Chapter Text
It was rather bright that morning, and Draco despised it. After the night before, he really didn’t think he could handle that stupid flaming ball hovering portentously in the sky, let alone the maddening cacophony known as his workplace. He was tempted to call in sick today, but that was a rather atypical thing to do. Grudgingly, whilst cursing his father to the high heavens, Draco took 20 minutes to get ready for work, excluding the time it took him to apply makeup and remove his piercings (all 14 visible ones). At 7:30 approximately, Draco finally left his upscale apartment.
He drove his car - motorcycles were for travelling at night - easily avoiding the morning traffic. In central London, traffic was a complete and utter bitch most of the time, but Draco usually had the best of luck with these things. He made it to his office building with 10 minutes to spare - despite his usual ease with daytime congestion, all the stoplights on the way here had decided to all be red - and signed in. Millicent ‘Call-me-Millie’ Bulstrode was at the reception desk, so he gave her a small smile as he collected his daily schedule from her. Millie was in the same school house as him, so she oft believed that her relationship with him was more important than her relationship with other members of staff that may have been in a separate house at Hogwarts. He despised how Hogwarts House politics remained embedded in some people, and he especially resented the posturing he had to put up here. He sighed, glancing at his schedule. He had a meeting today with one of the directors of another company about a possible partnership deal, which meant he would have to work exclusively with him all day.
After catching the elevator to his floor, he marched briskly to his office, a trademark sneer stamped on his features. His posture straightened and he took on a haughty exterior. He was Draco Malfoy - son of Lucius Malfoy, head and founder of Axabrax Corporations. He was a pureblood. All these people were beneath him. Admittedly, Draco really wished he could be home. Sleep sounded incredible at that moment, and he just wanted to blast some music out his speakers. Alas, the horrified looks of his fellow workmates would cause enough problems for him if he did. He certainly didn’t want them finding out his secret. Upon entering his office, he toppled onto the couch by the door. He had only been here for less than ten minutes, and he already wanted to leave.
“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. At that moment, the door to his office burst open and he strode in - Harry Potter, the bane of his natural existence.
“Malfoy, get the fuck up. We have work to do.” Draco snarled at him.
“What in the world, Potter? Can’t you knock first?”
Potter’s expression was blank. “No.”
Draco rolled his eyes. He and Potter had this rivalry since their first year of Hogwarts, where Harry refused Draco’s offer of friendship instead going off with Granger and the Weasel. Currently, he couldn’t say anything bad about Granger for certain reasons, but he could still insult the ridiculous excuse for a pureblood that was Ronald Weasley. Potter was one of several people that still hadn’t gotten over their secondary school years, which jointly saddened and aggravated Draco - Hogwarts had lost all relevance to him the day it finished. It was also the day he got his first piercing - in his eyebrow, but that was another story.
Potter glared down at Draco, who was lying on his couch. “Get up Malfoy, before the Toad comes.”
“You mean -”
“Yes, you asshat. Her. Now move. We’ve got shit to do.” Potter turned and walked out of the office. Draco sagged lower into his couch, wishing to die. The company manager that he was meeting with was Dolores Umbridge, a despicable woman whose overall appearance reminded one of a toad. She was the one thing he and Potter could agree on. He scowled. Why did the company have to send Umbridge? They had other, less amphibian, more tolerable people working as directors. Why her? Pulling himself up, he rubbed at his face wearily. He truly hated his job and he knew that any moment now Potter would -
“Malfoy! Hurry the fuck up!”
There it was. This was going to be a long day.
***
The meeting with Umbridge was terrible; despite obtaining the partnership agreement, the Toad was relentless in trying to piss the two of them off. It got to the point where Potter and Draco had each planned to commit either homicide or suicide. Draco didn’t give two shits as to which option would eventually be chosen. Luckily, the meeting finished before either Draco or Potter got arrested or they managed to take their own lives.
Stressed out and in desperate need of a break, Draco grabbed his iPod, earphones and wallet, and vacated the premises as fast as he could for lunch. Potter didn’t even make a comment about his position in the company.
