Draco had been strutting around the castle for the first two weeks of his second year. Not only had his father bought Nimbus 2000's for the entire Slytherin Quidditch team, but had also scheduled a piano recitation in the Great Hall this day.
He would prove to the Ravenclaw princess he was worthy of her hand. In a deft move, he had asked Professor Dumbledore to ensure the Ravenclaws had the seats closest to the front, just behind the staff.
The house elves had tuned the instrument to perfection and he was seated on the bench, focusing on the music before him, ignoring the nervous tittering of the audience. This was his moment to shine.
He looked up for a moment, to see if he could see the girl. He saw her in an animated conversation with Scarhead's mudblood. Scarhead was sitting between the two of them, with a smile on his lips, a blush on his cheeks, and holding both of their closest hands, enraging Draco for a moment, but he knew once he played for her, she would see Potter as a pale shadow of him.
He surreptitiously cast, "Auscultarus," at the three so he could hear their conversation.
"...is rather cute," the mudblood was saying, looking in Draco's direction with a blush herself.
"Yes, he is," his princess said, also looking in Draco's direction, causing Draco to preen a bit.
He nodded to his godfather, who stood. The noise level in the Great Hall quieted.
"We are gathered here today to provide you with a treat. Draco Malfoy has magnanimously agreed to provide a recitation on the piano for your enjoyment," Snape said.
There was a light smattering of applause, which faded as Snape sat.
Draco began playing. His passion for the music focused him on the instrument.
He played and his audience remained silent. The music flowed from his mind to his hands to the keys to the strings to the air, filling the hall with the music.
With the spell in place, he clearly heard Scarhead demonstrate his ignorance, even though he whispered respectfully.
"What is the name of this piece? It sounds familiar," he whispered.
"Piano Concerto in F major, by the French composer Francois-Adrien Boieldieu, from 1792," the mudblood whispered just loudly enough for Scarhead and his princess to hear.
Draco was impressed, for a moment, that she knew this, then reminded himself she was a mudblood know-it-all bookworm.
"What do you think of his execution?" the mudblood asked, just as Draco looked up at them again, a proud smile on his face as he saw his princess pull her attention away from that blasted book she was always reading and turned to the mudblood with a smile.
Luna looked over at Hermione then at Draco, "I'm in favour of it. I'd even help!"