Blind Music
It all happened so fast, there was calm then a rough halt. After that, it all just... it was... there was... it faded into nothing, nothing at all.
...
"Do you think that there should be more to life than, you know – death?" Hermione looked up, her dull brown eyes frowning in uncommon uncertainty.
Ron turned his face away from the door, his eyebrow rising cynically.
Harry grunted; placing his broom down carefully - as to not disturb the freshly polished handle - and picked up his sword, his hand poised to start polishing the blade.
"Er, Harry, are you listening to this chick?" The redhead pushed away the wall.
"Yeah, I heard her. Nothing new in her pondering,"
"You've heard this shit before?" Ron frowned.
"Yes, once or twice," he shrugged easily. "She speaks of it when she's extremely bored or when she remembers the one time down by South Brighton." He shrugged.
"When we killed Avery?" Ron asked, completely befuddled.
"No, the time when we were looking for Lestrange - the bastard, not the bitch – you know, when she got lost for most of that day." Harry looked up for the first time, cold eyes smirking.
"You never did say what happened to you on that little adventure." Ron rounded on the quiet girl, his tone accusing.
"There is nothing to tell, Weasley." Hermione sneered, her eyes shielded.
"Calm yourselves down, children. All this excitement can be bad for you." Harry laughed, putting his sword aside, polishing forgotten, and stood up.
"Where are you going?" Hermione rose to her feet as well, her stance instantly defensive.
"None of your business, Sugar Pie," He laughed once more, ignoring the unnerved looks that his two comrades shared before watching him walk out.
...
"Master, please, return to your chambers, your Father has made explicit orders that you were not to leave the sanctuary of your wing at any given time, during these hours." The servant-girl run along side the blond, not daring to touch him as he made his calculated way down the wide staircase.
"I just want to go for a walk in the gardens." Draco snapped lightly, not one to get angry easily.
"But the Lord has made it adamantly clear that you are not to leave your quarters." She pressed urgently, trying to keep from tripping down the stairs, in her anxiety, which only grew the closer they reached the lower floors.
"I want to go to the gardens." Draco said heatedly, reaching the last step and turning to his right, in the direction of the back doors.
"I want you to go back to your quarters." Lucius walked out of his study, having heard the pleadings of the servant-girl, as the two youngsters made their way down.
"But Father," Draco started, turning in the direction of his father's voice, his eyes focusing just past the blond aristocrat's head.
Lucius smiled sadly, looking at the exact copy of his own grey eyes that lacked that light of recognition. "I'm sorry, son, but tonight is not the best time for you to be out. Perhaps, when it is of better circumstances, you can visit the gardens for a longer period of time." He spoke lightly, his voice full of promise.
Draco wanted to argue, but he heard the edge to his father's voice. Not the edge of anger, but the one of worry and a slight mix of fear. "Very well, father. I shall hold you to that." The fey boy smiled, turning to face what he could almost presume was the direction of the stairs.
"Goodnight Draco." Lucius called out gently, watching as his heir was led in the right direction.
"Goodnight Father." Draco called back just a softly, letting his guide pull him back to his chambers.