The Whole Story As We Don't Know It

Chapter 8: Piano Playing

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine; let's just accept that I am Miss E Bee Not J K Rowling! I am also not Beethoven, as he is dead, and I (I hope) am still alive! Much love :D x

So, a bit of an insight on what I think should have happened in a bit more detail during the scene in Deathly Hallows in which Hermione is teaching Ron how to play the piano...

Hermiones POV:

After a few days of dusting and tidying, Number 12 Grimmauld Place was feeling more comfortable and homely. I was taking a rest one day, checking my accuracy on the Rune translation of The Tales of Beedle the Bards; Three Brothers, when I heard a noise. Not an annoying noise, a lovely sound that I felt like I hadn't heard in years; music. The 'music' came from the Bechstein grand piano in the corner of the Dining Room, an instrument that I had thought broken or out of tune. I looked at the pianist to find it to be none other than one particular red haired by the name of Ronald Weasley, who was staring right back at me.

"I didn't know you could play?" I enquired.

"I don't," he said, walking over to me. "Teach me." He took hold of my hand and gently pulled me towards the piano. He made the stool bigger and we sat down next to each other.

I started to play a piece I knew from when I used to be taught at primary school; Beethoven's Fur Elise. He started to copy me an octave higher, soon getting the hang of the melody, then moving onto the chords, and within half an hour he had cracked the chorus.

"I'm going to bed," came a feeble voice behind us.

"Oh, night Harry," I said, spinning on the spot and hugging him tightly. I felt him nod to Ron behind me.

"See you tomorrow," he shrugged as he ambled through the door and up the stairs, closing the door behind him.

After a while of dawdling on the piano, I leant against Ron, letting my legs dangle over the edge of the stool and let out a yawn. Next minute, I was being flung over Rons shoulder.

"No, Ron, what are you doing, .Down," I whispered, not wanting to wake Harry above us, hitting him with my fists balled.

"I just figured you'd be tired, what with that lion yawn you just performed missy," he joked. "Here's your stop, miss, you can give me the change in the morning." He dropped me gently into my sleeping bag, still in the same position on top of the cushions as the first night. Ron and I had decided to sleep downstairs because a) Ron wanted to be able to hear any intruders and I didn't feel safe in a strange room in this strange, unfamiliar house without Ginny to sleep with, and I think Ron was happy for the company.

"I haven't even changed yet, or cleaned my teeth, and you don't want to have to answer to my father," I protested, as he tucked me in.

"I don't think that in these troubled times, anyone will kill you for not brushing those pearly whites, and I am the only one who has to deal with your breath, and honestly it isn't bad, seeing as you haven't missed one night in your life for brushing your teeth, even though I still can't understand why you haven't just put an anti-plaque charm on them, like my Mum did for me when I was two."

I hadn't known him to ever speak that much! The lights went out with a click of his Diluminator. "Well, I was told," I giggled. "Night, then" He found my hand in the dark.

"Good night, 'Mione."

Rons POV:

Just watching her sit there was aggravating. She was doing it again; reading. The Tales of Beedle the Bard couldn't be that interesting now surely. I mean, when I was six, I was fascinated by Babbitty Rabbitty, but now? I decided I needed to distract her with one thing I knew she loved more than reading, her secret pleasure: music. Her expression after I played that simple C chord was priceless; true surprise.

"I didn't know you could play?" she said.

"I don't," I said as I walked towards her, holding out my hand. "Teach me." She took my hand, letting me lead her to the piano in the corner. As we sat on the stool, lock of her hair fell of its perch behind her ear, and I had to try very hard not to put it back in place behind her small ear. As we sat in silence, she stared longingly at the ivory keys, brushing her fingers over them, looking like she was thinking of all the songs that she new, and trying to dumb the Mozart down for me. She started to play a classical piece I believed was by some famous muggle with the name of a dog. I started to copy her and we kept playing the chorus and I was quite impressed that I got the hang of it quite quickly, for me. I casually placed my hand on the part of the stool behind her, and this closeness elated me. Soon after, Harry came in to say goodnight. He still isn't in a happy state, but me and 'Mione will sort him out over the next however long it will be.

As we carried on playing, Hermione leant against me and her legs dangled from the stool, her toes just scrapping the floor. She was so small next to me, yet our bodies seemed to match, like two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. She yawned lazily and looked like she was ready to close those beautiful brown eyes, so I decided she needed to get to bed. I moved slightly, and then hoisted her up over my shoulder. She cried out in a hushed tone, instructing me to put her down at once, banging on my upper back with her fists, so I let her down, in her bed. She complained about not changing into her pyjamas, about not cleaning her teeth. So like a dentist's daughter. I explained about no one caring about her smelly breath in the current climate. I flicked off the lights with my Diluminator.

"Night then," she said. I routed around in the dark for her hand.

"Good night, 'Mione."

I always had a peaceful sleep holding that hand. So peaceful, I was beginning to wonder how I had ever slept at all without holding Hermiones hand.