More than Tchaikovsky 's Romance
By E. Caddy Compson (persephoneia)
Summary
Hermione stumbles upon the room of requirement while finishing off her patrolling rounds.
A very surprised Snape finds her there, with... a piano?! A story of how music can bewitch
the mind and ensnare the senses... HG/SS. AU following HBP and DH.
Author's Note
This is my first attempt at this pairing, so please bear with me... This is not a challenge
response fic, though I have been sucked in and inspired to write this pairing since stumbling
upon an answer to the WIKTT Marriage Law Challenge. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm
taking a break from Please Don't Leave Me for a tad, since the plot bunnies have yet to
drop an anvil on my head that screams "inspiration." This is, rather, something that came
to mind after having listened to Tchaikovsky's Romance, and played it on the piano, shortly
after having seen the latest Harry Potter movie, so it was fresh in my mind. Interesting
how inspiration works. Enough of my ramblings, though, for now...
Disclaimer
I don't own anything except the plot... So basically, the storyline is mine, the characters
are J.K. Rowling's; I've just borrowed them for a bit. You might want to read books one
through five before you read this (spoilers alert...)...
Please Read and Review, and as always thanks for your time.
Chapter I, Part 1: Leaving Behind the Deafening Silence, or A Song and a Few Dances
Late Fall, 1997
The soft, swift padding of shoes on stone resounded lightly though the dimly lit
corridor. The flickering light of the torches on the walls met with the little illumination
imparted by the moon outside, to provide a sufficient view of the seventh floor corridor.
The Head Girl wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, increasingly aware of the
cold, as she neared the completion of her rounds, contemplating the events of the past half
hour.
She'd been assigned rounds with the exceedingly unpleasant seventh year Slytherin
Prefect, who'd spent his time preening at his reflection in the suits of armor they'd passed,
running his hands over his white blond locks, smoothing the short ponytail at his neck's
nape. Disgruntled with his demeaning arrogance, she had not hesitated to part ways with
him as quickly as possible, allowing him to take the dungeon portion of the route while she
finished the upper floors. All in all, it had its advantages, and both parties had swiftly
agreed to the solution.
As her thoughts drifted elsewhere, she began to hum to herself, a subconscious
action, going through broken bits and fragments of measured ballads, which abruptly
stopped as she passed a door she'd not been aware of on her previous rounds, earlier in the
week.
'The Room of Requirement,' her analytical mind immediately reasoned, recalling the
myriad meetings of her fifth year, with Harry and Dumbledore's Army. How vividly the
images came to her, the practices, the preparations, the Patronus.
She smiled, remembering the silvery-white otter that had erupted from her wand,
the sense of pride that had flushed her at achieving the conjuring that was very advanced
magic, indeed.
It was a warm feeling, it had been, really. And it could only have compared to... but
that had been a long time previous, and there was no point dwelling on the past. The music
in her life had long since faded to a deafening silence.
She sighed, looking the oaken door up and down, wand at the ready in her left hand
as she took one final look around the seemingly empty corridor.
No one around. Curfew. Not a soul for scores of yards, twists and turns through the
castle. Curfew. Almost late.
No classes tomorrow.
A grin briefly graced her face as she reached to open the door.
It would just be five minutes, nothing more, just enough time to satisfy her innate
curiosity, that force that had engulfed her as she'd tried to turn away in reason.
Why had the door appeared?
Why had it indeed? She was certainly going to find out.
Taking a breath, the girl walked in, allowing the door to creak almost shut behind
her, noiselessly.
She gasped.
The room was warm, positively possessing a temperature higher than the connecting
corridor, likely due to the presence of a large fireplace to the left. The warmth permeated
the air, not suffocating, but enough to heat the surface of one's skin to cozy delight after
having wondered through the chilly halls.
The girl walked across a rather large square of wooden floor at the center of the
room to the several chairs and sofa gathered around the welcoming source of heat, laying
down her ink black cloak before cautiously approaching the back of the room.