As soon as he stepped outside the building, he let out a breath of relief - a sense of freedom pouring over him in waves. He loosened his tie, and rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing the tattoos on his arms. Draco then tousled his hair and adopted a slight slouch, as opposed to the stiff conceited disposition he was forced to appropriate. Plugging in his earphones, becoming absorbed by the music, and cranking up the volume, Draco travelled down the main street, contemplating where to eat. He had no particular preference in mind until Granger called him, asking to meet at Pavlov’s - an urbane bistro that Draco and his friends frequented. It wasn’t a place where people asked questions; with the growing reputation of the band, it was a relief to find a place where he wouldn’t be bothered. Upon entering the building, around ten minutes after Granger contacted him, he located her in a private booth, vanilla chai latte in hand, sipping demurely, in sharp contrast to her personality, which amused him.
“Draco darling!” she exulted as she saw him, smiling. Granger was always so good to him. She was one of the few people he knew who had let go of secondary school completely, which he was eternally grateful for; He deeply regretted all the distress he caused her at Hogwarts because of her status as a ‘mudblood’ or, in more polite terms, a scholarship student.
“‘Lo Granger.”
“It’s Hermione, Draco, You’ve known me too long to call me that. It makes me sound like a male.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said that you weren’t going to let gender associated labels affect you.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Whatever, Dray. Now sit down.” He pouted at her shortening of his name.
“What did you want to see me for, Hermione?”
“That’s better. And it’s about tonight’s gig.”
“Ah.”
Hermione was the manager of Draco’s band. It was a rather impetuous role for the smartest girl at Hogwarts College of Secondary Education, however, one wouldn’t expect the smartest boy to be the lead singer of a band either. Regardless, here they were.
“I found out that our set list time has been extended by one song, so we need another one.”
“Aw, butt. We haven’t prepared another one though.”
“Just sing one of your older ones. Do a throwback. The fans always love those.”
“‘Kay. From what album then? ‘cause I sure as hell ain’t choosing one now.”
She grinned. “Wilderness. Track 5. ‘Harder Harmonies’.”
“You’re obsessed with that song, aren’t you?”
“Draaay, you know how much I love that song. Plus it’s from one of your best albums."
“That gives me such confidence for our new stuff.”
“Pshaw, Dray. Your new stuff is good. It’s just that ‘Harder Harmonies’ is a personal favourite.”
“Alright, Herms. We’ll sing that one. But you’re telling the guys.”
She smiled and leant forward to kiss his cheek. “Thanks Dray. Now, let’s eat.”
So they continued talking, pausing only to order and eat lunch. Soon it was time for Draco to return to work. Hermione proceeded to help him ‘fix up’ his work clothes, covering his tattoos and neatening up his hair (“Douchifying it more like,” Draco muttered). He returned to his workplace feeling a lot calmer than when he left.
He was free, schedule clear for another half hour or so; but since his allocated lunch time was over, he came back as he should. Potter, however, was surprised to see him.
“You’re back already, Malfoy?”
“Yes. My lunch break ended didn’t it? Why wouldn’t I be back?”
“You don’t have anything for half an hour.”
“I wasn’t going to break the rules, Potter. Why would I do that?”
“Your daddy is company head.”
“My daddy made those rules Potter. I know very well not to break them. We have been over this before, haven’t we?” Potter was speechless after that. Draco sneered at him.
“Wow, Potter. When you’re arguing with me, your arguments sound ridiculously like the Weasel’s.”
“He has a name, Malfoy.”
“So do I, but you don’t use it.”
“We’re in a professional setting.”
“So? I call Millie by her first name, along with Daphne and Cormac and Anthony, among others.”
“They’re all Slytherins, Malfoy.”
“Anthony Goldstein was Ravenclaw, Potter, and you know full well that Cormac McLaggen was Gryffindor. You seem awfully stuck on Hogwarts House politics.”
“And you’re not? That was our life for 7 years. In fact, for some of us, it still affects our futures.”
