Auther's Note: The reason I haven't updated in so long is because I've been revising my story. Not much is changed. I took out the Hermione/Peter romance, though. It just didn't seem right to me to have a ten-year-old have a boyfriend, so I'm sorry to all you who approved. Rest assured that there will be romance later, just when Hermione's older. I've also combined the four chapters into two much longer ones. Don't worry... it's still the same story, just moved around a bit, and made more realistic!
Chapter One: Audition Day
My mum says it's crazy for a ten-year-old to wake up at five AM, but I do anyways. Five to six is the quiet hour, when nobody is out. All the men are home from the pubs, and the mums aren't out to walk their dogs yet. Five to six is my hour, because, in my mum's words, I'm the only one crazy enough to be out.
I always wake up at four forty-six exactly. Every extra minute of sleep counts, you know. And then I dress really quiet, so mum won't wake up and yell at me for wearing my "inappropriate" shirt, outside, in public. It's my favorite shirt though. It's really old, and one day, when I was eight, it got caught in a door, and then a strip of material ripped off, all around, so the shirt only comes to right below my bra. Also, since it's so small on me, it's tight, and Mum says it really shows my figure, which is "inappropriate." Pshaw!
Anyways, after I dress, I quiet as possible sneak outside. But once I'm outside, I'm in my territory, and don't have to worry about anything. It's about a five minute run from my house to the wood, so I take that part slow, to warm up. I'm a dancer, you know, and I have to be careful not to pull a muscle or anything.
Once at the woods, I pick a trail and run for about twenty minutes, before turning around and going back home. By the time I get out of the wood, it's quarter to six, and I have to get home quick, 'cause admittedly, I don't want people to see me dressed in nothing but my little shirt and a pair of cut-off trousers.
And at home, I take a shower and get dressed in my uniform. School is an hour drive from my house, so we have to leave at half past six to get there by half seven. Then I run into the kitchen, by which time Mum is up and cooking eggs or porridge or whatnot. We eat, and I collect my book bag and dance bag, and then we leave.
I attend the Dance School. It's a school for "young ladies and men." We have normal school classes, like Literature and Maths from half seven to half eleven, and then ballet training after lunch from noon to half past six. We don't get much homework, which is nice, because by the time I get home at seven, and eat dinner, I'm exhausted, and knowing I'm going to go to be waking up early the next day, like to get to bed by half past eight at the latest.
I do my math homework in the car on the way to the School, which is one of the ways I don't die of fatigue. Mum waves good bye when I hop out of the car, and I run up to my friends.
"Hi Hermione!" they all say. Today, everyone is talking excitedly, because it's the audition day. I'm nervous already, and the auditions aren't even until three o' clock.
Today there are two different auditions. There are auditions for the show, Swan Lake, which I am going to try out for, but won't expect to get a big part in. I've only been on pointe for six months, and anyways, the leads are always gotten by older girls anyways. I would fancy being in the Polonaise or a Neopolitan (Italian), or even both. I'll probably just end up as a child at Prince Siegried's birthday party though. But I won't be Odette. At least I know that.
The other auditions are for the Academy of Dance and Arts, in London. There are six scouts who have been here for a week, watching us dance, and today everyone will perform for them, and they will pick twelve students to come and study ballet in London, starting September.
Being picked as one of the twelve to go to the Academy is what I really want. Oh, that would be wonderful! The Academy is the best in all of England, and ballerinas graduating from there always end up as lead rolls like Odette in Swan Lake, or Coppelia, or the Dew Dropp Fairy, or become famous ballet teachers, like Monsieur Bonicord, the headmaster at the Academy.
The bell rang, and we all ran to our classes. My first class is Literature, which I love. I love all academics, except Maths, but I'm brilliant (or so I'm told) at everything. I've never gotten anything below an A+.
The time that morning went by very strangely. It would speed by in double time, and then slow to half time, so by the time half past eleven arrived, I was ready to scream.
We have half an hour, between half eleven and twelve, to eat lunch and then change into leotard, tights, and warm up gear, and fix our hair into a neat bun.
I hurried out of my last class, English History, into the cafeteria, and ate a quick lunch of a salad (lettuce, tofu, tomatoes, onions and peanuts with dressing), an apple and a little carton of milk with my friends Lexi and Tara, before we sprinted to the changing rooms.
I changed out of my white collared shirt, plaid dress, blue cardigan, knee socks and loafers (I'm well aware of how absurd my uniform is) into pink tights, a sky blue leotard, blue and white striped legwarmers, and a white dance sweater, before pulling my hair into a tight bun and securing it with a scrunchy.
