No one understands, Draco thought, drenched in sweat. He's woken up early from a nightmare and still didn't feel safe. Greg, Blaise, and Theo were still softly snoring into their pillows. Poor Greg still had tear tracks on his face that shone in the moonlight.
They all still felt the effects of Vince's death. Draco knew that none of them could get used to the empty bed by the door.
Draco decided to head down to the common room, unable to calm his heart.
In the olden days, he could've relied on his friends to be there; Goyle to listen, Blaise to rant, Pansy to comfort, or Daphne to make him laugh. Now, he was alone. Goyle seemed miles away from everyone because of his grief for Vince, Blaise was immersed in his studies, Daphne had landed herself in St. Mungo's for the foreseeable future, and Pansy… had simply drifted. Draco figured it was that her family just didn't want anything to do with him anymore. And so it was; Draco had no one except himself.
Time passed as slowly as ever, and Draco stayed huddled up on the couch staring at the lake until dawn. He then moved quickly through his routine and managed to leave before any of the boys saw him. He couldn't escape the girls, though.
"You good, Dray?" Millie asked quietly as she came down the stairs. Curse her for being an early bird.
"I'm fine," Draco mumbled, hurrying out the door before Millicent could speak again.
Draco made it early enough to breakfast that he didn't have to see any of his friends. He ate quickly and sped off towards the library, hoping to do some studying before Charms.
After school started, the library had quickly become Draco's haven for everything academic. He always sat in the same spot and followed Madam Pince's rules so diligently that she happily offered him help on researching whenever he needed it. It wasn't just this, though. Draco knew that as a former Death Eater, his job prospects had decreased dramatically. After all, the only reason Draco wasn't tossed into Azkaban was because his mother (along with his classmates, teachers, and a portrait of Severus Snape) made a strong case of his being forced to take the Dark Mark. It's not that it wasn't true - everything his mother said and argued had truly happened - it was just that people didn't believe them. Shockingly, Potter testified in Draco's favor, which was unsurprisingly what ended up 'convincing' the Wizengamot to pardon him.
In any case, Draco knew the only reason he would be able to get a decent job is if he got Os on most of his NEWTs. Draco pulled out a list of work to do and consulted it, sighing.
"Need help with anything, dear?" Prince asked kindly. Before this year, Draco (or anybody, really) had no clue the woman was even capable of kindness.
"Yes, actually," Draco replied politely. Since managed to help Draco find two books on the Warlocks' Convention of 1709 for an essay in History of Magic, a book about Wolfsbane Potion so he could read about it before class, and one about various studying techniques for NEWTs so that he was well prepared when exams rolled around. Draco thanked her for her help before hurrying to Charms.
Charms wasn't too terrible; they learned the Ascension Charm, of which Draco had already read the theory. Professor Flitwick congratulated him on his charm after Draco got it on the second try.
That was the other thing. He could always count on the professors to help. Flitwick and Sprout encouraged him in their respective classes, McGonagall asked him every other class how he was doing, and Slughorn insisted on meetings every Saturday to discuss various aspects of Draco's life. They were in no way replacements of Draco's friends, but he supposed he appreciated that thought.
After Charms ended, Draco walked quickly to the dungeons for Potions, pulling out the thin book about Wolfsbane Potion and reading as he walked. As he did so, he accidentally bumped into a burly Ravenclaw.
"Oh sorry," Draco mumbled, but before he could hurry past the bloke, the Ravenclaw shoved him harshly, and Draco crashed to the floor, the book skidding some distance away.
"You better watch where you're going in the future," the Ravenclaw snarled before walking off. Draco simply stared at the bloke's back before sighing, brushing himself off, and hurrying off to Potions, taking care to pick up the dropped book.
In the olden days, Draco would've hexed the bloke. He would've made him regret his choice. Draco doubted he would've even fallen. Now, he simply had no choice. He was a former Death Eater, a traitor to the Wizarding World. Succumbing to whatever harassments, curses, and insults people slung at him was now necessary to survive.
Draco made it to Potions on time and sat down next to Pansy and Blaise as always. Potter came in a minute later, and Draco noted how Potter froze, eyes glued to the chalkboard. Draco vaguely remembered Lupin, the old DADA teacher who turned out to be a werewolf. Okay, maybe vaguely was the wrong word; he was easily the best DADA teacher they had, apart from Snape. Both were dead. Perhaps the lesson simply reminded Potter of a lost teacher.
Draco paid Potter and his friends no attention, focusing rather intensely on the lesson and Slughorn's lecture. The period ended rather quickly and Draco hung back, wanting to ask Slughorn follow-up questions. He noted Potter's rather hasty exit before Slughorn came up to him.
