A/N: I don't know why, but I suddenly wanted to do another chapter. Maybe it's because I have to go have a stomach procedure done in a few days and I'm really nervous. D: Stupid diabetes. Anyway, I do hope that everyone enjoys this chapter! The song used is The Boy's Gone by Jason Mraz. Please leave a review!

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Draco could feel his soul crumble.

The train ride back to London had gone alright. No one had talked to the blonde too terribly much, which was perfectly fine with him. That meant no one had bothered him. And Draco liked it that way because if people talked to him they would say something funny and he just might laugh. And then everyone would stare at him. Which he did not want.

Then, it happened.

Crabbe or Goyle, Draco wasn't sure, went to grab their bag from the overhead compartment. While doing so, the stupid git knocked over Draco's case. His freaking guitar case. And it landed heavily onto the ground and Draco could have sworn that he heard a snap or a pop. Crabbe/Goyle repeatedly apologized, but Draco acted like it was nothing. When, in reality, he felt like crying. Crying like a high school girl that had just been horribly dumped by her boyfriend in front of all her friends. Something like that.

Draco didn't realize how badly damaged it was until he got home. After an hour of saying hello to his mother, ignoring his father, and trying to remember where his room was. He then proceeded to open the case and saw the damage.

A few strings were broken, a huge dent in the side, scratches all over it (probably from him, but whatever) and little bullet shaped dents surrounding the giant one. Draco knew that it was a cheap guitar, but not that cheap! It made him angry.

Plus he couldn't fix it because he wasn't at school. And he couldn't ask his mom because she didn't know that he had bought another one. And he couldn't ask his father because he didn't know that he even played.

So, in short, Draco was screwed.

"Why?!" Draco screamed to himself, throwing himself onto his green and black bed. He landed with a soft thud and the aroma of self loathing surrounded him. He squeezed his stressed out face into his overly stuffed pillow and sighed in the scent of self loathing.

"I guess that I could tell mom… but then she'd freak out and blah blah blah blah…" Draco said to himself. He turned his face to the side so that he could breathe, towards the wall. He was staring right at that thing. That instrument that broke his heart earlier that year. And all Draco could do was stare at it and forget about the black one on the floor.

Slowly, Draco pushed himself up off of his bed, his feet resting stiffly on the ground. With his stomach in a knot, the blonde stood up from his bed and took a few uncertain steps towards the wall. And he just stared at that beautiful, glossy tan guitar.

It was worn and obviously used beforehand. The strings looked old and almost crusty looking. All over the guitar, even on the back of it, was messy black hand writing. Each sentence in a different language. Some German, others English, a few in French. Chinese, Japanese, Korean, several different African languages. Draco didn't even recognize most of them. But he had memorized almost all of them. What each and every one of them said. He still knew, but pretended like he didn't because it hurt too much to remember.

Draco let out a heavy sigh, reaching out with one hand to grab the guitar and running the other through his hair. He slowly carried the instrument back over to his bed. Almost like it was a bomb. Like he was afraid that any second, with the wrong move, it would blow up in his face and maybe it would.

So, Draco sat on his bed, staring at the guitar held in his hands. It felt almost foreign, but good at the same time. He hadn't used it in over a year, and Draco knew that he would feel like this. Or something like this.

The blonde quickly and nervously picked up the guitar, lifting the guitar strap and putting it around his shoulder. He knew what he wanted to play. It'd been in his head for a year. He took in a sharp breath and started to strum the strings.

"The boy's gone. The boy's gone home.
The boy's gone. The boy's gone home.

What will happen to a face in the crowd when it finally gets too crowded.
And what will happen to the origins of sound after all the sounds have sounded
Well I hope I never have to see that day but by god I know it's headed our way
So I better be happy now that the boy's going home.
The boy's gone home.

And what becomes of a day for those who rage against it
And who will sum up the phrase for all left standing around in it

Well I suppose we'll all make our judgment calls
We'll walk it alone, stand up tall, then march to the fall
So we better be happy now that we'll all go home.
That we'll all go home.

Be so happy with the way you are
Just be happy that you made it this far
Go on be happy now.
Please be happy now.

Because you say that this, this is something else (alright)
I say that this, this is something else (well alright)
I say that this, oh, this is something, this is something else
Oo thi-thi-thi-thi-this is all, thi-thi-thi-thi-this is yeah,
thi-thi thi-thi-thi-this is all something else

Well I tried to live my life and lived it so well
But when it's all over is it heaven or is it hell
So I better be happy now that no one can tell, nobody knows
I'm gonna be happy with the way that I am
I'm gonna be happy with all that I stand for
I'm gonna be happy now because the boy's going home.

The boy's gone home.

Yeah the boy's gone home.
Yeah the boy's gone home.
Yeah the boy's gone home."

