sweetener; drarry

3; small guitars

TRACK 3
creep
radio head (cover)

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lucius malfoy, a man who often abandoned his morals for power and money, stood proudly with that ghastly serpent cane clutched in his right hand and a perturbed professor with chaotic black hair thrown messily into a bun, a long nose and boringly brown eyes following him on his left. harry's stomach burned with disbelief and dread as he shoved the map back into his pocket and watched everything unfold from behind a dragon statue.

"and i assume you have already spoken with my son, professor...?" mr. malfoy's authoritative voice struck a chord with the hidden brunet and left a miserable taste of poison in his mouth.

"professor fiske!" The other chuckled nervously. there was a seconds pause before she realised she hadn't answered his initial question. "no, well, yes. i didn't talk to him personally but he-he was seen to by a different member of faculty." the clearly terrified miss. fiske stuttered.

"will he be present in mine and albus dumbledore's meeting?" lucius' cold eyes glazed over the body of the other adult as if inspecting something that had stubbornly stuck to the bottom of his perfectly-polished boots.

"well, you see, we asked him and he said there was no reason he should be there and that he needed more time to recover from his injuries in the hospital wing." fiske nodded her head as if congratulating herself for remembering correctly. she continued with hesitance "i-umm-i honestly think that everything that's happened is a total misunderstanding and you do indeed have a very healthy relationship with draco-"

"what you think means nothing to me." the silver-haired man said, showing clear distaste. if harry hadn't known any better, he'd have assumed the skittish professor had insulted lucius greatly to receive such an ornery statement.

harry felt sick to his stomach, bearing an overwhelming sensation to burst out from behind the statue and 'STUPEFY' lucius' sorry ass before something happened that harry could never have fathomed. it made his blood run cold and his shoulders tense.

as lucius opened his mouth to speak, a glimpse of raw despair bullied its way onto the platinum-blond's face. that fraction of a second in which lucius' whole being was left vulnerable and open filled harry's entire body with unease and fear. in the blink of an eye, the look had vanished, although that poor professor seemed to have noticed it as well as harry.

"and this meeting is entirely centered around my issues with the injuries my son has suffered at the hands of this incompetent professor lupin, correct? i should certainly hope i am not here to be accused of beating my child. every single member of the faculty here, including draco himself, are aware that he is not abused and that this boggart of his was merely a metaphor, not reality — right?" the precariousness and forcefulness of lucius' voice ran chills up harry's spine which further cemented the ordeal before him.

draco was being abused and lucius malfoy — the slimy cockroach — was using his power and authority to cover it up.

"umm-" fiske glanced to the side, directly where harry was camping albeit not noticing him at all, fidgeting with her hands under the cold glare of the powerful man before her. "i can't be entirely sure as whatever dumbledore chooses to mention in a meeting with parents is strictly confidential and-"

"parent. my wife is not present unless you're seeing things i'm not. is narcissa hiding somewhere?" the sarcasm in lucius' voice, as he rudely cut fiske off, set a fire deep inside harry that burned with frustration and disgust. "perhaps she's concealed behind this sickeningly cheap, cobble statue." the platinum-blond snarled, advancing towards the dragon statue as if to mockingly inspect it. harry's blood ran cold and he begrudgingly wished he had his invisibility cloak.

"no, i do not believe that your wife is hiding behind that dragon," fiske spoke boldly, a glint in her eyes of tiredness and a hue of exhaustion on her cheeks. "and it appears we run the risk of being late if we hang around any longer." she spoke with a fiery temper that hadn't revealed itself until now. lucius' body language changed entirely, harry could've sworn the man seemed to hold more respect for the drained professor now that she had shown more authority.

"very well, get on with it then!" lucius growled and the pair began to move again. harry held his breath, however, the two adults took huge strides to the brunet's left and off down a corridor which obscured from his hiding spot completely. he was safe to distance himself from the damp statue that stunk of moss and rain.

a scent like aged blood and broken dreams suddenly filled harry's nostrils and he whipped his head around at each hallway leading off to god knows where, unable to identify the source of the strong odour. his arm hairs prickled with a sudden chill that ran up his spine and goosebumps spread across his body. various thoughts of who this disgusting scent could belong to flooded his mind until everything cleared and he remembered why he had even left his dorm at night hours in the first place. he recalled hearing professor fiske state that draco was currently residing in the hospital wing, which sent a surge of reassurance through harry as he set off down the corridor once again.

🍓

as harry bounded down the corridors nearing the hospital wing, theorising about how horrible draco's injuries would be and how he could possibly help the boy heal, he heard a faint voice singing along to the pleasant hum of one of those small guitars harry often forgot the name to. the voice was bittersweet, fairly high pitched but still masculine. it sounded soothing and smooth yet left a rugged aftertaste as whoever was singing experienced a few voice cracks that all in all added to the uniqueness the voice provided.

the tune was charming and familiar. harry pushed his glasses from the bridge of his nose upwards so that they wouldn't fall off of his face and set off in the direction of the voice, adamant in at least getting a glimpse of whoever it was.

he recognised it but couldn't quite pin from where. the owner of that pleasant tune was on the tip of his tongue, it sounded like someone he knew except pitched up one or two notes more than usual.

he'd been so absorbed in finding who the voice belonged to, he hadn't even realised he'd hastily made his way to the hospital wing — completely forgetting that he wasn't invisible.

he rounded a corner and pressed himself up against the wall that connected to the entrance of the hospital wing, peering through the open doors and gasping relatively loudly once he'd seen who held that small wooden instrument. he couldn't believe his eyes — or his ears.

sitting right there singing like an angel, legs crossed on a blue-sheeted bed with a tiny four stringed guitar in his arms, was draco malfoy.

the blond hadn't seemed to notice harry's amazed gasp or the fact that he was lingering in the doorway, far too involved with himself and the instrument before him.

harry could've cried. the blue-eyed boy's voice was so alluring.