The Wizarding Award Scheme Programme (or W.A.S.P. for short)

7. The Sickle Drops...

He pushed through the gathering students to the open door and the first thing he noticed was the destruction. Papers, books, magazines, and Malfoy's posters ripped apart and strewn across the floor. Furniture splintered. The green quilt and cushions slashed open in an explosion of feathers and stuffing. A watercolour painting on the floor, its glass shattered, the frame crushed and bent, and the image twisted and destroyed.

The second thing he noticed was the writing scrawled across the wall. Large red letters that looked like dripping blood. It read 'GET OUT, DEATH-EATER SCUM.'

The third thing he noticed was Malfoy, huddled on the floor in a puddle of black robes, now sobbing silently, his back to Harry and the open door and growing audience.

Harry rushed to him and crouched down. He put his arm around the blond man's shoulders. 'Dray,' he whispered. 'Let's get you out of here.'

Malfoy turned his head and buried it against Harry's chest. 'Ry, look!' he heaved out brokenly.

He unclasped his hand and let the object he'd been holding fall from his grasp to the floor with a clatter.

Harry realised with horror that it was Malfoy's beloved guitar, or rather it was just the headstock and a mass of tangled wires. It appeared that whoever had attacked the room in an obvious fit of anger had used the guitar to impart a considerable amount of the damage. Harry spotted the neck poking out from under the sofa but the body was no more than irreparable splintered wood scattered across the room. Even with magic, it would never be the same again.

'Professor Potter, would you please escort Professor Malfoy out of here.' Minerva spoke slightly breathlessly from behind them. 'Perhaps take him to your rooms.' Harry didn't fail to notice the hard edge to her voice and the thin line of her lips. She was absolutely furious. 'The rest of you,' she pointed a shaking finger at the students in the doorway. 'OUT. NOW! If I see a single face near these rooms, you'll be in detention with me for month.'

Harry carefully helped Malfoy to his feet, 'come on. Minerva and I will sort it out.'

Draco took a deep breath and Harry watched as he straightened his shoulders and the mask slotted into place. 'Lead on, Potter,' he said with a sneer.

Minerva caught eyes with Harry and a knowing look passed between them.

Harry watched as the blond man relaxed a little against the tree he was leaning back on, he hadn't failed to notice that Draco had stolen one of his hoodies, a soft grey one which brought out the colours of his eyes and it made Harry smile to see him dressed in something other than austere black. Draco crossed his long legs and rested the guitar across his slender body. He plucked at the first string and frowned slightly, twisting the tuning peg minimally until he was satisfied with the sound the string produced.

He noticed the students observed their potions professor in fascination too. This was a side to Malfoy that they had never seen, let alone expected.

Then he saw Malfoy melt into another place that wasn't concerned with rules, and risk assessments, and health and safety, and protecting himself and those around him. Harry smiled. He understood all too well what Draco's mask was constructed from and, finally, he was seeing it slip away in public as a faraway look fell across those beautiful grey eyes. It was a look that other people very rarely got to see and Harry always felt honoured when he saw the mask fall and the real Draco Malfoy emerged. But this was different, this was a look he'd never seen before, this was Malfoy utterly caught up in plucking at the guitar strings and fiddling with the tuning pegs, he was caught up in a moment, caught up in the potential of music.