"I look forward to our meeting on Saturday, Mr. Malfoy!" The professor said jovially, although Draco could spot the pity in Slughorn's eyes. Draco hated pity, especially from adults, so he asked his questions rather quickly before leaving. Draco skipped lunch, as he often did, to get a head start on his History of Magic essay. Sure, it wasn't due for two weeks, and sure, Binns was a ghost so he didn't exactly care if work was handed in a week and a half early, but it couldn't hurt, right? He was turning into Granger, Draco thought irritably as he spread his work out over a library table.
He managed to finish a lengthy Transfiguration essay and begin an Astronomy essay before lunch ended. Draco packed up rapidly and headed for Herbology. Professor Sprout gave a revising lecture on dittany and Draco was grateful for the chance to review his knowledge on the topic. As per usual, he stayed behind for an extra ten minutes or so to ask follow-up questions.
"Thanks Professor, I think that's everything," Draco said, packing up his parchment.
"Of course, Draco," Professor Sprout replied warmly. "You know, dear, you push yourself so hard. Make sure to take care of yourself too."
"Don't worry, I am," Draco smiled evenly. "I'm trying to ensure a future for myself. No other way to. Thanks." Draco walked out, not wanting to look upon Sprout's undoubtedly pitying expression.
Classes were done for the day, so Draco thought he could squeeze in some more studying before dinner. He hurried down the steps quickly and rounded a corner, not paying as much attention to his surroundings as he should have. In his haste, Draco crashed into someone. They both hit the floor hard, the contents of Draco's bag spilling onto the floor, his ink bottle smashing on the stone.
"Sorry sorry, so sorry," Draco said hurriedly as he picked up his books. He looked up and froze. It was the same Ravenclaw that he had bumped earlier, and that same bloke now rose with an expression of utmost fury on his face.
"Um…" Draco shrank back.
"I said earlier you should watch where you're going," the Ravenclaw said menacingly. "Guess you didn't listen."
"I'm sorry, really," Draco said pleadingly. Too late. The Ravenclaw drew his wand and yelled, "Flipendo!" The spell hit Draco, and launched him into the air. As his body spun, Draco braced himself to splat right onto the wall.
But the impact never came.
Draco groaned as he smacked onto the floor hard. He blinked a bit before brushing himself off and standing up. What the…
He was standing in a decently spacious room which was completely empty except for a huge grand piano. Forgetting all about the probably confused Ravenclaw outside, Draco walked up to the piano. It was beautiful, and suddenly Draco was struck with memories of his mother teaching him how to play. She taught him when he was six and he'd never lost the skills, playing obsessively whenever he had a chance. When his years at Hogwarts began, he would go back home during breaks and just play, brushing up on old pieces and learning new ones. His father insisted on making him play for their grand Christmas feasts, and all the important people that were there called him a prodigy. Draco wasn't so sure about that. He just liked to play.
Impulsively, Draco played a couple of simple chords and was halfway through a scale before he stopped. There were people outside. He couldn't play now. Doubtless they heard, though.
Draco knew he couldn't stay there forever. He braced himself and stepped through the wall. Draco blinked. Everyone was staring at him. Someone had evidently called Professor McGonagall because she was there, looking disbelievingly at him.
"And where were you, Mr. Malfoy?" She asked curtly.
"Just a corridor," Draco replied, shocked at how smooth the lie was. Old habits die hard, he supposed.
"We couldn't get through," McGonagall raised her eyebrows. Draco shrugged in response.
"I don't know. Maybe it moves back and forth between places," he suggested. "Hidden corridors can do that, right?"
"Yes..." she replied slowly. Draco could tell she was suspicious, and prayed she wouldn't do anything more. She turned. "What are you all staring at? Move along, don't you have places to be?" The crowd quickly scattered leaving McGonagall and Draco alone.
"Um... I mean you can try, Professor," Draco said. "I don't know what to tell you." Then a thought came to him. "Did you hear any music? Only I might have heard a bit but I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating."
"No, Mr. Malfoy," she shook her head. Draco blinked in surprise but quickly recovered.
"A hallucination, then."
"I'm truly sorry for the reason you got flipped into that corridor," McGonagall said, sighing. "I wish you wouldn't have to deal with these students day after day."
"This ensures my future," Draco smiled thinly, echoing his words to Professor Sprout earlier. "I can put up with it."
Later that night, Draco could not sleep. He tossed and turned, unable to stop thinking about that mysterious room. Why couldn't anyone else get in? Why couldn't they hear the music?
Not being able to lay there any longer, Draco got out of bed and put on a robe over his pajamas, sneaking as quietly as he could out of the common room. He had to avoid Peeves one time but he quickly found his way back to the corridor where he ran into the Ravenclaw. Draco made his way down until he reached the exact spot where he was flipped. Praying he wasn't imagining the whole thing, Draco took a deep breath and stepped into the wall. It gave way just as easily as before and Draco found himself in the same room with the piano. He breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't imagining it at all. Maybe, just maybe... he could play and find peace, just as before.
And we conclude Draco's first POV. If you enjoyed it, consider reviewing!