The Rite of Movement
By Sandandsea_1
"Alright, class has started!" the instructor yelled startling the milling students to attention. Hermione watched as the other students quickly quieted down and began to gather at the line drawn horizontally across the dance studio. The classroom was set up like others that she had seen since transferring into Hogwarts School of Dance from Beauxbatons Ballet Academy. The students would stand or sit at line and the rest of the floor space would allow for the professor to instruct or for the students to practice. Hermione stepped up to the line between the two students that she had been speaking to, the nervous ginger-haired, Ron, and the calmly smiling blonde, Luna, awaiting instruction with the rest of the class. The instructor stopped by the music system and put something into the machine before walking around the group.
"So," she began, a smirk on blood red painted lips, "this is the group that made it to seventh year?" Professor Bellatrix Black was rather petite was the first thought that popped into Hermione's head. Still, for all her apparent small stature, there was something in the way that Professor Black carried herself that made her seem larger than life. As she walked down the line examining the class, she pushed up her eyeglasses.
Hermione's second thought was that Bellatrix Black was a very beautiful woman. Black curly tresses were captured in a loose high bun from which some curls escaped to be caught in dark eyelashes framing dark drowning eyes, warmed with a spark of humor. She had an athletic frame and wore clothes that were loose but fitted to her curves. All her clothes were black with the brightly colored four house Hogwarts crest being the only bit of color on her person other than her lipstick. The crest adorned a thin, nearly see-though black t-shirt that was layered atop a black camisole. Simple practical black joggers and black jazz shoes completed the outfit.
"Well, I see we have new blood this year," Professor Black stopped her perusal of the class. "You may call me Professor Black, Black, or Bellatrix. I don't really care. I'm sure that most of the students, maybe even yourself before the end of the year, will refer to me as Bitch behind closed doors. Again, I don't care… if it's behind closed doors. However, be prepared for loss of House points and detention should it be said in public."
Professor Black, Bellatrix, Hermione decided she might call the older woman, focused her attention on her, "I teach improvisation. It is taught in Sixth and Seventh Year because the first five years are spent training it out of the younger students so that they can focus on the technicalities of dance."
"Now that that's out of the way," Professor Black gestured to Hermione. "Step forward and introduce yourself."
Hermione took a breath and stepped forward. "My name's Hermione Granger. I'm a Seventh-Year student. I would be graduating but…"
"Graduating? Aren't you eighteen?" Ron her interrupted.
"Nineteen actually," Hermione corrected. "I ended up taking a gap year due to some things happening so… anyway, I've just transferred here from Beauxbatons."
Beauxbatons?" The professor asked, tilting her head slightly. "Bloody hell," she said smirking, "you mean that backwoods little ballet school on the muddiest mountain in France?"
Hermione could feel her face heating up under the sound of giggling from some of her classmates, "No, you must be thinking about another ballet school, Professor." She continued, ignoring the open-mouthed expressions of shock coming from Ron next to her. Hermione thought that she was being quite polite considering the blatant insult of her past school and education. "Beauxbatons is the largest and most prominent professional ballet school in France and the Pyrenees are actually quite idyllic most of the year. You must have visited that other school during the spring storms. That's the only time that the mountain passes become washed out."
She thought that she could hear Draco Malfoy mockingly repeat her words to his friends, but she ignored him and kept her head high while Bellatrix's expression seemed to shift through several emotions before settling on one. "Okay, enough introductions," Professor Black said. "Quite the opiniated know-it-all, aren't you?"
"No, Ma'am. I was just answering your question," Hermione said watching surprised as an amused smile tugged at Professor Black's lips.
"Okay, Muddy," Professor Black pulled her hair out of its bun, loose curls falling around her shoulders before she held out her hand to her. Hermione frowned at the nickname, "Come on, we don't have all day. Show me what you have." The woman nodded to Draco, who slid over to push play on the music system. As music and rhythmic hand claps reverberated in the air, Hermione hesitantly walked over to her instructor. Placing her hand in the other woman's cool one, the singer began.
I still watch you when you're grooving
As if through water from the bottom of a pool
You're moving without moving
And when you move, I'm moved
Shocked Hermione suddenly found herself pulled into Bellatrix's arms. "Just breathe and follow my lead," she whispered warmly into Hermione's ear. Hermione shivered and didn't need to see Bellatrix's face to know that she was amused at the reaction. She pulled back to look Bellatrix in the face and felt dark, drowning eyes entangle her own. Chest to chest, they stood in a waltz stance until Hermione got her feet under her.
You are a call to motion
There all of you a verb in perfect view
Like Jonah on the ocean
When you move, I'm moved
Hermione's left hand grasped Bellatrix's right bicep. With a change in foot position, the other woman informed Hermione that she was going to step back. The fingertips of Bellatrix's right hand, which Hermione could feel firmly at the small of her back, made subtle shifts in pressure telling her to follow.
When you move, I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be
When you move, I could never define all that you are to me
Hips swaying along to the insistence of Bellatrix's hands, Hermione's followed the woman in a smooth, spinning opening of a waltz across the wooden floor.
So move me, baby
Shake like the bough of a willow tree
You do it naturally, move, me baby
Slowly, the dance change from the standard waltz to something less so. She was told, all without a word being spoken, when to dip, how high to jump, which direction to spin… One moment she was on her knees being dragged across the floor, the next her back was pressed tightly to Bellatrix's front and the other woman's breath panted hotly against her neck as Bellatrix's hands slid across her belly. Hermione getting more and more lost in the music; in Bellatrix. Her mind slowed, her heart raced, and something down low began to melt.
They continued dancing. Hermione could see them out of the corner of her eye, reflected in the studio mirrors. They looked good together. Dark and light. One cohesive entity. When Bellatrix moved, Hermione moved without second thought. The class was silently watching although Hermione could barely remember that they were there. Or maybe I just don't care, Hermione thought as Bellatrix lowered her to the ground. Dark tresses surrounded her head as Bellatrix slowly lay atop her as the music came to a close.
A pause and then Professor Black jumped up and moved away from her. There was a short applause and then Bellatrix began quizzing the class on what they had observed. Blushing, Hermione sat up confused, before standing up and trying to rejoin the rest of the class unnoticed. She looked at Professor Black questioningly, but the other woman didn't look her way again for the rest of the class.