Chapter Text
The music was loud.
The harps played ascending scales while the strings melody was accompanied by a series of pizzicato and brass. She danced, launching into several dizzying spins. Again and again, then again. Each spin was punctuated by sharp twists and turns. But despite the precision, there’s naivete to her movements.
The academy director was nearly drowned out by the music as she yelled, nit-picking every imperceptible maneuver before giving much-needed advice to improve. However, there’s no room for errors as a definite vulnerability commands her. The demanding repertoire, the emotional range she’s forced into, from innocence to deceptiveness, isolates her from the world outside of dance. Her sole concentration was on personifying both identities, letting them consume her.
Fear tinged with melancholy. That’s the role of the White Swan.
The music jumps, suspension laced in rapid, sinister notes. It cuts away from the once soft lullaby into something dangerous. The clashing crescendos boom and it sends goosebumps up her spine as she twirls.
But seduction variegated with imprecision, letting evil monopolize you. That’s the role of the Black Swan.
“Excellent!” The director, McGonagall, applauded as Y/N came to a halt, panting. She took a moment to recollect herself, snapping out of the persona while glancing up to the director through the series of long glassless mirrors that stretched out for miles.
The room was filled with several ballerinas; all envious of her. Her role. The Swan queen.
The Royal Ballet was not for the faint of heart to attend. Notoriously difficult, only those who can devote themselves entirely can make it. One mistake, something that may be out of your control, and you’ll be asked to leave. Perfection was the prerequisite — to be able to mould their body at will was a necessity in their line of work. Strong joints, strong feet, good bones and an even stronger psyche.
The countless hours in the dance studio, the blisters, calluses, broken nails and sprained ankles or stress fractures eventually paid off. Now, as the face — the leading role in arguably the most anticipated, well-known ballets in history; she couldn’t have been more proud.
But she could never stay comfortable for too long.
“That’s a wrap! Make sure to get some rest and stretch. I’ll see you all Monday!” McGonagall exclaimed. Before leaving, she turned on her heels, tapping her shoulder on the way out. “Exceptional job as always.”
She could only smile, nodding as she tried to even out her breathing. Praises from McGonagall were monumental victories. However strict, pushing each dancer to their limits, the director never failed to have a soft edge. “Thank you.”
McGonagall gave a curt nod as she hiked her bag to sit higher on her shoulder and left, an air of elegance surrounding her.
“Nice job!” Dorcas shouted. As a fellow ballerina, Dorcas was arguably one of the most polished dancers in their program. She was bent over, stretching out her long legs. Her skin often reminded her of the dark topaz earrings McGonagall often wore; gleaming stone brown. A light pink headscarf was wrapped around her head to match her attire. “Practicing is paying off.”
“Have you seen yourself? Your work is incredible!”
Dorcas beamed dazzlingly.
Turning on her heel and stalking over to her cramped dressing room, a satisfied smile was cemented on Y/N’s face the moment she entered. Within seconds, she dropped back, sinking into the soft chair as she removed her pointe shoes; admiring them for a moment before slipping them inside her bag. With the opening of a box of new bandages, nearly wrapping her foot in them.
With her coat and bag ready to leave, she wandered to Dorcas’ dressing room, however, she was with a tall blond woman which she immediately recognized as her partner. She’d seen her a couple of times. Marlene , was it? To avoid interfering, she left without a word. There will always be tomorrow.
Stepping into the lift, she pressed the lobby button and relaxed against the railings. Even in her bright mood, a moment for relaxation was much needed, especially after such a vigorous practice. But at least she had the volition of doing what she pleased until James’ gig tonight.
Emerging from the building, a small smile tugged at her lips, breathing in the cool, autumn air. Even the sun was still shining — always a plus for London.
The bus was there, jerking to a halt as the doors slid open. Quickly paying, she sat down on the closest seat, eager for her feet to rest. Outside the ballet studio, her face was plastered on a dozen posters, promoting the premiere date for the upcoming ballet. Royal Opera House, December seventh — nearly three months until she was to make her debut as the Swan Queen.
