A/N: It has been such a very long time since I last wrote anything. Six months I believe. I got this idea after hearing Mozart's Dies Irae and somehow thought, Hm, doesn't Mrs. Lovett have a piano in her sitting room? So I added one and one together and here we have this. I'm quite aware this is not very good. Yes, I can see those of you who are reading agree with me. But, I would appreciate if you, my dear audience, would kindly spare me a little more of your precious time and review and advise me as to what needs correcting or if you enjoyed. Pardon any grammatical errors you come across, or better yet tell me if you find any and I'll be more then happy and willing to correct them.

Untouchable Melody

She can't recall the last time she ever played the thing. There it rested, tucked away in the gentle shadows of the room. There was not a speck of dust on its surface, to that she made sure of each time she cleaned, like now. At one time in her life it had provided the most pleasant and memorable moments in her life. It had been a wedding gift from her Albert, and oh how she had loved spending countless nights playing it and indulging in the joys that it brought her! Her adept talents for playing the piano had come from her patient father before he had descended into the cruel fate of a drunkard.

Nellie Lovett recalled sadly how the piano in the family room had been sold away to pay off her father's debts. But there hadn't been much use to selling it. They lost everything but a few months later. It had pained her to see those men from the auction take away her piano, but there was nothing she could do but mourn its lost. A few years after she had met Albert, the man who she then thought she loved. He had been a different man, then; not at all like the portrait that hung in the shop depicted him as.

Once upon a long time, Albert Lovett had been handsome and commanded a mighty display of charm, intelligence and gallantry. He came from a well-to-do middle class family that had just enough money to ensure comfort and happiness. From the moment they had met at some place (Nellie could not recall where preciously) he and she had fallen in love. It only took a matter of months before they were married and situation in Fleet Street. They couldn't have been happier. Albert had bought her a nice piano that always found it being played at the end of each day, and they had enough to live by.

Nellie had learned from her mother how to bake wonderfully, and so she used her skills of bakery to earn a little more money for them. All went well, but as they say nothing lasts forever. Suddenly everything in Nellie's little world collapsed and the pleasant life she had lived for ten years vanished. Before she knew what had happened, Nellie and her husband found themselves in debt and without money to pay. The business she had managed to construct declined and there would be no help from Albert's family or her own to lend a helping hand to them.

It was during this crisis that Albert took a wont of eating unstoppably and soon he grew in size to present him as the portrait pictured him. She soon forgot about her piano and did all she could to make money for their survival and the safety of the shop. That's why it had been necessary for her to rent the upper room above the shop, to make money. And the first couple that came to view the room was the perfect one. His name was Benjamin Barker and his wife Lucy, but there is no need for an introduction to either of these individuals; we know who they are. And the rest can be guessed.

It was during the Barker's stay that the piano saw its reuse. It was played with love and contentment from the lovely baker and on rare occasions the barber's wife. Nellie only allowed Lucy Barker the use of her piano for the sake of the beautiful Benjamin. Then the day saw when Benjamin Barker was exiled from England to Australia, and then the insanity arouse. Lucy was stricken with grief; Turpin raped her and took Johanna, and during those difficult fifteen years her piano lay in dormant until now.

Nellie lifted its cover and ran her fingertips over the ivory keys. She pressed down on one of the keys and smiled at during the sound it produced. She tossed the rag in her hand onto the divan and took a seat on the bench. She looked at the music stand and found a forgotten piece of music she used to love to play. The pages were yellowed with age but still manageable to read. It took her a moment to familiarize herself with the notes. Once she was satisfied that her knowledge was quickly returning, she breathed in a deep breath before she gently but firmly began to touch the keys.

At once a melody so sweet and sad came into existence that it sent a chill down her spine. She could not believe she was actually the one making that glorious sound; nor could a certain brooding individual with wild hair that had silently stole down the stairs at the side of her shop when he heard an unusual noise that was not common in such a place as Mrs. Lovett's shop. He stood at the entrance to Nellie's cozy little sitting-room, hidden by a delicate blanket of shadows that kept him out of her view. Nellie neither heard nor saw him; she was too engrossed by the music. Her nimble fingers flew across the keys like butterflies and remained focused. Her eyes were closed and all she wanted was to play.

"I did not think you would remember how to play that thing," Came an emotionless voice that rendered Nellie's playing to a halt.

Nellie snapped open her eyes and gasped when she saw who it was. Mr. Todd had that brooding expression on his pale face; the black bags under his dark eyes were more visible then ever. God! How could the man survive without sleep? He was leaning against the entrance way with his arms folded across his chest; his eyes were firmly fixed on Nellie.

