AN: Hermione graduated with honors 5 years ago, and is now teaching DADA much to Snape's chagrin.  After a particularly horrid day, Hermione stumbles across an old friend. What happens when Snape stumbles upon something that he never dreamed possible?

I know I know, terrible summary, but truth be told, I have no clue what the plot will be. This story is very out of character for me, but something possesses me to write it. I recently went back home to visit my parents and was able to once again play my piano, and the feeling I was left with has stuck with me. I miss it, and was wondering if I could convey the feeling that music leaves me with in a story.

Tell me if I am able to. I'd appreciate it.

      Born on the Wings of Sound

"Music, in performance, is a type of sculpture. The air in the performance is sculpted into something."

-Frank Zappa

"I will seize Fate by the throat; it shall certainly not bend and crush me completely."

-Ludwig von Beethoven

"Imagine handing over the work of one's brain and heart, confiding it to creatures who earn their living by tearing it to shreds for you, by degrading and dishonoring it! It is my child you are torturing, wretches...I give you one thing and it is another that you show to the public."

-Charles Gounod

"I may not be a first-class composer, but I am a first-class second-rate composer."

-Richard Strauss

"The aria, after all, is the soul of opera."

-Richard Strauss

Chapter One: Realization

It had been a long day.

It had been a very long day.

To long of a day in fact, to be patrolling the halls close to midnight looking for wayward students out past curfew.

Stifling a jaw cracking yawn, Hermione stumbled slightly down the dim hallway, blearily gazing into empty classroom after empty classroom, her mind already drifting back towards her cozy tower bedroom, nestled near the DADA classroom.

Rubbing the heels of her palms across her eyes, Hermione yawned once again, simply wishing that this horrid day would end.

She had been teaching class as usual, with no problems, until Professor Snape had slammed her classroom door open to demand her presence in the Headmasters office.

She was forced to leave the class to their own devices for a few moments to deal with whatever cranky and completely unfounded complaint Snape had brought to Dumbledore against her this time.

He seemed to make it a ritual of sorts that at least once a month he had to come up with some completely off-the-wall story trying to sabotage her position. She and Dumbledore had come to expect these 'fits of ill humor', and would probably be worried if they stopped.  

Once she was there however, she found out that Dumbledore had been the one to request the presence of them both.

The esteemed Headmaster thought it to be a good idea to force the two of them to spend the Christmas holidays together, seeing as neither one had family to share it with, to work on a much needed cure for lycanthropy; Remus was building a tolerance to the Wolfsbane potion.

 Needless to say, Snape was completely irrational about the whole situation, and Hermione exceedingly obstinate.

In the pairs typical fashion, they ended up in a furious argument that ended only when Albus reminded Hermione that she had a class that was left unattended, and then with a firm hand told them that 'they had absolutely no choice in the matter' and deftly threw them out of his office.

Upon making it back to her classroom, she had found the place in shambles and her third year students guiltily looking at the floor, at least the only three left standing in a condition to look contrite that is.

A third of the class was unconscious from various hexes and another part couldn't stop varying limbs from flinging about. Some unfortunate children were turned purple with writhing snakes for hair, some were bald, and some were left with unibrows and orange skin.

She ended up having to take the entire class to the hospital wing and then spending a better part of the day repairing her classroom.

Dinner had been a disaster, with the rumors and stories of her lesson gone horridly wrong, and Snape with his eternal dark black cloud hanging over his head, glowering at her over his plate of stew.

The other professor's had thought it necessary to give her tips on how to discipline her students and then were put-off when she didn't respond with the apologetic and thankful look they obviously thought she should have.

Needless to say, Hermione was in a foul mood, and having to walk through cold dark hallways was not what she had in mind to ease her temper.

Opening her eyes once again, Hermione glanced to her right and noticed a door that had not been there moments before.

Quirking an eyebrow at it, she tried to bring her fuzzy mind into focus, knowing that she had the knowledge somewhere that would pertain to this strange occurrence.