Three months seemed lightyears away, plenty of time to prepare, but she knew better than that. It caused a spike in anxiety.
As the bus began to move, platform whisking by, she slipped out her phone: ten text messages waiting to be read.
[4:23 PM]
Lily : hey
Lily : practice alright?
Me : fine
Me : really tired
Lily : aw :(
Lily : you’ve been putting in so much work. it’ll be worth it, i know it!
She felt herself grin at that.
Me : thanks. i really needed that
Lily : of course!
Lily : you still coming over? i can just tell james you’re tired. he’ll understand
Me : i would never miss it
Me : on the bus rn.
Me : need to go back home first
Me : be there in 1 / 2 hours?
Lily : OK ttyl xx be safe!
The next overwhelming text was, unsurprisingly, from James, her childhood best friend.
[4:29 PM]
James : hey
James : i’m bored
James : loml lily is busy and ur my friend for a reason
James : give me attention
James : r u coming tonite?
James : i’m picking up chinese. enough for all of us
James : holy shit! srry! lily told me ur at practice
She tutted indulgently before responding.
Me : ur so clingy omg lol
Not even a second after the message was sent, she watched as a thought bubble with three dots appeared near the bottom of the screen. Laughing inwardly, she wondered how Lily was able to handle James so well.
James : ; )
James : [sent a photo]
A photo of James with an animal filter came to view with the text, ‘ u still luv me.’
Me : anyway yeah ofc i’m coming! can’t wait.
The rest of the journey home she watched as the surroundings whipped past. It was always fascinating, watching everyone all live their own lives. Mothers and fathers with their children; couples, young and old, walked in and out of shops, teens smoked in back alleys and parks, dogs chased squirrels and stalls sold exotic fruits, looking for their next paycheck.
She dug through her bag, pulled out her earphones and blasted classical music; Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake . Her fingers subconsciously moved as she envisioned the choreography.
Her phone buzzed again.
James : so excited! my skills are going to blow u away
James : !!! ur gonna meet my friends! gonna love them!
After a few more stops, she exited, walking over and entered her alcove studio flat.
With a quick shower to get off the layer of sweat from practice, she dug through her closet, rifling through multiple outfits until settling on an emerald green dress paired with jewelry that she borrowed ( stole ) from Lily. With any finishing touches, she grabbed her bag, keys and left.
Lily and James’ shared detached house was beautiful. It was made of brick, a cozy house with a warm atmosphere.
With the frequency of her visits, Y/N let herself in, having her own fob for the doors. She dropped her bag on the nearby table, kicked off her shoes before wincing slightly in pain and wandered into the living room. James’ old metals from being a retired rugby player lined the walls in a glass case, along with a few trophies with Lily’s name embedded into gold plaques. Connected was the kitchen. The walls were a light green, contrasting with the soft wooden cabinets and drawers. There was an island, the tops made of marble, colour identical to the walls. Light poured in, and on the table, steam rose from the nearby kettle as three mugs of tea and a teaspoon were on crocheted placemats.
Sitting down, she wondered where James and Lily were until a loud wolf-whistled caught her attention. She peered up with a large smile as Lily peered in from the doorway. “Hello!” She greeted, sitting beside her, passing her a large purple mug.
“Feeling okay?” Lily asked, rubbing a supportive hand on her shoulder. “It sucks, I know. But you’ll do beautifully.”
Lily had once attended the same ballet academy a few years ago until deciding to pursue a teaching career. She was grateful for her time, leading her to meet her and James and the opportunities she had, but like many other ballerinas, became disinterested.
She only hummed in response, holding out her mug and clinked it against Lily’s mug. “Cheers. Mmh — where’s James?”
“I’m here!” He called, rushing in with his hands raised, carrying several bags of takeout. James threw them both a pair of wooden chopsticks opening each dish as he sat down excitedly. His hair was wet, no doubt having just showered.
