A/N:

damn it's been a long ride! thanks to whoever read my obscure ass fics u_u as for whether i'll be back on this train, well… we'll see haha

hope you enjoy this one. thanks to jet for reading through~

The Wait To Be Heard

Draco had been young when he found the piano.

Maybe it was something about the dingy drawing-room he'd found it in, or the stained white sheet that had been draped over it, or the shadow it cast on the creaking floorboards. Before he knew it, he'd lifted a hand and tugged the sheet away, letting it pool on the ground in a heap.

Immediately, he had known that he wanted to play it. He had run his hands over the yellowed ivory keys, traced the curves of the lacquered wood and worn leather of the bench, and the yearning to master the instrument had filled him like sunlight spilling into a dark room.

But Draco was named after the Great Dragon in the night sky, and he was expected to be just like his namesake—cold-blooded, unfeeling, ruthless. And he was already too old, already at the age where anything that did not further the Dark Lord's plans was considered unnecessary, useless, and most of all, disposable.

And so he shoved any ideas of playing the old piano into the recesses of his mind, and threw away the key. He flung the sheet back over it and left the room, pretending he had never ventured there in the first place.

XXXXXXXX

After the war had ended, he'd finally met Astoria Greengrass for the first time, after years of passing her in the common room and the corridors. Father and Mother hadn't liked her open-minded attitude towards the Muggles, but they'd still insisted on a lavish wedding. "As was befitting of a Malfoy," to quote Father's exact words.

Draco despised the idea. He had never planned on getting married, let alone having it be such a grand affair, and besides, the last thing he wanted was to draw the attention of all the other blood-sucking pure-blood families he was now trying to avoid. Yet he was powerless against his parents, a dragon with no teeth, chained up in the dark.

And so, Draco sat at his wedding banquet, Astoria by his side, and winced at the whining of the violin. He was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be making that sound. He could probably have done better.

His subconscious offered up an image of a dusty drawing-room with a white sheet, and the hunger came again, fleeting but overpowering.

One day, he would do it. One day. When everything had settled down, and he was as free as the dragon in the sky for which he was named. Free to be heard.

XXXXXXXX

Then Scorpius had come along, and the call in Draco's chest had quietened in favour of the paternal instinct within him that he hadn't known existed. His family took precedence above all else. Anything that wasn't necessary to ensure the well-being of Scorpius and Astoria was shelved.

Draco changed. Slowly he began to shed the armour that he'd borne for the longest time, his distrust of others, his arrogance, his selfishness. He no longer breathed fire at the slightest disturbance, instead becoming a silent guardian. He learned that he no longer needed to live up to his parents' imagined perfection, or anyone's expectation of who he should be.

To be honest, Draco rather liked this new iteration of himself. He almost felt free, like he could soar into the sky at will.

Until he stumbled upon his son and his girlfriend in a dusty drawing-room in his house.

XXXXXXXX

Draco would never admit it to anyone just yet, but Rose Granger-Weasley was alright. She had a fiery spirit, a sharp tongue and wit, and she stood up for what she believed in. But most importantly, she made Scorpius happy, and that was what truly mattered.

He strode through the hallways of Malfoy Manor, wondering vaguely where they were, when Rose's hearty laughter floated down the corridor, followed by Scorpius' voice. Draco headed in the direction it had come from, walking down the narrow hallway.

Strange… he was getting a sort of déjà vu from the place, like he'd been through here before. He probably had, but he couldn't remember when, for the life of him. He had lived in this house his whole life, after all—

"I never knew we had a piano..."

Draco's steps faltered at Scorpius' words. Could it be...

He continued towards the drawing-room, the blood thumping through his veins with anticipation, and peeked through the open doorway.

Rose and Scorpius had managed to cram themselves onto the rickety bench, Scorpius' blond head hunched over next to Rose's auburn one. "How long do you think it's been here?" Rose asked, her usually loud voice now soft.

"I don't know. I wonder when someone last played it." Scorpius huffed as he trailed his fingers over the piano keys.

"Do you think your dad ever played it?" mused Rose absently.

As he stood in the doorway, watching them at the piano, Draco remembered the time when he had done the same, standing close to where they now sat, relishing the stolen moment of solitude, the untarnished peace of the closed-off space untouched by Voldemort's poison.

"I don't know that either," Scorpius replied. "He… I never even knew this was here. I don't even know if he plays."

"I don't," Draco said, pushing the door open fully. Scorpius jumped, and behind him Rose's eyes were round in surprise.

"Mr Malfoy," she greeted. "I—we didn't know you were listening. And we just found this here."

"I know." Draco crossed the room, resting a hand on the piano. "I always wanted to play it, but..."

"What happened?"

Draco sighed, searching his son's eyes and finding the same steel that he bore in his gaze, without the deep-set darkness of the past lurking in its depths. "Life happened," he said. "You, your mother. The war."

At the mention of the war, Rose winced slightly and looked down. "When I was your age," Draco went on, "anything that didn't help the cause was unnecessary. And anything that was unnecessary was destined to be removed sooner or later. So I never started, even though I wanted to, and… somewhere along the line, I forgot that I wanted to."

He trailed off, eyes wandering over the piano.

"Well, what about now?"

Draco started. "What?"

Rose raised her eyebrows. "I mean," she said, "the war is over now, and Scorpius can handle himself alright, even if he acts like a baby every now and then." Scorpius gawked at her, opening his mouth to defend himself, but she waved him off and continued. "You could learn if you still wanted to."

Draco glanced back at the piano. His mother's words from the past drummed in his ears, her repeated warnings to never do what was unnecessary.

But who defined what that would be? Who decided what was important to him and what wasn't? Who had the right to do that for him?

She was right.

Draco glanced back at the red-headed girl, who raised an eyebrow at him. She was smart, just like her mother, and she knew it.

That was going on the list.

XXXXXXXX

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The pavilion burst into cheers, buoyed by the melody that resonated with every touch of the piano that Draco sat before. Scorpius and Rose shared a grin as they watched him play, along with everyone else in attendance who were only now being made aware that Draco Malfoy plays the piano.

Watching Weasley and his huge family gawk at him from the bride's side, Draco could not help but grin. This was what his past life, his past self, would have deemed unnecessary. Emotion. Enjoyment. Life.

But that couldn't be further from the truth, Draco thought. A dragon may be born with cold blood in its veins, but it is remembered by the fire it breathes, the roar that pierces the skies.

To be truly alive, one needs to find what they love.

As he sat at the piano, fingers dancing across the keys like he never thought he could do, Draco realised he was lucky. He hadn't started out on the right foot, but… he had found it. He had found people that he cared for, people who would care for him. He had found that which he genuinely loved.

And that—that was what he thought was necessary.

He finished his song with a flourish, and the audience burst into roaring applause.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Team: Wigtown Wanderers

CHASER 3: What's In A Name?

OPTIONAL PROMPTS:

#5: (character) Draco Malfoy

#14: (word) Unnecessary

#15: (object) Piano

Word Count: 1396