Dragon of Song

Chapter One

"...They've got stunning voices. It doesn't really seem to matter much that they didn't write those songs considering the way they sing them. I've got tickets to another show for tomorrow night; why don't you come. Of course, the place'll be packed with muggles since it is a muggle club but it's worth it."

He shrugged and cast a glance at the waning sun through the window. "Why not?" He smiled a bit and twirled his fingers in the soft fabric of the sofa cover. An inaudible sigh escaped his lips and he made to stand. "What time's the show start?"

"Seven. But we should get there at six. It's hard to get seats." She grasped the mug and sipped the scalding liquid cautiously. "You know, one of the guys reminded me of someone but I can't quite think of who..." She paused thoughtfully and set the mug down. "Maybe I'll know him when I see him again..." She stood slowly and started towards the door. "Well, I guess I'll get home now. I'll see you at the club?" She smiled a tiny bit when he nodded reluctantly and opened the door. Maybe he'll meet someone nice there...

~

The club was filled to the brim with loud youths. It was almost impossible to tell which direction he was going. But he spotted Hermione immediately and tapped her on the shoulder. "How do you move in this place?" His green eyes roamed over the young muggles clad in erotic outfits moving in all directions.

Hermione smiled deviously and dragged him through the tight-knit crowds, through two large glass doors into a dimly lit room with around twenty tables scattered throughout it. All but three tables were filled and she pulled him towards the closest one. And there they sat for forty minutes, half-listening to the conversation around them.

At five till, three green spot-lights came on, illuminating the many anticipating faces. A child-like piano melody started playing and four shadowy figures drifted across the back of the stage, taking their places. The melody stopped for a few seconds and a soft instrument began playing but it was almost unidentifiable. The audience was lulled into a hush. And then startled unbelievably for about five seconds. A raucous, yet depressing, loud drumbeat started playing, followed by excruciating guitar chords. It was like the entire place was filled with an unwelcome elemental that refused to leave. Shivers ran up and down spines all across the room and a few people moaned in reprisal. And then it slowed dangerously to a stop. The green lights slowly turned on the men and lit up their pale faces eerily.

Hermione lent over and whispered in his ear. "That was called "A New Beginning". They play it at the start of every show." She turned her brown eyes back on the stage and watched in rising anticipation.

On the stage, one man had stepped forward, spot-light following his movements. "It's good to see a full house. We don't usually get this much enthusiasm." A gentle smile fluttered across his flawless features though his eyes reflected a serene look of longing, but it was quickly covered. "Should we start?" he asked teasingly, smirking when the audience cried out in unison. "So be it." He narrowed his eyes and backed up, slipped a microphone into his fingers and stepped back forwards. He turned his head and nodded at the other three.

Hey dad

I'm writing to you

Not to tell you that I still hate you

Just to ask you how you feel

And how we fell apart, how this fell apart

Are you happy out there in this great wide world

Do you think about your sons

Do you miss your little girl

When you lay your head down

How do you sleep at night

Do you even wonder if we're alright

We're alright, we're alright

It's been a long, hard road

Without you by my side

Why weren't you there all the nights that we cried

You broke my mother's heart

You broke your children for life

It's not okay but we're alright

Who was that!? The pain was evident in the silver eyes of the singer, the memories. And that look was so familiar. Why couldn't he remember? He stared intently at the flawless face and reminisced, straining to remember.

I remember the days you were a hero in my eyes

But those are just a long lost memory of mine

I spent so many years learning how to survive

Now I'm writing just to let you know I'm still alive

The days I spent so cold, so hungry

Were full of hate

I was so angry

The scars run deep inside this tattooed body

There's things I'll take to my grave

But I'm okay, I'm okay

It's been a long hard road without you by my side

Why weren't you there all the nights we cried

You broke my mother's heart

You broke your children for life

It's not okay

But we're alright

Recognition came over him in that instant, like a rush of freezing water. He should've turned to tell Hermione, but he didn't. Instead, he stared dumbly at the pale man on stage who was shedding his pain through music. This all made sense. And the song... the song made so much damn sense...

I remember the days you were a hero in my eyes

But those are just a long lost memory of mine

Now I am writing just to let you know I'm still alive

And sometimes I forgive

Yeah, and this time I'll admit

That I miss you

Said I miss you

It's been a long hard road without you by my side

Why weren't you there all those nights we cried

You broke my mother's heart

You broke your children for life

It's not okay

But we're alright

I remember the days you were a hero in my eyes

But those are just a long lost memory of mine

Now I'm writing just to let you know I'm still alive

And sometimes I forgive

And this time I'll admit

I miss you...I miss you

Hey dad....

