Authors Note: I already had this written, so I thought I'd knock out both prologues in one day. Also, please forgive me calling Hermione a wizard several times in the last chapter, instead of a witch. Enjoy, please please please review.


Three years ago to this day, Draco Malfoy had sat in his living room. The blondes' hair was in disarray, tears streaked his face and an empty bottle of Firewhiskey sat beside him. "Empty Firewhiskey in an empty house," he muttered to himself, the echoes of his broken voice almost convincing him that he wasn't as terribly alone as he knew he was, "how bloody fitting."

People cleared out after the funeral hours ago, although the 20 year old hadn't moved from the couch all day as it is. Draco had never been as close to his parents as most kids, even more so after the war ended. His father had never played Quidditch with him (he had friends for that, after all) and his mother never attempted to teach him to cook (he was to have house elves for that, as well as a wife!) but even without those ordinary experiences, he couldn't deny the amount he had looked up to them. 'Blindly.' His brain thought before he even realized it, thinking once again to his sixth year at Hogwarts and the war.

He could see Cosmo, their house elf, as he peaked at him from behind the doorframe. He had already approached the drunken man several times, trying to aid him in any way possible. The small elf was met, each time, with an outburst or another. He thought it best to leave his master alone, but that didn't stop him from worrying. Master Draco had always been the kindest of the three, often even thanking him. Cosmo was fond of the older man, and although he would never admit it, Draco had an affinity for little guy as well.

Post-war for the Malfoys was a rough card to be dealt. While they were all pardoned, the wizarding world wasn't quite as forgiving. Muggleborns hated them, obviously, and the purebloods saw them as traitors. Narcissa took it the worst, seeing as none of her old friends would communicate to her in the slightest. A severe depression fell upon her, and it became a rare occurrence to ever see her get out of bed. That is, until Lucius was diagnosed with cancer. She had attempted to cheer up, to support her husband as any doting wife should.

Unfortunately for all of them, the cancer had spread too far by the time they detected it. He passed away in two and a half short years. Not even seven months later, the youngest Malfoy came home (he had decided to stay with the family through their troubled times, instead of moving out) and found his mother in the pool of her own blood.

He would forever wonder what the straw to break the camel's back was. While Lucius' death was obviously a big contributor, he suspected that it was the Daily Prophet articles celebrating the death of one of the 'all time worst Death Eaters in history.' If Draco had a say in that article, he would've argued that Wormtail was far dodgier than his father. No matter the reason, Draco found that his eyes were forever stained with the color of his mother's blood. Figuratively, of course.

The year to follow was an even worse one for Draco. Everywhere he went he could feel the judging eyes, vicious rumors of how he had actually killed his own mother circling. "Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater." He had once heard some pretentious witch mutter as he strode through the entrance hall of Gringotts. The comment was only one of many; the animosity held for him, as well as his depression, were the driving factors that led to the young wizard giving up his job at the ministry to be a full time alcoholic. He found that being holed up in the manor was a far greater destiny than anything the ministry could ever have for him.

If you asked Draco later how he found music (which will eventually happen in an interview, surprise surprise) he would argue that music found him. When he was young, his mother would play the piano until he fell asleep for his nap with his head in her lap. Even after this tradition had stopped, he found it hard to think of a time when his parents didn't force him to listen to classical music during dinner or tea time. He liked to attribute these things into his passion for it, even if it's a different genre than what he will later discover to be his fate. In his third year at Hogwarts, Blaise introduced him to rock and roll properly, for the first time.

He couldn't explain why he loved it so much, even then. He guessed that it had something to do with getting aggression out, when he wanted to scream and yell like the child he was in his heart the music did it for him. This was also how he found out his enjoyment for singing it, as well.

One day, he had awoken from his slumber and found that he was bored of being depressed. As negative as he's always tended to be as a person, he would find happiness in other ways. During Hogwarts, it was tormenting people for his own amusement. When he worked at the ministry, he enjoyed going out after work for a good shag. Before he realized what he was doing, he was out the door and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron to get drunk somewhere other than his house.

Little by little, he saved himself from the black hole that consumed his life. The death of his parents and the blood of his mother were forever on his mind, but it seemed less of a priority. He had done his time, he'd mourned longer than most people would find acceptable. After that long year and a half, the sharp stabbing pain in his chest toned down to a dull ache.

He found himself rather lost after he'd finally cried all the tears that he had. For as long as he could remember, he'd based his actions on what his father expected of him. He was cunning from a young age; he'd been sorted into Slytherin; they had been Death Eaters together, and after that he had gotten a job at the ministry. Although Draco hadn't been seeing anyone when his father was still alive, he had several pureblood witches lined up that would gladly carry on the lineage. The thought often struck Draco that he wasn't living his full life, but his fathers. Going against his parents, however, was something that he had never dared to do. He never even particularly longed to, something that when he's older he'll often wonder why he had a perfectly good brain that he was content to not use.

