'How long, how long will I slide

I separate my side

I don't, I don't believe it's bad

Slid my throat is all I ever...'



Otherside, RHCP





I am an evil person, too proud to possess a demented mind. And I have no goddamn consciousness. So my demented mind likes producing morbid and deviating. These things make me laugh - morbid things, deviated things.



Advocating: characters in the story bellow are mostly not mine, but borrowed and deviated to fit to my deviated mind. Thank you.



________________________________________________________________



Draco has just finished his fourth grade at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with not so good marks as he was expected to. His father was pretty mad at him and Draco hesitated to talk to him and ask him for a Firebolt he was promised. Of course, when his father promised him that, he expected his son to have an average more than 90%. Draco indeed had just 64%.

Draco was sitting in front of his harpsichord, in one of their living rooms. That living room was different of the rest of the living rooms in the house and the rest of the house indeed. The Malfoy Manor was cold and dark Gothic built house, with mediaeval ornaments and sacred karma. When you would come inside, you could feel all coldness inside and smell of essence.

The room Draco was in was different in lots of things. Its rich baroque style, with metal ornaments on furniture in gold colour. The harpsichord was old but the angels were painted on the inner side of the lid.

Draco stared at manuscripts and mumbled just for himself: -"Stupid Beethoven, stupid Beethoven, idiot, how could he write such a hard crap … this is hard". He was having problem with seventeenth bar of the second movement, of a piano sonata. Draco was a really good pianist, but his cousin was thousand times better. Draco still remembered last summer, when he was over his house and how his cousin played this very piece with no mistake. Even if in Beethoven's time, harpsichords were already out of use, but Draco preferred practising on one of them.

He tried to do this hard part and after middle c, went next c' sharp, but his finger slipped and he played natural c'. That was enough for him. He could not bear it anymore. He grabbed the scores that were just lightly connected with colourful thick thread and threw them over the instrument. Hundreds and hundreds of papers filled with notes spread over the yellowish carpet. Draco just scrawled having no intention to get this back himself.

-"Training for the Olympics? I don't think they have Score Throwing discipline? Well at least not yet. But when they see how good you are they will probably have to make it" – Draco heard familiar, ears scratching voice. He turned around to see his cousin standing on the door threshold, idly. He looked as tough he was there already for hours, looking and laughing at Draco.

-"No, I am just showing that idiot, Ludwig van Beethoven, what are his scores worth for. They should use them to wipe floor, not to provoke people" – Draco was calming himself down, from not taking the wand out and killing his cousin, as he turned around to face him. His cousin, André, was a year older than him, but he was taller and better looking than him. They had identical blond hair and grey eyes, even pointed face, but they did not seem as a replica of another one.

-"Do not insult Beethoven" – André moved over the room, stepping on the scores, towards the shelf. The shelf was full with score books. –"J. S. Bach, J. S. Bach, J. S. Bach, everything is him? Do you have scores of anyone else?" – André read the titles of scores, than sarcastically turned to Draco.

-"Well, as you see, I just have those ones. I don't care for anyone else than Johann Sebastian Bach." – Draco snapped. That was true. He did listen to other composers, but he truly thought that the best one was Johann Sebastian Bach.

-"I see." – André drawled mockingly.

-"André, it is time for your piano lesson" – a tall woman with black hair appeared at the doorway, wearing expensive, but ugly robes.

-"I'm coming, Mother" – André replayed crossing the room, and once again stepping on the scores. Draco was happy that André is going to exit the room, but this meant just one thing: André has come to the Malfoy Manor to stay over the summer.

André, just before he exited the room, drew a dirty look over Draco. His mother did the same.

-"Bastards…" – Draco swore silently. They still could hear him but he did not really care. He just sat back for his harpsichord and started playing piano transcription of Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 3.



Draco had to wait until his father came home and to start complaining to him about André. No one else would listen to him. Actually he had no one else. He was not close to his mother at all, only his father. Draco waited for him in his study. He was sure he will have to come in there. He always does, at least.

It was about eleven o'clock when his father came back. He looked tired and needed some sleep. When he saw Draco everything was clear to him.

-"André is staying and that is not on you to decide" – Lucius sighed. He did not have any energy to fight with his son now. It was clear to him how much his son hates André but he could not do anything about that.

-"But father, he will ruin my whole holidays" – Draco jumped from the comfortable leather chair he was sitting in.

