Snape stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles, and leaning against the back of the chair, crossed his arms. His gaze slid over to Hermione's face, she was staring down into her lap and for the first time in the few years he had known her she looked completely lost. Not lost in thought, not lost and afraid, not lost without composure, but just lost. And she looked very young.
Tziganne had disappeared somewhere in the darkening pub. Lupin and Bera were exchanging awkward pleasantries and Harry's eyes were hard to read behind his glasses. He was finishing off his butterbeer. Snape reached for his tumbler of whiskey and threw it back effortlessly.
Without warning a haunting violin began a slow and melancholy wail, silence fell almost immediately, most patrons craned their necks in search of the player, but in vain. The slow treble tremors began to climb and climb, then a high note held for four measures and with an unbelievable shout, Tziganne leapt from somewhere out of the shadows and into the open floor space near the bar. She began to spin and spin and spin, the violin bow sawing madly now, urging her on.
The Scottish wizards shouted their approval as the woman held her long arms over her head and her green robes tranformed, whipping around her body. The music stilled abruptly and with another shout she stopped herself, one foot tapping firmly down on the floor, her arms spread gracefully. A roar went up from the Scotsmen as her stillness revealed the flamboyant costume of a gypsy folk dancer. Her body was well suited to the attire, a short black halter-style top, heavily embroidered with a rich hue of colors. Her well-muscled abdomen and then loose-fitting black pantaloons, hanging low on her hips, prominent hip bones displayed over the embroidered waistband. She was barefooted, her ankles and wrists adorned with silver bangles, her hair caught up at the crown of her head, wrapped in heavy silver cording, cascading down out of its confinement, falling between her shoulder blades.
Slowly, sinuously, she began to move in the very still silence; keeping time to a rhythm which seemed to come from the beating of every heart, from the breathing of each set of lungs. Patrons sat up a little straighter, eyes opened wider, tongues wetted lips.
And then the sound of the violin returned, slowly building in volume, accompanying her movements, another joined it and the two sounds merged with the dancer between them, braiding into an ancient expression of music and movement. Tziganne wove herself in and out of tables, hips swishing, torso bending and swaying, her arms and legs beckoning and embracing. She danced to every corner of the pub and the violins cried out their tune.
There was only the dance.
The kilted wizards, who had wanted the dance, having seen it before, stood shoulder to shoulder in the space which divided the pub from the back room. McBride closed his eyes and found himself on a windswept hill, looking down into the human carnage in the vale below, his mates beside him still. A broadsword hanging heavy from his hand, dripping gore into the grass. He breathed deeply of the wild moorland wind carrying its unmistakable smell of blood and victory; he felt the warmth of his body, his heated blood singing in his veins, still alive. The ache in his muscles, deep breaths, his skin tingling. And he let his heart pull him towards home.
There was only the dance.
A broken hag of a witch, slumped on a stool at the bar, closed her eyes and found herself a mere scrap of a girl again. She was in a meadow, the small shack of her home off on the edge of the forest; she was spinning, arms out wide, embracing the morning. She stopped and bent low to pick a dandelion gone to seed, its fairy head bigger than an apple. Her eyes grew wide at all the wishes waiting…for her…she pursed her lips and blew hard.
There was only the dance.
A seventh-year Hufflepuff holding the hand of his Ravenclaw girlfriend, closed his eyes and found himself naked in the hallway of his home. His wife asleep, his children asleep, danger approaching from the shadows outside. Death Eaters descending into his life, he would not allow them to rend his world. Wand in hand he strode to the door and threw it open to the night.
There was only the dance.
Snape closed his eyes and found himself stretched in front of a hearth fire, a snowstorm raging outside the leaded windows, in a cabin at the top of the world. He lay on a bearskin rug, Tziganne beside him. Her eyes were shut in slumber and he bent over her, sliding an arm under her shoulders, catching her up against his chest. He brought his lips down to her mouth kissing her awake, her eyes fluttering open full of love for him. For him. All was safety, and he moved himself above her and entered her, dissolving into peace.
There was only the dance.
Harry closed his eyes and found himself an infant, held in his mother's arms. He turned to her moist warmth and suckled deeply, falling into contentment.
There was only the dance.
Hermione closed her eyes and found herself Goddess. Standing below the towering tree of life, its branches swaying in a sweet-smelling breeze, each leaf inscribed with knowledge acquired from the beginnings of mankind. She would climb the tree and read each word, her body strong, her limbs long, her hair a plait falling down her back. She would know all things.
There was only the dance.
Lupin closed his eyes and Bera closed her eyes they found themselves together on a path winding into the darkening woods. They were holding hands and between them strength was simmering, both could feel it, they would not let go their grip on one another, would not let go, would not let go.
Tziganne danced and danced and danced. Sweat transforming her body into a glowing form of movement. She moved one last time the perimeter of the room and coming to the open space again, the strings of the violins bent in horsehair voices, a melodic yearning, the music slowed and the dancer slowed. Gracefully she bowed her body, hands reaching for the floor, around her ankles, she folded herself into a prayerful posture and the music ceased.