Author's Note:
This started with myself thinking about what Malfoy's childhood might've been like, and I had a cute little thought that Narcissa might've made Draco learn how to play an instrument. That, and that Malfoy would be an excellent host, no matter who it is he's hosting-another skill he would've, no doubt, picked up from his mother. Enjoy!
Harry felt he deserved a bit of a break. He just needed some time alone outside the curtains of his four-poster. Anybody would at this point, honestly.
He was "The Boy Who Lived Twice", nearly the goddamned Holy child. Eyes followed him now more than ever, first years have passed out simply seeing him in the corridors. He'd receive a lump sum of gifts and fan mail at breakfast daily, alongside concerned letters from remaining friends, that weren't carried by Hedwig. All the attention caused him to constantly think of his first over-obsessive "fan" he got to know, Collin Creevy.
And the tight, tired coil of guilt in his gut wouldn't loosen.
He had promised himself he wouldn't retreat to this place, but only it could give him what he needed - some time to relax and enjoy absolutely no eyes fixed on him.
I need a place to relax, Harry repeated internally, thinking solely on his every step as to avoid any thoughts of Dumbledore's Army, Vanishing Cabinets, Fiendfyre, or Horcruxes…
He found a familiar door in front of him as he opened his eyes. He quickly dove inside, before anybody saw him and asked for an autograph. Only after he closed the door behind him did he realize how fast his heart had been beating.
He leaned his back against the door and closed his eyes in relief, unable to contain the smile that spread across his face.
That Holy relief of being alone lasted Harry a rough six seconds. Because he realized the Room was, most unfortunately, not unoccupied before his arrival.
The sound of a piano being played gently reached his ears and he frowned, slowly opening his eyes out of confusion. Inspecting the room in front of him, he realized this would not be where he would go to relax.
His relaxing room wouldn't be adorned with dark wooden, green, and white furnishings. It wouldn't have two walls completely shrouded in mirrors, with shelfs covered in books mounted against them; making it seem as it was a giant bookshelf with a mirror as backing. And the books definitely wouldn't seem as organized as they did. It wouldn't have a beautifully decorated white cake on the coffee table, or feature an eleborate walk-in closet.
And it, most definitely, would not feature a grand piano in the near left corner of the room with Draco Malfoy delicately playing a song unknown to his ears, dressed in an expensive-looking suit.
Harry stared, transfixed by the sight of Malfoy playing the piano with such skill and grace. The blonde neither heard nor noticed Harry's arrival, considering his back was turned to the entrance.
Uncertain on what course of action to take, his baffled mind couldn't think of anything but to take a seat on one of the emerald green couches in the center of the room, which formed a three-sided square. He refused to leave the sanctuary, even if it wasn't his sanctuary, and also refused to let Malfoy know he was there.
After sitting for a minute, soaking in this new discovery about Malfoy, Harry figured he shouldn't be all that surprised. He vaguely remembered a younger version of Malfoy and his mother looking at the music book collection at the Diagon Ally bookstore, Flourish and Blott's. He supposed this explains it.
Harry lied down on the couch, head turned as he carefully observed this brand new side to Malfoy. There was no swagger about him, none of his old over-bearing confidence, and no sign of his recent lack-of-confidence. He just looked delicate and, well, relaxed. Harry yawned, he had to admit that Malfoy really knew what he was doing with that piano—that he could easily give into the soft melody and fall asleep.
He shook the feeling off though, as much as he would love to fall asleep in a room with Malfoy and be defenseless, it was not on the top of Harry's to do list.
For the next twenty minutes Malfoy played the piano, flowing from one song to the next without fault. At last, as Harry realized the last note was ringing out, and Malfoy took his hands off the black and white keys, his eyes widened. Shit, what do I do?
He began to internally panic. He was sure Malfoy wouldn't be oh so pleased to turn around and find Harry intruding in his very personal area. Harry knew he wouldn't be, if their situations were switched.
Harry continued starring at Malfoy, waiting for him to get up and turn around. He didn't, not at first anyways. First he shakily sighed, and brought his hands to his cheeks and began to gently wipe them. Harry felt his heart skip a beat, was Malfoy crying?
And then Malfoy went to stand up, and when he did Harry felt his entire body go rigid—he was in such a panic that he didn't even think to grab his wand. All he knew was that he suddenly felt like a filthy intruder, and that the only thing he wanted to do was go and leave Malfoy alone.
Harry couldn't make out any tears on Malfoy's face, but his glistening eyes gave him away. That was, until Malfoy realized Harry Potter was lying on his couch, staring at him. Malfoy's body immediately went stiff, his grey eyes wide with surprise,
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" Malfoy spat, throwing up barriers around the side of him that was showing just moments before.
Harry stuttered, fear now coursing through him, "I-I wanted to—,"
But Malfoy didn't seem interested in the pathetic excuse he was about to come up with, because he interrupted him with an exasperated sigh, "Oh come off it, can't there be just one place I can go to where you aren't?"