Nellie pushed away from the piano and quickly stood up.

"Mr. Todd, can't you ever learn how to announce yourself into a room without scarin' a person half to death?" Nellie questioned with mild irritation. Would he ever learn something so simple? She doubted it, but there was no harm in asking, was there?

"Was there something you wanted, deary? Maybe a cup of gin or maybe something to eat? Or is it that you need your shirts to be washed? I was about to go up and get them. I think I'll down that now, if you haven't anything else for me to do for you." She said, and made to exit the room when he suddenly caught her wrist, making her stiffen.

"You didn't answer my question, Mrs. Lovett. Who can you recall how to play amiss of this shit that has happened? It's as if…" Mr. Todd trailed off, knowing she knew what he meant without him having to say it.

She looked down at her feet and muttered, "I didn't think I would remember, but I guess all I needed was a chance to try. I'm as much surprised as you, Mr. Todd, to learn that I can still play as well as I did before…" she paused, not sure if saying it was a good idea.

"Before I was taken away." Mr. Todd finished for her. He let go of her wrist and took a seat on one of the armchairs. Nellie hesitated, unsure if she should stay or go into his shop and retrieve the laundry that required tending to. She nervously settled her eyes on his face which was directed toward the blazing fire she had kindled an hour before his appearance. Sighing gently under her breath, she decided to go get the laundry when she was suddenly detained by his hoarse voice.

"Stay. It can wait until morning. I still have two more shirts I can use for tomorrow." He spoke firmly. She blinked and before she had a chance to say something he continued. "That piece you were playing just now, what was it?"

His question surprised Nellie, but nevertheless she answered. "It's Mozart's Dies Irae." She stated evenly.

Mr. Todd arched a fine brow in surprise and said dryly, "I was not aware you were familiar with Mozart's work."

At this piece of offense, Nellie felt a flame of indignation. Only he would presume she was ignorant compared to his pious, virtuous Lucy. But minding that how well skilled Mr. Todd was with his razors, Nellie checked herself and said curtly, "Not everyone in this side of London is as ignorant as you believe, Mr. Todd."

"Who taught you?" Was Mr. Todd's next question; though to Nellie it seemed more like an interrogation. Why was he all of a sudden so talkative? She had no idea.

Again his question perplexed her. "What do you mean?' she asked.

Mr. Todd, who was wont of phasing out of emotions, snarled, "Who taught you who to play that piece!"

Could the man be any more uncontrollable? Nellie sat down on the bench with a sigh and answered sadly, "My father was the one who taught me how to play Dies Irae. It was the first thing I ever learned. It was both our favourite thing to play after a weary day. We would gather by the piano and play and sing the lyrics."

The memory of that time made Nellie's throat tightened. Those were the days she had long suppressed, and how it hurt to remember them after all that time.

For some minutes neither spoke. Both Mr. Todd and Nellie were lost in their own thoughts. Abruptly, it was Mr. Todd who broke the silence by asking, "Will you play?"

If Mr. Todd's bizarre behaviour had confused Nellie, this was enough to make her eyes go wide. Had she heard right? When she had control of her voice, Nellie said, dumbly, "Pardon?"

"Will you play?" Mr. Todd repeated, strangely, and eerily calm. That was not a good sign.

Rather then risk releasing his wrath, Nellie smiled and said, "Of course, love, I'll play it for you."

Nellie turned around on the bench so she was facing the keys. She waited a moment before she commenced. Once more the room was filled with the strong emotional music; and all the while Mr. Todd did nothing but listen and recall days long passed. It was such a beautiful song. It awakened the soul and made it feel alive. It was not a long piece of music, but there was enough emotion and meaning in it. Nellie closed the cover and turned around to find Mr. Todd staring directly at her.

Without uttering a word he stood and left the room with a ghostly tread. Nellie sat still and listened as he closed the door and heard his footsteps on the stairs before he disappeared into his shop for the night. Nellie sighed; she picked up the rag she had tossed on the divan and resumed her cleaning when Toby enterer.

"Mum, wot's wrong with Mr. Todd? 'E looks mighty upset, 'e does. Did something 'appen whilst I 'as away?" The boy asked. Why alarm him that there were still some traces of the old Benjamin Barker hidden away in Sweeney Todd? She saw no need to tell him.

Smiling, Nellie ruffled his hair and said, "Mr. Todd's just being emotional, Toby, my boy. Come and help your mum clean things up in the shop."

So the two bounded off to tend to the cleaning for the night.

Fin