Oh. That's right. The Room of Requirement. But why was it showing up now? She obviously required a bed, but she had a job to finish and one of her own up in her room.

'May as well find out what it thinks I need.' With that thought and a shrug she turned to the door and glanced around the hallway to make sure she was not being observed, and then pushed the door open and stepped inside closing it soundlessly behind her.

A gasp escaped her lips as she gazed into the warmly fire lit room.

This was unexpected.

In the center of the room stood a stunningly beautiful grand piano, glossy black and shinning with the reflections of the fire. Hard wood floor surrounded the legs, and reached into the corners of the room where it was surrounded by a ring of plush green carpet.

Feeling the fire begin to warm her, Hermione glided softly toward the instrument, gazing at the black and white ivory keys, and then running a few fingers softly across them, loving the texture of the cool bone.

Glancing around the room, nervously worrying her bottom lip, she returned her amber eyes back to the black piano and bench. Finally with a slight intake of breath, she removed her outer robe so she was clad only in a long white silk nightgown.

A very flattering cut if she said so herself, it was her favorite thing to sleep in as it made her feel elegant.

Sliding onto the lacquered bench, she centered herself and gazed down at the multitude of keys once more.

'It's been years since I have played.' The thought rang in her mind, with the accompanying sense of loss. She had missed it terribly. Before she came to Hogwarts, music had been her life.

Well, may as well try some scales. That shouldn't be too hard.

Gently posing her long fingers over the keys she began the repetition of scales, arpeggios, and then some foolishness that her first instructor had taught her as a warm up lesson.

She could feel the warmth through her hands and wrists, the muscles remembering the familiar movements, her mind cliquing into gear as the rushing sense of belonging washed over her.

She belonged with her music.

Hermione stopped the scales, and then with a deep breath she closed her eyes and began to play a song only she knew.

She had composed this piece a few months after she had gotten her invite to come to Hogwarts, although she never physically put the notes down onto paper.

It was a very melancholy melody, filled with angsty sounds and a thorough sense of sadness and loss. The sounds rose and tumbled, only to rise slightly once more, the blending of the minor keys working their magic into the air.

Hermione could remember how she had just gone upstairs to her piano after a harsh argument with her parents. They did not want her to go to such a school, nor did they want her to go to a public school. They had called her a freak and that she should be kept home so that no one could realize that she was not normal. They were afraid, that they would be shunned should someone find out that two respectable people could have such an abnormal daughter.

She remembered feeling empty inside as she had slid onto her worn mahogany bench, and placed her childish yet talented fingers on the slightly battered ivories. She had closed her eyes, tears spilling from them and rolling down her chubby cheeks. With a deep sigh she simply allowed her fingers to move, trying to match the sounds to the retched thoughts in her mind.

She felt the sorrow as she played, instead of that hollow emptiness; she felt the pain of rejection, the fear of being alone, and finally the resignation that this was how things were to be. She let all the feelings flow through her, then out into her fingers which allowed the release of it into the air in a form of music.

Hermione had always loved music, though in particular the piano and violin. She had played for approximately nine years, each instrument, before she went off to school.

She had only one instructor, and that was when she was really young and first starting out.

Hermione had trouble conforming to the wills of others, much as an artist had trouble allowing an instructor to tell them how a painting should be done, Hermione had balked when her instructors had tried to force her to play music like everyone else.

She had her own style. And apparently still did.

A smile quirked on her face as she played through the memory of her last song, though tears trickled slowly down her face at the depressing fact that her parents had essentially disowned her which had given this particular song birth. 

Clearing her throat, Hermione started another song that she had composed, though it had not come about in a display of emotion. This particular song, she loved because she could meld her voice along with it, in simply sounds, not words.

Allowing a natural pattern of flowing sounds from her throat, she gradually lowered her octave on the piano to match her now matured voice, and gently teased her voice and fingers to harmonize with one another once again.

The effect was stunning.

At least that was what Severus Snape thought as he opened the door to see who was creating such passionately beautiful music.