Soooooo if this is the first time you've read this fic, please continue. If you've read previous installations of my story (previously title Silence and Song) then this message is for you!

I have rewritten this story once again. I know... again... but it's my go to story when I'm out of inspiration for the others I'm writing so it gets changed a lot. Hopefully it's better than it was :)

Thanks for bearing with me and happy reading!

Prologue

Thomas Twick's sharp grey eyes stayed locked on the girl's fingers as they danced over the ivory keys. His thumb tapped out the tempo on the wooden bench next to her, acting as a metronome, and his flyaway white hair wobbled as he bobbed his head in approval.

The notes that issued from the piano filled the little shop, moving over the stacks of sheet music and instruments covering every cabinet, stool, carpet and bench. The only cleared area was the front desk standing next to the door, where the dark polished wood of the counter shone from the years of papers that had been slid across its surface.

Twick smiled as the young girl hit the final notes and paused before lifting her slender white hands from the keys.

"Excellent work, Little Miss!" the old man's chuckle disappeared into a feeble cough.

The girl sitting at the bench smiled, her hazel eyes clear and sharp as they met his, and then she pushed back the bench and stood. Her long black hair fell down her back in cascading waves, shining in the light as she moved to dig through the pockets of her small, dark green robes. Her attire seemed strange compared to the vest and pants that Twick wore, but that didn't bother the old man. Twick felt his withered old lips lift as her expression turned to worry and her hands came up empty.

"Don't fret, my dear," he smiled down at her and watched as her fingers flew to a silver chain hanging closely around her neck, "Pay me whenever you can and with whatever you can afford. And you know that I am comfortable with no payment at all."

The girl nodded, though her expression still held a hint of guilt and the old man felt his heart squeeze.

"Now, now," he tutted as he adjusted his brown tweed vest and stepped back from the bench, "Let's have none of that. It is unbecoming of Little Miss to bear such an expression. What have I told you?"

The girl responded to this question by lifting her fingers to either side of her mouth and pushing the corners of her lips up.

"That's right," Twick chuckled successfully this time, "The world is better with your smile in it."

The girl's fingers fell, but the smile stayed on her lips. Twick felt the warmth of relief; he lived for that smile. He cleared his throat with a papery cough and hobbled towards the window, concealing the pained frown that appeared on his face as he massaged his chest.

"Well, I think that's all for tonight," he called back to her as he lifted the heavy red curtain and peered through the pane. The street outside was deserted and fog hung heavy in the London air, giving the night a spooky look. "Take care on your way home, Little Miss," he said, casting an anxious look over his shoulder, "There have been more undesirables about than usual these past few weeks."

The girl had been halfway through the motion of following him, but had paused at the bookshelf that contained the majority of his theory collection. As a look of longing passed over her pale face, a wave of pain passed through Twick's chest. He knew that this would be the last time he'd be seeing his Little Miss. The old man approached the shelf and took out a leather folder containing many sheets of music. In doing so, he leaned over his pupil while she was engrossed in reading the titles of the books on the lower shelves. As soon as she felt the presence of the old man over her, the girl stiffened and quickly stepped out of his reach. Her eyes were wary as he turned to face her, the sharpness increased tenfold as she regarded him with a cautious look.

"Your lessons, Little Miss," he presented the folder to her and swallowed the hurt that always rose in his throat when she acted in such ways. Though it had been many years since she'd begun taking his lessons, she was still quite untrusting of the old music teacher. But at his words, her eyes softened and she reached out, tenderly taking the folder from him and holding it against her chest.

"Keep these sheets safe and you will always learn from them," Twick said, then crossed his arms, "Now I think it's time for you to head home. It's late enough and the streets are no place for a young lady to be after dark."

The girl rolled her eyes, but nodded her head and gave him a smile as she headed for the door. Pausing on the threshold, she turned and gave a wave. Twick bowed his head.

"Farewell, Little Miss," he did his best to hide the choke in his voice. When he looked up again, the girl was gone and the door closed with a small click. The old music teacher hobbled back to the window and lifted the curtain just a tad. He could make out the silhouette of his Little Miss as she moved towards the store next door. He watched as she paused, looked down the street, then back over her shoulder. Twick stayed hidden behind his curtain as she took a step forward and then disappeared… the sign in the shape of a cauldron creaked in the cold night breeze.

Such a mysterious Little Miss, he thought as he massaged his aching chest, I do hope she returns safely. Her mother would have my head if anything happened to her. I suppose I'll be seeing the Missus soon…