Summary: AU. Roderich Edelstein is a piano teacher with a secret that threatens his livelihood. Elizabeta Héderváry, his wealthy yet demotivated student whose life is turned upside down. However as her lessons progress, Elizabeta finds that the piano is not the only thing for which her passion is deepening, but how far will she go to break down her teacher's walls? Eventual Austria/Hungary.
Disclaimer: don't own, yadda yadda yadda. Wish I did though. :D
A/N: Hey folks, I thought this site was lacking a little in pianoteacher!Austria so here he is, alongside student!Hungary in my first Hetalia fic. I'll have multiple fics going on at the same time as this, so apologies if the updates are a little slow. Also, parts of this are loosely based on my own experience with my piano teachers (NOT the romance part, but a lot of other things :3) - I kinda felt I had to let it all out. Hopefully, though, it'll give it a more realistic feel...? Idk. Oh, and I know this is rated T for the moment, but there will be a lemon or two (probably) and so I'll change it to M when the time comes.
Also, some German words are used. Translations at the bottom.
Anyway, enough rambling from me, enjoy!
'Oh, I'm so sorry!
It had been an ordinary day for Elizabeta Héderváry. After being unsuccessful once again in her daily search for a competent piano teacher, she had decided to take a break and get a Frappuccino from her local café. Ever since her last piano teacher had retired a few months ago, Elizabeta had found herself sitting at the piano less and less each day, incapable of teaching herself anything and sticking to it. She felt annoyingly useless without someone else to guide her, frustrated at how little patience she had for any piece, and she knew if she did not find another teacher soon she would lose her passion altogether.
Yet she wanted a better teacher. Her old one (one of many), she had to admit, had been good but not great, and, if anything, Elizabeta practised not because she wanted to but because she could not be bothered with the earache she would receive otherwise. Much as she missed having a teacher, Elizabeta certainly did not miss practising Bach's partitas and preludes, and if there was anything that she had learnt from her lessons with her old teacher it was that Baroque music was definitely not her thing.
And so she found herself in this position, looking up teachers online here in Vienna who sounded appealing. Austria was the country of classical music, was it not? Surely there would be someone who suited her. Unfortunately, however, the past few months had proven her wrong, and every teacher she had spoken to on the phone simply did not sound inspirational enough, causing her to politely make an excuse and refuse their lessons. She was getting fussy, and it was a nuisance.
There was no denying, however, that she was growing desperate, and she had come to realise this more than ever as she turned away from the counter after having paid for her drink here in the café – only to crash into someone, consequently knocking their drink over them.
'I – I do apologise, it was my fault – here, let me buy you another one –'
The man she had run into gave a kind laugh. 'Don't worry about it, you didn't mean to run into me.'
She looked at him. He was certainly good-looking, with his tan, dark hair and bright green eyes. 'No, I insist, it's the least I can do.'
A few euros and a mocha later, Elizabeta was sitting opposite the man at one of the small tables.
'So, you from around here?' he was asking her.
She shook her head. 'I was born in Hungary, but my parents and I moved here when I was seven. They always found Austria beautiful – not to mention they're classical musicians, so they thought it was fitting that we'd move here and be immersed in the culture. You know, with all the great composers spending their lives here and everything… what about you? You don't look… Austrian…'
The man smiled as he took a sip from his drink. 'That's because I'm not. I'm from Spain, but I like to travel around a lot. I've been here in Vienna for just over a year, now, and I'm getting restless already.'
'Where do you plan on going next?'
'I'm not sure yet, but think I'd quite like to visit somewhere outside Europe. America, maybe… whatever happens, I'll probably only stick around here for a few months longer.'
'It must be great to travel so much.'
The man nodded enthusiastically. 'It definitely is!'
He took another sip from his mocha. 'So, you're a musician, too?'
'Yep,' Elizabeta replied, 'I play the piano… although I'm struggling at the moment due to my lack of teacher. I haven't yet reached that level where I can cope without one, if that makes sense. In a few more years, maybe, yes, but now… I'm useless on my own!'
She grinned a little.
'I see…' the man replied, 'you know, I might be able to help you with that.'
Elizabeta looked at him. 'You… you would?'
He nodded. 'I have a… an old friend, shall we say, who is not only a concert pianist and conductor, but also a private music teacher who lives here in Vienna. I've watched him play a few times at various concert halls – and I heard he was performing again sometime soon. Now, where was the venue… the Vienna something…'
Elizabeta's eyes widened. 'The Vienna Muzikverein? That's quite a concert hall.'
And a prestigious one, if anything.
'Yes, that was it. I admit, I haven't seen him in over a year, so I don't know how true that is, but it sounds a lot like him.'
The man smiled fondly. 'He's quite the aristocrat and, even though I'm not a musician myself, I'm pretty sure he knows his stuff. He often managed to bring people like Beethoven or Chopin or Mozart into conversation whenever I spoke to him. He's probably one of the best in the field.'
'He sounds wonderful… a-as a teacher, I mean…'
'His name is Roderich Edelstein. I think I still have his number somewhere in my phone if you want it…?'
'Oh, that'd be great!'
The man pulled out his mobile and dictated the number to Elizabeta. After she saved it into her contacts, he checked his watch and stood up.
'Is that the time? I have to be off, I'm afraid.'