It was during his time of confusion that he had met Astoria Greengrass. She was really quite breathtaking, with blonde hair and blue eyes and the stature of a supermodel. She was smart as a whip, and seemed to be understanding of Draco and his lack of direction. And while Astoria was a wonderful girl, he found that he'd sometimes wake up in a sweat after one of their nights together and examine her. He seemed perpetually unable to shake the feeling that by being with her, he's regressing to his old life; to who his parents wanted him to be, who he had been so blindly willing to be.

He was never able to decide if that was a good thing or not. On one hand, he had wanted to be that person his whole life. He was raised to believe that you live your life a certain way, and he'd seen firsthand from his parents that it wasn't a bad life to lead. Yes, they'd met brutal ends, but they'd been hopelessly in love and, for the most part, happy. Moreover, marrying Astoria and getting his job back at the ministry would be the safest route. He would no longer be lost, and he'd be with a girl that made him feel perfectly content.

On the other hand, however, he thought about the fact that he always took the safest route. He'd done what was expected of him his entire life and the rock 'n roll in his soul was begging him to do something else. Settling down with Astoria would also mean banquets, accompanied by whispers and glares. He found that time didn't heal all wounds, as even after he put himself on house arrest; witches and wizards alike would continue their constant prejudice quite blatantly.

Astoria was the one who had given him his direction, unbeknownst to her. He was getting ready to get up and go look for some new records to listen to, and had taken to singing a song that he just couldn't get out of his head. She came up from behind him, wrapping her thin arms around his waist and hooked her chin on his shoulder. "You're actually quite a brilliant singer, love." She informed the blonde, pecking him on the cheek before going back to getting ready for work.

"Bloody hell," Draco had spoken to himself, pausing. It seemed to click all at once. The only thing he had ever been passionate about was music; he couldn't imagine doing anything else whilst still being blissfully happy. He thought that perhaps he would fall in love with Astoria, if he fell in love with what he was doing for a living as well. He decided to wait to tell her that he had made his decision, and instead started the hunt for a band in search of a lead singer.

The wizarding world was quickly proven to be a bust. No one wanted Draco Malfoy as their lead singer, while his past would give them a ridiculous amount of bad-arse points, it was too tricky. Who would want to see the ex-Death Eater in concert? No one, argued every band he talked to. Draco wasn't happy when he realized that if he wanted his dream to come true, he'd have to make the transition to muggle England.

He considered the best way to do it. He had enough money to swim in when he was in the wizarding world, but if he truly made the transition he would be poor for the first time in his entire life. The lifestyle didn't seem too luxurious. He brought up the entire thought process to Astoria. She was reluctant to accept the fact that he wanted to leave their world, but chose to keep most of her thoughts to herself. "Why don't you live here, and apparate whenever you need to go?" She questioned, drawing random patterns on the back of her boyfriend's hand rather lazily.

He couldn't deny that the thought had occurred to him, but whenever he thought about it, it seemed to have too many flaws. His muggle band mates, and eventually friends, would begin to wonder why he never lets anyone come over. People in the business would surely need his address to send him letters, but muggle postmen don't travel anywhere near the manor. In addition to that, the manor held its own haunting memories that still plagued Dracos mind.

He knew that Astoria, though she held her tongue, longed to live the life of a traditional pureblood witch. She wanted nothing more than to be a stay home mom and raise her own little Malfoy babies. He suspected that if she had been dating anyone else, she would have bolted when the words "muggle" and "rock star" were used in the same sentence. He could see the love for him in her eyes, however, and knew that she would be willing to make him happy if that's what he needed. And so, she did.

Draco sold all of the furniture in the manor to muggles, earning himself quite a saving in pounds that got him a decent apartment and food in the refrigerator. His inheritance, in the end, got him fairly wealthy in the both worlds. After releasing Cosmo, he abandoned his childhood home indefinitely. He soon not only tolerated the muggle world, but found himself loving it. If someone did a double take, it was only to check him out. He could wear short sleeves for the first time since he was sixteen, and people even often complemented him on his 'awesome looking tattoo.' The very thing that caused him so much torment in the wizarding world was the very same thing that made him look 'cool' in the muggle world.

Draco shook his head at the ridiculous thought.

Finding the band, he found, had been bafflingly easy as well. He often wondered how his muggle life could fall together so effortlessly, while his wizarding one seemed to fall apart with the same amount of effortlessness. He'd happened upon them at a concert one night; they were giving out flyers for one of their own shows. When he first heard them, they had a singer. They'd even gotten signed to a record company, and did a small tour around England.

