Solace for the Soul
Sometimes, music can provide a solace that little else can. Two people who have shared much over the years have also shared this.
Chapter 1
Severus spent a lot of time wandering the halls in his first few weeks at Hogwarts. He found the atmosphere of the Slytherin common room oppressive and while he wanted desperately to be friends with his new classmates, their interactions were stilted and awkward. He knew that his half-blood status worked against him but he couldn't deny the absolute thrill that ran through him every time he realised that he was really here, somewhere where magic was not the source of disagreements and distaste but was something to be celebrated and improved. Despite this, he found himself missing strange things, Muggle things.
So, when he heard a familiar tune echoing down a hallway early one Sunday morning he followed the sound. His father had never been a church goer so his exposure to religion and religious music had been limited to school. He didn't feel particularly strongly about the idea of God but what he had enjoyed was the feeling inside the building, the cool and the hush inside the church they had visited twice a year had felt special, mystical almost. The music reminded him of the feeling, the way it seemed to come from way-off and echoed softly off the stones. Drawn along, he followed the notes down hallways and up staircases until he found a corridor with a series of doors along one side. Pressing his ear up against them in turn he found where the sound was coming from. There was no keyhole in the door which defeated his first instinct, to try and see inside. He could try and open the door, just a crack, but the risk associated with that was too high and he wasn't sure what he would achieve anyway. So instead, he decided simply to linger outside.
The late summer sunshine spilled through the leaded windows and warming the stone. Severus slid down the wall and sat, knees bent and arms wrapped around his legs, simply enjoying the music. Idly, he told himself that he would hear when the playing stopped and he could get up and leave, or at least pretend that he'd only been passing through. It turned out that this was wrong however, for he'd slipped too far into his own head practicing the list of potions ingredients that he was intent on remembering.
"Good morning, Mr Snape," the voice of Professor McGonagall was warm but not exactly friendly, "are all the other practice rooms in use?"
"I…" he stuttered, pushing himself back to his feet. "I'm not sure. I just heard…" The Deputy Headmistress frowned at this.
"You heard? The silencing charm must have failed, I'll have to get that renewed…" McGonagall trailed off, turning to look at the door for a moment before turning to look back at him. "Do you play an instrument?" Her gaze felt heavy on him and Severus couldn't do more than shake his head. "Hmm… Well, you had better be getting along then Mr Snape, you wouldn't want to miss breakfast."
"Yes Professor," he said, gladly taking the exit she'd offered him and turning on his heel to head down the corridor as quickly as he could.
When he arrived for his next Transfiguration lesson, Severus had a momentary panic that McGonagall might somehow treat him differently. These were unfounded as she was as demanding as ever, and made no reference at all to their previous encounter. The following weekend however, he once again found himself drifting through the hallways, waiting for the library to open and with no particular destination in mind. Despite his lack of intent, he realised that he'd made his way back into the same corridor as the previous Sunday, and felt a wave of… something he couldn't quite name, as he realised that he could hear the piano again. He took up the same spot, sitting on the floor and simply listening.
"Time for breakfast, Mr Snape." Was all that McGonagall said when she opened the door this time.
Over the years, he must have spent countless hours in that corridor, always early on a Sunday morning when there was no one else around. When he'd returned for his second year, a small velvet couch had been placed in his spot and then, when things had seemed particularly dark in the shadow of the whomping willow incident, when sleep had been impossible to find, he'd found himself there and been remarkably unsurprised to hear music coming from within. He'd curled up in the corner of the couch, wrapped himself in the tartan traveling rug that had been draped across the arm of the couch and for the first time in days had drifted into sleep. Hours later, a gentle hand on his shoulder had woken him;
"Time for breakfast, Mr Snape," she said.
A/N: I hope you've enjoyed - thanks for reading and let me know your thoughts! Lx