"War is an intricate dance between two sides." Mad Eye Moody had said that a lot, it made Ron want to kick him. First off, he hated brainy things like metaphors, people could never be nice and simple and literal, and second, it was a poorly fit metaphor, people didn't die from dancing with each other, aside from the occasional unfortunate circumstance.
At first in those bleak days of fighting, it had been something to laugh at. He could remember Hermione giggling as she told him to "put on his dancing shoes", before an encounter with Death Eaters. It had been Hermione who first got to dance with Voldemort personally, and then the old master of the waltz himself, Moody. He knew he'd be next, something inside of him told him so, despite rational protests to the contrary. Some one knocked on his door. "Ready Ron?" Harry's voice was terribly shaky.
"Yeah," He gathered up his wand and opened the door to face his friend. "Let's do it." He let Harry lead him along and never noticed himself humming. It was a rather pretty song he'd heard at a number of the muggle funerals he'd been to lately. It was moment before Harry turned his eyes toward him.
"What's that?" He queried in a horribly quiet voice.
"Music to dance with."