The music faded and there was a hush-hush over the audience as they watched with pity as the singer bowed his head slowly, running a few fingers through his silver hair. He turned towards Hermione now, frowning slightly. "I think I know who that is..." Pause. "Oh God."

~

Harry was still in shock as he whispered into his friend's ear. She swallowed all of this quietly, oblivious to the music starting up again. Her amber eyes turned back to the stage, studying the vocalist. Her mouth opened slightly as she stared. Then she frowned deeply and held a hand to her mouth. "I'm going to be sick." She covered her face in her hands and glared at the stage through her fingers in disgust. "This can't be possible, Harry. Can you imagine him doing this? Covered in tattoos, singing. Ridiculous."

Harry sighed. "I don't need to imagine it. I can just turn and look at it." He glanced at the band. "It's just funny to suddenly see him. No one really knows where he is except the ministry..." His voice drifted a bit as he turned back to the show. "I'm going to see him after the show."

"I'm going with you."

~

He walked off stage covered in sweat, lyrics spinning through his head. He waved off the guys and slipped into his temporary dressing room. It was neat. He had an old trunk in the corner of the room, covered in a thin film of dust. He walked over to it slowly, uncertainly. He hadn't opened it for years. Why should he now? He shrugged it off and turned away from the trunk. Instead, he grabbed a long black coat from the desk chair and hurried back out the door.

Into the darkness he drove, almost speeding but not going fast enough to go over the limit. The black Mercedes-Benz blended with the night sky, slipped away from the crowd of the coliseum, and sped away into the familiar city of London. The lights were wonderfully bright. And free...

~

They'd been following the car for fifteen minutes when it stopped in front of a building on a crowded street. The tattooed body left the sleek car and hurried into the building. They waited a few minutes, parked outside the flat, staring at the dimly lit windows. It was a high-class building, obviously. ...Should they go in?

Hermione opened the door and started to climb out of the car. "Come on. I want to see if anything has changed with him." She turned back to Harry when he didn't reply. Doubt was scribbled on his features. "The last time we saw him was the day that changed our lives. Everything we knew about him changed. Maybe that will happen again. Come on."

He got out of the car reluctantly. The air was much cooler than the atmosphere of the coliseum. It was refreshing. He sighed and started up to the flat, weary suddenly of this entire night. His fingers gripped the black metal handle of the glass door and wrenched it open. Hermione slipped under his arm and he let the door shut behind them. They stood there for a minute until Hermione nudged him forward with a glance. He went to knock but stopped suddenly. "What if he attacks us? I mean I know he changed that year but he still didn't like us. In fact, he hated us more than he did before. Visa-versa."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It was not visa-versa and he will not try to attack us. I don't think... Oh, come on. This is stupid." She walked up to the oak door and knocked loudly. She lowered her hand and listened for footsteps. They were soft and quiet. With the click of the lock, the door opened inwardly, revealing the tall, blond. He still wore the clothing from the concert; baggy black jeans with three chains draped from the pockets, a tight silky shirt with a dragon eye on the chest which was torn in several places, and lanky black knee boots.

Again it felt odd. Looking upon him as he was, with tattoos and gothic clothing. It was such a change from the aristocratic robes and expensive suits. Harry stared blankly, as did Hermione. What were they supposed to say?

His silver eyes were hard. He stared at them in confusion. And then recognition dawned in face and his eyes narrowed dangerously. He slammed the door and leaned against it. He leant there with his arms folded, glaring at nothing and knowing they were behind that door, waiting for him to open it again. He took an uneven breath and opened the door again. He gave them a glance and then walked off down the hall. They'd come in if they really wanted to.

Apparently they wanted to. They walked in, shutting the door quietly behind them and looked about the room. It had a few oil paintings that were innately frightening. Bloody corpses. Why did it not surprise Harry? He left Hermione staring at the artwork and followed the direction he'd seen the blond go. He came into a vast sitting room. A figure was sitting on the satin covered sofa silently, staring into space. He swallowed. This was altogether the oddest thing he'd done-and the most uncomfortable.