By the time I'm dressed, I barely have three minutes to race across the School to my warm-up class. I enter the room with Tara and Lexi close behind me, and we find spots among the other girls and boys already there.
Madame Deloney starts the class, and we go through our routines of countless trudges, relives, echappes, tonleves, and such steps, to warm up our feet. After about forty-five minutes, we change our tequnique shoes for our pointe shoes.
I took my pointe shoes out of a little bag, along with toe pads to protect my toe. I put on the toe pads, and then slip on the pointes, and lace them up. Since I've only been on pointe for six months, this is only my third pair of shoes, and they're relitively new, so a bit stiff. My first pair I got was Gambas, because they're very good beginner shoes, though they get soft very easily, and aren't very pretty. Since then, I switched to Russian Pointes, which, while less comfertable, support my foot better, and also look much nicer.
Once our shoes are on, we ran back to our spots, and did more of the same warm ups for our feet, and some other ones, for our legs, stomach, back, and arms.
At half past one, Madame Delonley's class ends. All us girls slip pointe shoe protectors, or just big socks, on over our shoes, and eveeryone puts on sweatshirts or cardigansso our muscles won't get cold on the ways to our Tequnique class. Tequnique is also and hour and a half, and normally, after Tequnique, is Partnering class at three, but today the Academy auditions are at three-thirty, and they give us half an hour to go over our dances and stuff.
When we got to Tequnique, which is taught by an old, but brilliant man called Monsieur Winters, we saw that two of the scouts from the Academy were there, which made me really nervous.
The class started with simple things, rond de jambe en l'air, glissades, and jetes, before moving to things like pirouettes, and pique turns, and then jumps, coupé jeté en tournant, tour jetes, grand jetes, sissones, and such.
Towards the end of the lessons, Monsieur Winters said, "Ah, let us partner, since your partnering class is canceled today!" He taught us a routine, and then gave us ten minutes to perfect it with our partners, before showing it before the class.
My partner was a boy called Peter Chase. He was nice, and good-looking, but more important, a very good dancer. He was twelve, nearly a year and a half older then me, but that didn't matter, because we worked well together. We perfected to routine in five minutes, and then, instead of the simple ending that Monsieur Winters had set, added a simple lift at the end, after getting the permission of our teacher.
Monsieur Winters called forwards pairs. Lexi and her partner Christopher Gillman did very well, and so did Tara and her partner, but my other friend Wendy fell off pointe on her ponche on pointe, and I saw one of the scouts look at the other and shook his head. I felt bad for Wendy, but was more nervous about me.
"Miss Granger, and Mr. Chase, your turn. Come up to the front of the room please," called Monsieur Winter. I glanced at Peter, and we walked to the front of the room, and took our positons.
Monsieur Winter signalled the pianist, Miss Engleseed, and the music started. I counted under my breath, so only Peter could hear, and we started to dance. Suddenly, it was only me, him, and the music. It had always been like that. Once I forgot that there was an audience, I could really dance, and I loved it. The ponche was perfect, I could feel the rightness of it, as my leg stretched above my head, and our tour jete was perfectly timed. I was brought back to earth, sitting on Peter's shoulder, as the whole room burst into applause. I smiled, and, to my intence excitement, saw the scouts nodding, smiling, and clapping! They were clapping for me!
The class ended, and we all trouped out, and headed to an empty practice room to stretch, and wait for our turn to try out. We would each do a solo, and then a duet with a partner, that all of us had been practicing for months.
Peter and I had choreographed our duet to be like two lovers just meeting, and I liked the way it turned out. At first, we crossed the floor at the same time, each looking at each other at different times, pretending to be uninterested, and it ended with me in his arms. It was romantic, and we both had so much fun doing it.
My solo I had choreographed to be like a little bird, that starts out little, and can't fly, but then, at the end of the dance, is a swan, and I'm leaping and twirling, and flying everywhere.
I hurried to the changing rooms, and changed into a white leotard, with a pink skirt, and put a flower in my hair. That was my costume for the duet, and for my solo, I would change the pink skirt for a white one, and take out the flower.
I hurried back to the practice room, and waited with my friends. Peter and I practiced our duet once, before Lexi and Christopher were called to audition. She didn't come back, and I figured that they were told to leave after they performed.
Finally, a pretty blond haired scout poked her head out the door and called, "Peter Chase and Hermione Granger?"
Peter and I looked at each other, before entering the room.