Draco was stumped by that, but carried on. “Au contraire, dear Potter. Hogwarts stopped mattering to me as soon as McGonagall announced our 7th year to be over.” Potter looked surprised.
“That can’t be true.”
“Ah, but you see, it is. I’d already decided I wanted to do something that no house politics could taint.”
“You’re working here, though.”
Draco’s face hardened, and Potter momentarily halted his verbal assault. “Shit happens, Potter. Doesn’t mean that my ideals have to change with it.”
He straightened his back, and glared down at Potter, who seemed to be at a loss for a response. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Potter, I’ll be in my office organizing some things.” Potter could only nod as Draco walked away.
***
Much to his discomfiture, Draco left work at 5:30. He had wanted to leave by quarter past at the latest, but of course, he had to see his father about something related to the day’s work. Surprisingly, Potter said nothing to him as he left. He was probably still affected by their earlier argument. Draco brushed it off, assuming that Potter would be back to normal on Monday.
Oh, that was right. Today was Friday, which meant he was free for the next sixty hours! Rejoice!
Draco desperately wanted to go home and shed the suit he was wearing. He loathed wearing these suits and didn’t care about the expensiveness and the quality of them. So what if he wore Armani suits to work? He’d be more inclined to buy his clothes from stores like Burton's and Reiss and Cos, and occasionally Hot Topic as opposed to Haute Couture brands.
Hurrying to his car, Draco hopped into the vehicle, a Ferrari F12 Berlinetta, in a silver colour. He had bought it more for decorum than anything else, being the son of one of the biggest business moguls of the generation, but he’d much prefer a 1964 or 1969 Chevy Impala; he liked both equally. His interest in the TV Show where a version of the car was an icon had nothing to do with it.
Driving out of the work carpark, Draco made the reasonable journey home. After arriving he stepped into his apartment, which he adored more than any other material thing he had, even if his father had bought it for him. His father never came here anyway, opting to stay in the family manor, which suited Draco just fine. His father disapproved of current lifestyle, but as long as Draco had a ‘suitable career’, his father refrained from interfering.
Shedding off his clothing, Draco made his way to his bathroom. He got into his shower and turned on the taps, then the waterproof music player he kept there. As he watched the water wash away the makeup on his neck and face, he felt like all of the day’s anxieties were being scrubbed off him. He regarded his arms, with their vivid tattoos. The full sleeve on his left arm was of a highly detailed snake which seemed to move as he twisted his arm. It had taken hours to do, but it had been worth it.
The partial sleeve on his right arm was part of his mother’s favourite poem: the last stanza of the 5th Duino Elegy by Rainer Maria Rilke.
There was a skin rip tattoo on his pelvis that ran from his right mid thigh to just above belly button.
He couldn’t see the Chinese dragon crawling up his back, but if he turned his head to the right, he could see the dragon’s own head peering at him.
It sickened Draco that he had to obscure his tattoos, from everyone at his day job. He detested the fact that he couldn’t wear his piercings to work for fear of not appearing ‘befitting’. There were very few people at his work that knew of his body art: only his father, and Daphne Greengrass, who he had slept with once. He swore her to secrecy after that. Sometimes, though, she looked at him curiously, as if wondering how he could hide his ‘alter ego’ so well.
After getting out of the shower, Draco went into his room so he could find clothes for the gig that night. Concluding on ripped black skinny jeans, a large singlet, and combat boots, he dragged on the clothes and proceeded to put in his piercings. His nipple piercing was a given; it always stayed in, so he payed no attention to it. Contemplating which studs, rings and bars were suitable tonight, Draco decided on 2 stretchers, studs in his 4 cartilage piercings, and rings in his 4 helix ones. He chose a bullring in contrast to a infinity ring for his septum, and rings for his snake bites. Finally, he picked out a silver bar for his eyebrow.