Both men drifted in the silence into their own memories of an event four years ago. A devastating event that threw the wizarding world into confusion.

~~~Four Years Earlier~~~

The sky was a stale gray. Ministry officials were everywhere. Some were trying to push the crowds back, some were being interviewed for the Daily Prophet, and the rest were in the manor trying to sort out the situation.

The crowds of witches and wizards had their eyes fixed on the large black doors, waiting for the ministry to retreat with news. Minutes past. Then the doors were flung open sharply and a male voice called out for everyone to get back. He sounded panicked and he called out again, ordering the other officials to move the crowd back farther. The man stepped out, followed by a multitude of people.

Behind the man was a seventeen-year-old boy clutching a thin cloak around himself, desperately trying to cover the bruises and lacerations on his pale flesh. His blond hair was mussed and had a film of blood in it, tinting it a ghastly pink. His wrists were visible and had evident cuts on them, like those from shackles. His crystalline eyes were laced with pain and angry tears, not to mention blood. A ministry official was trying to help him but kept being shrugged off. Finally he gave up and merely followed.

The people gathered around watched in shock. But nobody was more shocked than three students in the crowd. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger watched in disgust. They'd all been at the Weasleys when Mr. Weasley had been contacted to apparate to Malfoy Manor immediately. The three friends had followed closely behind. Now they stared at the broken teen being led out of the manor.

More ministry officials were still coming out of the mansion. But the stream of men stopped temporarily. Then another voice called out, asking for wizards to stand by with wands ready. It seemed a hush fell over the crowd as a magically bound Lucius Malfoy staggered out of the manor, flanked by ministry officials who had their wands directed at him. He had a crazed look in his bloodshot eyes. He too was covered in blood, but the blood was coming from a wound in the back of his head.

And this group of officials was followed by yet another. But no bloody, bruised person came with them. Instead, four officials held a jaded globe in an impenetrable glass case. This caused much confusion among the witches and wizards watching. A few people yelled out, "But what is it?" The officials ignored these people.

An hour later, the crowd had mostly cleared. A few wizards from the ministry were left, including Mr. Weasley. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had asked Mr. Weasley about had happened.

"There have been rumors that You-Know-Who is still not dead. But completely disembodied. Well, what happened tonight confirmed those rumors... Apparently, Malfoy's had this disembodied spirit locked up in this place. Planned on sacrificing his own son so the Dark Lord would have a youthful body. Disgusting. I think they're sending him to St. Mungo's. Bloody insane, he is."

~~~Present~~~

Harry snapped out of his thoughts. The mere memory sickened him. His green eyes fell softly on the dim figure of Draco Malfoy on the silken sofa. Despite all the horrible things that had happened to Harry, he couldn't comprehend what Draco had gone through that summer. He didn't blame him for running away from the wizarding world. For striving to shed his memories. He shivered and walked silently over to the sofa. He didn't say anything. There was a lucid calm in the silence and he didn't want to break it. He heard Hermione coming down the hallway and he turned to look at her.

Hermione entered the dim room and stopped. She gave Harry a curious look. Her fingers brushed back her wavy brown hair. She walked up behind the sofa and laid her hands on it. This all felt very awkward to her. For six years he was their enemy, and then... he was no one. And now he was a muggle singer trying to forget his past. And they were lucky enough to come across him, weren't they?

Draco tried to forget they were there but their presence was so obvious it hurt. He took a slow, deep breath. "Why're you here?" He turned his head slightly, silver eyes falling on Harry's slim form. "How'd you find me?" He raised an eyebrow, face emotionless. He folded his arms over his chest and glared coldly at Harry.

Hermione stepped up beside Draco. "We didn't mean to... find you. We were at the show and recognized you. We thought we'd... see how you were." She cursed herself silently. That had sounded weak.

Draco smirked suddenly. "And why would you want to do that? And why now?" He looked at them in disbelief. This was ridiculous. Memories flickered dimly in his mind. "Oh, wait. I know why you're here. You want to see why I haven't gone insane. Well, I wasn't going insane until you showed up at my door." His glare was becoming colder. But he stopped his words. When had he become so cynical? He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "Forget that." He stalked out of the room and into a kitchen. He needed a drink. He pulled open the fridge door and started taking out different things; a bottle of rum, orange and lime juice, rock-candy syrup, and started mixing it together in a martini glass. He put a cherry in it out of habit and took a sip of it. The rich taste of the alcohol calmed his nerves immediately. With drink in hand, he went back into the sitting room and found his two 'guests' deep in conversation on the couch.