a/n- Sorry for the Garmau overload on this One-Shot series, we all really like the ship. Anyway.... This story takes place in 1943 in the concentration camp of the time, Birkenau-Auschwitz. I tried to keep it PG/G, but the Holocaust is a serious matter and worldwide devastation.

Some Key German Words You May Need Throughout The One-Shot:

Hallo Freund = Hello Friend

Vater = Father

Falsch = False

Halt = Stop

Warte ab = Wait

Das klavier = The piano

Kuchen = Cake

Schnee Erbse = Snow Pea

Der böse = Evil One

Abschied = Farewell

meine geliebte = My love

Also note that the composers were real composers of the time. If you're interested in WWII History, Music, the Violin, or the songs used, feel free to look them up.

*Advisory: Takes place during the Holocaust. Read at your own risk*

~Riley

~ ~ ~

The time is 1943, and the world is in complete and utter chaos. With two days till Christmas, the war was still waging, Jews trapped across Europe, struggling and fighting for freedom. People passed left and right and cruel things happened to the best of people.

Aphmau Levine was one of the lucky ones. Besides being separated from her father, her mother suddenly passing away in her sleep, a mere number tattooed permanently to her arm, and her long, raven hair chopped to bits, she was lucky.

She was the commandant's violinist, a pure entertainer, but it came with perks others would die for. She received frilly dresses galore, fur covering her body to block the cold winter snow, extra rations and special treatment from the maids and helpers around his home.

But what Aphmau couldn't wrap around her head was Commandant Garte's sons. The middle son was rarely seem, always burrowed in his room. He was eery to Aphmau, so it was best he was avoided at all costs anyway. The youngest, the boy she came to know as Vlyad, was friendly enough to acknowledge her by her given name Aphmau, but around the leader, they were silent.

And lastly was the eldest, Garroth. His blonde hair and blue eyes radiated across the room, setting him apart from any of the brown haired hazel eyed prisoners he came to know. He was also the silent type, but always observed Aphmau from a distance, his eyes on a notepad or napkin. He came to know him as nice but reserved, only showing his creative side here and there. He often secretly gave her drawings, Aphmau giving him thanks with a smile.

Aphmau walked toward the brick home within the barrack, Garroth and Vlyad peering through the window waiting for her arrival. She entered the home silently and kicked her boots off, Vlyad handing her the violin at the door.

Vlyad smiled, "Hallo Freund! Whatcha up to?"

"Nothing much as always. Mr. Garte requested me to come over early though, something about you're having company?" She asked, sitting on a nearby chair and tuning my instrument. She briefly saw Garroth's blonde locks scurry across the hall, but thought nothing of it.

"Oh yes. Mr. Krause and Mrs. Vogt are coming to discuss issues with father. They must've requested music. Did you know that father is bragging all about you?" Vlyad speaks over Aphmau's test strings.

"N-No. I didn't know Mr. Garte was doing that... I'm not even that good at the violin, nor the piano whenever he requests it from me. I only know a few songs that aren't Jewish on that... But I better make my way to the living room."

Aphmau leaves Vlyad with a curtsy, thanking him as always for his hospitality and genuine interest in herself. She walk the halls, passing Maid Kimberly on the way. They give each other weak smiles as Aphmau open the doors to the familiar room.

She positions herself on the bench as usual, playing some Glazunov and Waghalter, with one Concerto by Elgar in pianissimo. As she was starting a piece by Korngold, the commandant and a woman and man entered, sitting down on the couch. She didn't think anything of them as she played the Violin Sonata in G major by memory, it ending flawlessly.

Garroth entered soon after and sat in the corner doodling away while Vlyad followed onto an arm chair, becoming comfortable. She continued playing, some Beethoven and some Bartok, ending with a song by Kreisler as the adults chattered away, eating delicate cheeses and fruits. It almost made Aphmau want to grab out and consume it all in one gulp, but she knew she would surely die if she dared. So, she played.

She got caught up in the strings, the raspy songs filling her ears. She eventually closed her eyes as her old teacher, Zoey, taught her to do. For Zoey... She remembered. Her teacher was the last person she had after her mother passed. But, she eventually got weeded away somehow, leaving the clueless Aphmau alone.

"Warte ab..." Garte started, shushing his companions and waiting for a response from Aphmau patiently, "I TOLD YOU TO HALT, NUMBER N387192!"

Aphmau opened her eyes and stopped abruptly, "Y-Yes, sir?"

The two guests were left confused, Garte asked, "What song was that there?"

Aphmau remained still, but was internally screaming at herself. She didn't notice it herself, but she was performing Partita in D minor by Bach and Mendelsohn, Alfred Mendelsohn being a Jewish conductor from the late 19th century and early 20th century.

"Its Violin Concerto in D minor, father." Garroth spoke to cover up Aphmau, his father glaring daggers at his child.

"Well then, who is the conductor, Gar?"

"Travis. Travis Valkurm. Very unknown. English conductor of the 18th century." Garroth responded blatantly.

His father nodded, "Very well, then. But, it is very sad tuned. Please change it to be more upbeat and cheerful. And make it quieter, I can barely hear myself speak."

"Very well then, master Garte." Aphmau choked, continuing with a new song.

"Did you know my son is an amazing pianist..."

~ ~ ~

As Aphmau was gathering the dishes in a pile so Kimberely had it easy, Garroth opened the door and began whispering to Aphmau.

"Vater left alongside our friends. He won't be back for another hour." He muttered, about to assist Aphmau with the plates before she stopped him.

"As I hope you know, I don't need your pity, Mr. Ro'meave," Aphmau murmured, Garroth stepping backwards slightly, "You knew it was Bach and Mendelsohn, why didn't you just let it play out? Since you're people just go around killing anyone with dark hair and eyes."

"I'm not like them, Aphmau--" Garroth tried to reason, with no such luck.

"FALSCH!" Aphmau silently screamed, tears already spilling out of her frail eyes, "I've seen you just sit and watch the helpers get whipped. Why didn't you help them, then? Mr. Schwartz died, and you had all the power in yourself to prevent that..."

Garroth sighed, "Aphmau, you know just as well as I do I couldn't. You must be mistaking me with my father."

"At least Vlyad tried, but then again Zane is worst than you and cheered your vater on."

"But did he succeed?" Garroth tested, Aphmau surrendering.

"Fine. Sorry for lashing out on you. I can tell you were only trying to help," She smiled, grabbing his hand, "Teach me."

"What?" Garroth blushed, confused.

"Das klavier." She smirked, sitting down on the piano bench with him. He placed her hands on the keys as they played together, the music in perfect sync.

They finished, Aphmau's notes all over the place but Garroth picking up and finishing it as it was intended to be. They stared at each other; Garroth examined Aphmau's frail body and black specks of hair poking through her hair cover, the green ink scratched into her once pristine skin. Aphmau fell deep into Garroth's spherical blue gems, his face inching closer and closer.

The two blushed like mad as their lips brushed together, a faint kiss. The sat in silence together, not uttering a word.

Garroth broke the silence, "I need to get back to my painting."

"G-Goodbye, Garroth Kuchen." Aphmau chuckled, remembering her nicknames for the boys. She only told them to Vlyad and Garroth, though. Garroth was Garroth Kuchen in honor of gifting her a secret slice of cake one day, Vlyad as Schnee Erbse since her master, Garte, called him pea a lot, and they met in the snow, and lastly was Zane, Der böse.

Garroth whispered into her ear, "Until tomorrow. Abschied,

"meine geliebte."

~ ~ ~