Chapter One

A Beautiful Sight

His father had taught him how to apparate; although the practise was somewhat of a moot point with his condition. Nonetheless, Lucius had been adamant that his son would need to learn to overcome all obstacles and it never hurt to learn something new.

So Draco learned how to apparate. He didn't have many places to go, for his father didn't like to let him outside the protection of the Manor even with the protection of his family and their many guards; but there were still places that he could go. One was his sanctuary, his own little world. He knew that his father was well aware that he took such excursions, he also knew that his father tried very hard to give him his privacy when he made the nightly trips to his hiding place; but his father worried and among tracking and protection charms, he also had elves and invisible bodyguards watching over the young blond.

Tonight was no exception, and as he made his way to the apparition point, he knew that he was being carefully tailed by those that protected him. He had stopped visiting his sanctuary for some time after two years of ritually escaping his dull nights; but his father had been strangely agitated and he had, somewhat, felt guilty for making his father worry all the more. So he had stopped visiting, but now things were, to some extent, better and he took visiting again, knowing that he's father would worry – slightly – less.

Closing his eyes - knowing that it didn't make a difference but feeling comfortable with the habit - he concentrated on his haven, the place that he had read about so much, knew so well, but had never seen with his own eyes. He trusted his books enough to have a clear picture of what St Paul's Cathedral looked like, and the many months of visiting the tower was familiar and comfortable.

The gentle wind wiping past him let him know that he had apparated and the quiet midnight commuting of the London muggles let him know that he was where he wanted to be. Very carefully, he walked to the end, where he knew the railing was and he let the wind play more forcefully with his hair. The air was filled with so many scents, so much life, even if it was mostly muggle... somehow the lack of magic present made the feeling all the more unrefined.

It had been so long since he had felt this... security. The security that only a secret sanctuary allowed. Yes, his father may know where he was, and he may have magical guardians of all sorts with him, but this was all his, his alone. No one would dare destroy this for him; his father would never allow it.

At home there was always the possibility of someone breaking his solitude even in his garden or his library - that was strictly forbidden for any to enter if not of blood or with voiced authorisation.

He fingered his bracelet charm distractedly as he thought back to his father's demeanour for the last few weeks. Lucius Malfoy was a man of power, propriety and most importantly, of strength. The fact that his father seemed fearful told Draco that something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

...

"Potter, get your butt back here this instant!" Pansy Parkinson shouted across the hall.

"Screw you, Parkinson! If you think that I'm going to stand around and see that kind of bullshit, you have some crazy shit coming!" Harry Potter shouted back, pushing past Hermione and Ginevra, as they walked through the front door.

"Potter!" Hermione called out in dismay at being pushed out of the way so brusquely.

"Shove it!" Harry snarled in answer, not once pausing in his departure.

"Harry Potter!" Ginevra admonished angrily.

"What?!" The brunet shouted, half way down the footpath.

"Come back here!" The redhead screamed, stepping forward menacingly.

"Whatever for?" He laughed mockingly, disappearing with a small crack once he reached the ward's boundaries.

Ginevra stepped forward again, intent on following the squadron leader but a snort from Hermione made her pause in her actions. "What's so funny?" She half growled in irritation, caught between feeding her curiosity and following Harry; although it was almost impossible to follow him, even if she had the power to do so.

"Nothing," the brunette shrugged offhandedly, making her way into the entrance hall.

"Granger," Ginevra's voice dropped into a dangerous whisper.

"She means that you're wasting your time, Goldilocks." Pansy pushed away from the wall, where she had taken her place when she followed her irritable leader, and followed Hermione to the kitchen.

"Was that Harry, dear?" Molly Weasley asked, the moment the three girls walked through the kitchen door, and cut off anything that her youngest child had to say.

"Yes, it was. He just stepped out." Pansy smirked, taking her place on the large dinning table.

"That boy really needs to control that vocabulary of his," the redhead Matron shook her head disapprovingly, before turning back to the sink.

"And his temper," Hermione agreed with a grin, her eyes meeting Pansy's in amusement.

...

