Author's Note: Hey guys! I just wanted to quickly reply to one of the reviews- no, I haven't read the rest of the series (or spin off series) yet, I'm only on book three, and I fell in love. It took me a week to read the three of them, and my friends all thought I was crazy for reading them so fast. ;) *UPDATE*: I finished that series. I loved that series. Ohmylawd :3 anyway, I am now reading Clockwork Princess, for any of you who are interested :) JEM ALL THE WAY! I'm so sorry I haven't written for ages, damn school stealin' all mah daym time! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy :) the song I recommend listening to while Draco is playing is Soldier On by the Temper Trap (again. I'm sorry). That's the song I imagined him to be playing because he was remembering, and both the lyrics and the music kind of fit (my opinion anyway. ;D).
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Draco leaned back against the pillows, staring up at the dark ceiling, his arms folded and propping his head up. He hadn't slept a wink, and now he watched the darkness ebb away, light slowly seeping into the dancing shadows. Hermione was breathing deeply to his right, and he didn't want to wake her, though the quiet murmuring and occasional shouts of anger could well have shattered her fragile slumber already.
After staring at the ceiling for a few more minutes, he sighed quietly and rolled off the bed, going to stand by the window sill. Draco watched the sun stain the cold gray sky, listening to the arguing that had been going on for hours.
"Really, we need to decide fast. This is ridiculous it's taken so long-"
"Yes I know Harry, but-"
A cold drawl Draco knew instantly as Snape's cut in. "Why is it so impossible for you all to accept that Draco has really crossed to our side? Is it so difficult? Are you so immature? Think with your heads, you insolent children, rather than your egos!"
Moody joined in, sending an involuntary shudder down Draco's spine; never would he forget the horror of becoming a ferret and being forced down Crabbe's pants. "For once, you're right, Severus, and I agree. You are being idiotic, Potter! My vote is that the boy stays here. He could have invaluable information about Voldemort, and if need be-" His voice dropped, and Draco had to strain to hear it. When he did catch the faint strains of sound, a cold dread congealed in the pit of his stomach. "we can always torture it out of him." There were mumurs of agreement, an uncomfortable hiss from Snape, and a smug grunt of assent from Ron. Although Draco couldn't see this happening, he blanched at the cool way the words were delivered.
"I think I've been tortured enough." He muttered quietly, going back to the bed, and lying down, brushing a stray curl from Hermione's face. "It seems every day I fall for you more and more..." Draco slowly caressed her cheek with his fingers. "I can't believe that just a few months ago I... we... well. I'm glad I'm over those stupid prejudices. I... I'm glad I like you now. I'm glad... that you seem to like me now, too." He said the last part almost shyly. Almost. Malfoys were never nervous or shy. He pulled his hand away as it lingered upon her skin, frowning as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
Draco had just gotten up from the bed and taken a step when it slammed open against the opposite wall, stopping him short. Ron was on the other side of the door, and Draco's hackles rose, both of them engaged in a death stare that could've withered any in the path of their glares.
"They-we. We decided that you can, uh, stay." The word was cast from his mouth triumphantly, and at first Draco was confused.
"I thought you didn-"
"But, be warned, at anytime, we may ask you for information!" Ron interrupted, a gleam of something dark in his eyes. "Oh, sorry, did I say 'ask'? I meant torture-" The gleam turned into a spark. "-the information out of you, Malfoy. Do enjoy your stay."
The maniacal fire in Weasley's eyes disturbed Draco, so deeply in fact, that he wondered how no-one else had noticed it yet, the frenzy that had the Weasel firmly in its grasp.
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He walked the stairs, long fingers trailing delicately in the fine layer of dust that had settled on the bannister; this part of the house was obviously not used as much as the rest of the house, as none of the dust had been stirred for what looked like weeks. Draco milled around the rooms, drifting like a ghost in-between the door frames, eventually wandering into what appeared to be a music room: there was a dusty piano in the corner, and a classical guitar leaned against the stool. Draco picked it up absently, cleaning the dust from it with a Scourgify! and an old microfibre cloth he found hiding in a drawer. He polished the surface lovingly, not satisfied until it gleamed darkly in the starlight coming in from the window.
He rested on the piano stool, and pulled the guitar into his lap. He tuned it carefully, having developed an ear for music when he was a young boy, before Lucius became so involved in the Dark Arts. He had often played for his mother, and she would sometimes sing songs while he played. That was so many dreams ago... Draco suddenly felt old, even though he was only nineteen. It felt odd, unnatural, but looking back on those memories made him yearn to be that small boy once more, only with the understanding he had now. Though maybe if he knew then what he knew now, he would, perhaps, be more depressed than he already was.
