Author's Note: Hello Everyone, this is an Alternate Universe story if you haven't read the summary by chance. The characters have the same names and features as Harry Potter people, but their personalities, world, and other occurances of changed. For those of you who play music I think will love this. For people who don't . . . hope you like it anyways. I honestly think it is my best work, and I would really appreciate it if I recieved some reviews.

The story starts in the present, and then it will jump back to when it all started.

Enjoy:

 The wooden stairs creak under my foot falls as I race up them in frantic hope that I can get away from them all. From every single person who has hate rushing through their beings for a simple minded girl; who was never supposed to be seen in the first place. Evidently that simple girl was myself, as much as I wish otherwise. Although I must say this wish to be anyone but me at the moment, has only just come up. A few hours ago I was the happiest person alive; but that seems so far from me now.

I spot a door to my left, jimmy the handle, and let it swing open as I cast a hasty look over my shoulder to see shadows approaching. I run into the dark musty room and stare immediately at the only source of light. A window, that shows the windmill drift lazily by every now and then, is positioned in the middle of the wall. I catch a sight below me of the horde of people that have followed me, screaming their rage, but it isn't them I want to look for.
 I look for him . . . the one who I love . . . and I see him. He stands separate from the murderous crowd, staring at the old windmill with tears in his eyes that gleam from the moonlight above, and I feel my own tears begin to fall once more as I suddenly smell burning.
  The windmill passes by my window again, and I see the flames that have wrapped themselves around it. I immediately look below once more, allowing myself to be seen in the window to the violent people below . . . yet all I can see is the flames rising to meet me at my window. 

I look into the wind that pushes the heat from the fire up to me as I stare over to my love once more . . . where I find he has fallen to his knees in anguish as he watches the angry flames rise higher, and higher, wishing to swallow me to my burnt death.

It wasn't supposed to be like this . . .  I guess if we are going to be honest I wasn't supposed to meet him either.


***One Month Ago***

I jogged down the narrow hallway from my room to the stairs while still in the process of pinning back a section of my long red hair. I hastily jumped to the bottom landing with a ‘thud', and clipped my hair back successfully. My mind was everywhere at once trying to recall everything I needed so that I would not show up late, <i>and</i> be missing important things.

"Ginny? Dear you are going to be late!" My mother called to me from the kitchen, where she was finishing up the dishes from dinner. She had obviously just looked at the clock now, because otherwise she would have been nagging me before I had even come down the stairs to begin with!

"Yes mum! I just have to find my music!" I managed to shout as I tore around the small sitting room that was the front of my house. It took me a few seconds before I realized that it was sitting in plain sight on a faded pink chair that sat by the door.
"Found it!" I cried out triumphantly as I scooped it up and grabbed my large case that already sat ready and waiting for me, right next to the chair where my music was.
"Good luck!" My mother called just before I shut the door with a bit of a bang, and started running down the beaten dirt road.
 The road would lead to the forest that was part of the back land of the palace, I knew all the short cuts so the run wasn't going to be too bad. The foliage was thick and green, which worked appropriately with the late May date. The air was heavy with moisture and with the smell of flowers that bloomed all over the wooded area in that season. Usually I liked to take my time walking through it, smelling all the scents, taking in the beauty that it was with the silence of the night; but tonight I was running late.

I saw the edge of the forest approaching, so I put forth a burst of speed as I broke through the final row of trees. I continued to run up through the palace gardens, slip down an almost invisible set of stairs, through the long tunnel that exited into the dimly lit musicians hallway, into the warm up room where my three fellow musicians stood looking appalled with me. I couldn't see their faces very clearly thanks to even more poor lighting that left many shadows on the walls in the small bare room, but it didn't take super vision to know at least two of them were scowling.

"Late again Miss. Weasley?" The first violinist Carolynn Vinelli asked looking down her elegant nose at the likes of panting sweaty me.
"Yes, so sorry, couldn't find my music!" I replied with as I worked quickly to pull out my cello and tighten my bow.
"Excuses are not acceptable." She hissed her bright blue eyes piercing my hunched back.
 Carolynn was about 5'10 with golden blonde hair, pale skin, and a thin pink mouth that always tightened whenever I would show up tardy. She clearly didn't like me, and wished that the king had not elected the youngest of them all to play with them.
"Sorry." I mumbled once more straightening myself to my full height of 5'5.
"Are you in tune?"  Randy the second violinist asked kindly his own pair of dusty blue eyes staring into my brown ones with more gentleness. Randy was always my favorite of the other three. He was an inch shorter than Carolynn, and had thinning curly blonde hair atop of his very circular head, that was a  ruddy color. He had always helped me feel more welcome, even when Carolynn gave him dirty looks; which was appreciated beyond belief, seeing as I knew he was in love with her. 

I dragged the bow hastily across the A, D, G, and C. Other than the C being a tad flat, it was fine . . . thankfully. I rubbed my hand affectionately over the shoulder of my cello, as though it were my child. In all honesty I considered the cello a part of me, I had gotten it from a very old maker who used to be well known, but now lives as a hermit somewhere up in the Alps.
 I got it as a gift, he had heard me play when he was traveling around, and decided I was so gifted that I should be given an instrument that was as good as I. The varnish was the color of my hair, and the sound seemed to fill my soul whenever I played, and fulfilled me emotionally. I loved my cello more than anything.

"Alright peoples; remember, we are not there to be seen! Only to be heard." Lawrence the violist called after peeking through the crack of the door to see if the King and Queen were ready for the music yet. Lawrence was mousey looking with muddy eyes, and sandy brown hair that didn't compliment his pasty complexion in the least. I rolled her eyes after he spoke and then shook my hair to curtain my face besides the few strands I had clipped back earlier.

I stood at the end of the assembled line as we prepared ourselves to walk out. Looking down at my clothes I chuckled at all the black. Typical musician wear, long black skirt, clunky black shoes, a very baggy loose black blouse, no jewelry . . .
I was disrupted from my thoughts as the door was thrown open, and the light from the ballroom flooded the dimly lit room we were currently in, causing me to squint.

I let the others walk in before me as I took in the glittering extravagance that was the palace ballroom; even though I'd seen it a million times, it was always breathtaking. 
Crystal chandeliers hung from high mounted ceilings, the walls were cream and gold colored, with windows that touched the floor and arched against the ceiling as they showed all the beautiful gardens and the mysterious forest I had emerged from only a few minutes before, there was a step up towards the heightened thrones of the king and queen, where they currently sat watching everyone but the musicians who entered quietly and unnoticeably.
The marble beneath my feet shone so cleanly I could see distorted images of myself as I seated myself in the assigned chair.
 I placed my music on the stand smoothly and silently as I then pulled out my end pin, and caught a glimpse of the handsome prince holding the hand of some fair lady whom was blushing furiously at his charming smile. 
I quickly returned my attention to my work; straightened my back, made my position flawless, as I then waited statue still for my que from Carol.
Her face held no sign of contempt while performing, instead it was smooth and beautiful from any line of emotion. She and I made brief eye contact as she then gave a slight sniff . . .  and then it began, the beautiful piece of magic that held the four of us different people together. The night had started with the waltz . . . not my favorite, but I had to respect it . . . it was music, and music loved and respected me.