Draco grabbed his bike keys, helmet and riding jacket. Slipping his phone and wallet into his pockets, he locked his front door behind him and headed to his bike. He refused to drive his car to a gig. Firstly, because everyone would figure out who he was, as really, how many people in Central London had a Ferrari F12 Berlinetta the same colour as their eyes? Secondly, he hated appearing ostentatious in front of the band. Although the members knew his background, he didn’t like associating with it when he was with the guys.
So, he took his bike, a jet black Ducati Sports Classic 1000 with gold detailing that he got from his uncle Lucan. He venerated the bike and would definitely sacrifice himself for it.
Mounting his motorcycle and turning the key in ignition, Draco grinned as he felt the vibrations from the engine starting up running through his body. Pushing at the kickstand, he drove off, into the gridlock that was after work traffic, eventually picking up speed and weaving through the lanes of cars on the main streets.
The club the band was playing at, Fringe Oddity, was relatively popular, and several well known bands played there regularly. His band had played there once before, and because of it, and serious networking from Hermione (though he often called her Granger in his head), they’d managed to get several of their songs recorded and released onto first studio album.
He owed a lot to this club.
Bypassing the front and making his way to the performer’s and staff’s car park in the back, Draco parked his bike, setting up the kickstand, then retrieved his phone for the time. 8:00pm. He had 15 minutes til soundcheck.
Getting through the back door was something of a trial, but luckily, he texted Granger, who sent Argent, the band’s drummer, to let him in.
“On time, aren’t we, Luc?”
“Whatever ‘Gent. I had work.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Argent waved him off.
“Just get to the green room. Stage is already set up.”
“You get the info on the song addition?”
“Yeah. Mione’s fave song.”
Draco smiled. “You guys are great.” Argent merely shrugged and walked off, leaving Draco to follow behind.
Upon reaching the green room, he noticed the whole band was already there. There was Argent, obviously, as he had led Draco there. Argent Philips was a stoically silent man, who only displayed any form of passion when he was onstage drumming, and even then, it was minimal. The bassist, Colby Kerrington, was a rail thin, half Korean, half English boy who looked barely out of high school, even though he was the oldest out of all of them. Colby was ridiculously pretty, with large eyes and high cheekbones. The only thing obviously masculine about his overall androgynous appearance was his comparatively deep voice.
Rhys Gwynn was their Welsh rhythm guitarist who sang as well as he played, so he often sang back up. In fact, several of their songs on their new album were sung by Rhys. Xavier Bordelle was the person who got him to join the band in the first place. Xavier, also having a day job, had helped Draco figure out how to balance that out with the band’s activities. Xavier was also the first man Draco loved, though now that love had faded, to be replaced by friendship.
Hermione was in a corner, whispering savagely into her phone. Apparently the Weasel was calling, to ask if he could ‘hangout’ that night, with himself and Potter, but since she had work, she was unable to.
As Draco set his jacket, helmet, phone and wallet down and greeted the band, he heard Hermione inhale. “How dare you even suggest something like that, Ronald Weasley!?”
Colby and Draco sniggered, while Argent, Rhys and Xavier rolled their eyes.
“He said it, didn’t he?”
Colby grinned out. “Of course the Weasel did. You’d seriously think that after thirteen years of knowing each other he’d learn better,”
Draco replied. “Well, obviously he hasn’t.”
“Hmm.”
Hermione hung up the phone harshly. “The nerve of some people! Do you know what Ronald asked me to do?” she exclaimed. The acrimony was potent in her voice. “He asked me to ditch work! How dare he!?!”
Colby and Draco let out gasps of shock. “He didn’t!” Colby appeared to look horrified at the thought, while Draco attempted to have an appearance of gravity, though he ultimately failed.
Hermione pouted. “Come off it, Gwon Chong Kwang. I can’t deal with your sass right now.”
“Oooh, she full named you!”
“Shut the fuck up, Lucien. Or, should I say, Draco.”
“Touché.”
Hermione scoffed at their antics. “Alright, guys. This is the first of a long list of gigs we have planned over the next few months. Let’s start this off on a good note. Our next show is on Sunday, and we also have an interview this week with a photo shoot next week.” She paused to take a breath. “Okay, your songlist tonight has nine songs. You will be starting with ‘Radiate’, your mid song is ‘No Good’, and you finish with ‘Harder Harmonies’. Got that?”
