3rd Movement
Severus Snape did not recognize the piece. It had been years since he had the time to listen to anything on the wireless other than death tolls. He was mainly concerned with the person making the music.
It was a girl- no, a woman. A woman in an emerald dressing gown. Her hair was up in a messy bun, a few dark tendrils hanging loose down her back. A candle flickered in front of her, backlighting her so he could not see her face, only the outline of her profile. She was swaying slightly where she sat, her arms moving quickly.
She sat at the keys of a sleek black grand piano, her fingers flying over the keys. The light of the flame spilled like liquid over her pale hands and the ebony and ivory keys she pressed. \
Severus could see that her eyes were closed, her lush lashes resting lightly on her cheeks. Her lips were parted slightly, and her chin slowly tipped back and to the side.
The potions master was captivated.
The music changed again. Back to the original pounding chords, only louder, slower, and grander. He marveled that the woman's small, pale hands could span the chords, let alone play with such force.
The piece quieted, ending in slowing, softening chords. As the last note faded into silence, Severus tried to speak, tried to move, but found that he could not. Then the woman shifted on the bench and began to play again.
She played so softly, Severus found himself leaning forward, straining to hear. Her hands were steady in the light, but he felt his own shaking.
He felt all sorts of thoughts and emotions, long buried, rising within himself, until he thought he might break. But the music continued to wash over him, filling him, bringing him peace.
Abruptly, he realized the music had stopped. The woman still sat there, head bowed. She moved to put out the candle, and Severus was suddenly overcome with fear. The woman was rising; she would turn around and see him intruding, see him awash with emotions, weak, vulnerable.
He turned on his heel and fled.