Of course I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter's universe. Hope you like this new story, set in the Belle Époque in London.


The music was slow, terribly sensual. The violinist was playing adagissimo. He was playing too slowly. Tom sighed and let his head fall into his hands. Immediately, the violinist stopped playing and looked at him anxiously, sensing he was doing it wrong.

Tom raised his head at the sudden silence and stared coldly at the brown-haired trembling man in front of him.

"Why did you stop playing Nott ?" he asked with a honeyed tone.

The man visibly crumbled at the question. Useless. Bloody useless.

"Go, you do not have the part. Tell the next one to come in."

The shaking man left his office without making a noise. Tom let out an annoyed breath. He had been having people auditioning for this part all bloody afternoon and none of the soloists he had seen could dare hope play the part well.

The door opened to let a young man come in. He was lanky and was holding his violin without much care.

"You are ?"

"Neville Longbottom sir..." said the youth avoiding meeting his eyes.

"Alright," sighed Tom, "play Sibelius's violin concerto in D, allegro non troppo."

The lanky man did not move, his eyes widening.

"What ?" he asked irritated.

"I don't know the piece sir."

Tom gave him a cold look. How could a young violinist not know this piece ? It had been a success since it was first played in an Opera last year.

"Well then you know you don't have the part."

Longbottom nodded abashed and went for the door. Thankfully the next one to come in was musician Riddle knew well, having studied at the same institute, Hogwarts Academy of Music.

"Thank God Avery, I was afraid I would not hear a single good musician of all day !"

Said Avery chuckled and closed the door behind him before sitting in front of Tom in the plush green chair violin in hand.

"What, don't tell me our orchestra is that bad ?"

"Well," grunted Tom, "none of them have the talent to be soloists, especially for this piece."

"Do I need to audition ?"

"No, please," laughed Tom, "after what I've heard and what I know you're capable of, you have the part, I want this nightmare to end."

He wrote Avery's name on the sheet where he had written meticulously the name of each of his musicians. Dumbledore had warned him that the royal family would be here for the opening of this season, and he was to conduct it. Of course the old fool intended for him to fail. But Tom Riddle was nothing if not brilliant, and he was an excellent conductor. If there was any mistake, it would because of a less than perfect musician, which he would not accept.


Hermione was having a bad day. First she woke up late, and it annoyed her to no end, even though today she did not have to wake up early. Then she could not find her undergarments and had to go knock on all of her floor's doors to find them, the Patil girl had thought they were hers. Then, she did not have any more time to do her hair properly so she had done a bun and it was messy. Her curls were everywhere but where they were supposed to be. She knew she did not look like a lady.

But she had gone out looking like a fright nonetheless because today was her day. She was going to audition to be the soloist for the part she loved the most in all her repertoire.

So she had been waiting for her turn a large corridor in the Opera. She usually did not go to that aisle as her usual conductor was in another one. But this season, she wanted to do more than easy concertos. She wanted for her fingers to bleed and for tears to fall when she would play.

The corridor, which walls were covered in deep green draperies, was crammed with other would-be soloists. No one talked; everyone seemed to be lost in his thoughts. She was the only woman she noticed bitterly.

Suddenly, Avery, a violinist she did not like, he was too hard on the strings, came out beaming.

"Sorry boys," he exclaimed, "and, hum, my lady, but looks I'm Riddle's soloist for the opening !"

She did not notice her mouth slowly opening in shock. Avery was not terrible but he was not good enough. Moreover she had been there for only two hours. Auditions usually lasted eight hours or more. She had heard of Riddle and knew him to be an asshole but still.

She clamped her mouth shut, fuming. She was better than that...poor excuse of a violinist.

"Well," she began lacing venom in her sweet voice, "I came here to audition and I will do so."

She pushed past him and opened the door to the conductor's office. She closed it behind her and went to sit at the chair in front of his desk as if she was in her right place.

She looked up with an easy smile. He was handsome. His skin was deathly pale and his grey eyes gave him all the life he needed. He had raised one of his eyebrows at her manner less entrance.

"Good afternoon sir," she began confidently, "I am a great admirer of your work and could not wait to audition for this part."

He kept staring at her unblinking, weirdly cold. He then glanced at the paper sitting on his desk. She took a peak at it, it was his list of musicians for his orchestra.

"And you are... ?"

She could not help but be surprised by how deep and commanding his voice was. She could see why he was considered to be a great conductor, you needed charisma, and he had it.

"Hermione Granger, I'm currently in McGonagall's orchestra."

He did not react which surprised her. After all McGonagall was also famous for being difficult on who could be in her orchestra and well, if Riddle could accept Avery as a soloist, he clearly was not as difficult.

"You know the position is taken right ?"

She frowned. So he was not budging easily. Well she was used to that.

"I also know I'm far better a violinist than Avery can dream to ever be," she stated matching his stare in coldness.

He blinked. She smirked almost by reflex. So he knew Avery was not the best. And he was surprised by her confidence.

"What tells me you're not just a pretentious little princess who wants to show her daddy she can do something else than marry and give heirs ?"

It was her turn to blink in surprise.