Draco let the last line echo a little. He looked at the guitar as the note slowly faded around him. Out of pure habit, Draco smiled to himself a little and looked up beside him, expecting Ron to be sitting there next to him. Coming back into reality, Draco felt his smile falter, realizing that the fiery red head wasn't there with him. That he was back to playing by himself for ten days. A sense of emptiness and loneliness engulfed him.

"That was beautiful, Draco." A light female voice said from behind the blonde. Draco turned around, his eyes slightly wide. In his doorway was his mother. Her hair was up in a tight bun with very little makeup on. She was wearing a dark forest green robe with fuzzy flippers to match it. Narcissa had a small, sad smile on her face.

"Thanks, mom." Draco feebly and awkwardly replied. They uncomfortably stared at each other for a minute, Narcissa clearing her throat.

"I didn't realize that you still played." She said, trying to sound sincere. It came out a bit too harsh for Draco's liking.

"Not… as much as I want to." Draco replied. It was as bland as he could put it. But it was a complete lie. He'd been playing almost none stop every night at Hogwarts. With Ron.

Stop it. Draco thought to himself, snapping himself back onto earth.

"When did you get that black one?" His mother politely questioned, pointing to the black guitar dumped on Draco's floor as she took a step into his bedroom. Draco turned his attention to it for a second, then just to the ground beside it. He couldn't stand to look at it because it reminded him of the guitar he was holding. And that just made him sad.

"A year ago." Draco replied. He hated lying to his mother, especially since she was keeping this a secret from his father. She raised an eyebrow at this and took in a lungful of air.

"Really? I hadn't noticed. You're good at hiding things." She slowly said. She seemed to be looking past Draco, even though her eyes were right on him.

"I used my own money to get it, if that's what you're worrying about." Draco said, lifting the guitar away from him and almost throwing it on his bed. Being near it stung his heart.

"You could have asked me. But it doesn't seem to matter. What happened to it?" She replied, sounding worried. Draco hated it when she worried over nothing.

"Crabbe. Or Goyle. I can't remember which." Draco replied, furrowing his eyebrows and making it look like he cared for a minute. The only thing he cared about at the moment was the glossy but worn brown guitar next to him.

"Oh. I'm glad that you have another one, though. Well, it's getting late. You should get some sleep, dear." Narcissa said, rubbing her face and trying to clear away the stress from the day. Draco immediately felt sorry for her.

"Same goes to you, mom." Draco softly replied. He gave her a small smile and she smiled back. She turned to walk out of the room and was almost around the door frame when she stopped in her tracks and turned back to Draco. She paused for a minute.

"Was that song about your father?" Narcissa quietly asked. It felt like she was afraid that Lucius would pop out of the wall and scream like hell if he heard her. Draco sadly smiled to himself and looked at the floor.

"No. Maybe. A little bit. I don't know." Draco replied with a heavy sigh. Narcissa inwardly smiled at him, nodded, and closed the door behind her. All in one motion. Almost too fast for Draco's worn out brain to catch. He didn't really care, though. Because now his mother could get some sleep and he could practice his guitar in his room. Safely, because his parents were on the other side of the mansion.

Draco set the guitar on the floor next to him, carefully and gently, then laid back on his arms crossed behind his head and his legs stretched out along the length of his bed. It felt nice to lie in his nice warm bed, even if there weren't the usual snores that he was used to around him. Or the usual annoying Crabbe and Goyle. Or the usual pompous ass that was Snape. Or homework or classes or meals in the Great Hall.

Or even Ron.

Draco didn't think that he would miss the red head this much. And he'd never say that out loud. Not to anyone. But in the past few months Ron had grown on him. It felt… weird to play without asking "How'd it sound?" and getting the usual reply of "It was amazing," and then they'd have a weird little conversation about nothing and Draco would end up smiling. Which he never did and it felt good to be able to smile around someone else rather than his mother.

The blonde sighed to himself and stared up at the ceiling, tracing all the little delicate squares with his eyes. Now he knew why the red head stared at it so much. It was so easy to get lost in your own little world, just by looking up.

It was quiet, almost too quiet for Draco. But Ron had his iPod. Damn.

Leaning over slightly, Draco reached with one hand and flipped a switch on a small portable radio that was next to his bed. His mother hadn't even noticed it there. Music started to flow out of it, quietly. But it was pure music. And Draco liked it, even though he didn't know the song or who it was by.

So he stared up at the ceiling, letting the music flow over him like a blanket. Starting to feel a little sleepy, the blonde closed his eyes for a minute. He pictured himself back at Hogwarts, playing the guitar and smiling and having Ron tell him it was amazing even though it wasn't. And having a blast while doing it.

Maybe Ron was right. He'd probably end up staring at the walls all break.

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There we go! I did that in just about two hours! :D Personal record. Anyway, I do hope that everyone liked it. Next up is Ron's Winter Break. I know, short, but I don't want to spend that much time on this. But it has to be done. Anyway, please leave a review!