-"I know, I don't like him, neither his mother much. You know that their father is dead and we have to invite them over sometimes" – Lucius frowned putting down some stuff he had in his hands.

-"Like they would call me if my father was dead" – Draco snapped bitterly through his teeth. Unfortunately Lucius was not supposed to hear this, but he did.

-"What did you say?" – his eyes narrowed and his voice got its dangerous tone.

-"Nothing, I was just cursing André" – Draco knew his father heard him when he mention him dead and he was scared.

-"You talked about me, as I was dead" – Lucius snarled.

-"No, I was just…." SMACK, Lucius slapped him son. Draco got outside, and went into his room where he could cry silently. After this, he knew he shall have terrible summer. His father was now really mad at him. First, his overall marks. He was smart kid, but he did not really study much. And now telling his father how would it be if him, Lucius, would be dead.



Next morning, for breakfast, Draco came last. Everyone looked at him while he walked across the dining room. It was enormous. It reminded Draco on a church itself, because of the big windows with pictures of saints in it. Draco knew all of them. From right to left it went this way: Saint Michael, Saint Nicholas, Saint Cecilia and Saint Abraham, than in the middle, on the biggest window, Saint Matthew, Saint John, Saint Melanie, and Saint Barbara. Under his black shoes, Draco felt sanguine red expensive carpet. When he finally sat for the table, everyone greeted him with loathing stare. André hated Draco; André's mother, Liana also did; Lucius was mad at him; and Narcissa did not even have right to look at her own son.

-"I must say, even if this sounds bad, or maybe not nice to young Draco, who cannot even play some easy Beethoven piece, that I learned to play Marko Tajcevic's Seven Balkan dances." – André sneered across the table to Draco. Draco looked at his father but when he saw his acid face expression he wished he did not look at him at all.

-"Good for you" – Draco snapped, burying his head in his plate.

-"I know that. What do you know how to play Draco? A scale?" – André started provoking Draco on purpose. Now he knew how Harry Potter felt when he did those kinds of things to him.

-"No, but I can play Goldberg Variations" – Draco answered ashamed; because it was only hard piece he knew how to play. He could not even play Händel's largo which was much easier, but he gave effort to learn Bach's piece.

-"Let me guess, Johann Sebastian Bach composed that?" – André went too far now, Lucius had to interact.

-"André, why don't you play Goldberg Variations, when they are so easy" – he sneered, defending his son.

André gulped and got up from his chair, going to the grand piano on the other side of the dining room. Lucius was looking at him smirking all the time broadly. Draco was doing the same, but when his father looked at him sharply, showing him that he is still mad at him, he was not that happy anymore. Liana looked concerned for his son. She was going with a hand through her short hair.

André opened the lid and sat for the piano. Just as he sat down he tried to play first accord but it was impossible. The chord was wrong.

-"Draco, why don't you go and show him what to do it?" – Lucius sneered sarcastically, letting André's mother sink deep in her son's humiliation.

Draco stood up from his chair and imperially walked to the piano basically kicking André away from the chair, sitting down, taking his silver watch off his hand and starting to play. First, he played the aria, from the other piece, on which all twenty nine variations were based. Than, he did not really bother to play it all. He knew that his father might be late if he had to sit there all the time listening to the entire piece because he did not dare to embarrass his son by leaving. Draco just played ninth, eleventh, fourteenth, and twenty second -- his favourite ones.

When he finished, he bowed, as Liana and André were forced to clap. Lucius was mad at him, but he was proud at the same time.



Over next few weeks, his cousin always pissed off Draco. He was running away and hiding in his house, at places he never thought there were in his house. Lucius was still pretty mad at him, but he started to relax about what Draco's marks and what he said that night.

It was fine until there wasn't a party at friends' of Malfoys house. They were really famous and rich Pureblood family, not as nearly as Malfoys and it was their turn to make some gathering because they did not have it for last several years. Draco was not especially excited about that. Indeed, he never liked those kinds of thing, just like his father; but thing that was really bugging him was that André and his mother had to go with them, too. Harry Potter and his friends would be there, of course. Draco did not really want Harry to know about André because that would give Harry material to laugh at him, for the rest of his life.

The day when they had to go, and they were just getting ready, Lucius finally spoke to Draco. Draco was already ready and he was in the hall, standing nervously in front of the mirror, fixing his hair. His hair was pretty untidy hair but he would spend lots of time combing it, and putting all those things on it. Now he did the thing that had lots of efficiency but was kind of nasty. He would lick his hand, or even more accurate is to say that he would spit on his hand, and than use spit to fix his hair.

