Ficlet: Piano Lesson
The keys plunked awkwardly against their wooden framing under his heavy hands. He was almost certain that whatever sound he was creating could not possibly have been classified as music. Not that he gave a damn about his abilities as a pianist. That wasn’t the point.
She shifted next to him on the bench, moving her body close enough that he could feel the subtle heat of her, the intoxicating scent of her hair wrapping around his senses like silken coils. He would gladly submit to an impromptu piano lesson for this. Hell, he would have been just as happy to receive a bloody knitting lesson from her, churning out misshapen wooly bladders under her careful direction.
His skin tingled as she lightly touched his hands, stopping the jumbled mess of sounds he had been dutifully beating out of the piano. He fell into her soft brown eyes as she glanced up at him, offering a little smile.
“You need to be gentler.”
Her breath was a warm puff against his neck as she leaned in to correct his hands. He could feel the blood rushing to his face as her softly spoken words ran about his head in dizzying circles, taking his mind to places it had no business visiting while she sat so close beside him.
Something that Bill had told him popped into his head. During one of those rare moments of peace in the middle of wedding preparations, he had finally worked up the courage to ask for some advice. Bill had looked at him appraisingly, the surprised grin on his face slowly fading into something that Ron may have mistaken for respect.
“So that’s the way of it.”
Ron had shrugged, his ears burning like embers as he met his brother’s eyes. Bill had nodded somberly, seeming to take a moment to work out precisely what he wanted to say. He leaned forward suddenly, gesturing with his hands like a professor beginning a lecture.
“Alright, well, a woman’s body is like a musical instrument.”
Ron had laughed a bit at that, nerves and embarrassment getting the best of him as he tried to sort out whether Bill was being serious. The intent look on his brother’s face dried up his laughter almost before it had escaped his throat.
“You can learn a … general technique, and you should be able to play most instruments adequately. But, each one is different in subtle ways, and so you need to…refine your technique according to the particular design of the instrument you’re trying to play.”
Ron had screwed up his face in concentration as he tried to soak in the metaphor.
“But we are still talking about women, right?”
Bill’s lips kicked up at the corners, a mischievous twinkle appearing in his eye that he may as well have stolen from one of the twins.
“Of course. Do keep up. Anyway, so in the case of your, shall we say, rather tightly strung instrument, you’ll want to start off slow and gentle. There will be time for increasing the tempo later. At first you just want to find a cadence that works naturally with her design, and then with practice you should be able to reach a crescendo.”
Ron had nodded, wishing that Bill had chosen a more literal way of getting the message across. While the whole musical slant made it a bit easier to talk about, he really didn’t want to get confused about something this important. Luckily, Bill had proven ready to answer all of his more specific questions with a frank honesty that had verged on the embarrassing.
“Ron? Ron!”
He snapped back to the present, mashing the keys down clumsily in an attempt to prove his attentiveness. She shook her head, looking up at him with a sort of tender exasperation he was fool enough to hope that she reserved only for him.
“Honestly, have you even been listening to a word I’ve said?”
He nodded fervently, putting emphasis behind the lie.
“Yeah, course I have. I’m just rubbish, is all.”
She tapped the back of his hand lightly in reproach.
“Stop that. You would play rather well with a bit of practice. You just need to refine your technique.”
The back of his neck was on fire. Oh, why did Bill have to put everything in musical terms? Now Ron was going to feel like a bloody pervert every time she mentioned tempo and technique. Merlin, what if she said crescendo!?
Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice the glowing beacon his face had become.
“Keep your fingers light, like this.”
He watched as her fingers caressed the keys in effortless grace, his treacherous mind immediately bringing up vivid images of those elegant fingers dancing across her most secret places as she helped him refine his technique.
He jerked his gaze up to her face, berating himself for acting a randy beast when he should be appreciating the simple joy of sitting this close to her. Her eyes fluttered closed as she coaxed a pretty song from the ancient piano, her lashes casting fascinating shadows along the soft curve of her cheek. She was…just…she was so beautiful it made his chest ache.
A loud thumping noise behind them reminded him of Harry’s presence, and, from the way her spine stiffened as her eyes shot open, she had gotten a bit distracted as well. She pulled her hands away from the keys, closing the fall board softly. He sat frozen in place until she stood with a regretful smile, turning to ask Harry if she could help with anything.
And there it was, really. One of the seemingly unbreakable chains binding them into this torturous limbo of not-quite-together. Harry needed them, and the world needed Harry. And until they helped him to fulfill his destiny, there would be neither the time nor the place for them to make any kind of music together.