Disclaimers: I apologize for not writing this in the first chapter but…I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY OTHER CHARACTERS FROM J K ROWLING'S BOOKS. (*CRY CRY* OTHERWISE I'D BE A MILLIONARE TOO…) *AHEM* I own Lapis Lazuli Azure Black, so if anyone wants to use her, please e-mail me first, okies??
Salem's Lot
Chapter 3: The Shy One
Harry was slouching lazily in his seat, not really caring that his cousin had left him immediately to keep from be soiled by his association. He didn't mind in the least that he was being dragged to a performance he'd likely hate. Being out of the house for once was rather refreshing, and gave him a new spot to sulk in. it was rather pathetic when he thought about it himself, but not too many could blame him.
From the way the girls and boys around him were chattering on, this new performer was going to be another Euro-pop icon. A singing and dancing acrobat with the body of a cabaret girl. Perhaps it should have been something of interest to him, but at the moment, he wasn't exactly in the mood to entertain lusting after an impossible to obtain idol. After all, what was the point in having a relationship if you couldn't be sure whether you'd be alive long enough to enjoy it? Or even suffer from a tragic break-up? Harry wasn't very much confident about going after another girl, either. Not after the whole confusing, mind boggling string of episodes he'd had with Cho. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was another female entity that made absolutely no sense.
Everything went dark around him, and Harry sat up straighter than a flagpole. A spotlight hit the stage, and a curtain was drawn back, revealing yet another black velvet curtain, and a lone figure, crouching elegantly before them all. It was definitely female. She was robed like a queen ready to be crowned, and her stance, while respectful to the audience, demanded attention. Harry, like all those around him, was caught in her command. Slowly, ever so painfully slowly, she raised her face to them, forcing Harry to the edge of his seat. Her eyes were blazing electric bright blue, and brought out an unusual tinting in her deep midnight black hair. Or maybe that was actually green and violet hair coloring?
She sported a form-fitting set of jeans, and a white halter, black suspenders and black dance shoes. A song began to play, something jazzy, with the low tone of a saxophone and the ripping follow of the oboe and piano. She moved, oh boy did she move…fluidly and full of life, light following her across the stage as she leapt and bounded, sliding and jumping, splitting and spinning, making Harry's eyes roll around in his head every second. Sometime after the introduction, she'd began singing some old song from a musical Harry vaguely recalled Aunt Petunia gushing over.
…and all that jazz!
Come on boys…!
Chicago. That was the title of the show it had been. Something about scantily clad women who'd murdered their spouses. Harry didn't remember any of the particulars, but he had a strong feeling that this girl could be any one of those women. She could have been playing a talking broccoli stick and Harry would've believed they existed. There was something about her, some aura that he couldn't quite catch, but was drawn to.
And then it was over. She disappeared behind the curtain, a slight expression of urgent tension crossing those beautiful eyes before he completely lost sight of her. The atmosphere cleared around him, and to Harry's relief, he wasn't the only one left stuck to his seat. That had been the most amazing experience he'd ever had. Well, at least it had been most refreshing, compared to the many attempts at his life. Harry resituated himself, determined to remain seated until the very end of the show, which he noticed, wasn't about to begin for another half-hour. That was fine, he could wait.
He would wait for that shy girl anytime.