The fear that Harry had just experienced quickly evolved into curiosity as Malfoy walked over to the couch to his right, and sat down, massaging his temples, "I just wanted to relax, get away from everyone staring at me as if I am a sick bastard that's bound to become some deranged dark lord. I want to get away from everything that's reminding me of the past, and the first time I dare return to this Room, Harry Fucking Potter, of all people, just fucking appears in the middle of it out of nowhere. Beautiful."
Harry couldn't think to say anything but, "I'm sorry," because he was in shock. Malfoy was here for nearly the same exact reason as himself. Well, that, and the fact that Malfoy didn't blow Harry up the moment he saw him.
Malfoy sneered, as if on impulse, "For what?"
"Staying here," Harry cleared his throat as he cautiously sat up on the couch, he didn't want Malfoy to think he was attacking him, "I should've left as soon as I saw you were here. I just really, really needed a break, and even if this isn't my own ideal place to relax, it's better than nothing. At least you won't faint at the sight of me."
It was Malfoy's turn to stare now, seemed he realized they were here for the same reason as well.
"I'll-I'll leave you to yourself," Harry stuttered. He really didn't like Malfoy looking at him like that. He wasn't used to it.
As Harry went to stand up, Malfoy quickly stopped him, "Wait, wait. You don't have to leave. You want to stay here? Fine, whatever. Seems like we both are looking for the same thing. Just don't be a mungy, little prick is all."
Harry's mouth twitched as he considered Malfoy's invitation. Stay in here, alone with someone who will leave him to himself, or leave and go to Charms where he won't get a moment of peace.
Harry sighed as he sat back down, out of confusion or relief he honestly didn't know, and then shrugged, "Sounds fair … thanks."
Malfoy nodded his acknowledgement, and then headed for the walk-in closet. As soon as he was out of sight Harry stretched, and managed to get comfy once again.
A few minutes later, Malfoy returned from the closet with a large bundle of fabrics in his arms, and with much different clothing on. He stripped the suit and replaced it with light grey sweatpants and a green flannel. Once he reached the couches he quickly said, "Potter, catch," and tossed Harry a comforter and clothes out of the bundle of fabrics he brought out of the closet, leaving himself a comforter.
"Sweatpants, shirt and blanket," he answered the look on Harry's face, "It you're going to try to relax and get comfy, it's not going to happen in those school robes," Malfoy paused for a moment, analyzing Harry's appearance, "And I don't see how you can be comfortable wearing that red and gold tie of yours, I wouldn't be caught dead in it."
Harry watched Malfoy in awe as he spoke, flabbergasted at Malfoy's friendly thought of giving him clothes and a blanket. Why the hell was he letting him contaminant his clothing?
Malfoy gave a short laugh at Harry's expression, and then asked, "You want tea? You can get changed while I make it, if you'd like."
"Uh, sure. Thanks."
Malfoy went back into the walk-in closet, leaving Harry alone to change into the new pair of clothes.
What the fuck's wrong with me? Harry gave a hard laugh internally as he began quickly changing into Malfoy's clothes. Never in his right mind did he ever think he would be able to find himself wearing Draco Malfoy's clothing.
Once he finished changing he couldn't help but look at his reflection through the books on the shelfs. He was wearing dark grey sweatpants, which were a little long, and a slightly form-fitting light blue t-shirt. Shrugging at his appearance, he picked up the comforter Malfoy gave him and wrapped it around him, deciding to have a look at what books were on the shelfs. He couldn't help but be curious at what Malfoy found either interesting or relaxing.
Harry was surprised to find the first group of books was all about a bunch of different philosophies, there were more than a couple shelfs dedicated to the philosophy-based books. As he moved on he found books that were filled with piano music, photographical books about all sorts of topics (wizards' photographs, of course), a bunch of magical children's books. He got to a section that was all educational textbooks, including a good number of Potions and Healing-based textbooks, a few Charms books, Defense Against the Dark Arts books, and even a couple Muggle Studies books that caused Harry to smirk.
The longer he looked, the more amazed he was at the variety of books the shelfs on the first wall alone contained. For somebody that Harry used to think of as close-minded, they definitely had an open-mind about their reading material.
Once he got to the second wall, however, he found nothing but fiction books. Under closer inspection, he found that most of them were books that muggles would call "Fantasy", and that two thirds of all the books on this wall were actually written by muggle authors. Guess that explains the Muggle Studies books he had. Harry also found a good amount of horror novels, yet he found it quite odd there was no Science Fiction.
As Harry was looking at the books on the second wall, Malfoy returned with two cups of tea in his hands. Harry made his way back to the couch as best he could with the long sweatpants on and large comforter wrapped around him, "Thanks, Malfoy."
Harry meant it too, he didn't realize how thirsty he was until he sat down and picked up the mug.
Malfoy also sat down, "It should be and stay the perfect temperature, according to whoever's drinking it. If I did the spell right, that is."
Harry nodded, and they both took a sip of their tea. Malfoy's eyes slipped shut and Harry smiled in content, the tea was perfect, and the temperature charm had worked, without a doubt.