Without realising what he was doing, the fingers of his left hand had moved to the neck of the guitar, the right to caress the strings at the other end. His memories stole him away from reality for a few precious minutes, and his hands began to play, soothing the strings when he plucked them, pressing against the fretboard to entice a new note to sing from the instrument as he manipulated the music. It swelled from him and his guitar, entirely sweet, but with a barely-there undertone of the most painful sorrow, the kind that rips the heart into many pieces. The kind of sorrow that tears at the soul, that is rent from one such as himself. Draco remembered his mother's voice, so sweet and beautiful, and his accompaniment, piano or guitar.
Guitar had always been his favorite though; he remembered the day when he had lost his guitar like it had only been yesterday.
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Sun streamed in through the tall windows lining the wall, and Narcissa Malfoy stood in their combined glow, her pale skin made golden and lovely in the afternoon light.
"Ready, Draco?" She turned to him, smiling as he nodded fervently and gathered up his guitar, small fingers eagerly resting in the shape of the first chord. "Right then. When you're ready, my son."
Draco closed his eyes, feeling his heart hammering in his chest, quivering with excitement. He played the first chord, then moved his fingers into the next shape, this time pulling separate strings and coaxing a stream of beautiful notes from them. After the introduction was finished, he returned to chords, and Narcissa began to sing.
She sang of beaches, crabs scuttling between the pretty seashells that lined them, of long stretches of sand with glittering water enticing the two lovers walking along it. The girl stepped into its sparkling depths, and it pulled her under, drowning her. The boy was agonized, as she was his true love, his only love. He was hollow, he was empty without her. And so he became a lighthouse keeper, forever watching that deceptively lovely sea, warning others to stay away from its charm.
Many years later, the battered, lonely lighthouse reflected the old man within. It stood upon the same great, craggy rock in the centre of the same outcrop of volcanic rock, not far from where the ocean had taken his lover. And one day, a mermaid appeared. Beautiful, she was, with long and flowing red hair, her tail glittering gold. And as she watched the lighthouse, as she sang her song, he saw her face.
It was her. His lover. The one who had died so many years ago. He ran down the steps, ignoring the pain in his side that told him his hip was playing up again. He ran as fast as he could have when he was but a young man, and made it to the door. He slammed it open, and yelled to her from afar. "My love, the one who is all to me! How you call to me! How you call to me! I love you! I love you more than the sun loves the moon, I love you like the earth loves the sky."
She only watched him, quirking her head interestedly. After a long while, she replied. "And I love you."
He felt tears in his eyes. "Will you take me with you, my lovely?"
Her reply-
Lucius stood in the doorway. "What," he said, his voice furious, violently coloured. Cold. "are you doing?" He strode up to Narcissa, shaking her, then landing a slap on her face that echoed around the cavernous room. "Music? What a waste of time." He spat the words like dirt in her face. Then he turned to Draco. "And you." He plucked the precious guitar from Draco's grasp as if were nothing, as if it meant nothing. "You wasted my money on this?" He brought his arm down, smashing it against the mahogany floor. The wood of the guitar splintered, black painted shards flying everywhere, the strings snapping and whipping viciously everywhere. Draco's heart felt like it had been crushed beneath a dragon. "I can't believe it. Never. I never want to hear any type of this rubbish in my house, you hear? NEVER!"
Many hours later, Draco sat alone in the dark music room amongst the ruins of his only passion in life, shrouded by shadows as his tears fell thick and fast upon the remains he had gathered before him.
That was the last time he had ever touched an instrument.
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A door slammed, and there were hurried footsteps before- "Guys, I heard some bad stuff went down at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa..." Draco's heart clenched. "She... guys, she was killed."
Silence. Draco caught his reflection in the window next to him and felt even more shock: if it was possible to be paler than the palest white, that was him; chalky and pale. His face was set into an expression of deep-seated sadness and he looked lost, empty. Disgusted, Draco set his face angrily into a more composed and calm expression. Malfoys never show their true feelings. But Mother... Mother I... He swallowed.
I miss you.
Now he would never hear the end of the story.
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Author's Note: Heeeeey guys! :) Again, many apologies for the lack of writing. It wasn't on purpose, I promise. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Happy Easter, for those of you who celebrate it :) If you liked this, please favourite and follow if you haven't already, I promise I'll attempt (and hopefully) post up another chapter of either this or NLT for you by Tuesday :) Thank you so much for reading!
~Chongy