Les Sylphides, chapter 4: Every Retreat is an Advance
by flax, June 2003
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)
-----------------
Hermione was not the only one completely transfixed by the vision of the Sylphs dancing in the shifting light of the kaleidoscope window above the room. The silence of the room was not respect; the critical mass of the party was not capable of respect at this time. Rather it was wonder. Pure, clean, blown over wonder. Oddly enough, perhaps shared by the sylphs dancing in the cascading light of the full moon on a midsummer eve.
When the dance broke apart and involved the rest of the willing, the murmur came back up and the party had somehow shifted a trace. It had become softer and a trace more merry as the masque shifted from hiding to meeting. Perhaps it was the result of the entrance of a mass of strangers. Whatever the reason, Hermione felt the mood change and considered returning to the party proper and her friends. She peeled out of her nook and went looking for the way back down. On her balcony stairs she met a Cheshire cat who made Peeves seem a friendly presence. He appeared, he disappeared, he grinned, he faded, he distracted: he generally got in her way every time she tried to get down the stairs.
"Would you let me pass?" she asked with exasperation.
"I'm not stopping you," said the voice of the now invisible cat who most definitely WAS stopping her.
"Sure, but I'm not sure there's a better place to talk," said a man walking up the stairs, wearing an outfit of white shells and seaweed.
"A Shelly-coat?" she asked, admiring the costume.
"Live and in the appearance. Is anything wrong? You seemed a bit distracted just now."
"I have been flustered by all the adults acting like children," said Hermione, then kicking herself and hoping not to get caught.
The Shelly-coat laughed and went over to the balcony to look over the room. "Isn't that the point? The charm of beginnings is very real."
Hermione looked down and tried to wrap her mind around the vision of a Prince Charming flirting with the Oracle of Delphi while the Cupid went on making a nuisance of himself. Though Hermione did chuckle: his arrow bounced off a woman surrounded by a flock of admirers. Apparently they were not chatting up a person in a costume, but the stone nymph who held up the mantle of the fireplace.
"I hope you found the reception all you were hoping for," said the Shelly-coat behind Hermione. She looked and was surprised to find him standing close but staring off, as if they were friends and not strangers. Hermione started to pay attention and decided he was neither drunk nor addled by the mob of a party. He was at peace in a socially spinning room.
"The party is a surprise," she said, trying to put things in order in her brain.
"Hopeful ignorance often masks itself as surprises." Hermione tried to parse that and decided he was implying that her answer was insincere.
"I wonder that it is so wild and yet so predictable," she added.
"They're having fun," said the Shelly-coat, turning to look at his giselle companion. "Same as you and your costume."
"And you and yours," she added.
He laughed. "I'm under orders, you must realize," he said.
"How could I know that?"
"Ah. I am sorry to assume. I was given the choice of this or a few worse choices. Which is essentially an order. Why did you take a masque?"
"I couldn't imagine not coming to the ball," she said honestly.
"And yet here you are on a quiet balcony."
"Being anonymous didn't sit right."
"And so here we are, out of sorts with the flock."
"I thought 'mob' while I was down there."
"They're not that bad."
His voice was conversational, not critical. It rang a bell for Hermione, but she couldn't place it. In any case, she decided to give it up and go home. She didn't think she could talk while she hid her identity, making this all unsatisfying.
"The flock," she said carefully, "is our community."
"And easier to feel the belonging while reflecting on it rather than while in the midst."
"Well, that I can understand," Hermione said watching the room critically. But she shivered in shock when his hand settled gently on her back and rotated her around into a gentle waltz.
"I didn't expect that," he said softly.
'Expectations?' thought Hermione, undecided as to whether this was a problem or not. "You'd dance with a giselle?" she said nervously.
"I will never regret dancing with you," he responded. They moved around the space and Hermione decided not to push for answers when she wasn't willing to discuss herself. His hands stayed where they belonged and he didn't trip over her - and these factors also weighed on the side of going with the flow. When the tune ended he hugged her gently before backing off and pointing out a specific costumed person below.
"It's a strange night when the Bean Nighe doesn't raise attention."
"Foretelling death?" asked Hermione, stiffening up.
"I really doubt it's about death at a Sylphides night of beginnings."
