Closed Dance the night away Open

In the depth of midnight, a young Scottish wizard, tossed and turned in his bed, his mind on drafts of new letters home to his mother and father, or on the most recent book of history, prose, or poetry. He had got desperately lonely enough to memorise even the longest of the poems. The moon had long risen above the highest dark clouds of the night.

It had been like this for almost two months now, ever since the Slytherin boy first took his step inside Hogwarts. Excitement soon faded into a tittering anxiety that could not be kept contained in the very back of his stomach. And so he had spent most of the first weeks with no one but himself, his thoughts often wandering back to Maman, Papa, and Scout.

But despite these restless nights, he had never ventured out of the gloomy Slytherin dormitories, adorned with a view into the murk lake waters, lest he be caught by the astronomy professor. But he had soon tired of such fine nighttimes wasted. Channelling the boldness, recklessness, and love of life his mother had always carried wherever she graced herself upon. It had always been in him and was part of him.

And so a pair of silently creeping feet, clad in wool slippers, tapped along in the deathly still Hogwarts halls, climbing up a stone staircase that led to a ground floor. A hand of fingers ran over the intricate carvings the boy had never before noticed in the walls and columns. The other hand reached to pull up the sleeves of his night suit as a autumn breeze tousled the young man's hair further than necessary. But tonight was not the time for being a well-kept pure-blood, and he did not bother to push it back. In his personal opinion, his father's hair was always rumpled enough to compare to a man who had just woken up. His fans still loved him, it seems.

The boy patiently waited as the staircases shifted into place. He had no particular destination in mind, nor anything particular he would like to accomplish on such a venture in the middle of the night. He just smiled to himself. Carrying a small candle, for he had not yet learnt Lumos, he regarded the portraits as the wax burnt and melted. The paintings seemed to be asleep, too. He shuffled on quickly, not particularly wanting to wake them up from their slumber.

The first floor had not been of much interest. Neither had the second and third.

But it was the faint sound of music on the fourth floor that had captured Archer Duncan's attention. It could be a ghost, one of the many that inhabited Hogwarts, celebrating their Death Day. It could be a hallucination, an apparition, it could be nothing but real.

But why not take a chance?

Archer slowed his footsteps, taking great care not to make much noise with them. His fingers continued to trace the delicate shapes and lines, his other hand tucked nervously in the pocket of his blue silk shirt.

He came to a halt in front of the rehearsal room. The music, now to be heard, so pretty, yet so seemingly foreign. The tune was catchy, nothing of the classical music Papa liked to play when he had birthed an idea for his latest novel. The lyrics were elegant, not unlike something right off the books of poetry Archer loved. "Dance the night away, when nobody's awake and be the last to stay," the artist had sang, the lyrics falling into rhythm with the melody.

But the moonlight through the arched windows would only shine on one figure: a young girl, prancing along under the bird-adorned chandelier. There was not much Archer could make out under the dark environment, just that a cascade of lustrous ebony hair and a pair of feline eyes, dark as the night outside, fierce as the fire burning in the common room fireplace, seemingly feline with an upward tilt. Her dance was not a rehearsed recital, nor was it practiced to please the eyes of another. She was dancing for herself and herself only.

A ghost.

An apparition.

Leave and forget her.

But it was too late. She had turned in her dance, and despite Archer's efforts to melt back into the shadows, he was sure she had caught his dark hazel eyes.

@Violet Rohr

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@Archer Duncan

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@Kaitlyn Connor I'll make sure to reply to you by tomorrow!

Outfit:

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Of course it's a beige coloured night suit, her hair falling on her shoulders (again!)