Elizabeta looked up from her phone and smiled at him gratefully, standing up as well. 'Well, it was nice meeting you. Thank you so much for this,' she said, gesturing to her mobile, 'oh, and sorry about your drink…' she finished sheepishly.
He laughed. 'Don't worry about it – oh, I just realised, I never caught your name.'
'It's Elizabeta.'
'Good to meet you, Elizabeta! I'm Antonio. See you around, maybe – and do give Roderich my regards!'
She smiled as he left, suddenly eager to get home.
oOo
'…and apparently he's due to be performing at the Vienna Muzikverein, too! I'm positive he'll be a good teacher, and that's just what I need.'
'If you're sure, Elizabeta,' replied her mother, looking up from her book as she sat elegantly on the sofa in their large, well-furnished living room, 'I don't want you turning down another teacher. It was only last week that your father and I were talking and I had half a mind to make you stick with the next one you spoke to, whether you liked it or no.'
Elizabeta sighed. 'I just don't want another teacher like Frau Hoffmann. She was so boring… and she never performed anywhere, she just taught, day in, day out. And what about the teacher before that? He was nice, yes, but he couldn't teach. I was stuck on Grade 4 for three whole years. I have a feeling Herr Edelstein will be just the sort of person I need to help me get back on track.'
'Well, phone him up and arrange some lessons with him. However much he charges, I am willing to pay as long as you're sure this is what you want.'
'It is.'
And the more she thought about it, the more she knew it to be true.
Later that evening Elizabeta sat on her bed, pen in one hand, phone in the other, and dialled the number Antonio had given her. It rang twice before someone answered.
'Hallo?'
'Guten Abend. Is this Herr Edelstein?'
'It is.'
His voice was low and smooth, and Elizabeta found herself shivering at it. He sounded young for such a virtuoso, and was well-spoken.
'My name is Elizabeta Héderváry. I, uh… I've been looking for a piano teacher for quite some time now, and I understand that you give private lessons. I was hoping that I might be able to arrange some lessons with you…?'
'I regret to inform you, Ms Héderváry, that I am no longer taking students.'
That had been the last thing she had wanted to hear, and not to mention unexpected. 'I – what?! Since when? Why?'
'A few months now. I have my reasons.'
'I – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude. But… you don't understand, I seem to change piano teachers like normal people change clothes. I've been through too many and –
'You are not the first person to pester me for lessons. My answer remains the same,' came the cool reply.
'Please. You of all people should know how important it is to hold passion for an instrument – and I'm losing mine rapidly. I want – I need – inspiration and I… I want someone good…' she finished lamely.
'What makes you so sure about me being the right teacher?'
'I was told you're the best, and I believe it's true.'
There was a pause, and then –
'And who was it who told you that I am, as you say, "the best"?'
He probably doesn't believe it about himself at all, judging by the way he said that, thought Elizabeta.
'A man called Antonio – an acquaintance of yours, if I remember rightly. He sends his regards, by the way…' she said quietly.
'I'm afraid I must ask you to repeat that last part, I did not quite catch it.'
'I said Antonio sends his regards.'
There was another silence, and Elizabeta began to fiddle with her hair.
'Antonio…' Herr Edelstein said from the other end of the line, 'who is your favourite composer, Elizabeta?'
'My – pardon?' she replied, frowning at the seemingly random question.
'Your favourite composer. Who is it?'
The answer was easy. 'Beethoven.'
'Why?'
Elizabeta stared straight ahead, and the words seemed to tumble from her lips without her even trying.
'Because… because it's easy to hear the passion that he poured into his music. His piano sonatas, his symphonies… they can awaken such feelings from people, feelings that they didn't even know they had. The sadness in his Moonlight sonata, the anger in the Pathétique, the joy in his ninth symphony… it goes far beyond normal emotion.'
She found herself smiling. 'But not only that,' she continued, 'it's the fact that he was utterly devoted to his art – so devoted that he did not let the fact that he went deaf stop him from creating masterpieces. I'm sure you know how he would have taken his own life had it not been for his music – he said it himself. And if that's not passion, I don't know what is.'
She suddenly felt breathless. Where had all this suddenly come from?
'Are you available next Thursday at six o'clock?'
Elizabeta smiled at the question, yet not without wondering whether her answer to his previous one had caused him to ask it. 'Yes, that would be great. How much do you charge?'
'€30 per hour, but a cheque every ten lessons will suffice.'
Expensive, yet she knew that meant he would be good.
'That's absolutely fine.'
'Do you have a pen with you?' he asked 'let me give you my address.'
A few moments later she had it noted down. 'Done.'
'I will see you next Thursday, ja?'
'Ja. Danke.'
'Do not thank me, Miss Héderváry.'
Elizabeta frowned when he said that. His voice sounded suddenly distant, thoughtful… no, something else. Something Elizabeta could not quite put her finger on.
'Herr Edelstein?'
'Yes?'
'Please, call me Elizabeta.'
'Very well. Guten Nacht, Elizabeta.'
'Guten Nacht, Herr Edelstein. Danke.'
The line went dead, and Elizabeta grinned.
German:
Frau - Mrs
Hallo - Hello
Guten Abend - good evening
Herr - Mr
Ja - Yes
Danke - thank you
Guten Nacht - good night
...and the Vienna Muzikverein is just a concert hall in Vienna. ^^
So, how was that? Reviews and constructive criticism appreciated greatly~!
