Draco creeps out of his bed, hastening to his stone. Opening the box, he lets his hand hover over the sparkling opal, and as he does, he lets out all of his fears. And for the first time he thinks the most traitorous thought: his best friend is a rock, how sad.
But he doesn't know when he will be allowed to see his stone again, and the precious, for so many more reasons, gem is still his very best friend. So he milks this moment for all he is worth. His throat is too sore from his earlier dramatics with Potter, and his eyes hurt just as much. He doesn't know he has cried in his sleep. But as he grasps his stone for what he believes is the last time, something happens.
Something magical.
The sound of his breathing is a deep and sorrowful bassoon, and his first gasp in the otherwise silence begins the piercing yet melodic oboe. Wavering in the air for a precious moment in time, his shuddering exhale is the entrance of the orchestra. He falls to the ground as softly as the lullaby that plays in the air around him. His stone glimmers in the moonlight as every beautiful Chopin piece he has ever heard plays round and round in his head.
His kneeling form
trembles on the floor and he is washed gently with memories of salty
wind caressing his face and sand on his cheek as he wakes from a
nap.
Standing amongst thousands, screaming as the androgynous man
on stage strikes the first chord of his favorite song.
Singing in
the shower, holding the mobile showerhead and falling into hysterics
as it accidentally hits his face, water spurting up his nose.
The
feeling of holding hands with someone he loves, not seeing their
face, but their soul.
Flying around the pitch, feeling nothing
but…freedom.
Draco gasped and his opal fell to the floor, breaking in half as it hit the granite. The orchestra broke leaving only a screaming violin. An awakening that left him breathless.
He was free.