Violet danced to her heart's delight. She remembered what Lyn had taught her very well, but was not necessarily following the lessons given to her. The two girls had decided to continue with their lessons further, spread over weekends with Kaitlyn teaching Violet how to be graceful.
However, she could not care much about doing what she was doing with much grace right now.
She knew, she was dancing perfectly nice but the moves were random, whatever helped to erase the uneasiness she felt.
She turned around dancing, and abruptly stopped singing when she noticed a silhouette. A silhouette of someone standing, near the door. She could make out it was a guy, whose dark hazel eyes pierced through her. Violet couldn't make out much, but panic ran down her bones and she froze in her place.
'A ghost?' Violet thought, 'But ghosts don't have such prominent silhouettes, do they?
So it's the worse, a prefect? Is this how I get caught?'
The young girl's breathing rate had fastened, her palms sweating. There was no way she could run away now. She slightly tucked on her sleeves, pulling them down to cover her palms, something she did whenever she felt nervous.
Not able to comprehend what to do next, she bowed down, low enough, so as to not meet what she thought was the prefect's eyes."Pardon me, please. I'm so sorry for sneaking out of my dorm at such a time. I knew about the rules and yet, did that. I'm sorry. I was feeling uneasy, really. Thought, a walk could help. Please spare me out of detention. I request. I would never repeat this again, I can vouch on that." , Violet pleaded in the softest voice she could manage out. Her uneasiness had started creeping back in, and she almost felt on the verge of tears.

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300 words!

The ghost-

The apparition-

No, the girl had come to a halting stop as her eyes met Archer's, still frozen in the middle of a dance move, her mouth slowly dipping as she cut short her song. Under the moonlight, Archer could see the panic that shone in her dark slanted eyes, almost akin to a cornered wild animal. It reminded Archer of the stories Maman used to tell about huntsmen who pursued a mythical white stag, who they could slaughter for one wish fulfilled. It was a tale Archer had always abhorred. Shaking his head at himself, he held his breath, nervously curious at the identity of the young woman, stood petrified in front of him.

Acher didn't blame her. He would have done the same thing.

As he heard the girl's breathing hasten, somehow carrying through above the music, Archer took a few tentative steps forward. She tucked her hands into her sleeves, gripping onto them tightly. It seemed as if she was at a slight loss for words, and so was Archer. But before he could break the awkward pause with a polite greeting and expression of his interest, she bowed, not in greeting, but in pardon, her charming eyes shying away from Archer's gaze. His eyes widened in surprise, unsure of what to make of the gesture, nor of the girl. Quickly, he regained with composure, bowing back, slightly austerely, even though the gesture was meant as a reassurance.

As he neared, he realised she was roughly his age, even though her height and actions made her look younger. She was dressed in a light beige night suit, complimenting her ebony locks impeccably with their contradiction in the shade. She was barefoot, a pair of slippers neatly placed at the entrance, near where Archer now stands. Maman always liked to take out her boots, throw them haphazardly onto the porch, and break into dance under the refreshing summer rain that patted down like a wordless soothing.

Archer's lips pursed, almost about to speak first, when the girl did it for him. 'Pardon me, please. I'm so sorry for sneaking out of my dorm at such a time. I knew about the rules and yet, did that. I'm sorry. I was feeling uneasy, really. Thought, a walk could help. Please spare me out of detention. I request. I would never repeat this again, I can vouch on that.' She did not pause in her speech, barely giving Archer anytime to register the implication that she was in trouble. The humble, honest tinge in her soft, pleading voice touched at Archer's heart. How would any prefect be so ruthless to give such a girl detention? Her eyes were wet, glinting under the moonlight, though no tears came.

Archer smiled, his lips tugging up and his dimples showing. It wasn't the polite, reserved smile he offered at the usual pure-blood gatherings, but a genuine, rather beauteous one. 'Please don't be,' he started, his voice kept soft, not wanting to disturb the delicate rhythm of the music, still blasting in the background. 'You truly are a wonderful dancer,' Archer continued. She was. She did not care about grace or elegance, yet she had seemed to be enveloped in it. Her moves were a jumbled mess, yet they were beauty in chaos. Holding out his right hand for her to take, he asked timidly yet hopefully, 'Might I have the pleasure?'

Perhaps asking a stranger to a dance wasn't the best move. But it was too late to retreat now.

And if the girl was to grab hold, they could truly dance the night away.

@Violet Rohr

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@Archer Duncan

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Of course it's a beige-coloured night suit, her hair falling on her shoulders (again!)

