Disclaimer: Well, I have one question for you. If you wrote the Harry
Potter books would you be wasting your time writing fanfiction? NO! So,
isn't it obvious by now that I'm not Madam Rowling?
: : WARNING : : THIS IS H/D SLASH, AND ALSO AU BECAUSE I HATE THE FACT THAT SIRIUS IS DEAD. SO I HAVE DECIDED, A LIFE FOR A LIFE, LUCIUS WILL BE DEAD. OH WELL.
This bit will be about Draco and where he is and what he has been doing, and so on.
*~* Symphony *~*
I Draco Malfoy am a coward. I'm still in hiding, still running from a ghost.
It's hard you know trying to find a new life outside of the Malfoy name. That is why I have come to live in muggle London. That's right, the son of a once powerful wizard in muggle-land.
It's still pretty hard to remember them (the muggles) clothing me, giving me shelter, and even feeding me. Even after all of the bad things I was told about them.
What he told me.
What he convinced me.
What he beat into me.
Could these kind souls be the same filthy mudbloods that my father talked about?
No, these were people of flesh and blood just like me.
Just like father.
Just like Harry.
Now these people that I proclaimed to hate in the past, were my only lifeline.
Now that is what you call ironic.
If you are still wondering why I so boldly say that I am a coward, I will tell you now. I have been on the run for the past five years. I was seventeen then and I am twenty-one now.
I ran from so many things.
From my father.
From my past.
From my life.
I completed my magical education through correspondence and then went on to enroll in classes at a muggle university.
I was allowed to take my violin with me on my journey. My beautiful violin made of hand carved European Spruce and stunning flamed German maple. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever owned, well besides my wand.
Harry gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday, after I had told him that my father broke my last one.
I remember that night like it was only a moment ago.
FLASHBACK
"Harrrrry," I whined, "Can I open my eyes yet?"
"God! You are so impatient, you can open them now."
When I opened my eyes I found myself in the Room of Requirement surrounded by candles. On the floor was a crimson blanket and a basket overflowing with food. But in the center of the blanket, was the most beautiful violin I had ever seen. I ran over to it and picked it up.
"Is it for me?" I asked
"No, it's for Ron. Of course it's for you."
Then he asked me, "will you play for me?"
"No, not right now."
He looked shocked, and I smiled at him.
"Wha-?"
I cut him off by kissing him. He never heard me play that night, that came another night. But, we did make love for the first time that night.
END FLASHBACK
After that night we had a whole year of bliss before things turned ugly.
Before my dad came.
Before Voldemort came.
Before I left.
Now here I am in London, attending university and playing for an orchestra on the side. Sometimes I think about returning to the wizarding world.
Returning to Harry.
But tonight I have a concert, and I have a big solo. It's a song I wrote about you.
About us.
One day we will meet again and I will play the song for you. A private concert. But for now, I will play that tune in my head.
Your tune.
My song.
Our symphony.
Okay. So was it super crap? I want to know, so please review.
: : WARNING : : THIS IS H/D SLASH, AND ALSO AU BECAUSE I HATE THE FACT THAT SIRIUS IS DEAD. SO I HAVE DECIDED, A LIFE FOR A LIFE, LUCIUS WILL BE DEAD. OH WELL.
This bit will be about Draco and where he is and what he has been doing, and so on.
*~* Symphony *~*
I Draco Malfoy am a coward. I'm still in hiding, still running from a ghost.
It's hard you know trying to find a new life outside of the Malfoy name. That is why I have come to live in muggle London. That's right, the son of a once powerful wizard in muggle-land.
It's still pretty hard to remember them (the muggles) clothing me, giving me shelter, and even feeding me. Even after all of the bad things I was told about them.
What he told me.
What he convinced me.
What he beat into me.
Could these kind souls be the same filthy mudbloods that my father talked about?
No, these were people of flesh and blood just like me.
Just like father.
Just like Harry.
Now these people that I proclaimed to hate in the past, were my only lifeline.
Now that is what you call ironic.
If you are still wondering why I so boldly say that I am a coward, I will tell you now. I have been on the run for the past five years. I was seventeen then and I am twenty-one now.
I ran from so many things.
From my father.
From my past.
From my life.
I completed my magical education through correspondence and then went on to enroll in classes at a muggle university.
I was allowed to take my violin with me on my journey. My beautiful violin made of hand carved European Spruce and stunning flamed German maple. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever owned, well besides my wand.
Harry gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday, after I had told him that my father broke my last one.
I remember that night like it was only a moment ago.
FLASHBACK
"Harrrrry," I whined, "Can I open my eyes yet?"
"God! You are so impatient, you can open them now."
When I opened my eyes I found myself in the Room of Requirement surrounded by candles. On the floor was a crimson blanket and a basket overflowing with food. But in the center of the blanket, was the most beautiful violin I had ever seen. I ran over to it and picked it up.
"Is it for me?" I asked
"No, it's for Ron. Of course it's for you."
Then he asked me, "will you play for me?"
"No, not right now."
He looked shocked, and I smiled at him.
"Wha-?"
I cut him off by kissing him. He never heard me play that night, that came another night. But, we did make love for the first time that night.
END FLASHBACK
After that night we had a whole year of bliss before things turned ugly.
Before my dad came.
Before Voldemort came.
Before I left.
Now here I am in London, attending university and playing for an orchestra on the side. Sometimes I think about returning to the wizarding world.
Returning to Harry.
But tonight I have a concert, and I have a big solo. It's a song I wrote about you.
About us.
One day we will meet again and I will play the song for you. A private concert. But for now, I will play that tune in my head.
Your tune.
My song.
Our symphony.
Okay. So was it super crap? I want to know, so please review.