They all nodded in confirmation. “Well then, boys. On with the show!”
The five of them began their progression to the stage, where they could hear the crowd cheering for them. While the opener was good in their own right, many had come for Draco and the band. Reaching the stage, all they could hear were shouts and screams of “Me to You! From Me to You!” and as they stepped out, the screams became louder.
“Oh my God, it’s starting!”
“Look at Xavier! He’s so handsome!”
“Colby is gorgeous.”
“Rhys~.”
“Argent! Argent!”
But mostly: “Lucien! It’s Lucien Draconis!”
Despite being the opposite of a boy band, their ‘fangirls’ made it seem like one, and his polite smiles towards them only hid his inexplicable urge to maim each of them every time he heard their shrill screams. Luckily, those were soon drowned out by the shouts of the ones actually here for the music, as opposed to the futile attempts of those who desired to get into one of the utterly disinterested band member’s trousers.
As the band began tuning, Draco commenced switching to his ‘alter ego’. On stage, he was Lucien Draconis, lead singer of the band ‘(Messages) From Me to You’ Draco Malfoy did not exist here. He had no place here.This was Lucien’s territory.
With ‘Draco’ locked away inside him, Lucien grinned salaciously at the audience. Some of the girls were going weak at the knees from it. Lucien picked up the mike from the ground beside him, tapping it lightly. He caught the amplification of it through the speakers.
He brought the microphone to his lips, and began to speak. “Hello, we’re From Me To You.”
The crowd howled in anticipation. “Thanks for coming out tonight. We’re going to be starting with ‘Radiate’ from ‘Wilderness’.” Lucien nodded at Argent, who proceeded to count them in.
“One, two, one, two, three, four.” Xavier started the riff, prompting Lucien and the rest of the band to begin.
To take away our expression Is to impoverish our existence
Lucien began to jump and dance around onstage, prompting the crowd to start dancing as well.
Oi! Yeah, kick it. Yeah.
Lucien slid to the front of the stage, bringing the mike closer to his chest. The intensity of the riff increased, and so did the tempo.
It's insatiable; What we're waiting for
So to keep us from falling apart
We'll write songs in the dark
And to keep us from fading away
We'll write for a better day
Lucien started headbanging in time with the beat. He really loved this song, and he loved writing it. He curled slightly around the mike, facing the crowd, as the chorus repeated.
So to keep us from falling apart
We'll write songs in the dark
And to keep us from fading away
We'll write…
At the last line, Lucien backed up a bit, then threw himself forward, screaming the next verse.
IT WILL FLOURISH, IT WILL THRIVE
IT WILL NOURISH;
A SPRING CLEANING OF THE MIND
IT WILL FLOURISH, IT WILL THRIVE
To take away our expression
Is to impoverish our existence
At that line, Lucien began dancing again, joining in with the crowd. He started singing again while dancing.
They silence and censor
Our right to create
In cells we choke,
Without what is innate
The tempo slowed and Lucien paused in his dancing. He walked back to the stage, where he sat at the edge and softly sang the next two verses.
So to keep us from falling apart
We'll write songs in the dark
And to stop us from fading away
We'll write for a better day
This vomiting anguish and eruption of the soul
To radiate energy to comfort and console
To scatter our thoughts, to splatter our spirit
A blizzard of fire with all we transmit
The tempo began to build again, so Lucien came to a crouching stance, repeating the chorus.
So to keep us from falling apart
We'll write songs in the dark
And to stop us from fading away
We'll write for a better day
The drums came in again, and Lucien grinned at the crowd, reaching out his hand to them as he sang the chorus once more.
So to keep us from falling apart
We'll write songs in the dark
And to stop us from fading away
We'll write for a better…
The beat paused momentarily then started again. Lucien threw himself into the air, away from the edge of the stage, frantically jumping in time to the beat.
