Work Text:
The two lovers are in the kitchen again. Narcissa is sitting at the table, gazing at her love who is swaying gently back and forth. There’s music on, I can hear it, just faintly, like a soft whisper. It’s the type of song that melts all your worries away in just a few minutes. Hermione is wearing her best dress, I’ve only seen her wear it once before. She spins around, her eyes closed, her dress swirling around her knees, a soft smile on her face.
“You’re going to make yourself dizzy, my dear.” Narcissa says.
“It’s worth it.” Hermione laughs. Narcissa takes a sip of tea, her fingers find the papers on the table. She takes her eyes off her love to look down at the stack. She begins to flip through, her eyes are scanning every word written. I silently hope that she will put the papers back in their place.
“We have so much work to do.” She sighs. Hermione stops.
“Please don’t worry about that tonight.” Hermione says.
“How can I not? My phone is silenced but I can still see all the missed calls.”
“Forget the phone calls and forget the paperwork.” A new song starts, this one is different. It’s slower. If you could hear love, this song would be the sound. “Dance with me instead.”
“I don’t dance anymore.” Narcissa says. She shifts in her seat, a vulnerable look in her eyes.
“You do tonight.” Hermione reaches her hand out, and Narcissa takes it. She stands up and walks with her love back to the middle of the kitchen. I watch from behind a cloud with quiet anticipation. I haven’t seen Narcissa dance since she was a child. Narcissa takes a deep breath as she places her hands on Hermione’s shoulders, and then they begin to dance. I’m transfixed as they move, both their dresses swaying, making them look like feathers in the wind. I can feel the love radiating off them, like the warm glow from a fire. The song slows and they slow, their foreheads pressed together, their arms around each other. I long to be there with them.
The cloud moves, and my light is cast through the window into their kitchen, catching the sparkles on Narcissa’s dress. Hermione notices. She turns and looks out the window, directly at me.
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Hermione says.
“She is.” Narcissa pauses, “There truly is nothing sweeter than moonlight. Except you.”
“You’re sweeter than both moonlight and me.”
“We’re sweeter than moonlight.”
“We are.” Hermione rests her head on Narcissa’s shoulder. I stare back at them with wonder. There truly is nothing more beautiful than love, (and I have seen quite a few things.)