Chilled Legacy

Chilled Legacy VI

A/N: Early update as promised

Chilled Legacy VI

The room felt strangely damp. A certain thickness filled the air making it hard for Draco to breathe.

Maybe the oxygen was so thin because of Slughorn. The man was using it all up with the questions.

It started with basic greetings, moving on to his grades, then invisibly into his mental state and personal life. Slughorn's voice was hollow and scripted. Draco wondered if all the teachers were given a script to memorize for the special kids.

Pulled out of class for this?

That wasn't even the worst part. No; they just so happened to have the councilor fetch him, and call Draco's name in front of the whole class.

It wasn't the first time this happened. Plenty of students had been called this semester, all having to deal with side effects form war trauma, but the fact that he had been summoned was mortifying.

In the students' (as well as the teachers') minds, Draco Malfoy was not allowed to feel pain. To have sympathy. He'd been a Death Eater; therefore, he feeling pain would be hypocritical. Of course, he being a student, and this being a school meant they were obliged to help if in doubt of his full sanity.

The glares had been enough to drive anyone mad. "Draco Malfoy?" The councilor had called.

All eyes had turned accusingly to him. It's not his fault the school was so damn persistent.

What part of 'I'm fine' was so hard to understand?

If Draco thought his classmates hated him before, it was time to prepare himself for some serious warm hugs and lollipops. How dare you feel pain? Isn't it enough that we lost our families because of you? Now we have to hear you cry wolf.

"Do you have any hobbies? Anything you're good at?"

The way Slughorn said it made it sound like the man had his own answer to that question already.

Draco balled his fists. Yes, he was a bit messed up at the moment, but he had more talent in one finger than Slughorn possessed in his whole body. Not that that Potter lover would've believed him anyhow.

Quidditch was obvious, but Draco didn't say it. He pictured Slughorn's smug face at the end of the answer. 'Ah yes. Too bad you're not as great as potter. Then I might let you into the Slug Club.'

Draco was plenty great at Occlumacy, but that would just stereotype him even more as a dark wizard. He was proud of it, of course, but he needed to impress Slughorn with this answer. Maybe then he'd let him go back to class.

He thought back to the good old days. The first thing that came to his mind was his mother's enthusiasm for music. When she was young, she'd made Draco take piano classes. He'd mastered it pretty easily, but it was never something the boy ever bragged about in school.

Somehow piano wasn't what would impress fellow male Slytherins. However, Slughorn might think differently.

"I like music," Draco said, watching the teacher's eyebrows raise. "I can play piano."

He regretted the answer immediately. Slughorn's eyes had gone from wide to ravenous.

And that's how Draco ended up being dragged to the music room instead of going to potions. The teacher had insisted it was some sort of stupid therapeutic exercise, but Draco knew what was going on. Slughorn had all sorts of students in the Slug Club, ranging from powerful connections, to outstanding academic and athletic skills. The one thing he was missing was a music prodigy.