When he heard that the singer had stepped down (he later found out that he had a nasty heroine problem,) he was the first to step up. Just like that, he was the lead singer of a signed band that was already planning their second tour around England. This tour was bigger than the last, and it seemed that with Draco as their charismatic front man, they were gaining more fans with each second that passed. Each show in this tour selling out weeks before the date, and the band was hitting it off without a single qualm. The guys in the band felt like a family by the first week of tour in Earl, their white van that had a habit of dying in the middle of nowhere.

More than once the other guys were grateful for their lead singer, who seemed to have the skill to fix any problem with the van without a tool in sight. "Draco, go work your magic on Earl." Travis, the drummer, had spoken on one random breakdown. No one quite understood the mischievous smile on their new friends face.

The band was called Graceland, ("After the Paul Simon record," explained the bass player who went by Kennedy) and no one really expected the fame that they were met with. Before he'd even realized it, Draco found himself with a half sleeve of tattoos, in addition to the few others scattered about his body. The tour was due to end in London, and they were all set to rest for three months before they'd be ushered off to the United States, where apparently the news of their fame is slowly spreading as well.

Draco couldn't remember the last time that he had been so undeniably happy. Astoria couldn't remember the last time that she'd been so undeniably frustrated. The more time that Draco spent with his muggle friends, the less time he had for her. She felt terribly neglected, and it didn't appear to bother him at all. Despite that, she stayed with him, her love stronger than her will. Draco decided that he could definitely spend the rest of his life on stage; as long as it was followed with partying with the people he could now call his best friends. 'No,' he paused at the thought, 'I wouldn't need the partying, but it sure does help.'

The band consisted of three other fellows. There was John, who was an American that moved to England when he was only fifteen after running away from home. John had undeniably good looks, with brown sandy hair, a lanky stature and a naturally crooked smile. Girls creamed their pants when he stepped on stage with his guitar in hand. John had a good amount of tattoos, but not anything near a sleeve; they were scattered about his body fairly evenly. The guitarist was hard to locate without a beer in hand or a bad word coming out of his mouth, but despite these unattractive habits, he was a great guy who cared about people who he let close to him. Apparently, it had been John who decided on the band name.

Kennedy was a raven haired beauty who had a smile on his face… pretty much all day. On a somewhat related note, he was also the bands Official Stoner. Kenny, as they call him, always seemed to choose his words wisely. He had the habit of looking into peoples souls, and giving them advice that was actually pretty brilliant…for a stoner. He was the one band member who was free of tattoos completely, although his nose was pierced.

Finally, there was Travis. Travis had shoulder length dark brown hair, wild enough to closely resemble a lion's mane. Of all the guys in the band, Draco was least close with Trav. He was load and brash, although an all-around good guy. Travis had two full sleeves, and a fuck-all attitude. The longer you spend with him, the more he grows on you. Draco found himself warming up to the kid after the second week of tour, on a random night of driving into the morning when they were the only two awake. They talked about their lives, his parents' death, and Travis' own overbearing parents (who he called the next morning just to say that he loved them, Draco had overheard with a genuine smile on his face.) Travis, much like John, was from America, although he didn't run away when he moved. The two had been friends in middle school.

They were currently on their way to the London show, much to the pleasure of everyone. Draco was unsure how much longer he could spend in Earl, especially since last week an unidentified smell erupted and it's only gotten worse by the day. Currently, they were placing bets as to what it was. "Remember in Birmingham when John forgot to close the door after we parked in front of the cinema to sleep?" Draco spoke from the driving wheel. He kept the fact that he had no license to himself, seeing as he could always conjure one up if need be. After murmurs of agreement, he continued: "A skunk must have crawled in to kill us. I see no other options."

"No way man, I think that he probably pissed in here when he was too fucking gone to remember it." Travis pitched in, not bothering to glance up from the game that he was playing on his phone.

"FUCK THAT," John screeched from next to the other boy, thoroughly offended at the two guys that he usually called his friends, "Draco probably peed! He's the one that almost peed on a fan!" John smirked, recalling his favorite tour memory thus far. After the show in a bar and a lot of partying, Draco had gone out to pass out in Earl. Feeling the need to relieve himself, he planned on going against the bar wall. Where he failed, before then, to notice a young girl who was probably seventeen or so waiting for his autograph.

"Bugger off, you bloody twat." Draco said carelessly, not bothering to turn from the wheel.

"Bugger off, you twat." John and Trav shadowed his words, mocking both the accent as well as the slang.

"Actually," Kenny spoke up from the passenger seat, his legs resting leisurely on the glove department and his arm draped out the window, "I'm pretty sure I forgot my leftover Thai food under the back seat." His band members stared blankly at their friend with looks of exasperation and amusement on their faces.

"…I can't believe you didn't eat it…" muttered John, amazed, saying the thought on everyone's mind.

They burst out into laugher and Draco allowed himself to think once more that, yeah, he was basically the luckiest wizard in all of England.