After founding a band a few years ago, only building a substantial following after one of their latest songs on Spotify reached over fifty thousand streams, not only were they signed to an actual music company, but they were invited for their biggest gig yet, playing at a music venue as it’s opening act. And it was to be televised.
And unexpectedly, James was nervous. From his voice jumping a few pitches higher than normal and leg bouncing repeatedly at the table, unable to sit still, it was blatant.
“How do I look?” He asked, gesturing to his outfit as Lily stole food from his plate.
“I think you look dashing,” Lily teased, sending a playful wink which had him puffing his chest out proudly, enjoying the praise. Lily kissed his cheek, sealing in the pride.
She only winked, her way of agreeing with Lily.
In a matter of minutes, James managed to engulf his entire plate, downing his tea and stood. He glanced at the clock that hung above the doorway. Within seconds, all the warmth in his face seemed to dissipate as he yanked on his hair out of habit. “Right! Uh — I’ve got to get ready!”
He pushed himself up, dashing out the door and they could hear his footsteps rushing up the stairs.
“He doesn’t look too good,” she whispered.
“I know, the poor thing’s terrified,” replied Lily. Then, her friend stood, taking their mugs and dishes and placing them into the sink. “I’m going to start getting dressed too. Help me with my hair?”
Agreeing, she followed Lily upstairs, waiting in a spare bedroom as she showered, coming in once she heard her name being called.
Grabbing a blow dryer and hair products, Y/N sat Lily down, facing the large mirror in their bathroom and began to work.
“Do you know what songs they’re playing?” She questioned, twirling a hairdryer comb, styling her hair to look similar to Farrah Fawcett.
“Few originals, few covers.”
In Lily’s hands, a hand-held mirror in one, the other with liquid eyeliner as she tried to steady fix her makeup. Y/N made sure to avoid bumping into her hand as much as she could as she continued to primp her hair.
“We’re going to a pub later — the one by Endell Street. You got to come.” She turned around in her seat, shaking her arms. “Please, please, please, please!”
She could only roll her eyes as Lily cheered.
“Besides,” she continued, “There might be someone that’ll catch your eye. Maybe even fancy a bit?”
“Fancy?” She took a moment to chuckle, clicking off the hairdryer and rested her chin on Lily’s head, marvelling at her work in the mirror in front. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“I never said relationship! A quick shag will do!” Lily winked. “You never know who you’ll meet either. I reckon Sirius misses you.”
She groaned. “I forgot he was in the fucking band!”
It wasn’t James’ fault nor Lily’s that she forgot. Really, she tried to forget about Sirius Black since their… awkward date. She didn’t know if it should’ve been considered a date or just a really awful get-together. Neither were serious about their relationship, maybe more so her rather than Sirius.
They meet after she dropped James off at the motorcycle shop Sirius owned. He was quite the flirt, winking at every man or woman that passed by and even asked her on a date, that was until James delivered a sharp slap to the back of his head. The main problem was that they did have something there, but it just never fell through. While certainly nice and attractive, they left on an awkward note and she cringed thinking about it.
“You both are adults. Nothing to worry about. Besides, I’m sure sucking him off would make up for — ”
“Evans!” “Joking! Joking.”
A series of footsteps descended closer to the bathroom. James drummed his fingers against the door frame, a large yet nervous smile plastered on. “Ready to rock and roll?!”
The outdoor venue was filled with an eager crowd. Some wore VIP wristbands, others had glow sticks while she and Lily held drinks, sipping on them casually. The burning sensation in her throat helped to loosen her up as she scanned the audience. They were close to the stage, thankfully a small railing managed to separate them from the pushing crowd.
They arrived a bit earlier for a soundcheck yet despite this, she had still yet to meet the rest of James’ band and the idea of seeing Sirius again became less daunting and humiliating.
“I’ve gotta go,” James chirped quickly, pressing a loving kiss to the crown of Lily’s head as she pushed him away teasingly, her tongue sticking out in fake disgust. “I’ll see you two later! Have fun, be safe!”