So to keep us from falling apart
We'll write songs in the dark
And to keep us from fading away
We'll write for a better day
So to keep us from falling apart
We'll write songs in the dark
And to keep us from fading away
We'll write…
He stretched out his free hand once again towards the crowd as he sang the bridge, Rhys joining in as back up.
It's insatiable;
What we're waiting for (Woah-oh)
It's insatiable;
What we're waiting for (Woah-oh)
It's insatiable;
What we're waiting for (Woah-oh)
It's insatiable;
What we're waiting for…
Lucien screamed out the next verse.
IT WILL FLOURISH, IT WILL THRIVE
IT WILL NOURISH;
A SPRING CLEANING OF THE MIND
IT WILL FLOURISH, IT WILL THRIVE
Yeah!
The ‘Yeah!’ signalled only a minute was left of the song, so Lucien made the ‘1 minute’ signal to the band before singing the bridge for the last time.
It's insatiable;
What we're waiting for (Woah-oh)
It's insatiable;
What we're waiting for (Woah-oh)
As Rhys repeatedly sang the bridge, Lucien’s dancing became a bit more exaggerated, but that was because he was finishing the song.
So to keep us from falling apart
We'll write songs in the dark
And to keep us from fading away
We'll write for a better day
The tempo slowed down for the final time. Lucien stopped dancing and looked out into the crowd, staring past them into the proverbial distance.
So to keep us from falling apart
We'll write songs in the dark
And to stop us from fading away
We'll write for a better day
Lucien finished the song, while Rhys kept singing in the background.
Ooooh, oooh, oooh
Ooooh, oooh, oooh
The bass finished, finally ending the song. The crowd cheered and the atmosphere in the room was charged. From the corner of his eye, Lucien saw Hermione grinning at them offstage. He smirked. So far, From Me to You’s set was going astoundingly.
***
Where's your respect?
And didn't your father teach you anything before he left?
I'm not coming back, oh no, I'm not coming back, not coming back
Lucien loved singing ‘No Good’. It was so short, but it’s rhythm and message punched you in the gut. Rhys was the one who actually wrote the song, which surprised Lucien when read the lyrics. The song was obviously about someone messing with you for their gain, screwing you up and making you feel worthless and undeserving of appreciation. Lucien often wondered who fucked with the rhythm guitarist, but he never asked. Instead, he had asked Rhys if he wanted to sing it. The Welshman had declined, saying he wrote it with Lucien singing it in mind. So Lucien did.
It's people just like you
Who made me the pessimist I am
I'm lower than the dirt
With no roots left to find
It's nice to know I wasn't worth the seven digit let down
I was left out in the cold
Lucien could relate to this song as well - thoughts of a past relationship with someone from Hogwarts came to mind.They fucked with him so much for years, and when they didn’t need him anymore, they left him.
Lucien found out they were living in Canada practically a year after they were gone, and even then, it was only through a mutual acquaintance that he found out. To be honest, Lucien had some fault in it as well. He’d known he was being messed with, yet had done nothing. Perhaps he’d thought that they would - could - change, but he’d still kept himself in the same place. He guessed that was why his favourite line of this song was:
I'm no good - you're no better.
This song spoke of accepting responsibility for your actions, as much as placing blame, so Lucien hoped their enraptured audience caught the meaning behind the song. He belted out the last lines of ‘No Good’, ending their mid-set song.
Don't point your unloaded gun at my head ever again.
Don't point your unloaded gun at my head, 'cause I'll pull the trigger.
***
It was their last song, and Lucien buzzed on the high that he gained from performances. A disconcerting guitar riff started to play, and Lucien knew from the faint squeal offstage that ‘Harder Harmonies’ was beginning. The riff was joined by Argent on the drums, which gave Lucien his cue to start singing
Like a shadow on a shadow, a phantom in a film strip,
Faint glimmer of the past trapped in mother's old slides,
Sits still in the apartment while sifting through some pictures
Of the child that he once was and the sense of hope they framed.
