The World and Her Stars: One Shots

The Piano in the Parlor Room

(Pre-war; summer at Malfoy Manor; R+D are 15; pre-marks; Draco finds peace as he plays the piano each night...and it appears he is not the only one)

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DRACO POV

I closed my eyes as my fingers pressed the keys instinctually—muscle memory taking over, as I had played these songs more times than I could count.

The room was dark, apart from a few candles and the light coming from the fire in the fireplace. But the air still had that cold touch to it. One that, no matter the weather outside, was always every present in the Manor. Now that I think about it, it was always rather dark as well, no matter the sun that tried to permeate the windows.

I ignored the chill that ran up my spine and continued with the familiar melody being produced from the piano, and I relaxed for the first time that day. At night, when I usually wandered down to the grand piano in the main parlor room, was really one of the only times I felt completely relaxed when I was home for the summer.

Just me and the familiarity of the keys that had been played by generations of Malfoys before me. It was mind numbing, but in a way that I welcomed. It took my mind off of the chaos that I could feel slowly building around me, beginning to surround me just like the walls of this house. I played the songs I knew by heart each night—switching it up every once in a while, if I wasn't too mentally drained from the happenings of the day. But I would never play too long. Because if I was up too late, my body would overcompensate with sleep, and not only would my father surely scold me for sleeping in by even a minute, but I would risk missing hearing her.

Her.

Her singing. Her voice that was damn near magical in its own right. Something about it made me actually want to get out of bed. It was a breath of fresh air in a world that couldn't spare me a light breeze. I had heard stories about sirens that swim in open oceans and sing to sailors, luring them in before they dragged them beneath the surface. Sounds completely ridiculous. How could something as silly as a song make men lose their sensibilities and jump overboard, headfirst into danger?

I used to think that way. I used to scoff at the spineless sailors in those stories—insisting that those sailors must have been muggles because any wizard in their right mind wouldn't fall for that shit.

I used to think that way.

Until I heard Rose sing for the first time.

And I found myself relating to those spineless sailors, because I don't think there is much I wouldn't do to hear her sing. It was a weakness of mine. But then again, most everything Rose did made me weak. In bad ways. Ways that my father would scold and my mother would worry herself sick about. Ways that could get me killed if I didn't keep my head on straight.

I opened my eyes, clenching my jaw as I watched my fingers fly across the keys. It was both amazing and agonizing how quickly that witch would infiltrate my mind. And she could do it like no other.

And I didn't know if I hated it—or loved it.

I wonder if I did the same to her?

Was I in her head as much as she is in mind? Possibly. I try to be under her skin as much as possible, so surely I take up some of her mind as well. Does she curse herself every time I pop into her mind like I do when she pops into mine? Does she think of ways to make me tick or ways to piss me off just for the fun of it—like I do her?