"That's terribly specific," she chuckled, "I'm neither a princess, nor a woman who intends to marry. I'm just a damn good violinist and this part was written for me."

He gave her a condescending smile.

"Dear, every violinist thinks Tchaikovsky wrote this piece for them."

Heat crept up her cheeks at his patronizing tone.

"You can call me Miss Granger, Mr Riddle," she answered in her coldest voice.

He narrowed his eyes. He knew she knew the correct way to address him was "sir", after all he was her hierarchal superior.

"Alright Miss Granger, I think we're done here, you can get out."

Hermione stood up and returned his glare. Not breaking eye contact, she brought her violin in the correct position and stilled the bow barely above the strings.

"Which piece ?" she asked raising one of her eyebrows.

She would show him just how good she was.

He sighed still not blinking, which admittedly was kind of unnerving for her. He then threw his hands in the air and smiled at her, though it was obviously fake.

"What the hell, let's try it !" he laughed without warmth. "Mendelssohn's violin concerto E minor opus 64."

She released her breath and smirked. She knew it by heart. She began playing allegro molto appassionato. Quickly the music carried her away and she closed her eyes, letting herself let got and simply do what she did best, play.

She loved the feeling of vibrating wood on her cheek and the way she could literally make sound simply by touching the strings with her bow. She was forgetting where she was when a simple word brought her back to her current surroundings.

"Stop."

It had not been said loudly but she heard it nonetheless so she stopped playing, a bit disappointed, she preferred the andante part.

His cold grey eyes held her brown ones for a minute, although Hermione felt like it lasted much more than the bit of piece she had played.

"You're in."

She bit the inside of her cheek in order not to show her excitation too obviously. So she simply bowed her head and gave him a little smile.

"Do not smile," he stated, "you'll simply be a violinist, Avery's still to be the soloist."

Her smile immediately fell.

"But-"

"You should only be grateful to me."

He started to write her name on his orchestra sheet, putting her name in a beautiful cursive, in the middle of other eternally anonymous violinists. She scowled. She knew she was better than Avery.

Without giving her a second glance, he started to browse through a file on his desk.

"I you don't want the job, you can go back to being one of McGonagall's slightly better than average violinist."

She seethed. He was insulting her openly by proposing, no, generously giving, this position to her. Who did he think he was ? She was only nineteen and already McGonagall had called her 'the brightest violinist of her age'.

"I'm not mediocre," she spat.

He went back to staring at her in that unnerving way of his.

"No," he said thinking, "you're not."

She frowned, not understanding his opinion of her.

"But," he smiled his voice taking a honeyed tone that grated Hermione's nerves, "you will not get better by staying in her orchestra."

He stood up and she realized that he was much taller than her. She was intimidated by this brute display of dominance.

"In fact, I'm pretty sure you came here because you were aware of that, and you knew that I, and only I, could give to you what you wanted. I can make you into the best violinist soloist this Opera has ever known."

Her mouth had slightly parted. She was hanging to his every word. It was true, she knew it deep down. She had heard of him and of his demanding nature. She knew she could only get better with him as conductor.

She had not noticed she had been leaning progressively towards his desk and he had been doing the same thing. She took a step back shaking her head. He kept staring at her as if she was a curious object.

"So, as I said, you should be grateful that I'm even willing to get you into my orchestra."

Just like that, her trance was broken. She frowned.

"Grateful for this position ? I'm not even first violin !"

He sighed and sat down on his chair.

"Either you accept this position, either you're not in my orchestra."

She could feel her cheeks burning with both anger and shame. Of course she had to accept and he knew it. McGonagall, although already quite demanding, was not demanding enough.

"You... you..." she fumed, unable to insult her future boss and yet craving for release.

He smirked seemingly well aware of her internal turmoil.

"I need your answer right now dear," he said sickly sweet.

Her hand twitched. Oh how she wanted to slap that smirk of his face !

"It's Miss Granger and you know my answer," she spat face red.

His smile was the smile of a shark, a toothy shark.

"I need to hear it dear, otherwise, it is not official."

If looks could kill, Riddle would be six feet under. But alas, they could not and she had to actually voice her humiliation.

"It's Miss Granger and I, I accept the position."

He chuckled and shook his head. Well at least he seemed to be amused by the situation.

"You can get out dear now, I'll see you at tomorrow's rehearsal at 10 in the morning, sharp."

She was fuming. He was blatantly ignoring her demand for him to call her Miss Granger. She hated these sickly sweet, and clearly condescending, names like dear or sweetheart. She was going to kill him before the first concert.

"See you tomorrow Mr Riddle," she said with great effort to make her tone sound pleasing. It did not work but who could blame her ?

She went to open the door.

"Oh, and dear ?"

She turned eyes filled with hope that he was willing to acknowledge her talent and promote her soloist. Of course this was a stupid hope.

"Please do try to better your playing for tomorrow, I don't want my usual good musicians to think I've gone deaf while auditioning and that's why you're there."

His smile was as obviously fake as Avery's violinist skills. She gritted her teeth and nodded, smiling through tight lips.

God she was going to lose her mind this season.