"It's a shame,"
And I fear that fate while the humming from the street keeps me awake,
This song was personal to Lucien. He’d written it when he was going through a difficult time, a little bit after university when the band started gaining notoriety. It had also been when he received a promotion in his job, giving him more responsibility within the company. Everything had seemed to be going well, but it wasn’t.
He says, "I let life get twisted.
Get worn out, torn up, and late with the rent. And
Now nothing makes sense except the bench and that piano,
A feeling nearing order when I'm pressing down the chords."
And he plays,
And it swells and breaks, but what'll it take to make my life sound like that.
While Lucien sang out to the crowd, he thought about the audience and wondered if this song was as synonymous with their lives as it was with his. His life had been so messed up for so long. If his dad hadn’t bought his apartment and paid for utilities, Lucien would probably have been homeless; that’s how shitty his life had been.
And brings a fever, a dream of sweat and ecstasy.
A kiss on every hammer hit that follows as the keys fall down and
Bring an order first, then chaos, then a calm, that
Paints every shift in murals on the wall. And
It presses to your neck,
It clutches to your hips,
Softly sings to you of fireworks and God and art and sex and it's strange-
That it feels so right when nothing else does.
Lucien asphyxiated himself with music to distract himself from going insane. During work holidays, he would lock himself away for days on end, playing his instruments, singing. Lucien occasionally thought, when he looked back, that it was most likely what had saved him.
But all the while he's playing there's a humming
Coming up and through the window from outside.
And even he has to admit a certain melody in it, but then why can't he harmonize?
It's like the city's got it's own song but he can't play along.
He sees the notes as they fly by but always plays them wrong.
And in the bathroom it gets blurry, gets warm and distorted,
Like light pushed the orange of the pillbox he poured in
His palm. It falls to the floor, he smiles as it hits,
"Sounds a little like an instrument."
Lucien had never gone as far as trying to kill himself, but he’d thought about it. He’d been trying so hard to fit into this damned city, but it was just so friggin’ difficult. Many times he felt like he was walking in a line, and everyone else but him was stepping in time to a melody he just couldn’t quite catch, and he kept tripping and misstepping.
Like a voice in the choir, that hum and that drumbeat of life as an art-form and
Fire through the streets that keep moving us in silence to phantom baton sweeps,
Keep tapping to the tempo of our feet.
And all the ones who seem to fit the best into the chorus never notice there's a song
And the ones who seem to hear it end up tortured by the chords when they fail to find
A way to sing along.
For a long time, Lucien felt as if everyone in the city had some connection with each other, everyone, except Lucien and the other guys in From Me to You. Everyone went to the same secondary school. Everyone still hung out with the same people from their school houses, choosing to stick with age old stereotypes and prejudices which were ingrained into their attitudes.
And when you sing the wrong thing it all starts collapsing.
Starts to ring out and feedback, starts lapsing and crashing, on notes that don't clash
But that never quite feel like they match.
And I never quite feel like mine match.
Lucien was so scared that his co-workers would find out his secret - this part of him that could potentially shatter the well constructed image he’d given them. The spoiled daddy’s boy who got whatever he wanted. He was fine with that image, and although it wasn’t his true self, he’d been protected by it for a long time. He tried so desperately hard to conceal the part of him that he was only willing to show to a select few. But sometimes, just sometimes, thought that he could never truly hide it.
There's a melody in everything,
I'm trying to find a harmony but
Nothing seems to work,
Nothing seems to fit.
This song fit him, and he knew why it was Hermione’s favourite. It related to her as well, possibly almost as much as it did to himself
There's a melody in everything,
I'm trying to find a harmony but
Nothing seems to work,
Nothing seems to fit.
It meant something to the band, to the audience, their fans, to every person out there who got fucked over by their minds. That’s why Lucien sang so passionately, why he danced so fervently. He was trying to get these messages that he had inside of him from himself to the ones who could never understand.
There's a melody in everything,
I'm trying to find a harmony but
Nothing seems to work,
Nothing fits.
***
With that last word, the song, and their act, came to an end.
