Disclaimer: I don't own a lot. Harry Potter goes onto the list of things I don't own. Wai?
I think not. .! Oh well... here we go... BTW! This prologue goes to those of us to DO play an
instrument and know the hells about it. I spend over and hour and a half on a bass clarinet each
weekday, sometimes three and a half if I have after school rehearsals (which love to be thrown at
us on the last second). It's fun, but not when you spend so much frikken time doing it. Erlack.
ANYWHO! ^^v On with the show!
"And the German Empire, they organized, always build an empire, and fight and fight, and always
build an empire, they prassion, and then celebrate with a world war! aaaannnd lose the whole
fuckin' empire by the end of the war..." ~Eddie Izzard (this has nothing to do with the story, by
the way lol)
Del Capo al Fine
rated: PG-13
prologue
Five-year-old Hermione stared in wonder at the package held in front of her, brightly wrapped
and almost bigger than she was. "Dear, go ahead and open it, Love," Helen Granger told her daughter,
almost as excited as the girl. Parties had always been fun for Helen, whether she was the one who
the celebration was for or not.
Struggling with the bow, Hermione finally got the shiny-red ribbon off, and tore at the bright,
cartoon-character filled wrapping paper, to reveal a-
Now that she thought of it, Hermione wasn't sure what the thing in front of her was. It looked
like some sort of fabric-case, clearly heavier than it seemed to be. A suitcase, perhaps? "Open it,
Dear!" Helen urged, laughing at Hermione's confusion.
Locating the zippers on the side, Hermione struggled to lay the thing down on its side and
pulled one zipper to the left, while pulling the other to the right. Inside was yet another case,
this one made of hard, black plastic.
Finding the latches on the side, Hermione slowly undid them, to reveal a huge, wooden
instrument, strings protruding from one end to the other, much like a guitar. A bow lay in a
separate hole in the red, velvet-lined case, next to the instrument.
"Your father and I decided it was near time for you to start playing an instrument, like my
sister, Auntie Barbara. It's called a cello, but that's just a smaller version of it, Dear! Auntie
Barbara's even agreed to teach you how to play! You'll be just like her, and you can even perform
on a big stage and everything! Wouldn't that be fun, 'Moine?" her mother asked. Hermione cringed at
the nickname, and placed on a falsetto smile for her parents, running to give them an equally
falsetto hug.
"Thank you, Mummy! Daddy! I'll practice really hard and I'll be the best in the world," she
laughed, trying to make it sound as real as possible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ten-year-old Hermione plastered a smile on her face, the grin looking more unsure than anything.
"Really, Mum, you shouldn't have gone and gotten me... a" she looked at the package in front of
her, "NEW cello. They're overly expensive and I had just grown into the baby cello and all," she
told her parents. Maybe if she persuaded them to take the new cello back, she could actually buy
the tele she wanted. And maybe a private telephone AND phoneline. Not that anybody would be calling
her, or anything. Just for when she WOULD be getting phone calls, later in life. Ten-year-olds didn'
t often call each other. They just... tended to stop by.
"Oh, nonsense, 'Mione!" her mother laughed. Hermione cringed at the nickname. "Now that you grew
into the old one, you can grow into THIS one! It'll be great fun, and it's just like the cellos
professional use! Go on! Pick it up and try to play it!" the woman laughed. Hermione cringed.
Again. The old bat would do anything to get her to show off in public, especially to the family
members that had been invited to her birthday party. Each year, the Parental Units would buy her
SOME type of musically related item for her birthday or Christmas and would try to get her to play
for the people around them. Each year, the Parental Units would be turned down with the reply, 'I'm
sorry, Mum, Dad, but I don't know enough about this music/tuner/metronome/new bow/stand/etc. to
play!'
"I doubt it's tuned, Mum. You don't want me to sound like a dying cow," Hermione replied through
her teeth, quickly shutting the instrument to make her point clear. Helen sighed and Tom placed a
hand on his wife's shoulder.
"We wouldn't want our little girl making fun of herself, now would we, Helen," Tom laughed,
good-naturedly. Hermione made faces at them in her head. Sometimes she wished she could just take
the music and tuners and metronomes and bows and other items they gave her and shove them down her
parents' throats. THAT would be worth the effort and time she spent each week, laboring over the
fingerboard of the instrument on the new music they never failed to get for her.
It had been five years. FIVE YEARS that they had forced her into the hell that is performing an
instrument. When she complained that her fingers hurt, that the blisters that she had created over
the two hours of practice had popped, her parents would go into a speech on how they spent
thus-'n-much money on her to get her to be the best of the best, and that not even THAT was enough
for her. It made Hermione sick to listen to them, so an hour a day (and two on the weekends), she
suffered in silence, new callouses beginning on each finger, each hand, until she figured her hands
resembled a sailors. 'Good thing I never wanted dainty hands,' she would constantly remind herself.
Hermione really didn't have a complaint to playing an instrument. Not everyone she knew had been
playing an instruemnt for three years, let alone five. It was unique, and she was good. She would
even love playing an instrument if she hadn't been forced into it. But as things were, Hermione was
forced into it, and playing became second-hell. She sighed. How much longer would his have to go on?
Short. Yes, I know. But I'm waiting to start the next chapter, which I'll do immediately. Review,
if you like. I won't force ya into reviewing for ~MY~ sake... *SIGHS* Kudos for now!