"How do you know she's real?"
It was hard to miss that the green washerwoman then looked up at the couple on the balcony and winked.
"A hunch," said the shell-coat with a snort. He looked down at the giselle and gave her a small smile before backing away to lean on the balcony and face the room and not Hermione.
"I once dreamed our marriage would be like this," he waved his hand at nothing. "But we've grown. And now I hope we can be friends in the future. It's sad that we've grown so that we can divorce with understanding."
Hermione's brain was in overdrive and she knew that there was a giant misunderstanding going on here. He seemed waiting for her response, and she wasn't formulating one. Then his eyes focused over her shoulder and he shifted from relaxed to paused, from motion to wait. Even his breathing froze in his chest.
"You cad," said a delicate voice with thick disgust. The Shelly-coat looked back at the giselle to whom he had been speaking, looking her over hard before closing his eyes in what seemed to be a defeat. He backed a trace more away from Hermione before opening his eyes once more and bowing formally.
"Madam," he said with a strange edge, "I am deeply sorry for my forward behavior. I hope you can forgive me and consider it one more error to leave behind on this formal marker of new beginnings."
"Apologize to her?" said the other voice. Hermione turned to look and saw a stunning being. There was a sylph, a real one, at the top of the stairs leading to this balcony. Blond, willowy, and giving off a sense of light and hope. Until looking more clearly at her face which was giving off fury and disgust.
"What have you done to her?" the sylph continued. "You've broken my heart, the customs of my people, and your commitments to me. And now you bring some chit into it, taunting me."
The Shelly-coat looked once more at Hermione with some vague sense of apology in his eyes. "Honest mistake," said Hermione, who then made for the exit. She edged around the real giselle and darted for the stairs. When she stopped to look back from below, the balcony was obscured in a privacy spell.
She noticed the time and realized it was time to let the costumes fade. She waved to Harry and Ron who were chatting with a monk and a miniature whomping willow. They said their farewells and met Hermione at a side exit near the desert table.
"So what happened to you?" asked Ron.
"People took me for a sylph," said Hermione.
The boys laughed with her and the three paused for a moment by the deserts before discretely sneaking out of the party.
tbc
by flax, June 2003
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)
-----------------
Hermione was not the only one completely transfixed by the vision of the Sylphs dancing in the shifting light of the kaleidoscope window above the room. The silence of the room was not respect; the critical mass of the party was not capable of respect at this time. Rather it was wonder. Pure, clean, blown over wonder. Oddly enough, perhaps shared by the sylphs dancing in the cascading light of the full moon on a midsummer eve.
When the dance broke apart and involved the rest of the willing, the murmur came back up and the party had somehow shifted a trace. It had become softer and a trace more merry as the masque shifted from hiding to meeting. Perhaps it was the result of the entrance of a mass of strangers. Whatever the reason, Hermione felt the mood change and considered returning to the party proper and her friends. She peeled out of her nook and went looking for the way back down. On her balcony stairs she met a Cheshire cat who made Peeves seem a friendly presence. He appeared, he disappeared, he grinned, he faded, he distracted: he generally got in her way every time she tried to get down the stairs.
"Would you let me pass?" she asked with exasperation.
"I'm not stopping you," said the voice of the now invisible cat who most definitely WAS stopping her.
"Sure, but I'm not sure there's a better place to talk," said a man walking up the stairs, wearing an outfit of white shells and seaweed.
"A Shelly-coat?" she asked, admiring the costume.
"Live and in the appearance. Is anything wrong? You seemed a bit distracted just now."
"I have been flustered by all the adults acting like children," said Hermione, then kicking herself and hoping not to get caught.
The Shelly-coat laughed and went over to the balcony to look over the room. "Isn't that the point? The charm of beginnings is very real."
Hermione looked down and tried to wrap her mind around the vision of a Prince Charming flirting with the Oracle of Delphi while the Cupid went on making a nuisance of himself. Though Hermione did chuckle: his arrow bounced off a woman surrounded by a flock of admirers. Apparently they were not chatting up a person in a costume, but the stone nymph who held up the mantle of the fireplace.
