Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and all things related to that. I also do not own any of the pieces I mention that Aimée plays. I only own Aimée and Sophie and any other characters I come up with. This disclaimer will last through the whole story, so I will not put one before every chapter. Enjoy the story!
To an ordinary Londoner, it appeared that a local shopkeeper was chasing three young thieves to retrieve what they stole from his shop. This was not the case, however. The trio of thieves ran through London trying to loose their pursuer. They ducked down alleyways, running until their lungs burned. Finally, they ran through the back door of a large building.
I'm going to kill you one of these days. I thought as I chased the three Gryffindor troublemakers through the door. They weren't going to get away with stealing from my personal supply cabinets again. I had been chasing them through the corridors at Hogwarts when they lept into a fireplace and used floo powder to go to a small London shop. I had followed, of course. Now here I was, chasing these three through a building that I had the feeling we should not be running through.
Where did they go? I suddenly realized I had lost them. I sped up, determined to find them again. I rounded a corner, and the last thing I remembered before the world went black was running into something and falling backward.
Aimée Böhm was the daughter of a French soprano and a German violinist. She had spent her elementary school years in France and high school years in Germany. She achieved a masters in music at the New England Conservatory before moving back to France to study at the Paris Conservatoire.
At 25 years old, Aimée was already world famous and traveling with one of her teachers from the Paris Conservatoire. Together, they had devised a series of three programs that showcased her seemingly limitless talent on the violin, cello, piano, and flute, as well as her remarkable endurance. Each program, lasting an average of 2 hours and 40 minutes, not including the intermissions, also tests the endurance of the orchestra.
When our story begins, Aimée had just finished a brutal rehearsal, the first of three that day, with the London Symphony Orchestra. She went to her dressing room and collapsed on the sofa, completely exhausted. Ten minutes later, there was a knock on her door.
I heard a knock on the door. "Who is it?" I asked, wanting nothing more than to curl up and take a nap.
"Aimée, it's me," I heard a French-accented voice from the other side of the door.
"Come in, Sophie," I called, only half-awake.
"What are you doing lying down? You need to have lunch before your next rehearsal!" Sophie gave me a concerned look as I pulled myself up into a sitting position, groaning as I did so.
"I just played violin concertos for three hours! I'm exhausted! Not to mention I have six more hours of rehearsal today!"
"Welcome to the world of being a professional musician, Aimée. I have to go talk with a few of the musicians in the orchestra. I'll meet you by the stage door in twenty minutes." I nodded, and then Sophie left the room.
What have I gotten myself into? For all the other performances of these programs I had done, we had had at most five or six hours of rehearsal a day, and I was usually only needed for about three hours. Oh well. At least I'm only needed at one of the three rehearsals tomorrow. I looked out of the window of my dressing room at the Barbican Centre.
After five minutes of people watching, I grabbed my coat and walked out of my dressing room. I was coming up to a corner when someone ran into me, literally. I fell backward, somehow managing not to injure myself. The guy who ran into me was not quite so lucky. He fell backward, hitting his head on the wall. His body crumpled onto the ground.
Oh great, I thought. What do I do now? I crawled over to him and checked his pulse. It was fast, as was his breathing. This guy must have been running for a while, I mused. Blood was starting to seep out of a wound on the back of his head. After checking to make sure he had no broken bones, I picked him up and carried him to my dressing room.
By the time I had laid him down on the sofa, I was panting even though it wasn't that far. I found some gauze in the first aid kit I keep with me in case I do too much left-hand pizzicato and cause my fingers to bleed. I used a wet paper towel to clean off the blood in his oily black hair and wrapped the gauze around his head. Satisfied with my work, I grabbed my coat and left the room again, this time I locked the door so no one would go in and see an unconscious man on my sofa. I put my coat on and arrived at the door at the same time as Sophie. "You ready?" She asked me. I just nodded.
All through lunch, I tried to pay attention to the conversation I was having with Sophie about how the morning's rehearsal went, but I couldn't stay focused. My mind kept wandering to the mysterious man lying on the sofa in my dressing room. He was rather handsome, from what I saw. I wonder who he is. He was wearing strange robes. I found myself drawn to the man for some reason. Stop it! The rational part of my brain screamed. You have not even talked to him yet!
"Aimée" Sophie pulled me out of my train of thoughts.
"Yes?" I asked, trying to remember what we were talking about. I had no recollection whatsoever.
"What's wrong with you today? You haven't been paying attention to me, have you?" She looked at me, concern evident in her eyes.
"I'm just tired," I lied. "I think I am going to have to sleep in tomorrow morning. I only have to be at the evening rehearsal, so I'll have plenty of time to sleep."
"Are you sure that's all?" Sophie is great, but she sometimes cares too much.
"Yes, I'll be fine after some rest." We finished eating, then I went back to my dressing room, saying I was going to take a nap.