After another sip Harry set his cup down on the coffee table in front of him, "The sweatpants are a little long, but besides that the clothes fit fine."
Malfoy followed suit by setting his cup down as well, "Good, because your punk ass wasn't getting anything else," he teased and smiled crudely.
Harry smiled slightly and shook his head, he couldn't believe he was actually enjoying Malfoy's company, even if it was just a little bit.
"So, I didn't know you could play piano."
Malfoy snorted in laughter a bit, "Nobody does, and I hope you respect that and keep it to yourself. I prefer the entirety of Hogwarts gossiping about something else other than me and my wanker skill of being able to play music."
Harry nodded, able to both understand and respect that request. He continued listening as Malfoy explained,
"My mother made me learn when I was young, and it's just stuck with me I suppose."
"Well," Harry hesitated, unsure if he should go on. He decided that it wouldn't hurt, "It sounded beautiful, nearly put me to sleep. And I mean that in the best way."
And that was when Harry witnessed Draco Malfoy smile for the first time. Harry couldn't detect a trace of a sneer, smugness, or sarcasm. It was a real smile, flashing his white teeth and everything. And it made Harry flush with emotion, his gut flipping as he realized that hanging out with Malfoy was actually very, very enjoyable. Especially if he could managed to witness that smile again.
"Thanks," Malfoy chimed, letting down every barrier he put earlier in his glee, "Since nobody knows I play I never hear any feedback, aside from mother."
"Hell, I could've stayed here and listened for hours with no problem," Harry stated matter-of-factly, and then took another sip of tea.
Draco smiled again, but more guarded as he came back to his senses, "And you would've lied on that couch staring at my back the whole time, wouldn't you?" Malfoy teased, cocking an eyebrow.
Harry's face began to burn with embarrassment, he cleared his throat, "No, I'd probably end up falling asleep, or read some of your books, or something. I mean, I was only staring 'cause I was in shock at finding you here playing a piano, I did not expect that."
"Whatever you want to believe, Potter," Malfoy drawled, now smirking evilly.
Harry just rolled his eyes and said nothing. They both sat in oddly comfortable silence, both enjoying their tea, which was still at the perfect temperature.
After a good ten minutes of silence, Malfoy asked, "Want any cake, by the way?"
Harry shook his head, simply stating, "I'm more of a chocolate person, myself."
"You're insane, vanilla is the best and I will fight you over it." Malfoy teasingly scoffed as he cut the cake with magic, before picking up a piece of it, causing crumbs to fall onto the pristine floor.
"If you don't mind me asking," Harry began, a humorous tone to his voice, "Why does your little sanctuary feature only white cake, out of all the foods in the world? Ever care for a little variety?"
After swallowing the cake in his mouth, Malfoy responded as if it was the most obvious answer, and that how dare Harry even bother asking him such an absurd question, "Because all a Malfoy needs in his life is white cake and tea. You'll find we are actually very easy to please, when it comes to cooking."
"Interesting…" Harry's voice trailed away, chuckling to himself a bit. He couldn't believe his ears. After a few moments, he commented, "On a side note, you have quite the array of books on those shelfs of yours."
"I'm surprised you even bothered to look at them, figured you'd think you're too good for books."
It was Harry's turn to scoff, "I thought you were smart, Malfoy. You can't honestly still think I'm actually like how those old Prophet articles described me," he knew Malfoy had been teasing about his snide book comment, but he was pretty confident that he was still salty towards him for everything that had happened in their early school years, "I'm positive I hate all the positive attention just as much as you hate the negative. We're both in the same situations on opposite ends of the same coin."
Malfoy remained silent, and refused to look at Harry. He hit a nerve.
So Harry continued; his voice hardening as he spoke, "Don't believe me? Just look, I'd rather hang out in here with you,of all people, then go back out there—" Harry indicated the doorway, "—and face those maniacs."
No answer.
"Just, think about it. Alright?" Harry asked, his voice a lot more gentle than it was just before. He honestly didn't expect any answer from Malfoy, but not for the first time since arriving in the Room, he was proven wrong,
"Alright," Malfoy whispered, more to himself than to Harry. Then his voice rose to average volume, "But quit being a prick or I'll kick you out," and just like that he was back to normal.
Harry saw right through the act, despite Malfoy's efforts. Malfoy meant to stop talking about anything related to the war or he'll make Harry face the outside world again.
And Harry promptly shut up and finished his tea.
As he sat down his empty cup he yawned, and then stretched as he asked, "Do you mind if I take a nap? I've been getting jack shit sleep and could really use one."
"Of course," Malfoy answered. As Harry lied down on the couch and covered himself up with the comforter, Malfoy stood and walked to the wall of fiction books.
By the time Malfoy picked his poison and returned to the couch, Harry was dead asleep.
Not until later would Harry realize he probably should have warned Malfoy about the nightmares.
Reviews are welcome! Let me know if you'd like to see more or not! Thanks!