A/N: So. Arachnid Waltz. Fancy way of sayin' "spider dance", really. Yesssss. This is a "hiatus" in the story, like they have in plays. Spiders do have relevance to everything, by the way. Read book four. …This was written at around eleven at night, for your information, and was supposed to sound philosophical but came out sounding freaky. Read it backwards…or read it forwards and then read it backwards. It makes more sense if you start at the end. (This was not intended when I was writing it. Bizarre, no?)
Unscripted, -I
Arachnid Waltz
(One, two, three.) There are millions of spiders weaving webs in Ron's dream, watching him try fruitlessly to open his eyes and crawling over his hands and ripping him apart. (One, two, three.) He can't open his eyes because they are no longer there; the spiders are crawling about in the crevices and weaving their intricate webs to trap hapless flies. How ironic, considering that he, himself, is dead.
Red hair the color of dried blood is swarming with arachnids. They've already devoured his sister and now they're coming for him. They'll kill him quickly, he hopes. (One, two, three.) They'll bleed him dry quickly and eat his insides quickly and scuttle away, tiny eyes shining with malice, quickly. (One, two, three.)
He hopes that he isn't hoping for too much.
Ronald Weasley watches in horror as a thousand black widow spiders (one, two, three) dance before his eyes. He says nothing (stopitstopitdon'tkillmenoanythingbutthatstopit) and succumbs.