Yes! I'm back on the internet! Free! Free!
Heh heh. Sorry. Summer without the internet will do that to you.
Anyway, here's the way things are going to go over the next few weeks. I'll keep writing, of course, but I'm rewriting the first few chapters too, fixing a few errors, and generally streamlining the story. So, the next update will be a rewrite of Chapter 1, the one after that is going to be Chapter 13, and so on.
And now, the long awaited (*snort* yeah right) Masquerade Ball!
"I will always remember the olive-eyed tabby who taught me that not all relationships are meant to last a lifetime. Sometimes just an hour is enough to touch your heart." ~ Barbara L. Diamond
He pulled his cloak tighter about him, trying to blend into the shadows. The last thing he wanted to do was to get yanked out on the dance floor tonight. With that charm of Dumbledore's on the masquerade, anyone could think he was anyone. And despite all previous reassurances, he couldn't recognize anyone at all. Somehow, he doubted that that was an accident. Blast that interfering old man . . . he thought, but his heart wasn't really in it. There was something about dances like this that helped him forget . . .
Suddenly, he felt a hand touch him gently on his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin before he remembered that no one could recognize him. Relaxing, he heard a soft voice say, "A patron of Muggle arts, I see." He spun around to confront the owner of the voice. Before him stood a girl dressed in soft, gauzy scarves that clung to her torso before sweeping out into a glittering pastel skirt, the blues and purples complementing skin and hair both as white as snow. She wore a crystalline mask that curled back into her hair. She smiled, and commented, "You look very dashing."
After studying her face for several seconds, he threw up his hands and exclaimed, "This is what I don't like about this! There's no way you can figure out who you're talking to! You could be Hagrid, for all I know!"
She laughed and responded, "But it's so wonderful! You're free! No one can possibly know who you are. The freedom is intoxicating!" She twirled about in a great circle before reaching out to grab his arm with both of hers. "You can do anything to anyone without anybody knowing who you are."
At that moment, he became excruciatingly aware of two things. One, that she was implying that she could do anything with him, and second, that she was pressed up against his side close enough to be a second skin. And once he became aware of that, he also became aware of a third thing. This being that, although he had recoiled at first, now, for some reason, he was enjoying her attentions immensely, whomever she was.
"And I did mean it when I said you looked dashing," she continued, unabashedly, "Quite handsome really. Perhaps I should remove this phantom's mask and reveal the man behind it?" She ran a finger down the mask's cheek before pulling away. "But that would spoil the whole dream. I would rather discover the man behind the mask when I know who the phantom is."
He found himself playing along. After all, as she said, he was, for once, free to do anything. He ran his own finger up her cheek to her mask, noting the surprise on her face as he did so. "And perhaps I should see if there is a girl behind the queen of ice and snow. The finger then headed down her neck. " A girl, or perhaps, a woman?" He traced her collarbone, feeling the heartbeat under his fingertips quicken as he did so. What am I doing? She's probably a student . . . Ah, who cares. We're all the same now. "Are you so sure you want to discover the man? He may be more than you bargained for."
"Perhaps." Her soft voice trembled slightly, but she smiled anyway. "But perhaps you may find the woman more as well." She captured his hand in hers, bringing his fingertips to her lips. They brushed ever so slightly before his hand was placed on her waist. "A dance first?"
Before he could answer, he was pulled out onto the floor. Caught up in the moment, he had grabbed her other hand and twirled her around a couple of times before he tried to pull away, muttering, "I don't dance."
"You might not, but the phantom does, and right now you are the phantom. He was doing quite well for a while." she protested teasingly. As he tried to pull away again, she looked at him with sad eyes. "Please?"
The note in her voice tickled his memory and he nodded, now intent on figuring out who she was. They moved onto the floor once more as a new song began. The slow tune was familiar and he began to hum along. She looked at him questioningly. "Do you know what song this is?" she asked.
"Hide Behind Myself, I believe. An oldie but goodie, to use the Muggle phrase."
She smiled. "What a lovely title. And so appropriate for a masquerade."
She looked around at the dancers and whispered, half to herself, "I wish I could stay like this forever. To be where no one knows who I am, where they won't know about my past, where they won't hate me for a reason I never knew. . ." She realized she was speaking out loud and forced a smile. "I'm sorry, spoiling the mood like that for you."
He stared into her sad eyes, and, on an impulse, pulled her closer so her head rested on his chest. She submitted willingly to the gentle pressure. They danced in silence for a while, then he spoke softly. "I know what you mean. The past is sometimes difficult to bear. Hogwarts is the only place I've ever been welcome in my entire life."
Still leaning against his chest, she glanced at up at him. "Really?"
"Yes." He smiled. "It does feel odd to be accepted after being spurned for so many years. It takes a while to actually believe that the people around you either don't know or don't care about your past." He paused thoughtfully. "I don't really think I ever have. Pushing people away becomes a habit after a while. And then they push you away."
She suddenly stopped dancing and stared at him. "How strange," she commented, "This is supposed to be a night of concealment, yet here we are, revealing ourselves."
"As you said, we are free." A sobering thought struck him then. "But what good is it to be accepted now, when tomorrow the old walls are back up again? When you could be yet another person who hates me more than anything else." He waved his hand at the dancers. "We are indeed free, but tomorrow we will fly willingly back to our cages, for we know nothing else."
"But one night of freedom is better than a life of chains, even if it only makes the slavery seem harder to bear." She too pointed at the masked crowd. "Look at them, we could be like this every day if it weren't enslaved by fear and lack of trust."
"And all because of one man."
"Indeed." Her eyes flashed, "Voldemort."
He looked at her in surprise. "You said his name?"
White teeth showed in a bitter smile. "Just another way of showing my temporary freedom. Tomorrow I would feel too guilty or too afraid, but for now . . . Now, masks release all inhibitions. I can hate and love without fear. I can tell the world that I'm afraid of blood, that I want a new cloak for Christmas, that I'm not always scared, or angry. I don't have to cry like a frightened kitten."
Kitten!? Is she . .?! "Are you . . ?" He began to ask, but before he could finish, the sounds of a clock striking midnight were heard, and they were all whisked away.