Hello, everybody. Sorry this chapter took so long and that it's so short. No, Lost in Love is not a real song nor is Colton Pharbeck-Sinistra a real person. I made that up off the top of my head. I really hope you enjoy it, and if I could improve anywhere don't be afraid to review. And tell me what you like, so I can write like that more often. And if you have any requests, for this story or for a different one, speak up! And thank you, so much, to everybody who has reviewed, followed, or fav'd this. You're the bomb.
Kit Kat
Draco sat silently as the towering pine trees disappeared into the distance, row by row. He reclined in the compartment with Crabbe and Goyle, who were bickering back and forth about things Draco really wasn't paying attention to.
Pansy hadn't joined them. Draco had received a series of angry letters from her over the holidays. She was "Breaking up with him" although she "still loved him very much" but she "had to take herself out of this, frankly, awkward picture". Some of her words had sounded like whining, other he could tell she was truly hurt. Mostly, though, her words stung. They ran off the page like little daggers. The most prominent and reappearing phrase? "You never really loved me"
Draco didn't think he would miss Pansy, but part of those words got through. Part of him knew he had hurt her, that she was truly in what she called "emotional turmoil". But he told that part of him to shut up and get a life.
Zabini wasn't present, either. He was probably sitting with Pansy. Zabini had seemed protective of her lately. Maybe Pansy could direct some of that unnecessary drama towards Blaise. The blithering idiot didn't know what he was getting himself into.
But Draco Malfoy had much, much bigger problems than that. In fact, he was highly ashamed he had even spent that much time thinking about her. He was only a few months away from his deadline and he was nowhere close to killing Albus Dumbledore.
Once Draco was back to school he practically lived in the Room of Hidden Things. He started trying old spells. Things you didn't read on ordinary school books. Dark spells. He patched the cabinet in cold magic and whispered incantations. He needed to try it on something alive, but a person was too dangerous.
Draco sat on the stone bench by the cabinet one day, thinking. He clenched his pale fists in desperation, his wand in one hand. His anxiety caused small beads of sweat to form on his brow. He almost wanted to do it himself, to try the cabinet. But he one wit wasn't ready. He might be stunk in limbo like Montague, or dismembered. He could die.
He sat in near silence, the old record player made a minuscule creaking noise. Then one of the birds whistled. Draco looked up from his concentration. He stood, an then slowly moved across the room. Opening the black metal cage, he reached in and grabbed the white birds. It didn't fight, it just nestled into his hand. He gripped it slightly, so it wouldn't fly away. He had a feeling it wouldn't if it could. He opened the door of the cabinet and set the bird inside. It started chirping, sounding worried. Which, he thought, was nonsense. Because birds didn't understand fear. Not true fear. Not like he did.
He had said the spell so many times, it came easily now. Still, his nervousness made it harder to pay attention to what he was doing.
"Harmonium Nictere Passus."
A snap, then silence. The bird wasn't chirping anymore. Or maybe the bird was gone…
Draco opened the door slowly. Emptiness. Black and polished emptiness occupied the cabinet. He almost wanted to sing for joy. But he also almost wanted to faint where he stood. Slowly, firmly he whispered,
"Harmonium Nictere Passus."
Another cracking sound. He gripped the ornate handle tightly and swiftly pulled the door opened.
There was no chirping. No little black bird eyes peering up at him. But the bird was there. The bird was dead. Perfectly white, the tiny bird lie there. Draco felt a tremble shake his whole body. It was dead. It would never sing for him or Astoria again.
Did the journey back kill it? Surely, he didn't expect it to work. On the other hand…
Did Borgin hear it's soft chirp in the store? Did he kill it? As a message that Draco had succeeded? Like the bite out of the apple.
That idea disgusted Draco more than any other. That anyone would kill, even harm, something so innocent.
He had done it. It was all his fault. It's only a pathetic little bird… he tried telling himself, but to no avail. And this wasn't the end. He was set on the path to kill something much more important, someone. Albus Dumbledore. He was weak, and that wasn't to be tolerated But did he really care? Yes, he did. Too much.
