Hi everyone !
This is my first work on the HP fandom, and I dedicate it to Draco.
The character of Draco Malfoy isn't mine (or he would have behaved otherwise), but J K Rowling's.
I do only own the ideas behind the words.
I apologise in advance for the mistakes you could find in this work. I am not an native speaker, but I do my best.
Note : this story is also posted on another website.
Draco was at the end of the corridor leading to the Room of Requirements, facing the entrance's emplacement. After a particularly long day of classes, he didn't have much energy left, but yet here he was. He stood still, thinking of the task he had been given to. He sighed and then started to walk.
"I want to go into the storage room. I want to go into the storage room. I want to go into the storage room." He thought while pacing.
He stopped after three times and the Room of Requirements' door revealed itself. He slowly opened it, taking in sight the storage room he was in need of.
Shuddering, the Slytherin entered it and began to walk in order to find the Vanishing Cabinet. But, rather than going straight to it, he took his time and let his eyes wander on everything else stored in this cathedral looking room.
There were shelves full of skulls, broken crystal balls, brooms. He stopped at their level and touched one of them. It was black and broken. A feeble smile appeared on his face at the thought of Quidditch.
He resumed his walk, passing by other shelves where were stored books, lots of books -diaries, even, judging by the titles of some-, swords, faded or rotten plants... Further, there were even musical instruments. He stepped closer, curiosity taking over his thoughts about his task.
There was a broken piano in one of the corners, which stool was nowhere to be found. A few meters away, the blond saw a bow, hanging from a pile of books. He took another step forward, and saw an abandoned violin lying on a small table.
Gently, he took it and with a flick of his wand dust off the instrument. It appeared to be in a quite good shape, all things considered. He then traced its contours, thinking of his own violin, back at Malfoy Manor.
It was funny actually. Music was one of the rare things wizards and muggles shared. And, despite his family's hatred toward muggle and everything related to them, he had had to learn to play the violin when he was Young.
He shook his head. Why not ? Why couldn't he play like he did, back in the old times ? He had not really the motivation to do anything. Well, anything good anyway. He was too stressed for that.
In fact, if he was honest with himself – something quite rare, really-, he was pretty discouraged. His work with the cabinet wasn't progressing, at all, and to add to this, he still hadn't any idea on how he could achieve his other task. Other task. He wasn't even capable to say – to think about- it.
He ran a hand on his face and sighed. Maybe… Maybe playing a little would help relieve a bit of tension ? Maybe it wouldn't, he didn't know. But it was worth trying, seeing as in the past it was something that had helped him deal with his frustration about Potter.
Thinking of it... He had often played during the holidays, back in second year, when his resentment had grown a little bit as an obsession and he needed something to express his feelings.
Draco put down the violin on the top of the broken piano and took off his robes, placing them next to the instrument.
He then flexed his fingers and wrists, cracked his neck and turned his gaze on the violin.
With his left hand, he lifted and tucked it under his chin, placing his fingers onto the strings. He then took the bow with his other hand and closed his eyes.
The blond inhaled deeply and ran the bow over the strings. A high note filled the empty space, followed by a slightly deeper one. C sharp, B, A, A flat, G. A breath. A flat.
Repeat.
He inhaled deeply before playing another note. A flat, E, F sharp. He then let the bow flow back and forth between the A flat and F sharp strings.
No. It wasn't working. This was someone else's work. Someone else's message.
He frowned, shifted on his feet and then decided to let his hands and the violin talk for him.
A deeper note, an A flat, came out and filled the room. It was followed by a G, and a B flat. Draco paused for a millisecond, then repeated the three notes, a semitone higher.
As before, he let the bow go back and forth, between the E flat and E strings.
While playing, he was finally able to express his feelings. His loneliness, the anguish caused by the pressure from the Death Eaters, the sadness he felt about his father locked up in Azkaban.
This was now his role to represent the Malfoy name.
At first, he had been thrilled to be chosen, but now… Now he could only realise that another war was at their door, and that he wasn't ready for it. His tasks had revealed themselves to be much more dangerous than he thought, and he was finding that he wasn't even putting all his heart in it.
Yes, he despised muggle born. Yes, he believed they were inferior -Granger the exception proving the rule- and were corrupting the wizarding world. But… In the same way he wasn't ready to kill Dumbledore, he didn't really wanted to eradicate muggle born. Because, this was certainly the Dark Lord's plan. Kill muggle born. He wasn't, and may never be, ready for this.
Only now, Draco realised he had stopped playing and was now standing still by the broken piano. This wasn't what he had been hoping for. He had taken the violin to ease the tension, not reinforce it. Well, he would give it another try.
The young man shook his head, inhaled deeply and resumed playing.
As he exited the Room, he was calmer. He hadn't worked on the Cabinet, but he was less tense. He would work on it tomorrow, his mind clearer.
Constructive comments are always apreciated !
