Narcissa's Time Turner

Chapter 20: The Draw of the Dancers

There was faint music playing from somewhere in her mind, getting louder by the second...

His flickering red gems drew her in like a moth to a light, and she could feel the enchantment in them but had no presence of mind to care.

Yes, yes, she could hear it now! Echoing in the recesses of her head like a fervent prayer. The ending theme of Swan Lake, the one song she remembered the best. This was the only tune that could lull her into such security, into memories of seeing the ballet every year with her family from Christmases past. That same festive joy filled her once again as she looked at the angel in front of her. The lovely song started so gently, and her neck felt too heavy to hold her head.

Thankfully the winged angel was there, holding her waist, letting her head droop on his shoulder. Ever so carefully, he turned her by the waist, and she spun more gracefully than she ever had in her life. He led her with his hands, directing her to go to and fro. The avian creature dipped her forward with his shining diamond hands, her back leg rising as her torso dropped, and his wings arched in front of them in the shape of a heart to stop her from falling.

Ever so slowly, those wings urged her back upwards, grazing her cheeks with ethereal softness. She ran her hands along them, mesmerized, and the angel shuddered. A small roation brought her face to face once again with the creature, and she gasped. Even though she had only taken her gaze off of him for a moment, an appearance this striking would stun anyone. The diamond cut of his jaw, his shimmering silken hair, his sharp nails, his long fingers, his broad shoulders, his protruding collarbones, the bridge of his small nose, it was all too awe inspiring! He was perfection incarnate.

Above all, there were those vermillion, roseate, scarlet globes, but somehow being within his vision was even more impressive than the sight of him. He looked at Hermione not like he wanted to possess her, but as though she was already his most treasured possession, as if she also had no flaws. The tenderness and attachment he viewed her with told her the truth that words could never properly express. The angel more than adored her, he was devoted to her, idolized her. She was the lady this knight had pledged his sword to, forevermore, and she was favored enough by the gods to feel his strong hands encircling her, to feel his honeyed view rest upon her face.

Fire flickered all around her, reflecting the state of Hermione's heart. Blue moonlight, red flames. Golden hair, silver wings. Hermione had thought the best thing she had ever seen was her first trip into Diagon Alley, witnessing the wonder of magic. That was all but forgotten now. Nothing could be as alluring and enchanting as this. Here she witnessed a new kind of magic she had never before seen. Hermione knew somewhere deep in her soul that this magic was more powerful than anything a wizard could ever conceive of. Obsession over this magic, the same kind of obsession she felt in Diagon Alley that day, took hold of her mind as he flew into the air.

The angel circled above her in the air, holding her hands above her head to make her pirouette. Her shining brown curls moved wildly around her face, thrown about by gusts from the angel's wings. She was lifted only a couple of inches off the ground, so her toes could be en pointe without the slightest bit of pain. She laughed giddily, and he never took his infernal eyes off of his mate. Hermione felt as charming and lovely as a prima ballerina performing her debut to the sound of raucous applause.

This is purity, this is temptation. Hermione wanted to live in this moment forever, to never breathe any air but that which the angel's wings had blown into her lungs. This is all there is, she thought, this is all there will ever be. I am the Goddess this angel kneels to, and I am also a lowly worshipper. I have all the power in the world, and I choose to surrender it to him. This is the peak of existence. I would die for him, I would kill for him, I could kill him!

Submission had never been so sweet.

Her dreamy smile had long fallen from her face. The veela and Hermione gazed deep into each other's eyes whenever hers were open: she closed them on every turn round, for why would she gaze at the forest burning around her? Her eyes should know nothing but his for the rest of her life. Cold December air mixed with the inferno around them for an intoxicating mix of hot and cold on her skin. She spared no thought for the well being of the forest which could be entirely engulfed in the flames, she only reveled in the maddening light.

The dark, foreboding themes written into the song were sounding and she did not feel the dread they attempted to impose over the joy of the violins. Contradictions caused no cognitive dissonance for her now. She lived eternally in this moment, focused only on the high and clear notes of the flutes, paying no attention to the deep tones of the brass. Hermione was dizzy from the constant spinning. The song alternated between hope and doom, between heavenly virtue and fatal flaw.

Those crimson eyes, those blazing eyes! She felt she was falling deeper and deeper into hell the longer she stared, but she didn't care. Paradise was here with her, what fear could she have of hell? She would jump into the fire, she had to, she needed to! Hermione had never felt a draw so powerful. She was past the point of no return, and this pas de deux would determine the rest of her life.

The veela held her hand as she twirled outward, and his left wing closed in and brought her spinning back into his embrace. The song was louder now, the violins were screaming, the trumpets were echoing her heartbeat. Both wings came in to lift her above his head in a bed of softness, his arms steadied her thighs, and he slowly walked in a circle. She arched her back in ecstasy, then held her arms out and delicately moved them up and down in waves originating from the shoulders, as if she had wings of her own.

When he returned her feet to the floor, her eyes had lit up with passion and excitement. He lifted her arms once again, and she twirled over and over to the blowing of trumpets, whipping her neck around as she did so as to stare at his face as long as possible. Hermione was breathing hard, protected from the flames by the large ivory wings.

Suddenly the wings came crashing onto her, holding her in a tight embrace. The veela's arms held her at the waist as he swept one leg outward. The wings opened again as he did a great leap through the flames, holding her above them. Upon landing, he slowly dipped her backwards, and their foreheads touched. The two stayed still and breathed hard, searching for emotion in each other's expressions.

Her amber orbs held the firelight within his. Hermione's hands reached out to graze over his cheekbones. Tears of joy began to well up in her eyes, refracting the ruby reflection of the angel's. For the first time since he began dancing, she recognized fully who the man in front of her truly was. Draco, she thought, my saving grace. Her delicate moonlit hands moved to cup his face, and she slowly brought her lips onto his as gently as a butterfly's wings graze the air, giving him the gift of her first kiss. He closed his eyes and responded fiercely, ecstatic. It was the most euphoric moment of both of their lives, and the fear of oblivion had no hold over them now.

Their lips moved against each other fervently, like two massive waves crashing against each other in a storm. Her face melted into his, and the broken pieces of his soul within them both felt united. Draco's arms tightened around her waist, the long nails digging painfully into her sides. A deep purr resonated from within his chest and she could feel his lips vibrate. Hermione inhaled only the air he exhaled into her mouth, for she needed no other. As he drew his face away, his teeth gently tugged her rosy lower lip.

The angel straightened, bring her to a standing position with him. His massive wings started beating hypnotically behind him, lifting him a foot off of the ground while she stood sadly earthbound. His now gentle smile was mesmerizing, and reminded her of her father's. Is this what God's face would look like? Hermione put her hands in one of his, her wand tumbling out of her fingers. The angel caught it, hid the wand in his feathers, and drew her up to his chest. Their arms wrapped around each other so he could support her, and she clung to him like a follower would cling to their savior. Her hands stroked the soft feathers and hard lines on his sculpted back. Hermione focused her blurred eyes onto Draco, and Draco alone.

Right at the point in the song where the White Swan jumps off a cliff, they ascended into the heavens. 

Epilogue out now! It is the chapter after the Author's Note