He continued to spend time in the Room. But he spent less working on the cabinet. Sometimes he just sat, or walked around. The room was huge. He could travel far into it and still not see that back. Old cushions and decorated jars were stacked along the walls. There was a dusty old black piano near the door. He sat done and ran his fingers along the keys. It was still in tune.
The exact moment he pressed one of the keys the door to the Room opened. Draco didn't even jump. It was Astoria. He had left the loophole open for her again.
She slid into the room, smiling.
"I wasn't expecting to see you here again," she said. Draco didn't even look up, he only nodded.
"Can you play?" she asked softly. He looked her in the eyes.
"Of course."
She came and sat on the dusty piano, swinging her feet back in forth. He noticed she was wearing the necklace. He commented on that.
"Oh, yeah…" she blushed and looked at her feet. He started playing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" very slowly.
"How's you're sister," he inquired solemnly.
"Fine," she answered, "a bit jealous, but fine."
"Jealous?" He didn't have to raise his voice to be heard over the piano.
"Well, I danced with the most admired boy in Slytherin, and she had to go with Nott." She let out an almost-laugh. Draco sneered.
"Nott's lucky, I hear Eloise Midgen turned him down."
"No! But she's in Gryffindor!"
"Exactly." It was so strange, talking to Astoria came easily. Normally people, all people, irked Draco. He hated meaningless chitchat.
They both said nothing after that, and Draco quit playing.
"Play me something else," she asked, "anything."
"For you, " he said, smiling. The song started slow and a bit eerie. He built up to a faster-paced melody pressing the keys rapidly with skill and ease. Draco couldn't see, his eyes were fixated on the keys, but Astoria was captivated. Draco was lost in his own world when he played, he nearly forgot she was there. Until she started singing.
"I thought the blood rushing to my head was real,"
"It's not,"
"Your words are like poisons to my thoughts,"
"But show me your heart unguarded,"
"and don't try to take it back,"
"and I might release,"
"what little love I have left."
They sat there together, him playing and her singing. It seemed like an eternity. A simple, gorgeous eternity. There was no death or sadness to haunt Draco there. He didn't ever want to leave. Eventually his son ended, and Astoria's sweet voice ceased singing.
"Draco…" she said, "where's Snow?"
"Snow?" He didn't know what she was talking about.
"Snow. The bird. I named them both, Snow and Midnight. He used to sing for me, you know, both of them do. Do you know what happened to him?" Oh.
Lie! Draco mind ordered him. And he obeyed.
"I have no idea." He could tell from the sadness in her eyes she knew he was lying. Funny, he thought he was a convincing liar.
"What do you do in here, Draco? Will you ever tell me?"
"No," he said sharply. There was again an awkward silence.
"You have a lovely voice," he told her.
"Thank you. You're piano skills are brilliant. Draco, I have something to ask you."
Another question? This was beginning to real like an interrogation.
"Yes?"
"How did you know to ask me on that song? That was my favorite song. I was just standing there, listening. And then there you were…" she trailed off into the already known.
"I have my ways."
"Is there anything you're going to tell me, Draco Malfoy?"
"No, not really."
"Well, then." And she refused to say anything for the next minute and a half.
"What did you mean, that was your favorite song?"
"Oh," she said, caught off guard. Breaking her 'silent treatment' she answered, "I was hoping you'd catch that. Yes, it used to be my favorite song."
"You have a new one?"
"Yes, the one you just played. Who's it by?"
"It's called Lost in Love by Colton Pharbeck-Sinistra."
"Like our Astrology teacher?" she chuckled, "Does it have words?"
"No, did you make those up?"
"They're a poem wrote I long time ago."
"I see."
Astoria glanced down at her rose gold watch.
"Draco, I've really got to leave. I've got Potions in three minutes. I'm going to be late as it is." She slid off the piano and on the floor. As she walked towards the door, she looked over her shoulder and said,
"Are you ever going to tell me why you spend so much time in here?"
"No, sorry," he said, not sounding very sorry. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and walked out the door.
Draco knew under all that fake irritation she was gleeful. He could see the sparkle in her brown eyes.
