It Doesn't Matter
~~
Harry walked into the room, only to find that there was no one in it. There was nothing in the room but a guitar on a stand, a chair, and a music stand in front of the chair. There was no music on the stand, just a piece of blank paper. Harry walked in, shutting the door behind him, and walked over to the guitar. He knelt down next to it, and without touching it, examined it.
It was an acoustic guitar, deep red in color. Below the bridge was a faint picture of an angel that was partially scratched off. The neck of the guitar was a darker shade of red than the body, and in the dim light it looked almost black. The strap was plain black cotton, and when Harry cautiously touched it, it felt rough and coarse.
Harry gently picked the guitar up, and put the strap over his head, resting it on his broad shoulders. He gently strummed a note, before sitting down on the chair. There was a pick sitting on the music stand that he hadn't noticed before, and he picked it up. For the next few minutes he gently picked out a few notes, before stopping. A song that he had heard whilst on holiday was in his mind, and he concentrated on remembering the way it went for the next half an hour.
When Harry finally had the full tune sorted out, he pulled a quill out of his bag, and wrote it down on the piece of paper. It took him another minute to write down the words, and he was finished. He admired his work for only a moment, before shifting the guitar back into his hands, and picking out the start of the song.
~~
Draco wandered down the hallway, not really going anywhere in particular, just wandering. As he wandered, he was drawn toward the sound of a guitar being played from one of the nearby rooms. Every so often the player stopped playing the mournful tune, before staring again, often in a completely different place than when they had finished. Draco wished he could tell the player to stop fiddling, and play the song, but he didn't.
Instead, he started trying to find out which room the sound was coming from. When he finally picked a room, he wondered whether he should knock, or just enter. After all, it could be one of the professor's rooms for all he knew. But then he heard an unmistakable voice muttering something, and his mind was decided. He soundlessly opened the door, and slid in.
Harry sat in the middle of the room, with his back to Draco. He held a dark red acoustic guitar in lap, and was writing something down on a piece of paper. Only his want to hear the song again stopped him from saying something nasty to Potter. Instead, he sat down against the wall, and made him self as comfortable as possible without making a sound.
After a few moments, Harry placed the quill on the music stand in front of him, and picked up his guitar again. He immediately began playing, and Draco was entranced by the music. He was extremely surprised when, after a bit, Harry started singing, his soft tenor packed with emotions.
It doesn't matter what I want
It doesn't matter what I need
It doesn't matter if I cry
Don't matter if I bleed
You've been on a road
Don't know where it goes or where it leads
It doesn't matter what I want
It doesn't matter what I need
If you've made up your mind to go
I won't beg you to stay
You've been in a cage
Throw you to the wind you fly away
Draco felt his heart wrench as he listened to Harry singing. He knew that he should probably leave, because this was something private of Harry's, but he couldn't make himself get up. And as Harry played the heart-aching rift after the second verse, Draco thought he might burst. He wasn't used to these kinds of emotions, but that didn't stop him wanting Harry to keep playing the song. In fact, he wouldn't mind if Harry played the song forever.
It doesn't matter what I want
It doesn't matter what I need
It doesn't matter if I cry
Doesn't matter if I bleed
Feel the sting of tears
Falling on this face you've loved for years
When he finished the song, Draco watched as Harry held the guitar for a moment, before taking the strap off, and placing it on the ground. Draco knew he should leave, but something stopped him. And when Harry turned around, and saw him there, he couldn't speak.
Harry looked at Draco in surprise, but not with enmity or hate. The only other emotion Draco could discern was wonder. Draco stood up, and looked Harry in the eye, daring him to question why he was here. But Harry didn't speak a word. He let Draco make the first move.
"I must say, Potter, that was amazing."
"What Malfoy?"
"The song, it was amazing. What was it?"
"I don't know. I heard it this summer, but I don't know what it is. Or who wrote it."
"Too bad."
Harry didn't reply to that, just started packing up the paper, quill and ink that he had been using to write the music with. When he tripped over the fallen pick, he was surprised to find that Draco caught him. He hadn't even noticed that Draco was that close to him. Harry looked down at the hand that held his elbow, the hand that Draco hadn't removed yet. It was warm, comforting, and he didn't want Draco to let go, although he did not say as much out loud.
Draco saw Harry looking at his hand, and gently let go. Harry gave a silent sigh, and moved to walk out of the room. Before he could reach the door though, Draco stopped him.
"What?" Harry asked.
"Who did you sing that song for?"
"Who says I was singing it for anyone?"
"You were singing it for someone, Harry, I could tell."
"Would you believe me if I told you?"
"That depends on what you're going to say."
Harry looked Draco in the eye, wondering whether or not to tell him the truth. There was something contained within Draco's silver eyes that warned him, told him to tred carefully. But there was another part that echoed what Harry felt, and he knew that he had to act on that.
"Do you really want to know Draco?" Harry asked just to be sure.
"Why would I ask if I didn't want to know the answer? Of course I want to know."
"I sang it for you."
~~
THE END
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