~Achi-chan
I think not. .! Oh well... here we go... BTW! This prologue goes to those of us to DO play an
instrument and know the hells about it. I spend over and hour and a half on a bass clarinet each
weekday, sometimes three and a half if I have after school rehearsals (which love to be thrown at
us on the last second). It's fun, but not when you spend so much frikken time doing it. Erlack.
ANYWHO! ^^v On with the show!
"And the German Empire, they organized, always build an empire, and fight and fight, and always
build an empire, they prassion, and then celebrate with a world war! aaaannnd lose the whole
fuckin' empire by the end of the war..." ~Eddie Izzard (this has nothing to do with the story, by
the way lol)
Del Capo al Fine
rated: PG-13
prologue
Five-year-old Hermione stared in wonder at the package held in front of her, brightly wrapped
and almost bigger than she was. "Dear, go ahead and open it, Love," Helen Granger told her daughter,
almost as excited as the girl. Parties had always been fun for Helen, whether she was the one who
the celebration was for or not.
Struggling with the bow, Hermione finally got the shiny-red ribbon off, and tore at the bright,
cartoon-character filled wrapping paper, to reveal a-
Now that she thought of it, Hermione wasn't sure what the thing in front of her was. It looked
like some sort of fabric-case, clearly heavier than it seemed to be. A suitcase, perhaps? "Open it,
Dear!" Helen urged, laughing at Hermione's confusion.
Locating the zippers on the side, Hermione struggled to lay the thing down on its side and
pulled one zipper to the left, while pulling the other to the right. Inside was yet another case,
this one made of hard, black plastic.
Finding the latches on the side, Hermione slowly undid them, to reveal a huge, wooden
instrument, strings protruding from one end to the other, much like a guitar. A bow lay in a
separate hole in the red, velvet-lined case, next to the instrument.
"Your father and I decided it was near time for you to start playing an instrument, like my
sister, Auntie Barbara. It's called a cello, but that's just a smaller version of it, Dear! Auntie
Barbara's even agreed to teach you how to play! You'll be just like her, and you can even perform
on a big stage and everything! Wouldn't that be fun, 'Moine?" her mother asked. Hermione cringed at
the nickname, and placed on a falsetto smile for her parents, running to give them an equally
falsetto hug.
"Thank you, Mummy! Daddy! I'll practice really hard and I'll be the best in the world," she
laughed, trying to make it sound as real as possible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ten-year-old Hermione plastered a smile on her face, the grin looking more unsure than anything.
"Really, Mum, you shouldn't have gone and gotten me... a" she looked at the package in front of
her, "NEW cello. They're overly expensive and I had just grown into the baby cello and all," she
told her parents. Maybe if she persuaded them to take the new cello back, she could actually buy
the tele she wanted. And maybe a private telephone AND phoneline. Not that anybody would be calling
her, or anything. Just for when she WOULD be getting phone calls, later in life. Ten-year-olds didn'
t often call each other. They just... tended to stop by.
"Oh, nonsense, 'Mione!" her mother laughed. Hermione cringed at the nickname. "Now that you grew
into the old one, you can grow into THIS one! It'll be great fun, and it's just like the cellos
professional use! Go on! Pick it up and try to play it!" the woman laughed. Hermione cringed.
Again. The old bat would do anything to get her to show off in public, especially to the family
members that had been invited to her birthday party. Each year, the Parental Units would buy her
SOME type of musically related item for her birthday or Christmas and would try to get her to play
for the people around them. Each year, the Parental Units would be turned down with the reply, 'I'm
sorry, Mum, Dad, but I don't know enough about this music/tuner/metronome/new bow/stand/etc. to
play!'
"I doubt it's tuned, Mum. You don't want me to sound like a dying cow," Hermione replied through
her teeth, quickly shutting the instrument to make her point clear. Helen sighed and Tom placed a
hand on his wife's shoulder.
"We wouldn't want our little girl making fun of herself, now would we, Helen," Tom laughed,
good-naturedly. Hermione made faces at them in her head. Sometimes she wished she could just take
the music and tuners and metronomes and bows and other items they gave her and shove them down her
parents' throats. THAT would be worth the effort and time she spent each week, laboring over the
fingerboard of the instrument on the new music they never failed to get for her.
It had been five years. FIVE YEARS that they had forced her into the hell that is performing an
instrument. When she complained that her fingers hurt, that the blisters that she had created over
the two hours of practice had popped, her parents would go into a speech on how they spent
thus-'n-much money on her to get her to be the best of the best, and that not even THAT was enough
for her. It made Hermione sick to listen to them, so an hour a day (and two on the weekends), she
suffered in silence, new callouses beginning on each finger, each hand, until she figured her hands
resembled a sailors. 'Good thing I never wanted dainty hands,' she would constantly remind herself.
Hermione really didn't have a complaint to playing an instrument. Not everyone she knew had been
playing an instruemnt for three years, let alone five. It was unique, and she was good. She would
even love playing an instrument if she hadn't been forced into it. But as things were, Hermione was
forced into it, and playing became second-hell. She sighed. How much longer would his have to go on?
Short. Yes, I know. But I'm waiting to start the next chapter, which I'll do immediately. Review,
if you like. I won't force ya into reviewing for ~MY~ sake... *SIGHS* Kudos for now!
~Achi-chan