Hello again, now here's the next chapter with another short introduction, because I think the story is anyway more important -). As you see, I really try to update the story daily and I hope that you all like the progress.
But PLEASE REVIEW! I'd love and appreciate to have some critics as well!
Everything developed as Alanis expected from the very first sound that escaped her lips. The faces of the guests were marked with emotions that almost caused her to retch. Most of them stared at her deeply moved, their eyes filled with tears and compassionate sadness, reflecting the despair that was surging up inside her.
These had been the emotions she had tried to avoid during the last months. Judging from Harry's expression, she knew that he'd already figured out how much pain that scene caused her and she hated his sight even more.
But to her, they all were empty, because no one of them could barely imagine how she felt.
Her whole body tensed and she felt as if she would not be able to continue, as pictures of her parents haunted her thoughts, especially from her mother, who was smiling warmly at her.
At that moment she knew that she would never ever sing again, for nobody, in no case, not even for her own sake.
She looked around exasperatedly seeking help, hoping that her torture would end soon.
If only one of them would be understanding her!
As she didn't find a pleasant direction where she could look to, she closed her eyes and decided not to hold back her emotions any more. If she really wouldn't sing again in her life, she wanted to savour it entirely at last. And that was only for herself. Perhaps that had been the only cause why she felt herself relax and her breath calm down.
She felt how her voice softened and got clearer and even happier. Then, she slowly opened her eyes and overlooked the crowd once more, all those dumb nondescript faces.
As she began to slightly enjoy it, she felt herself shiver as someone was looking at her, peering at and diving into her, not like those guests who were just watching her.
And she identified Draco Malfoy giving her that strong gaze. As her eyes met his, she saw him observing her with disbelief and joy too. A very intense feeling of happiness filled her up as she saw his tensed features smooth, his strong, worried and tired expression fade away.
There he stood, as if he'd been another person. That wasn't Draco Malfoy anymore. It was Draco Malfoy himself, no anger, no frustration, no exhaustion covering his face. This was even not a man's, but just a boy's face. It was pure, filled with delight, comfort and tranquillity.
Alanis felt her own expression brighten up as well, even blush as she realized that there was someone who could listen to her in the right way. Then she saw something she never believed to do.
Draco Malfoy smiled.
It was no smirk, no evil grin, not teasing or mocking, just a warm smile.
Suddenly everything else than Malfoy's smile seemed unimportant to her.
She'd done it. She'd spoken in the right language and Draco Malfoy was the one who could read and understand her. Slowly, very slowly she realized what that did mean.
He was the one.
He was the one she could speak to, even with no words, even with no voice.
A few moments before that realization reached the edge of her mind, a shrieking voice yelled through the whole room and quit her singing.
It was Filch.
"Hands off, filthy squib!", Draco snarled at the Hogwarts caretaker, but Filch didn't let go and dragged him right to Slughorn's office, his matted cat on their heels.
Draco must have known better that hanging around in the seventh floor and heading to the Room of Requirement was totally stupid, when that massively overweight potions master celebrated his little private Christmas party with his favourites. He should have known that Filch would be lying in ambush for catching students who were likely to creep in.
Luckily this would serve Draco as excuse for him lurking around in that lost corridors, in the middle of the night.
Filch pushed Draco into the party room, which was opulently decorated with golden banners and it was filled with wizards and witches wearing remarkable but as well weird festival robes, most of them already drunk of the offered cold punch. Draco curled up his lips.
But what an exhilarant party that was!
The guests didn't seem a lot to enjoy themselves, because everything was silent. A very odd tension filled the room and the silence was quite too eerie for his taste.
But actually, there was no silence, because it was broken through by a very clear and bright voice. Draco stiffened as he listened to it. That voice was very young, but sounded song was soothing, sad and solemn as well. But what first seemed to overwhelm him with sadness, cheered him up and he felt his blood boil with excitement and sober mirth.
He suddenly felt ready to take on anything.
