Crescendo 𝄞 H.S.
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showchoir!harry x female!reader
Synopsis: The Bellington University Crescendos are holding open auditions to fill a few spots on their elite show choir team. You know you have what it takes, but there's a snag in your plans: Mr. Grumpy and Aloof, who's seemingly unimpressed by you, and the perky, ruthless female lead who's spot you're itching to steal. If there's one thing you've never shied away from, it's a challenge.
no warnings
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Music had always been your passion. Like you were born with this innate spark, and performing was your conduit.
In exchange for voice and piano lessons, you told your parents you’d try other things– crafts, soccer, martial arts, playing with other children even.
You were ten when they accepted the inevitable. If you were sure about this, they would back you completely. They just wanted you to succeed, and it took them a decade to realize you had absolutely no intention of failure.
Eventually, they began telling people you’d come into the world crying on key. You knew you’d come into the world determined.
From then on, you jumped at every opportunity to pour your heart out on stage. To be showered in applause, soaking in each clap and cheer aimed your way. Letting them fuel you.
Piano recitals turned into voice and dance lessons, then school musicals and choir competitions, talent shows and local theater.
You figured college would be no different, sure, there was a larger competition pool. The productions were taken more seriously, your performances would be graded on quality, not just how hard you tried. There were higher expectations here. You weren’t a star on Bellington University’s campus, not yet anyway.
It wasn’t a fact you feared, it was a challenge you accepted. Your chin high and shoulders back. Classes had barely begun but you were itching for a chance to perform.
It was the final week of August when you saw it. The air was still warm, but not the stuffy kind of warmth that accompanied the middle of summer. You had just entered the Pembrooke Performing Arts Center, glass doors shutting behind you as you cursed yourself for scheduling a class on the second floor.
Like a beacon of some sort, fluorescent, lime green paper popped against the dark, aged cork of the bulletin board you’d passed by every other day for two weeks on your way to Music Theory 1100.
Competitive Show Choir Auditions September 5th: All are welcome. 2 rounds of auditions. Vocal and dance experience strongly recommended. Only 5 spots.
It was nearly enough to make you religious.
Ripping your favorite note-taking pen from its home in the side pocket of your bag, you quickly printed your name on the first free line. There were only ten names above yours and five days left until auditions.
They were clearly expecting more names, with a second lime green sheet stapled behind the first. The Bellington Crescendos, as they called themselves, had gone to Nationals nearly every year in the past decade. This could get competitive. You didn’t have a good enough idea of what the talent was like on campus yet.
You weren’t particularly concerned, but it wouldn’t hurt to learn about your competition. At least that’s what you told yourself as you pulled your phone out to snap a picture of the sign up sheet.
—--
Six days later you sat in the front row of the auditorium, watching from an itchy, red polyester theater chair as the first name on the sign up sheet, Montgomery Prescott, stepped onto the stage. His steps reverberated through the stage floor as he hurried to center stage.
Your research into him didn’t yield much–just an online program from his high school’s production of Grease. You couldn’t find much else, but considering it opened less than a year ago, you would have to assume he was A.) also a freshman and B.) only good enough to be cast as Greaser #3 in his senior year.
You weren’t judging, but you weren’t intimidated either.
“Tell us a bit about yourself.” A clear, sweet voice rang through the various speakers around the room.
The voice belonged to Penny, a perky little blonde that seemed to be orchestrating the audition process if the last few minutes had been any indicator.
“We want to start by thanking you for coming to audition for the Bellington Crescendos! I’m Penny, a senior and the female lead. I wanted to let you all know how our audition process will work. We have just over twenty of you here, but there are only 5 spots– two of which will be alternate positions,” her smile was sickeningly sweet, almost disturbingly so.
“Today we want to hear you sing a song of your choice, Wednesday we will post the list for which of you will be returning for dance auditions. If you make the cut, you’ll return Friday evening where you’ll be taught 16 counts of choreography which you will be expected to perform as a group on Saturday. Our final list will be posted on Monday morning.”
Her tone was still light, but it takes venom to know venom, and you had no doubt she could be a bitch if needed. Subtly cutthroat. You respected it, honestly.
You quickly shot a glance to the other auditionees seated down the row you were on. A few of them looked paler than they had a couple minutes ago.
