Title: Two Chicks And A Pianist Walk Into A School...
Rating: T
Pairings: AusHun, mentioned PruCan, PruAus and PruHun
Talking: Whoa, more serious I chapter this time around. THANK YOU THIS STORY IS DOING WELL AND I LOVE YOU ALL.
Disclaimer: I do not hold or claim to hold any sort of ownership or rights over the characters in this story; they belong to Hetalia/Hidekaz Himaruya and Harry Potter/J. K. Rowling.
Austria - Rodreich Edelstein
2P!Austria - Roland Edelstein
Hungary - Elizaveta Héderváry
2P!Hungary - Julia Héderváry
Prussia - Gilbert Beilschmidt
2P!Prussia - Gilen Beilschmidt
Two Chicks And A Pianist Walk Into A School: Eight:
Beilschmidt does not seem happy about having to teach flute.
However, he does it reluctantly. Ron and I know because we're watching the lesson, halfway curious and halfway confused.
The Italian words in necessary to read the sheet music and conduct the class-allegretto, fermata, prestissimo-sound strange in Gilbert's strong German accent. But the music he plays as an example sounds beautiful. Hermione, at least, seems to be happy enough to follow along.
Ron and I leave, and we wander slowly through the deserted corridors, for once quiet as we make our way back to the Gryffindor common room.
Then we hear purposeful footsteps, and we instinctively jump and move to the side. My back is pressed against the wall.
"Hm... Crumple-Horned Snorkak..." a feminine voice says. "Where would that be?"
Ron and I glance at each other, eyes wide as we recognize those words coming from the mouth of a professor. I whisper an incantation under my breath, one that Moody taught me not too long ago, and we fade into the background.
Héderváry rounds the corner. At first, it looks like everything is fine-but then I notice the small satchel she's carrying, and the pocketknife in her other hand.
"Snorkak... Who names something a Snorkak?" she wonders as she walks past, not sparing us a second glance. "Shut up, Julia, I know. I remember. You're an awful 2P!, now get out of my head."
With those concerning words, she turns again and disappears out of sight.
I mutter the counter-charm and Ron and I stare at each other.
"Does she really believe in Crumple-Horned Snorkaks?" I ask as Ron wonders, "What did she mean, 'get out of my head'?"
Our footsteps as we head back to the common room are now hurried and restless.
•POV switch brought to you by Kumajirou
"Hey, hey, pay attention, I have something to ask you!" the smaller nation declares. His eyes are squinted so tightly no one can see his amber brown irises-sad, now, not that he would ever show anyone that. His hair is light brown, short, and he has a stubborn curl that defies gravity as it hovers above him, where he rests his head on the grass. Despite the sad wisdom in his eyes, he wears an oblivious smile.
His companion is sitting beside him, his back ramrod straight, his eyes as blue as the sky he's staring into and straw blonde hair slicked back. He turns, Iron Cross at his neck glinting in the rays of the sun. "What is it, then?"
The first asks, "Do you remember your childhood at all?"
The second shifts uncomfortably, "Nein. I don't."
"Oh," the brunet says. "Ve~" There's almost silence for a few moments, broken only by the rustling of the wind and the songs of misty-morning birds who decided to sleep in late.
"Just now, you reminded me of someone," Italy continues.
A bit surprised, those sky blue eyes looked down as his ally. Germany asks, "I did? Who did I remind-Italy! Why are you crying? Don't cry!"
•POV switch brought to you by Pochi
"Elizaveta~" Julia says, her voice high and singsong.
"Shut up," I reply as I walk through empty halls. Sunlight streams brightly from the windows as I pass them, and there's only one shadow to block the light's path, footsteps light and smooth and easy: mine.
"Now that wasn't very nice, was it, Elizaveta?" Julia purrs.
Before I know it, I've punched myself in the face.
"Julia!" I shout, not caring about the possibility of someone overhearing me-these halls are deserted. "What have I told you about taking over in public? It's bad for both of us!"
"You said it would help them find out what we are," Julia said. Her voice spills from my mouth, bittersweet, unnatural. "I don't care."
"You-" I'm cut off as she gains control of my mouth and lungs and vocal chord. I see through her own eyes as she twirls a lock of rosy pink hair around her finger.
"Now, now, Elizaveta, I'm in charge," Julia chides.
"No... You're... I refuse!" I shout, and with a scream Julia is again suppressed. My knees buckle and I drop to the floor, pain filling my senses, and I my vision darkens as once again, I'm at death's door.
My shoulders shake violently, the tremors spreading to wrack my entire body.
I'm used to this pain-I'm a nation, after all, a creation born from the horrors of war and from hard-won battles and sacrificed blood in the name of the motherland.
My shoulders are shaking from laughter.