Violet heard the footsteps approaching her, as she still had her face down. She shivered, scared, but ready to get a scolding. Her thoughts drifted back to her mansion, where she would have to face her mother's wrath if she was found to be awake this late. Her mother would reprimand her, telling her how unhealthy sleeping late was. As a penalty, she would even forbid Violet from entering her library for a day. No amount of crying and begging would stop her from giving out the punishment, but at the end of the day, her mother would hug her, softly explaining her actions.
But this was not her home, it was Hogwarts, her school, where detentions were stricter as she had heard.
However, Violet was in for a surprise, as the voice that called out to her was not at all angry and harsh as she had expected it to be, and was rather soft. She forced herself to lift her head, her eyes still shining with tears. As soon as she did, she looked into those dark hazel eyes she had seen before, the only difference was they were not filled with indignation, as she had thought back then. Perhaps, she had misjudged his intentions? The guy complimented her dance moves and Violet flushed, lightly. She hoped the room was dark enough, so the guy, now in front of her did not notice her reaction, but the moonlight wasn't helping. She sniffed out a small thank you.
The boy in front of her held out his right hand asking her for a dance. Violet widened her eyes, not expecting that. She wasn't sure if she was as good at couple dancing but she thought that trying it wouldn't hurt, and neither did she want to be rude to the 'nice-guy-who-didn't-hand-out-a-punishment'.
She mumbled, "Alright" and held onto his right hand with her left, positioning her right hand on his left shoulder.

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324 words!

OOC NOTES:

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Totally not me typing this out at 12:35 am. What does 'Maman' mean by the way? Sorry idk the meaning. Also if you don't mind could you mention a bit about what Archer is wearing, Lavinia?

Archer smiled at her word of a gratitude, nodding slightly.

Asking a stranger for a dance might not have been the brightest move. But it was night, nothing was bright. And there was no need for bright decisions, when the silverly moonlight illuminated the barren rehearsal room, reflecting delicately off the chandelier and casting shadows on the two dark silhouettes, both with dark brown hair, one much longer than the other, one hand placed on the hand of the other. 'Alright,' she had replied, in a barely audible volume.

It felt like a dream, almost as magical, a whimsical little story in just another storybook upon a dusty little bookshelf.

Archer felt the steady landing on the girl's hand on his shoulder, as he let the two of them out to the very centre of the rehearsal room, directly under the candles, unlit in the chandelier, its metallic birds seemingly chirping along with the catchy tune, and right in front of the fireplace which, though without dancing flames, still spluttered out a resonating tune of the warmness and mellowness of home. A small, contented sigh escaped his lips at the thought.

Upon closer inspection, an undertone of elegance shone through her currently surprised state. Her cheekbones were high and regal, her lips the shape of Diana's gilded bow. Her lobes are pierced, but being late at night, her ears are bare. That thought had caught Archer off guard. What was the time? He was unsure of the existence of a clock in the rehearsal room, but did not bring his eyes off the girl to seek for one. It must have been after midnight, the argent moon shining far too bright for late evening, and the stars were peeking out far too deliberate.

Calming himself, Archer attempted to follow the rhythm, his steps tentative, his eyes still slightly darting, realising he wasn't quite as confident in the dance as he had intended. The music, foreign as Russian or Mandarin, was something he had never heard before. It was muggle. And it was beautiful. But the exoticness of it had sent Archer into a momentary shock, causing him to almost stumble.

Catching himself and regaining his nonexistent composure, he resumed. 'Might you care to lead the dance?' Archer paused, finally realising how the actions of tonight were playing out directly in front of his eyes, a narrative he could not intervene. Never would he do such a thing, if it was day and if his mind was still sharp. Archer should have been asleep in his dormitory, or at least praying for sleep, but as he momentarily glanced right into the girl’s cow brown, feline eyes, he found himself carried away.

Dance the night away.

The lyrics started to make sense as the girl picked up her pace, her prancing feet falling into perfect rhythm with the melody, and leading Archer along very step of the way, albeit with a few heavy-handed stumbles. It was a moment to savour, to relish, to treasure.

And it had only just begun.

@Violet Rohr

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@Archer Duncan

Outfit:

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Of course it's a beige-coloured night suit, her hair falling on her shoulders (again!)