A sharp intake of breath was heard, as she passed her hand seemingly in disbelief,
over the smooth, obsidian surface, arching along its edge, the nine foot length of the
curving case, lifting the large lid, and securing it. She took another breath, sitting at the
matching bench, placing back the fall, and admiring the contrast of the white and black, the
natural keys and the sharps and flats, the full compass, 88 notes, 7 ¼ octaves, above the
keyslip.
The scales. Simple enough.
Octaves of notes rang through the air, not as mechanical as they were meant to
sound, but with a spice, an added fervor of not only one who had played quite a long while,
but unique to a few who possessed a gift for playing. The touch was fantastic, phenomenal.
Chords and Arpeggios. Shouldn't be too hard.
Three notes and five notes and major sevenths and minors and diminished and
scores of combinations sung out, slowly at first, and then with a sure, rapid confidence as
her muscle memory came flooding back, her feet dancing over the pedals.
It had been a while since Hermione Lynn Granger had played the piano. Seven
years, in fact, had it been since her long, soft fingers had caressed the smooth ivory of
piano keys, seven years of unwanted silence, seven years without dance.
Hermione had a talent rarely found, a musical inclination the likes of which was
scarce seen. At a young age this had become evident, as she sang soprano with her Church
choir, played piano accompaniment for school performances, and even danced across the stage
at a fundraising talent show.
No instructor had ever found the patience to teach her, to take her as a student, to
mold her as all musicians were thought to be best. No, Hermione had been un-teachable,
much to her parents' dismay, tut-tutted for her disregard of the "rules" of music, those
guidelines that were meant to be followed, but limited the blossoming creativity of any
young musician.
She sighed. Her mother had been distraught, her father discouraged, and her
lessons had been discontinued at age six, almost a score of instructors later. But her
playing had not stopped.
No, they could not take away her music.
She jumped as the form of the Gryffindor Ghost appeared from inside the piano.
"So sorry. Please do continue, Hermione. You play quite lovely, actually," he looked
up past her, but she did not gaze to his direction, instead pulling out her wand and uttering
some words under her breath. She used the wand to tie her chestnut waves up in a chaste
rendition of a French twist, before extending an arm to the specter.
"Would you care to dance, Sir Nicholas?" she asked.
His eyes shot back to hers, and he smiled. "It's been quite a long while since I have,
and I'm not sure..." his voice trailed off as he heard the classical music that filled the air.
Lassus, it was, certainly of his time. She grinned as he looked at her, puzzled.
"I'm impressed, Hermione."
She smiled in response, as they headed away from the concert grand piano to the
middle of the room, over the wooden surface that she'd now realized was a dance floor.
Amoroso, Anello, Gelosia, Petit Reinse, Rostiboli Gioioso, Ballo del Fiori, Bransle
Aridan, Washerwomen's Bransle, Return of Spring...
It was amazing how interesting it could be, dancing with a ghost, really. It was
rather like practicing by one's self, but rather, without the awkwardness.
Hermione twirled and moved in response to Nick's motions, rarely missing a beat
and going through one of his arms, a chilling experience, truth be told.
When the music stopped, she caught her breath.
"That was wonderful, Sir Nicholas," she said.
"The pleasure was all mine, Hermione," he returned, before vanishing suddenly.
It was then that she realized she was not alone.
Then that a clapping filled the air, the polite gulf clap so often heard, just slow
enough to border on unflattering mockery, but not quite completely there.
It was then that Hermione looked up to find herself almost face to face with Severus
Snape.
Author's Note
Well, that's the beginnings. I know, some of my readers are possibly wondering
about my other unfinished work. I do plan on updating it sometime in the near future
But in case you were wondering, I do plan on finishing Please Don't Leave Me
(which is Draco/Hermione, as opposed to this story. I'm still not sure where I'm going to
take that fic, though), I just decided I needed to explore some new situations and such with
my writing, and well, quite honestly, the plot bunnies came calling, and I was inspired.
I hope sincerely that you found the beginnings enjoyable.
By E. Caddy Compson (persephoneia)