Harry Potter Characters X Reader

2: Voice

TW: Death. Rating: PG

Draco sank down the shower, defeated. Is this all he was? Was he going to die from his pride and obedience?

"Just let it go Just let it be Why don't you be you? And I'll be me And I'll be me."

Where was that coming from he wondered. It was soft and sweet, yet strong and confident. She was singing to him, and him alone. He was the only one in the prefect bathroom, the only one who could hear her.

"Everything that's broke / Leave it to the breeze / Why don't you be you? / And I'll be me," she pleaded. Who was she? Where was she?

"You only need the light when it's burning low / sun when it starts to snow / know you've been high when you're feeling low," she sang sweetly.

And he cried.

"May the light come when you need it most/ sun after the snow / highest high after the low, low low."

She was growing quieter, too soft to hear. He pressed his ear to the wall, but it wasn't enough. He stood and turned off the water.

"I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways/ maybe just the touch of a hand... / Maybe the sound of a voice / I've no choice / I fall in love with you every single day."

He wrapped a towel around his waist and put on a robe. Who was she? Either a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, but that's all he knew.

Knock knock knock.

"What's wrong, hun?" she asked, the water turning off.

"Something's wrong, I think it's my mom," a little girl sniffled

"Okay, I'll hurry. What's happening?" she asked.

"I fell asleep in the chair, and I had a nightmare. My mom, she's..."

"Deep breaths, okay? In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4. And repeat."

A door opened, and there was muffled crying. Draco dried his hair and threw his robes on as quickly as he could.

He opened the bathroom door to find no one. He roamed the halls a few times before giving up and going back to the common room.

***

He went into the room of requirement, exactly the same as every other day of his break that was slipping away much too quickly. If he didn't start making rapid progress, he wouldn't finish. And if that happened...

"I know work is gettin' hard but believe me someday you'll be glad / So persevere. Over my body will you give up your dreams out of fear / You'll achieve every single one that you've ever had," she sang again, sweeter and stronger than ever with the sweet strumming of a guitar. He followed her voice through the maze of junk and saw her sitting on one of the chairs strewn about.

"What are you looking for, Malfoy?" she asked, putting down the old, battered guitar. It was light pink in hue, as if worn over years of use. It was old, extremely...but good old, antique old.

He looked to her nervously. What was wrong with him? He was Draco fucking Malfoy; why should some Hufflepuff girl make him nervous?

He met her eyes. She just looked at him expectantly and tilted her head questioningly.

"I'm not sure," he said much too shyly. What was wrong with him?

"Well," she started, rising from her seat, "You were born to rich parents with—let's call—strong ideals. All you have to do is match that, right?"