'Dance the night away', Violet thought, ' when nobody is awake.'The song perfectly suited the situation. Violet was sure it was past midnight. She must have been away from the common room for almost two hours, if not more. The uneasiness, the heaviness in her heart had now eased.
The only source of light in the room was moonlight, lightly yet elegantly illuminating the two positioned to start dancing.
Violet sighed slightly. Nobody had caught them yet.

The boy in front of her, was the epitome of grace and etiquette, as much Violet had not noticed yet.
She was led by the boy to the centre of the room. The boy tried to follow the rhythm. However elegant he was, the boy was not so elegant while dancing. His wavering confidence was visible. Realising his probable folly, he asked her if she could lead the dance.
She slightly giggled.
"Oh sure, I think I can. Mirror my steps, forward.", Violet replied softly, careful not to make much noise since voices in the room echoed. She sophisticatedly glided her right foot backwards, her left foot following, then glided the same way but sidewards. "I hope this is not too hard to follow. I tried to pick up the easier steps. I might not be so good at this either.", Violet whispered.

Violet wondered what had brought the boy out of his dorm, this late. He did not look much of a rule breaker either. So, she voiced out her thoughts, "Well, why are you out of your dorm, this late? You do not look like, you are keen to break rules."

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270 words!

Archer was suddenly reminded on a muggle book he stumbled upon once. It was terribly antique and just so happened to be part of Papa's collection, with prancing faeries wearing chitons laced with all the flowers Archer could imagine, marigolds to daisies, led by their queen, arm in arm with an ass-headed workman, a depiction Archer had always found incredibly comical. A Midsummer Night's Dream. It certainly wasn't midsummer. But it was well into the nighttime. And was it a dream?- Perhaps. It feels like one, and just like the forest on the border of Athens, anything was possible.

Returning the small sigh that broke from the girl's mouth with a slight smile, Archer blinked as a turn in their dance caused the moonlight to reflect directly into his dark orbs. His mind started to drift elsewhere, to Maman and Papa and how they had described their first date to Archer. It was a dance, at the very peak of the Parisian rooftops, under the spring rain and a full moon, with no care to anything or anyone, dancing to the rhythms of their own phantom music, carried by the wind and woven into their whimsical steps, after a dinner of chicken breast sandwiches and a dessert of macrons.

As she giggled, Archer could not help but smile back. Having always been quite the terrible reader of people, he was unsure what she was trying to convey. Giddiness? Surprise? Enjoyment? It didn't matter when his lips tugged up in their own accord anyway.

'Oh sure, I think I can. Mirror my steps, forward,' the girl instructed. Despite the deliberately soft voice she had spoken in, her words still echoed off the stone walls. The girl took Archer into a sophisticated series of turns, his feet mirroring hers as they glided around the room, their steps shifting as the tempo hastened and slowed, the dynamics increased and decreased, the pitch rose and dropped. 'I hope this is not too hard to follow. I tried to pick up the easier steps,' the girl whispered, her light voice still slightly bouncing off the surrounding walls.

'Not at all,' Archer said in reply, his eyes sparkling, and not just because they were reflecting the moonlight. It was no lie. Archer's feet seemed to carry himself across the floor, his mind hardly swift enough to comprehend as the girl whisked him away in a series of moves. It almost felt as if his shoes had lifted from the ground, his body gently levitating into the air, as if Wingardium Leviosa itself had just been cast on the duo. They flitted across the room, the moonlight dancing on their faces, almost as if in rhythm with the music itself.

Her next words caught him off guard. 'Well, why are you out of your dorm, this late? You do not look like, you are keen to break rules.' Archer laughed a little at that, a delicate, though brief sound, almost akin to the hallucinatory chirping of the silver birds on the chandelier.

He paused, though, suddenly overcome by a thread of doubt and melancholy. Archer shifted his stance, slightly messing up the rhythm they had previously established. He gulped, swallowing back the answer he had almost said to this stranger of a girl, suddenly unsure of how to even construct the simplest of sentences. 'I needed an escape from the suffocating Slytherin dormitories,' he said finally, his brows narrowing ever so slightly, almost unnoticeable in the dimly lit room. It was no lie. Archer Theodore Duncan, after all, was no petty liar.

