His Ravenclaw (Draco Malfoy)

pianos and darkness

Draco Malfoy is crying.

He pulls away for a second. "You're right, Aurora. You're right. I am a coward."

"No," you say, grabbing his hands. "Draco, this – crying doesn't make you weak. You don't always have to be so... so stoic."

He puts his hand onto your cheek, blinking his tears away. His hold on you tightens for a split second and as it does, you feel your feet lift off the ground.

You're being pressed into Draco's body as you're whirled away into darkness, and the only thing you can feel is his hand, holding yours so tightly that it hurts... and you can barely see...your lungs are being collapsed in on themselves, you can hardly breathe.

And then it stops all it once. But you're no longer in Hogsmeade.

You're in Malfoy Manor.

Lucius Malfoy is standing in front of you, saying, "Ah, we've got the girl. Well done, Draco."

You back away from him, your head spinning, your heart thudding. "What's going on? Draco?" You turn to him but he won't look at you.

"The Dark Lord will be here shortly. Perhaps by tomorrow," Lucius says, smiling. "And we shall be rewarded above all."

"I thought you were in Azkaban – Draco said – "

"The Dark Lord has a way of bringing benefit to his allies," Lucius says. As he walks closer to you, his heeled shoes drag loudly across the gleaming wooden floor.

You plunge your arm into your robes, reaching for your wand –

"Expelliarmus!" Someone walks in and your wand immediately flies into their outstretched hand. It's Narcissa Malfoy.

You're trapped and you fully well know it. You haven't learned to Apparate yet, you have no wand, and the Voldemort is coming. Even now, you can feel his presence; a certain darkness that the Manor holds. But as this reality comes crashing down on you, you still can't fully believe it.

"I don't understand, what would Voldemort want with me?" You say slowly. You can't bear to look at Draco. Those tears were nothing more than a tool to play with your emotions. Perhaps, if you looked at him now, he would be smiling too, just like his father. He'd used you and got what he had wanted. And yet, you refuse to accept that part of your reality.

"Strange, isn't it? You'd never expected this to happen, but honestly Ollivander, you should've seen it coming. Before you started to hang around with him." Lucius says.

You can't fully understand...can't comprehend what this means.

"Well, Narcissa, perhaps we'd let our, ah, guest, get a little rest before the Dark Lord can attend to her tomorrow?" Lucius says.

Narcissa walks forward and takes your hand in her surprisingly warm one. Her sharp nails piercing your skin softly, she pulls you along corridors of the Manor, corridors not unlike the ones you used to stroll through at Hogwarts.

But no, these are entirely different. As you take it all in, you almost feel suffocating, as though some invisible presence is pressing on your throat. The eeriness of the long and narrow hallways looms out at you, its darkness infinite.

You can hear Draco walking behind you as Narcissa lead you into an empty, small bedroom. As she closes the door, Draco pushes you against the wall.

The moment he touches you, you stiffen up, taking his arm and pushing him off you.

"Don't, Aurora," he says. "Listen to me."

You turn away from him, feeling tears prick the back of your eyelids.

"I'm going to get you out of here. Look at me." Draco says. "Mum will help – we'll get you out. My father won't know. Look, Aurora, look at me."

Someone's warm hand touches your shoulder and you look at Narcissa standing beside you. "It's best you get some rest, dear. We'll figure something out."

It takes every ounce of your courage to nod.

"We'll leave you to it then, dear." Narcissa says. She briefly squeezes your shoulder before leaving the room.

You want to say something, to shout at him and cry in his arms at the same time. But, you can't bring yourself to walk forward to the person who led you into this situation in the first place. And what he said before – they could just be empty words. Another trap to trick you again.

"I know you don't believe me," he says quietly. "But you'll see soon enough." With that, he flicks his wand to turn off the light in the room and then exits.

You've awoken in the dark and for a moment, you forget where you are. Then the realization of your surroundings crashes onto you, as well as that inexplicable feeling of dread. All of a sudden, it feels too hot, too sweaty, too clammy underneath the bedsheets. You need some fresh air.

You quietly leave your bedroom, opening into the maze of hallways at the Manor. As you turn a corner into a dark hallway, you hear something: piano music. Intrigued, you push open a door where the music is coming from, and see a dark, paneled room with a single grand piano in the center.

Draco is playing the piano.

Without thinking, you walk towards the piano bench and sit beside him.

You watch his hands play the piano, his slender fingers pressing against the keys firmly, yet with a kind of elegance at the same time. His rings are a dark contrast against the white of the piano keys and the paleness of his skin. And it doesn't make sense.

Draco Malfoy, arrogance and coldness, playing the piano, grace and beauty?

You look up at his face, which is focused and of concentration, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips slightly parted. As the song ends, the silence rings loudly in the room and Draco turns to you as though seeing you for the first time.

"You play the piano well," you say quietly.

He leans towards you, placing a cold hand on your thigh. Inexplicable shivers run down your spine as his lips press hard against your neck, and then travels down across your throat, leaving marks. 

"I know you don't believe me, and I know you're trying to hate me right now, and you should," he breathes against your skin, dragging his lips down across your collarbone. "And I know you might forgive me in the future, and I know I wouldn't deserve it."

You take a hold of the edge of the piano to steady yourself as flutters erupt in your stomach, and his arms wrap around your waist.

He lifts his head for a moment and rests it on your shoulder, as the hand on your thigh slides upwards. "I turned you in to the Dark Lord. This is my fault."