"I hope you found the reception all you were hoping for," said the Shelly-coat behind Hermione. She looked and was surprised to find him standing close but staring off, as if they were friends and not strangers. Hermione started to pay attention and decided he was neither drunk nor addled by the mob of a party. He was at peace in a socially spinning room.
"The party is a surprise," she said, trying to put things in order in her brain.
"Hopeful ignorance often masks itself as surprises." Hermione tried to parse that and decided he was implying that her answer was insincere.
"I wonder that it is so wild and yet so predictable," she added.
"They're having fun," said the Shelly-coat, turning to look at his giselle companion. "Same as you and your costume."
"And you and yours," she added.
He laughed. "I'm under orders, you must realize," he said.
"How could I know that?"
"Ah. I am sorry to assume. I was given the choice of this or a few worse choices. Which is essentially an order. Why did you take a masque?"
"I couldn't imagine not coming to the ball," she said honestly.
"And yet here you are on a quiet balcony."
"Being anonymous didn't sit right."
"And so here we are, out of sorts with the flock."
"I thought 'mob' while I was down there."
"They're not that bad."
His voice was conversational, not critical. It rang a bell for Hermione, but she couldn't place it. In any case, she decided to give it up and go home. She didn't think she could talk while she hid her identity, making this all unsatisfying.
"The flock," she said carefully, "is our community."
"And easier to feel the belonging while reflecting on it rather than while in the midst."
"Well, that I can understand," Hermione said watching the room critically. But she shivered in shock when his hand settled gently on her back and rotated her around into a gentle waltz.
"I didn't expect that," he said softly.
'Expectations?' thought Hermione, undecided as to whether this was a problem or not. "You'd dance with a giselle?" she said nervously.
"I will never regret dancing with you," he responded. They moved around the space and Hermione decided not to push for answers when she wasn't willing to discuss herself. His hands stayed where they belonged and he didn't trip over her - and these factors also weighed on the side of going with the flow. When the tune ended he hugged her gently before backing off and pointing out a specific costumed person below.
"It's a strange night when the Bean Nighe doesn't raise attention."
"Foretelling death?" asked Hermione, stiffening up.
"I really doubt it's about death at a Sylphides night of beginnings."
"How do you know she's real?"
It was hard to miss that the green washerwoman then looked up at the couple on the balcony and winked.
"A hunch," said the shell-coat with a snort. He looked down at the giselle and gave her a small smile before backing away to lean on the balcony and face the room and not Hermione.
"I once dreamed our marriage would be like this," he waved his hand at nothing. "But we've grown. And now I hope we can be friends in the future. It's sad that we've grown so that we can divorce with understanding."
Hermione's brain was in overdrive and she knew that there was a giant misunderstanding going on here. He seemed waiting for her response, and she wasn't formulating one. Then his eyes focused over her shoulder and he shifted from relaxed to paused, from motion to wait. Even his breathing froze in his chest.
"You cad," said a delicate voice with thick disgust. The Shelly-coat looked back at the giselle to whom he had been speaking, looking her over hard before closing his eyes in what seemed to be a defeat. He backed a trace more away from Hermione before opening his eyes once more and bowing formally.
"Madam," he said with a strange edge, "I am deeply sorry for my forward behavior. I hope you can forgive me and consider it one more error to leave behind on this formal marker of new beginnings."
"Apologize to her?" said the other voice. Hermione turned to look and saw a stunning being. There was a sylph, a real one, at the top of the stairs leading to this balcony. Blond, willowy, and giving off a sense of light and hope. Until looking more clearly at her face which was giving off fury and disgust.
"What have you done to her?" the sylph continued. "You've broken my heart, the customs of my people, and your commitments to me. And now you bring some chit into it, taunting me."
The Shelly-coat looked once more at Hermione with some vague sense of apology in his eyes. "Honest mistake," said Hermione, who then made for the exit. She edged around the real giselle and darted for the stairs. When she stopped to look back from below, the balcony was obscured in a privacy spell.
She noticed the time and realized it was time to let the costumes fade. She waved to Harry and Ron who were chatting with a monk and a miniature whomping willow. They said their farewells and met Hermione at a side exit near the desert table.
"So what happened to you?" asked Ron.
"People took me for a sylph," said Hermione.
The boys laughed with her and the three paused for a moment by the deserts before discretely sneaking out of the party.
tbc