But it was not the whole truth either.

@Violet Rohr

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@Archer Duncan

Outfit:

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Of course it's a beige-coloured night suit, her hair falling on her shoulders (again!)

Violet felt quite giddy. Dancing in the midnight as the moonlight shown upon them felt more magical than she was, and the room being situated in Hogwarts made the situation more mystical. If she were to be honest, she did enjoy breaking rules but for the time being, had no acceptance for that.

Violet had asked her previous question in extreme doubt of her abilities but she did not expect a 'not at all' for an answer. However, she smiled at the boy in front of her, quite relieved that it was not uncomfortable for him and said, "Oh, that is quite good to know!"
Violet tried to keep her voice as low as possible but the room seemed to bounce the waves back anyway, at least it helped them not to get caught.

As the boy in front of her answered another question of hers, laughing delicately, Violet could not help but wonder how the guy could be so sophisticated and elegant, and that too so effortlessly. Something about the way he laughed, was mesmerizing.
Her line of thoughts however cut when the rhythm of their dance was ever so slightly, but abruptly disturbed. Violet shifted her eyes back to the boy and frowned. The surroundings suddenly did not feel as whimsical as they were before, a shade of despondency setting over. As he replied, Violet was suddenly left short of words on what to say next. Quickly gathering herself back up, however, she responded quitely, "That is alright. We all have been there, at some moment in time. I was feeling a bit uncomfortable in my dormitory too. Sounding similar, aren't we?"

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275 words!

The girl’s voice reverberated through the august hall, despite her efforts to keep it lowered. It donned on Archer the reason you of such an endeavour was to prevent them from detention by any passing professor or prefect. It donned on him that he, Archer Theodore Duncan, was breaking the rules, and for the very first time, no less. What an incredibly wonderful first. His mind paused in hesitation, even though his body continued on dancing. He could not help but feel carried away by the girl with cat-eyes, which shone a deep inky black under the moonlight. He could not help but feel that he could truly dance the night away. Yet this time, the lyric he so enjoyed somehow hit different.

Archer was suddenly reminded of a faerie tale of a girl, gifted with a pair of red shoes that made her dance forever, unable to take them off. When she finally died, her feet had to be amputated. Yet still, they danced, as if glued within their shoes, in their own rhythm, to a phantom music. It had always sent shivers down he is spine, and the story would only do that again tonight. Archer was fairly sure the girl had just asked him a question, but all he had caught were snippets of his words. His eyes flitted away from hers, connecting to their entwined hands and then somewhere far away, towards the window and the gleaming full moon. If there were any stray werewolves, they would have been prowling tonight, he thought, his chilled mind unable to move on.

‘Are you sure you are not a ghost, miss? A phantom, perhaps? An apparition?’ Archer asked abruptly, his dark hazel eyes, gold flecks dimly glinting, connecting to hers for a split second before hurriedly fluttering away again. They turned in their dance so Archer faced the window, but before he could catch the girl back into his grip, he halted, and a sudden silence, despite the music still blasting away, much more joyous and carefree than the occasion seemed to be. Heat crept up at his cheeks, prancing their way to his ears. The weight of his words landed on his shoulders all too suddenly. Perhaps he should have made his way to sleep, because he knew Archer Theodore Duncan would not have asked such a thing if he was awake or caffeinated. He walked a few steps away from the girl, then turned back despite himself.

‘My apologies,’ he said awkwardly, words suddenly leaving his mouth. ‘That seemed like quite the inappropriate matter of conversation,’ Archer said, breathing deeply, before his gaze travelled somewhere back to the girl’s face. He hesitated, his eyes flitting over the room before making their way back to the girl. ‘I did not mean it like such,’ he said finally as he walked back to her, unsure of what else. He knew she was no ghost. No phantom. No apparition. She was alive and real and he had touched her flesh. And she was beautiful and a wonderful dancer. Even if she was no, Archer wanted her to be actual. What a wonderful experience it would be to share such a night with her again. Perhaps they could meet once more in a similar occasion, or perhaps there paths will cross once more in their own time.

‘I’m sorry, what were you saying?’

@Violet Rohr