“We understand this is intense, but it’s nothing in comparison to the competitive collegiate show choir scene. We took second at Nationals last year, but we will take first this year. We just need to find the few of you who can help get us there. Decisions will be voted on by the team, and finalized by our lovely director, Wanda Gretz who is watching from the control booth. Are there any questions?”
There was a beat or two of silence before Perky Penny plopped into her seat, smiling slyly once more at the first row before putting her lips to the microphone again and calling out Montgomery Prescott’s name.
His audition was weak. He may have just been nervous, but his voice was much too shaky to even dream of dancing and singing at the same time, let alone for ten minutes straight.
Everyone clapped politely as he stepped off stage, looking a little less like he might hurl on everyone. Next was Charlotte Quinn. From your research, one of your only competitors. She had been featured in her hometown’s paper a handful of times for stellar performances in her school’s various productions, and a couple of show programs from her local theater popped up too. Mainly supporting roles, but still big ones. There was a lead role or two, enough for you to acknowledge that the girl had to be talented.
She walked up the steps and onto the stage like she’d done it a million times before, the only sign of nerves being the slight shake in hands as she ran them down the front of her skirt. She was pretty, seemed confident, and sang like she’d been at it for years. But her performance of Adele’s Someone Like You lacked the emotional depth you knew would really sell it.
She was good– great even, but you knew you were better.
You weren’t cocky, just sure. Sure of your abilities, of your skill, of your drive. You were talented, and you’d known it since you were young. But talent wasn’t enough, and you’d grown up knowing that too.
That’s why you begged for voice lessons until your parents wanted to pull their hair out, why you jumped at any opportunity to be a better singer, a better performer.
You assuredness was a gift in and of itself. Because even though your research indicated there were about five other people here who had a chance of getting onto this team, you knew you would beat them all.
It wasn’t just them you wanted to be better than– you didn’t want to just be on the team. You wanted to lead it, to stand in front of everyone and belt your little heart out all the way to Nationals.
Maybe you were a little too hungry for it, but was there really such a thing?
Finally, your name was called. You took the same path up the steps as the ten people ahead of you. Your hands didn’t fidget, your breath didn’t catch when you looked into the audience and saw your ‘competition’ and behind them, the entire Bellington show choir. The heat of the stage lights felt more natural on your skin than the sun ever had.
You looked directly at Penny, then to the rest of the Crescendos seated around her. Your eyes shot up to the control booth before scanning the auditionees.
“My name is Y/n Y/l/n, I’m a freshman. I’ll be performing "The Wizard and I.””
A few eyebrows raised, but your chin rose a little higher knowing you had something to prove.
The song was your go-to when you wanted to showcase your range, emotional performance, and vocal stamina. It was about four minutes of straight dynamics and storytelling.
And your rendition of it? Perfect.
You end on the final beat, the music still thrumming in your veins, the adrenaline of performing still making your heart beat wildly. Like any stage you’d ever set foot on, it was yours now.
“Thank you,” you dipped your head in a slight bow, beginning to step off the stage as the applause began to thunder. Your eyes lifted to the audience as you slowly approached your seat, eyes slowly sweeping over the face of each Crescendo. They seemed impressed, or at least intrigued. Some looked threatened, perhaps–like their claps were reluctant, but your performance demanded their praise regardless. From all but one guy.
He was a stone face in a black t-shirt, tattoos poking out from under his sleeves.
He sat almost completely still with his arms crossed, slouching in his own polyester seat like your performance wasn’t worthy of his applause. But his eyes had already found yours first, so you knew he couldn’t have been bored by you. There was a fire there, in his gaze. Disdain or ire, jealousy perhaps?
You could tell he was trying to hide his interest like he wouldn’t dare give you the satisfaction of his curiosity.
It sent a rush of exhilaration through you. Cheers and applause were great, standing ovations were even better. But making someone angry over your abilities was thrilling, the absolute best. Delicious even.
The corners of your lips lifted as you looked away from him, finally taking your seat as the applause began to die down.
He could be mad and aloof all he wanted, they’d be stupid to deny you a spot on their team. And how much pull could one grumpy, envious little shit have anyway?
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an. thank you for reading this far omg! i haven't written in awhile but this popped in my head earlier today and i had to let it out. i’m kinda thinking this au might have some parts to it … lmk your thoughts!!