I unlocked the door to my dressing room, and saw the man still lying on the sofa. I checked his pulse again. It was much slower than earlier, but still there. Well, I thought. I guess warming up a little for the rehearsal wouldn't be a bad idea. I took out my violin and rosined the bow. After tightening the horsehairs of the bow, I was ready to play. I started with some slow tone exercises before moving on to more technically challenging etudes. I was partway through playing the first movement of Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto (to resolve the issues I was still having with the piece) when I heard a voice.
The sound of a violin filled my head. It was a beautiful, longing melody that soon turned dark and exploded into something like fireworks for the violin. As I slowly came out of the fog of unconsciousness, I realized I was lying down with something wrapped around my head. I slowly opened my eyes and turned my head to take in my surroundings. I saw a beautiful blonde haired woman playing the violin. I stared at her, entranced by the way she moved while playing. She's beautiful, I admitted to myself. No, you will not fall in love with another woman. She will just die like Lily. The rational part of my brain insisted, but my heart was already taking over. I sat up on the sofa, and became very dizzy. Why am I here? How did I get here? Where is here?
Once the world stopped spinning, I cautiously asked, "Where am I?" The young woman twirled around faster than I thought possible. Small beads of sweat had formed around her hairline. Her blue eyes were wide with surprise, and I realized she's even more beautiful from the front. Her blonde hair, ornately woven into a typical German braid, complimented her skin perfectly.
"What?" She asked in a small voice, still very much surprised to see me sitting up and talking to her. My mind went blank hearing her weak, yet beautiful voice and seeing her face for the first time.
"I-I was j-just wondering where I am," I stuttered. Great. This woman has turned me into a stuttering boy.
"Barbican Centre," she said quietly, in a voice that should have belonged to an angel, not a woman. "I left my dressing room and you ran around a corner and we collided. You hit your head and I-" She had a beautiful accent, but I couldn't place it. She continued to stare at me, not sure if she should continue. By this point, I had pretty much concluded this woman is an angel. There seemed to be no other explanation. "I cleaned your wound up as best I could and wrapped it up. You were unconscious, so I laid you down on the sofa while I went out to lunch. I came back and you were still unconscious, so I decided to warm up a bit." She lifted her violin as she said this, then quickly lowered it again. The fluidity of her movements supported my angel theory. "Why were you running anyway?"
I debated how much to tell her. She seemed to be a muggle after all. "Three kids stole something from me and I was chasing them. The ran into this building and I lost them."
"Oh. I'm Aimée by the way. Aimée Böhm. What is your name?"
"Severus Snape. Excuse me for asking, but where is your accent from? I don't recognize it.'
She giggled, a sound comparable to bells. "It's a combination of many accents at this point. My mother –" She was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Aimée! Rehearsal starts in five minutes," a French-accented voice called from the other side of the door. Aimée bit her lip, making her look absolutely adorable. I couldn't help the small smile that was forming on my lips.
"I'll meet you up there, Sophie!" She called back. Once the footsteps were gone, she turned back to me. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Snape," she said with a smile. "I recommend staying seated until the concussion goes away a bit. I should be down in about an hour and a half or an hour and three-quarters, depending on when we get a break."
"You can call me Severus," I said not fully comprehending anything she said after saying it was nice to meet me. "It was very nice meeting you, too, Ms. Böhm. And thank you. For everything."
"It was no problem! You can call me Aimée, if you wouldn't mind." The small smile that was still on my face grew bigger as we reached a first name basis. She smiled back, a beautiful smile that lit up her face. Suddenly, she frowned, confusing me. "You won't be bored will you?" Her face was laced with concern. "Would you like me to have them send the sound from the stage down here? I can tell them I have a friend down here who would like to hear the rehearsal, but not see it. I have no idea why anyone would want that, but I could make something up. They are working with the volumes on the mics in the orchestra to enhance the sound for the audience, and they can send the sound to any of the dressing rooms. I love modern technology!" My smile grew wider as she paused. "I'm rambling again, aren't I?" She said apologetically. "I'm sorry!" She bit her lip.
"It's fine, Aimée!" Her name felt so nice as I said it. She smiled slightly upon hearing my use of her first name. "And I would love to listen in on the rehearsal!" Her smile broadened.
"I should really go up," she said after glancing up at the clock. "I'll see you soon!" Before I could say anything, she practically glided out of the room, closing the door behind her.
After the door closed, I leaned back on the sofa, smiling to myself like a young boy in love. All thoughts of Harry Potter and his friends were gone. I did not once consider the fact that I had classes to teach. All thoughts in my mind were focused on one person, Aimée Böhm. "See you soon, Aimée," I whispered.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Reviews would be appreciated, but are not necessary. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, so I'm not really sure what I'm doing, but I'm pretty happy with this chapter. I'm sorry for any extreme out of characterness with Snape, but it is necessary for this story. Second chapter hopefully coming soon!