He felt that Filch's hard grip around his shoulder loosened and he quickly shook his bony hand off and wiped his coat as if he wanted to get rid of Filch's touch entirely. Then he took some steps closer to the crowd that gathered around a little pianoforte.
Although he jostled some guests, they didn't even seem to notice him, were totally caught by that angelic voice.
Draco shook his head. There was nothing angelic on it. It was just a singing voice!
Then he stretched himself and looked at the girl who sang. He couldn't believe his eyes and his ears as well as he looked directly into that face of the Dumbledore girl. He'd never expected her being that gifted!
No, he said to himself. She wasn't gifted, many people had a good singing voice and that girl was nothing special. The sound of her voice might have been nice and warm, but there was no way anymore now that he could enjoy it.
But holy crap, he still felt his body aching for more of it. Her voice was intriguing and even better was the awkward look on her face. She was filled up with disgust and she looked into the crowd as she was rather likely shouting at them than giving her voice to them. And there was sadness too, deeply hidden inside her resentful and reluctant gaze.
She was definitely not enjoying this and Draco bet his head that she was forced by Slughorn to do that. Poor little girl. But he was amused that how hard little Gryffindor one had to keep her temper.
She was almost in the same mood as Draco was. She had to use her skills for something she didn't want to do and therefore it annoyed her and she hated her talent. Draco had always been proud of being that skilled at the Dark Arts, but now he had to use, more likely abuse them for Voldemort.
And then she riveted on his face and he could see her frowning slightly and her mouth twitch with a faint smile.
He never ever expected himself answering to her looks that obviously as he did now. In fact he had already been outstaring her, but now as her gaze rested on his face and seemed to give her new strength and confidence, he wasn't able hold himself back. As if it was the most natural thing he could ever do, he felt his body be filled up with happiness as if he floored a bottle of liquid luck. And then he just smiled at her. It was a pure smile, just for her, him responding to her, more than he ever did since he beheld her.
At that moment Filch managed to catch him again.
"Professor! Professor! I found him lurking around out there!", he suddenly cried, his voice filled with fervour and shook Draco roughly to confirm his words. Professor Flitwick immediately stopped playing the piano and that little Dumbledore girl blushed from anger. Draco realized that even if she was singing reluctantly, she insisted on being treated with due respect and cutting her off was definitely not the right way to do it.
"What's the matter, Argus?", Slughorn asked, his voice sleepy as if he had just been woken up from a very intense daydream.
Draco grunted, for his own sake he would minimise that mess.
"Ok, ok I was trying to creep in.", he said hastily.
Some guests cleared their throat and Slughorn ordered the band to strike up with music again and soon the guests were split into little groups and seemed to have forgot that unpleasant interruption.
Slughorn then turned around to face Filch and Draco, followed by Professor Snape, to Draco's misfortune. When would that bloody traitor leave him be?
"Argus, let that poor boy go! It's Christmas, let him join us, why should he being left alone down there in that cold corridors! Let us celebrate together!", he said and Draco pretended to thankfully bowed his head, watching out for that Dumbledore girl from the corner of his eyes. But she seemed have vanished, perhaps somewhere sulking in a corner of the castle, caressed by the mudblood Granger. But that bloody Potter still stood there and looked curiously at him.
"I think that Mr Malfoy should not be rewarded for his impudence, Professor. I anyway have to talk to him.", Snape said intensively from behind and Slughorn cocked his eyebrow at him.
"Don't be too severe to your students, Severus! All of them deserve to celebrate the greatest event of the year!", Slughorn said and handed Draco a cup if that cold punch.
But Snape ignored him and stepped closer, while Draco backed away, shooting killing glances at him.
"I will escort him out."
Draco straightened up.
"Sure, Professor.", he spat the words at Snape and turned around on his heels to leave.
He breathed deeply. He knew what he now had to face, but he would be prepared.
Draco would fend Snape off as best as he could and had already done, although it became harder with every time that Draco failed repairing the cabinet in the Room of Requirement.
Unfortunately, there was hardly a time that Draco made rapid progress.
But he would always succeed keeping that traitor Snape at bay.
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