Title: Canon in Rock

Author: R. F. Lupin

Rating: G

Warnings: toxic geek levels, typos

Disclaimer: I don't own HP, I didn't compose Canon in D, and I can't play guitar at all.

A/N: I'm such a loser! I found a video of some kid playing a rock arrangement of Pachelbel's Canon in D on the electric guitar, and I totally spazzed. Here is the result.

This written to sort of go along with my fic Scattered; same central characters and all. It should tide you guys over until I get my act together and write chapter 11.

Canon in Rock

"Bill Weasley, you need to learn how to play the electric guitar," Pippa announced one morning at breakfast. She and her roommate, a one Mr. Bill Weasley, were eating their way through half of the grocery store. It was St. Patrick's Day, and since Pippa was Irish, she took this holiday seriously. Bill had to hide the liquor, though, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to deal with a patriotically-drunken model.

Bill didn't even look up from his eggs as he replied,

"And why is that?"

"So that we can play music together," she told him, smiling brightly.

"I'll get right on that," Bill said blandly. He thought for a moment, and then continued, "Wait, don't you play the violin?"

"Yeah," Pippa replied defensively.

"Well then shouldn't I play the . . . vee-o-lia or something?" Bill asked, grabbing another piece of toast. Pippa grimaced at his mauling of the English language and said disdainfully,

"It's called the viola, Bill, and no, you shouldn't play it. You should play the electric guitar."

"Why? Eklectirc guitars and violins don't go together."

"Yes they do!" Pippa said earnestly. "They go together perfectly well!"

"Name a group that has an electric guitar and a violin," Bill said. Pippa opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and then pouted because she couldn't think of any. Bill couldn't help feeling a sense of smug satisfaction.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Pippa said snippily as she cleared away their plates. "I'm going to get out my violin, and I think I have my dad's old guitar somewhere in the closet, and you and I are going to rock out."

As she sashayed to the bedroom, Bill called after her,

"And what, exactly, are we going to 'rock out' to?"

She returned, violin under her arm and guitar slung over her shoulder, and replied with a smirk the size of Russia,

"Pachelbel's Canon in D."