He pulled at the charms bracelet again. His mother had given it to him when he was younger. She had started teaching him how to play the piano, and the black bracelet came with the one miniature piano piece - dangling from one of the many hooks. She said that the piece was engraved with many protection spells and the piano was charmed to grow at his will, that way he could practice his music whenever he wanted.

The small collection of charms had grown since then. His aunt Andromeda had taught him the violin and the flute, and the miniature pieces dangled from their respective hooks. Aunt Bellatrix has taught him the Cello and Saxophone, those too, were added to his bracelet and father had taught him oboe, clarinet and the viola. Now that he thought about it, he had too much damn time in his hands. His godfather had wanted him to learn the harp, like his mother had intended... well, the point was moot now, wasn't it. His mother wasn't there any more. Severus had insisted that Lucius should hire a tutor, but when Draco had adamantly pointed out that he refused to learn from anyone that was not family, Lucius was quick to support his heir in his decision. Suffice to say, the potions master was not happy.

To decide- He fingered the bracelet again - string, keyboard or woodwinds? Thinking of his father once more, he pulled off the Oboe charm and recited the spell that would make the instrument whole. Charles Camille Saint-Saëns had the perfect masterpiece when he created 'The Swan'; Draco mused taking two steps back, away from the stone banister and caressed his instrument gently. With thoughts of his worried father, Draco began to play the beautiful piece of music that the Malfoy Lord loved so much.

...

He apparated to the top of the historical building; he wasn't thinking and he wasn't entirely sure where he stood but he knew he was still in London. He could see Parliament from where he rested.

The brunet had come upon the location by mere chance; he hadn't put much thought about his destination when he had apparated and he was only glad that he hadn't splintered himself on the way.

Well, whatever the reason for coming upon the place, he still loved his newly discovered hide-away and refuge. One of the many perks of having found this new location – apart from the view – was that not one of his toadies or his keepers knew anything about it; another perk was that, so far, the place was exclusively his - at least he hadn't seen anyone else in the tower in the handful of times that he had visited the cathedral.

He rolled his shoulders, attempting to discharge the tension and exhaustion that he felt, letting his body relax but his senses heightened in sentinel. The years of training were hard to disregard when one stood in such a position of danger; such luxuries of a quiet nighst out were rare and far apart.

He perched on the low wall that posed as a barrier around the tower and let the wind ease him into a meditating trance.

He had reached a quiet point in his meditation - where all around him existed in a small corner of his mind, and a simple blankness overtook everything else - when he heard the small crack of apparition on the other side of the tower. Stiffing instantly, two thoughts entered his mind. The first, he had been found by Voldemort and the other, he had been found by Ginevra Weasley and at that precise moment in time, he didn't know which was worse.

He crouched lower, trying to keep as invisible as possible, thanking his habit of wearing black, as it blended well with the dark shadows. He didn't dare disillusion himself in case that his magic narrowed him down faster to whoever had decided to break into his personal place.

After a few minutes of complete silence he let his senses spread and poke at the area. Curiosity pulled him away from the ledge as he began to feel the other presence. To be honest, it was numerous auras, but he knew that if it wasn't for his level of raw magic and strength, he would have not felt all the numerous inconspicuous, protective beings that surrounded the one delicate presence.

There was one presence that Harry determined as the leader. When he made his audience known, said leader instantly sniffed him out and sized him up, nodding once in recognition and letting the other guardians know that he was a safe bet. All that and he hadn't even moved from his side of the tower.

Feeling the area out again, he knew that the guarded jewel had no idea that he or she was not alone... well, as alone as his or her guardians permitted. He let a few minutes run by before moving, taking his time to stalk around to the other side of the cathedral's tower.

The music reached his ears before his eyes met the ethereal creature that stood in such a dramatic contrast to the midnight darkness. Harry sucked in a silent breath and paused, unsure of what to do.

He was not sure what piece of music the oboe was playing, and he wasn't entire sure if the music sounded beautiful to his ears because it was an amazing piece or because of the musician playing. He didn't fancy himself an educated man in the worlds of art, but he knew beauty when he saw it, and the blond was unearthly perfect.

He wanted to approach him, but somehow that felt like a crime, so he sat and listened to the melody and he watched the young man and learned everything that he could take in.