potter. Not now, but soon."
Peter turned away from Malfoy.
An icy breath in his ear,
A velvet chain to darkness.
Winding his way through the students,
His heart beating in time with the music,
"James," he thought, "please forgive me."
Could James still love him?
Would their friendship ever be the same?
Who would they want after James?
Brass flowed in his blood,
Brilliant and poisonous,
Sharp in its sound.
He was one of their lethal circle.
He had traded the Triad for the promise of glory,
For the promise of acceptance.
Among the sparkle lay the beginning of a war.
They would be divided, betrayed, murdered.
Christmas was perfect.