wc: 443 words
Written for Chocolate Frogs (gnome: Garden, Talent, Opera, Beneficial)
Scorpius first went to an opera when he was ten years old. It was at the Royal Opera, of course. And, of course, he and his family had gotten the best tickets. He has almost been allowed to bring his pet falcon with him, but security at the last minute decided not to let him. "I don't care how important you are," the manager said, "but you are not disturbing the opera."
So, Draco sat at the front of the theatre, a little disgruntled, between his mother and his father. They each held one of their hands in their own, desperately hoping that he would have the best birthday yet. That was one thing they had in common, at least.
A woman glided onto the stage and stood in the center after waving her arms and looking around. She wore a dark feathered mask and a dress that mimicked the plumage of a bird, perhaps a crow of some sort. With a haughty expression, she began to sing.
When she opened her mouth, what came out was what Scorpius decided as simply horrific.
Now, Scorpius was not the most musical kid. His parents had tried to get him into playing an instrument when he was six or so. They had tried the piano, the violin, the cello, the saxophone, the trumpet, the oboe, the bassoon, and the flute. He had patience for none of them. He had gone to one lesson for each instrument before washing his hands.
But, Scorpius insisted, he had talent. He was talented at everything. He just didn't want to use it.
His parents had hopes that going to the opera would be beneficial and that he would be entranced by the live orchestra and take up a skill that suited high society. Scorpius was determined to not be seduced.
The woman chirped some airy notes for her aria and then left the stage. Scorpius looked at the translations on the side of the stage, bored. Ugh, how was he going to survive?
Just when he thought he was going to give up on watching and ask to be excused to the bathroom, he caught a brilliant color at the side of the stage. He'd been paying so much attention to the opera singer and his own annoyance that he hadn't noticed the dancers in the background.
He leaned a little forward, watching them twirl and leap on their toes, floating across the garden.
Their feet seemed to move like their souls were in them, and if they were in pain, Scorpius didn't notice it.
He nudged his mother. "Next time, I want to see a ballet," he whispered.