A/N: Hey guys. Since its half term, I have more time on my hands (hehe) so I've got the ballroom chapter early! Please don't pick on my way of spelling "grey" I'm English – its how I spell it! The chapter titles for this were difficult but I chose one eventually – this one is called "tale as old as time" but literally it translates to "a story as old as clock"! Which is cool in a very French way, methinks…

Le conte aussi vieux que chronometer or tale as old as time

The man in the cold cellar room turned to Lefou with cold, watery grey eyes.

'Monsieur Gaston promised to be here on time.' He said, tapping his pocket watch impatiently.

'He will be.' Lefou assured him, fixing the old man with a wary stare. He wanted to be sure there was no way this thin, spectral ghost of being could sneak up on him – he was sure it would give him hideous nightmares and Lefou was not a man who favoured nightmares – much less – he loathed them.

The man's face was skeletal, bald on top, but fringed with a lank grey mane that dropped around his eyes – cloaking his face in shadow. With his low, crouched stoop, sallow white skin and thin fingers laced together, he looked less like a man and more like a vampire waiting for its prey. It made Lefou feel like a fat dormouse in clear range of the talons of an owl.

Up the shadowy street footsteps echoed up – revealing Gaston – tall, greatly muscled in chest and neck and thighs. His black hair loose, floating over his face, contrasting with smooth skin, built like a hero, with a deep voice that spoke as if he were in an opera. His dark cloak was billowing, making him appear part of the shadows, so that suddenly Lefou felt as if he were stuck between two vampires – one old, frail and spectral, one lethal, swift and hungry.

He shuddered as Gaston flashed the man his white teeth, lighting a dirty yellow candle and unlocking the door that both Lefou and the old man had been standing in front of for the last ten minutes.

Gaston offered the open door to the man, who stepped through. Lefou hurried in after.

'So… let me get this straight, who want me to throw Mademoiselle Belle's father into the insane asylum unless she agrees to marry you?'

'I would pay with interest.' Gaston replied, pushing a colourless, unmarked sack across the table. It's contents jingled as the man picked it up.

He began to laugh. A dry, raspy laugh that made Lefou shudder and Gaston leer.

'What do you think?' Gaston asked, 'What do you think of the plan?'

The man eyed the bag. 'That is despicable.' He said softly. 'I love it!'

000

Combing through the Beast's tangled mane was no easy job for the barber servant. Once a man in his late forties, he had become a large toiletry stand, but he managed to maneuver his wooden limbs around the Beast to snip here and there, and ease out the worst of the knots.

The Beast did not help. Every time the stand tugged him he felt the beginnings of rage well up on him. Being with Belle meant that he had lost most of his foul and volatile temper, but irritating things like haircuts didn't do what was best to keep him calm.

He sighed, staring at the creature before him in the mirror.

'What am I supposed to do?' he asked despairingly, 'I can't dress up! I am this: just this monster. The sorceress said so herself that night: who could ever learn to…'

'Learn to love a beast.' Lumiére snapped, glaring at his master. 'You have got to stop feeling so sorry for yourself master, or you will never win her lo-'

he stopped when he saw what the barber had done to the mane, dressed in bows and ringlets.

'Er… oh, oh you look so… so …'

'Stupid.' The Beast pronounced bluntly, staring at himself with slumped brows.

'Not quite the word I was looking for.' Lumiére said rather too –optimistically. He turned to the barber. 'But perhaps… er… a little more off the top?'

Returned to normal, the beast was just being pulled into a royal blue dinner jacket, trimmed in gold when Cogsworth appeared round the door.

He made a bravado of announcing himself before announcing, 'Dinner is served.'

000

Tale as old as time…

From the opposite end of the staircase, Belle glided down the steps towards him, where he stood in the centre.

She blushed as she stood in the light, her chocolate hair twined to the back of her head with a gold clasp, showing her ear lobes, from each one shining earring hung, glinting in the candlelit chandelier, reflecting her eyes too: bright against peach-like skin, her cheeks dashed with a little rouge. The gold dress fell slightly off each shoulder, leaving her collarbone exposed, still, it slipped down, tied at the back like a corset, it accentuated her slim form before billowing out into many golden skirts. This too had extended detail: glittering net over the silk, sequins and diamonds. Silk gloves came up to her arms. She touched his arm.

True as it can be… barely even friends,

The Beast felt his chest tighten. He could hardly speak. 'You look… so beautiful.'

Belle blushed. How could this be? How could she fall in love with the Beast?

'You look wonderful.' She breathed, noting the proud tail of his coat, his mane was combed away, the blue eyes ever more prominent, shining so bright at the sight of her.

Then somebody bends, unexpectedly.

Blushing, Belle dipped low into a curtsey. The Beast gasped, and she looked up.

'Is something wrong?'

She was bowing to him!

Breathing, The beast shook his head and bowed deeply, wanting to sweep her up in his arms… wanting to kiss her… No. He could not do that. Smiling, he offered her one large arm, and beaming, she took it.

Just a little change, small to say the least…

As the violins played behind them, Belle found she couldn't eat a thing, the strings so tempting, the piano pulling her from her seat.

She set down her fork hastily, pushing back her chair and walked to him, taking him by both paws and drawing him up.

'Where are you taking m-'

'Shh.' She whispered. She led him into the centre of the hall, the music playing around, floating in between their bodies.

Both a little scared, neither one prepared…

Gently, Belle took his paw and placed it on her hip, then took the other and led him in song. Together they traversed the hall, graceful, and he was neither man nor Beast and she was only a girl, like lovers they danced, sweeping around, and he twirled her, he tossed her…

The music slowed, and gently, they drew together and Belle found that her heart was thumping in her chest. She could hardly breathe.

Tale as old as time.

I love her, he thought.

Song as old as rhyme.

Do I love him? She wondered.

There they danced, together. 'Til the music slowed. Together.

Beauty and The Beast.