They watched him weave through the crowd, a messy mop of hair disappearing instantly. Y/N was already two drinks in, wishing she brought a jacket as she shivered slightly.
The ghost of an incomplete moon loomed over the stage as the stars began to peek out from the brilliant shade of orange and pinks settling, a navy blue threatening to spill across.
She and Lily stuck close, both laughing until loud cheers erupted. They strained their necks a little, to get a better look as they clapped and shouted once James stepped out onto the stage.
And he must’ve heard as he snapped his fingers in their direction.
With a cough, James spoke into the microphone as the rest of the band took their positions, picking up their instruments gingerly. James’ fingers slid up and down the metal strings of his electric guitar, presumably for support. “How’s everyone doing tonight?”
The crowd screamed.
She spotted Sirius instantly as he stood front and centre of the stage. He wore black ripped jeans and a leather jacket. Although, his chest was free from the confinements from a shirt underneath to showcase his intricate tattoos that ran up and down his body.
Shame they got off to such a start, he was quite fit.
The boy on the drums was on the shorter end and had mousy light brown hair, too busy setting up the drums to his liking as he rolled back his shoulders.
“Thank you for having us! We’re The Marauders!” Sirius said next, a smirk dangling on his lips while he pushed back his silk black hair. “We hope that you enjoy the show!”
Finally, her eyes were drawn to the figure on the left side of the stage. He was a mess of honey brown curls, nodded his head along as Sirius spoke. He didn’t speak despite having a microphone placed directly in front of him. He merely waved, seeming almost apologetic as his eyes cast downwards, only to peer up to the crowd. There was a burning determination that seemed to radiate off of him. Even from where she stood, she could feel it roll off in waves.
Easily, of a slimmer build, he was the tallest out of every member of the band. His large hands nearly engulfed the fretboard of the large bass he was handling; fingers long and slender, wrist boney and veins protruded perfectly against his skin as they disappeared beyond the light jacket he wore.
How and where did James manage to wrangle up some of the most attractive people she had ever seen before?
Then, they started to play.
The Marauders were good — great — but she didn’t expect anything less and arguably, they were better live. Sirius stole the crowd's attention with his voice, silky and smooth while James sounded huskier than what she heard in the studio version.
They belted out lyrics and the vibrations from the music managed to shake her heart.
Their last song was a cover of Muse’s Supermassive Black Hole. It started powerfully, however it was pitched down and was a beat slower than the original version. The bass was more prominent, taking over a lot more of the melody. The thick and deep tone was enthralling.
But what truly grasped her attention wasn’t Sirius’ voice and charming persona, the impressive drummer nor James signing the backup vocals, but it was the other deep voice that sung along, ten folds more prominent compared to the other songs.
“Glaciers melting in the dead of night…”
Yet again, it was the bassist. His voice was low, raspy and rougher around the edges but still smooth.
“And the superstars sucked into the super massive —”
And fuck. His voice and long fingers working the guitar grew more appealing by the second.
The bassist’s face lit up after completing a particularly difficult section; fingers having a mind of their own. He bit his lip slightly, wetting them. Once the song cut to the next verse, he shifted to grasp his water bottle off one of the speakers as he drank, Adam's apple bobbing slightly as she noticed the thin layer of sweat on his face.
It may have been autumn, but suddenly it felt like the middle of summer as if she’d been transported to the 1976 Isles heat wave.
And by chance, a beautiful chance, he opened his eyes, catching her stare. He continued to sing before leaning away from the microphone, smirking shyly, yet coyly at her; a blush to his face. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back before nodding along with the music.
Her mouth went bone dry.
“Lily?” She rasped, watching as the mysterious man joined the main vocals on the final chorus.
“You set my soul alight —”
Fucking hell.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know who the bassist is?”
Lily turned her attention away from James reluctantly. “Huh? Uh — oh! That’s Remus Lupin!”
“Super massive black hole.”