I'm sorry for the terrible name. Rated T for possible future events.
I sure hope this doesn't turn into K-on (Written to 'Heart and Soul', 'Where Is My Mind' by Yoav, and 'Tempest' by raincookie)
The tiny blonde boy with luminous grey eyes sat with his mother at their white grand piano. He would watch for hours as her hands would dance up and down the keys, and create beautiful music. Sometimes when he felt like a bit of variety he would dance, and if there were words they would sing together. He observed that when he played on the piano his hands didn't look the same and the sound wasn't the same either. One day his mother found him sobbing over it.
"Oh, honey," she said gently, holding him to her, filling his nose with that warm, comfy smell mothers have, you know the one "what's the matter?"
"I...I can't make i-it work!" he eventually managed to get out, between sobs. She assured him that it took her years to learn how to play. From that point on she would teach him how to play. When he went to school they fit it around that, and when he learned to read she taught him to read music. During that time they bought another piano for in his room, and often he would fall asleep at the keyboard. When he was only eight he had completely mastered the piano, even having written a few songs. He picked up the violin, but this affair was short lived. The piano was the only instrument for him.
Now I'm sure we all know who I'm talking about, cute, blonde and filthy rich fitting only beings I can think of, these being Richie Rich, and, the character in question, dear little Draco. Now as we all know eventually he had to leave his nest (though sooner than most children ever must, at the unripe age of 11) and fly. He had adored his mother more than both those disgusting muggle children he had to go to school with, and his fathers friends stupid children, who didn't seem capable of inteligent conversation, or thought, at all. This is why the obvious choice for who he would have spent his last days here with would have been his mother. However, his father who was almost never around, due to the work that bought his beloved piano, decided that maybe this was his last chance to spend time with his son, for months on end, which only suited him when it was on his terms, though neither he nor his wife told their son that this had been a decision made solely by the father, giving no consideration into the thoughts or feelings of anyone else, such as the son in question. Their trip to London was one where a heavy level of discomfort filled the atmosphere, and many awkward silences occured between the two, for though Draco loved to have his fathers money as a threat when people were unkind to him, the two barely shared a word, even at the best of times, and those barely there words were usually him keeping true on some of his threats, so people took them seriously. That is not to say he didn't love his father, he did. It's just he was furious that his mother wasn't the one seeing him off. Weren't he and she closer than he and his father had ever been? Though his father left him at Madame Malkins' to have his measurements taken he continued to be furious, at all parties involved including himself, for being so furious. He was so angry that he hardly noticed the boy who came in after him, fully clad in muggle garb, and with the half giant groundskeeper from his future school. That was rather curious, because usually muggle children came with their parents. The thought occured to Draco that maybe this boy didn't have any parents. A pang of sympathy stabbed through his fury, for an instant, but this was washed away, when his racist tendencies kicked back in. Draco further observed the mysterious boy. His shocking green eyes twinkled, and a happy expression which made him look a little stupid was plastered on his face, under a shock of hair which begged him to comb it.
"Alright, dear, I think that will be a sufficient amount of measurements." Madame Malkins voice rang through his voice, bringing him back to Earth. He stepped off the pedestal where he was having his measurement only as he walked to the door did Draco realise he had been staring at the boy the entire time, wearing a scowl. Had he been anyone else he probably would have appologised on the spot, and completely changing the storyline. However he was a proud and secretly very shy boy and left, but not before he glanced at the log, to see the boys' name on the logging sheet on Madame Malkins desk
2:15 - Rowan Tupperwalace 2:30 - Draco Malfoy 2:45 - Harry Potter 3:00 - Rina Pimms
That boy was Harry Potter? Draco had always thought him to be fictional, or at least an exageration, but not as far as Draco could tell was he either of these things.
Thus we come to the first, rather short, chapters end. Well, I'm still writing. And if you actually like this (which I hope you did), don't worry, I don't mind this so I'll keep writting