Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter Universe created by the amazing J.K. Rowling.
Author's Note: This is the first story that I have ever published. I hope to finish it, but I am deathly afraid of getting a writer's block. Wish me luck that it doesn't happen anytime soon.
The Distance Between Us
She sat quietly in the dark, desolate hallway. Her eyes were closed, the back of her head being painfully poked by the sharp, bumpy texture of the castle's stone walls. Her usually wild, bushy brown tresses were pulled back into a plait, serving no purpose in cushioning her skull; but luckily, as a result of her current state, she was blissfully unaware of it.
Her legs were loosely brought up to the front of her chest, and her arms were draped leisurely around them. She was supposed to be doing her rounds as Hogwarts Head Girl, just as she did every night before going to sleep, but at the moment it wasn't a priority. For whatever reason, by the end of her rounds, her legs seemed to carry her on their own, always to the same empty hallway on the third floor corridor. The corridor whose only source of light came from the moon which shone its translucent beams which refracted through the numerous, tall glass windows.
Aside from the windows, there were a series of doors, five, in fact, not counting the entrance to the hallway and the door on the opposite end which led to the statue of the Humpbacked Witch. To the girl's knowledge, four of the rooms contained an unused classroom on its other side. However, the door that was on Hermione Granger's left side most likely didn't hold the usual desks and chairs, but what brought her here the past couple of weeks, a piano.
It wasn't the piano itself that brought her here, having never played a piano in her life; she did, however, play the violin from the age of seven until the age of eleven, before she started attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But considering that it had been six years since she last rested a violin underneath her chin, the majority of the knowledge she had learned about music had vanished into the recesses of her brain, forgotten amongst the vast amounts of other information the inner workings of her mind held.
No, it wasn't the piano that drew her here, but the pristine, enchanting melodies that she could imagine, with her eyes still closed, escaping the heart of the piano that seemed to seep through the crack underneath the door and slither like a snake past the minute keyhole.
She hadn't the slightest inkling who could be creating the beautiful music on the other side of the door. Hermione tried looking through the keyhole, but to her dismay, the piano was nowhere near the periphery of the door. She wasn't curious enough, surprisingly, to find out who was playing by opening the door or even checking to see if the door was unlocked, thus breaking the wonderful spell the music had on her.
Instead, she would just sit as she was doing now, with her eyes closed almost in a state of conscious dreaming, just listening to the music.
He let the fallboard descend over the keys of the piano with a quiet "snap", carefully as to not let it crush his long, elegant fingers.
It was his mother, Eileen Prince, who had taught him to play the piano at the age of seven; that was until his Muggle father, Tobias Snape, put a stop to it before he could learn a decent scale, declaring it too "namby-pamby" for his son to take part in. So it was eighteen years ago when he started teaching that he decided that he would fully learn the art that he appreciated for so long.
There was only one other person in the school who knew about the piano besides himself. He received permission from Albus Dumbledore when he moved into Hogwarts to turn one of the school's many empty unused classrooms, him choosing this one on the third floor, into his sanctuary. Severus Snape hadn't any available room in his quarters for his grand piano, let alone a baby grand, due to it being primarily occupied with bookshelves, and in his spare room which he had turned into a personal lab, potions ingredients.
It seemed to him that everything terrible that had happened in his life - becoming a Death Eater, the loss of his mother, and later his best friend - he didn't have any control over. Well. Aside from becoming a Death Eater... He regretted the choice that he had made and was later able to amend it. At least he thought he could.
He thought that by going to Dumbledore all those years ago after her death that somehow, Dumbledore would be able to help get him out of this mess that he was lured into by means of power; to put a stop to the snakelike puppet-master that was pulling at his strings. But funnily enough, what had seduced him to the dark side-the power that he thought he could hold- was lost altogether, slipping through his fingers like wisps of smoke. Both when he became a Death Eater and when he turned spy for the light. And now, in retrospect, he was only glad that he could have power over himself once more, to not be used at the hands of the two most powerful wizards that ever lived. Oh, the irony.
But that was the past and the monster formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle was dead.
So this was where he ventured to every night when once he had completed all of his assumed responsibilities: finished grading all his papers, made any necessary potions for Madam Pompfrey and her constantly disappearing supply and then finally. When he finished his rounds, he made sure that he ended on the third floor corridor, to enter the second door on the left.
He let his hand rest on the smooth mahogany surface that contrasted against his ghostly flesh before slowly standing up, the scraping of the piano bench against the stone floor waking him from his reverie. He made it to the door and performed a silent and wandless Alohomora on it and then walked silently in the ethereal glow of the moonlight through the corridor to go down to the dungeons, being too exhausted to notice the black school robes that whipped around the corner before him, disappearing into the shadows.
My first chapter and story that I have ever published! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
I hope to finish this story. But I don't know how sporadic my updating will be.