The sad notes of Beethoven's Midnight Sonata floated around the room, sending it's player deeper and deeper into depression. The slow piano notes brought back every painful memory he had, flashing them before his eyes like he had been sitting on the sidelines instead of actually experienced them.
His fingers danced on the keys, playing the mournful melody, playing his pain. He loved this piece more than any other, the way it sang every emotion he had with every note that came from the old piano. He swayed back and forth with it, caught up in the music.
At home his mother would sit and listen before letting her own memories surface in her mind and brining forth tears, making his pain grow even more. His father hated it, beating him every time he played it and finally smashing the scared instrument while scolding his son for showing weakness.
But no one could stop him now, not when he sat alone in an abandoned classroom deep in the heart of his school where no one could hear. He had bought his own piano and brought it here, to his room and played away all his sorrow. When he finished, he would leave his beloved and replace the mask of the ice prince he was. He would wander the halls, watching as people cringed at the sight of him. He'd sneer and then walk away, not letting them notice the pain he felt whenever someone shied away from him like that. No one ever noticed.
It became his ritual to come back to his room every night and let his fingers dance once more. He would close his eyes and move his hands gracefully up and down the keys, listening to the sound that came because of it. This was his release and he would die if anyone took it from him.
He played the last note and looked down at the pearly keys, sliding his finger softly over one of them as if caressing it. All his pain, suffering and depression were in these keys. The piano was the most precious thing to him because it was the only one listening. He slid his fingers over the keys once more and jumped when he heard a soft voice from behind.
"That was beautiful," it said, so softly it could have been a whisper. He whirled around to be faced with a girl with crimson hair.
"What are you doing here Weasley?" he asked in a spiteful tone, eyes flashing at the intruder.
"I'm sorry," the girl apologized. "I heard the music and I followed it here." He snorted and turned to close the piano cover but stopped when the girl spoke again. "Please don't."
"Don't what?" he snapped.
"Don't shut it just yet."
"And why not?"
"Please, I just want to hear it once more. Please play it again Draco," the girl pleaded. He cringed at his own name; it was associated with to many hateful things that shouldn't be uttered in his sanctuary. He turned to look at the girl again and saw the sincerity in her eyes. Not being able to say no, he nodded slightly and pushed the cover back. Once again, Beethoven's piece sang out in the darkness of the room. He played it with just as much passion as he did every time, making the sad melody express his emotion for him. The room around him faded and it was just himself and the piano. This is what always happened and this time was no exception. He swayed just like he always did, whether out of habit or familiarity he did not know.
He played the last note and sighed before turning back to the girl. To his shock, she was crying. She hastily wiped her eyes and let out a shaky breath, apparently trying to calm herself.
"That was the saddest and most beautiful thing I have ever heard," she said, her voice still nothing but a whisper. "What's it called?"
"Moonlight Sonata by a Muggle composer named Beethoven," Draco replied calmly.
"I thought you hated Muggle things," the girl said before clamping a hand over her mouth and blushing with embarrassment.
"Something's yes, others, like this…" he said before trailing off and looking back down at the piano.
"Why do you play something so sad?" she asked hesitantly.
"Because its how I feel." His voice was purposely stern so she wouldn't purists. The stayed in uncomfortable silence for a moment, the kind that you could cut with a knife. It was the girl to speak first.
"Could you teach me?"
"You want to learn?" Draco saw the girl nod her head out of the corner of his eye. "Why?" The girl played with her fingers, trying to find an answer but not finding any.
"I don't know," she finally said.
"If you don't know then why should I teach you?" The girl shifted from one foot to the other in discomfort.
"I guess its because I have never played anything before and to be able to play something like that would be amazing," she said truthfully.
"It isn't an easy piece to learn," Draco warned.
"I understand." How could he say no? He knew he could but having someone's company other than the piano was what he wanted, wasn't it? He sighed and ran a hand through his platinum hair.
"I don't see any reason why not…" he began but was interrupted by the girl's squeal of delight.
"Really?" she exclaimed. "Thank you so much!" Draco put a hand up to silence her.
"You will be here at nine o'clock every night and you will not speak of this to anyone. This place is sacred to me and if you tell anyone, there will be hell to pay. Do you understand?" The girl nodded. "Good. I'll see you tomorrow then Weasley." He stood and closed the cover on the piano, ready to leave but noticed the girl was still standing there. "Is they're something else?"
"Could you call me Ginny? I know you're used to calling me and my family Weasleys or weasels but, if its not to much trouble, I'd really like you to call me by my name."
"Keep my secret and I will call you by your name. Now if that is all, I must be going. Goodnight Ginny."
"Goodnight Draco." The two of them parted at the door, one going one way and the other going the opposite. When she was out of sight, Draco leaned up against the wall and cursed himself.
"What have I done?"
Author's note: I hope you enjoyed this fic. I love this piece and decided it was time for Draco to play it. As you know, none of these characters or Beethoven's Midnight Sonata are mine. Please R&R!!!