The crowd screamed, and as he smiled tiredly at them, Draco came to the forefront, sending Lucien back to the recesses of his mind. “Thank you for coming out tonight to see us and support us. We’re ‘From Me to You’, and we hope to see you again.” The crowd cheered one last time, and began to dissipate and drift off, a post-performance buzz wrapping around everyone.
He and the band walked off stage, stalled by several fans who wanted to obtain an autograph. Draco happily obliged. He understood what it meant to meet and talk to someone you admire in person. He and the band also posed for some photos, so it took them a bit longer to get back to the green room. Hermione was there to greet them.
“You were great out there tonight, guys! Especially in your final song. Truly inspired.”
Colby smirked as he rummaged in his bag for blister tape and Friar’s Balsam. “Yeah, yeah, Hermy. Laying the praise a bit thick there, aren’t we?”
Blushing slightly, she said “I’m just glad you guys sang my favourite song. I really appreciate it.” She smiled, and they all felt the warmness of it seep through into their chests. Perhaps because of that, her next statement didn’t sink in for a while.
“Let’s hope that tomorrow’s gig is just as energetic as this one!”
“... Aw crap.”
***
It was Monday morning again after a hectic weekend and Draco was completely shattered. To make matters worse, it was raining - no, pouring, and the underground carpark was full so he had to park in the open air carpark. Along the trek to the office, Draco would curse the fact that even as the head of the company’s son, he didn’t get the privilege of reserved parking. His umbrella had just barely kept him dry, ugh.
If it wasn’t for the fact that he hated exploitation, his father would definitely be hearing about this.
He yawned, collected his timetable from the receptionist, and got into the elevator. He removed his coat and scarf from around his neck and carried them into his office, where he hung them up on his coat rack. There was a recently dry cleaned suit spread across his couch, as well as a towel.
Praise the Lord for small mercies.
He sat behind his desk and stretched, trying to wake up. He was contemplating going to the staff kitchen to make a strong cup of tea, or even coffee. It was then Potter walked in.
“Oh, good morning Potter. Have a nice weekend?”
Potter sneered slightly and shrugged. “Yeah, I had fun - not that you’d care.”
“Really Potter? Please don’t start, not this early.”
“Whatever, Malfoy. You know hats are against work policy.”
He sighed, regarding Potter, then pulled off the beanie which had kept his hair partially dry. Draco rubbed at his eyes and pushed back his hair from his face, revealing a silver bar going through his right eyebrow. Now, Draco did not intentionally leave the bar in. He’d purposely removed his other facial ones, but, he’d had his eyebrow piercing the longest and often forgot about it when he checked to make sure there were no piercings still in. It hadn’t been his intention to leave it in, but between his rush this morning and his fatigue, it couldn’t be helped.
Neither could the ensuing reaction.
“Oh my God, Malfoy. You have an eyebrow piercing?!” Draco’s eyes widened. Oh, shit. He didn’t, didn’t he? He reached up to touch his eyebrow, and sure enough, he felt the cool metal of the silver bar.
Fuck.
“How drunk did you get to let that happen… wait.” Draco looked up at Potter, who seemed frozen in shock. “That piercing isn’t recent. You’ve had it for months! Oh my lord, how did I not notice?” “Perhaps it was because I didn’t want you to see it.” “Wait, was it a mistake or something?” Draco shook his head. “When did you get it?”
Draco sighed, He presumed that he could tell Potter this much. “I got it the day we left Hogwarts.”
“Since Hogwarts! Oh my fucking God, that’s more than 6 years! You’ve had a bar through your eyebrow for more than 6 years!”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, Potter. Now, if you’ll shut up about it, we can forget about it, and you’ll never see it again.”
Potter shook his head, dazed. “Alright, Malfoy. I won’t talk about it.”
Potter then walked out of Draco’s office, scratching his head in confusion and disbelief. Draco sighed. That tiny slip up had nearly cost him his secrecy. But now it was over for good. Though really, Draco should never have brushed it off that Potter knew about the piercing.
He really shouldn’t have.
***