He was standing in front of the mirror, in his black robes, doing his thing, when Lucius came from behind and slapped him on his hands, in manner 'do not do that'.

Draco was surprised cause his father did this, but bit his lip, and rubbed his left hand, which was hit. He turned around, to find his father wearing totally the same robes he was wearing.

-"I was just…"

-"I asked you nothing. I just want to tell you to behave at Beaumachais' house" – Lucius said looking at his son.

-"Tell that to little wunderkind, the one that thinks that is little Mozart" – Draco sneered, but concern and jealousy was clear his voice.

-"Just don't go where he is going at the party and go and change robes, please" – Lucius said in easy tone.

Draco turned to go but he felt his father's hand on his shoulder, turning him around to him. Lucius took his own hand and spat on it. Than he fixed the spike of Draco's hair he was having troubles with. Draco stared at him like a moron.



With his hair completely done Draco looked really good. At the party, everyone immediately turned their attention on Draco's prodigious cousin. Draco wanted to sink into the ground very low. Just as he started taunting Harry, Ron, and Hermione, André embarrassed him.

-"Look at Potter and his faithful sidekick, the Weasel, with their little brainiac acquitant, Granger." – Draco sneered proudly coming closer to Harry Potter. He was laughing at Ron's old robes. Those ones did not have laces or anything that embarrassing. They were nice navy blue robes indeed, but they were so old that it was dangerous to put them on. They could split every second. Hermione was wearing nice lilac dress with flowers on the sleeves, while Harry had just ordinary black robes. Draco's black robes were much more expensive and they had gold edges. His previous ones, the ones like his father is wearing now, were also black, but they had line in the middle that was cardinal red.

-"At least we are not snobs, like you Malfoy" – Harry snapped on his opponent. Ron and Hermione stayed on Harry's side, having menacing face.

-"I am not a snob…" – Draco started, but his worst dream, André interrupted him.

-"We know Draco, but now, if you please could quit your conversation, with your friend and come and listen to me play Goldberg Variations in front of everyone" – André sneered maliciously, his mom sneering behind him, having one hand on his shoulder.

Draco wanted to die. André, playing Goldberg Variations? He was the one that played it the best. Of course, André was mad at Draco for being ashamed for not knowing how to play them and he sat down and learned them. So now he was showing off.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were quite surprised by what just happened. They never saw Draco be so mad at someone, as they watched and listened André playing it. It was wonderful piece, but André was such a good pianist that it was striking. They watched Draco, standing beside his father, sinking, and calming himself down.

When the complete piece was over, Harry noticed that Draco was not there anymore.



It was over for him. Draco could not stand André anymore. Tonight he will have to do what he was intending to do all those years. He knew his father would not be so mad at him for killing André because he killed people himself and it was just something ordinary for him.

Draco waited silently in the hall until everyone was back, behind the sculpture of some guy. He knew André will have to go to get drink before he goes to bed. At least he always does that.

At one o'clock, Draco finally heard steps. He saw his cousin going through the hall, chanting Goldberg Variations in his head. He slowly followed him, until the stairs. He was intending to push him off. That would work well because he would do that from behind, and André would not see him, and he shall have time to run away. He did that.

When André started rolling down the marble stairs Draco run off to his room. When he reached his floor, he run quickly into his room and dropped onto his bed, facing the puffy covers. His bed was soft and he was tired, so he fell asleep immediately.



Draco sleepily opened his left eye finding that he was in his bed, though not changed in pyjama, his shoes off, covered. Than his sight unblured and he saw his father, idly sitting beside his bed and his arm under his chin.

-"You are finally awake" – Lucius yawned. He looked tired. Like he spend whole night working. He had his ordinary black robes with white collar on.

-"How come I am in my bed?" – Draco asked, raising a little and rubbing his still tired eyes.

-"I came and took your shoes off and placed you in. Of course, I did that after André's mother panicked that his son felt down the stairs." – Lucius looked thoughtfully at his son. Draco gasped, pretending like he is surprised for what happened to André. –"But I knew he did not fall down the stairs. You Draco pushed him down. Is that true?"

Draco could not lie. His father knew what he did. Even if he laid his best, Lucius would still know. He would perhaps get so mad at Draco that he would punish him.

Draco just nodded his head. He did not have strength to talk.

-"Draco, I am ashamed of you?" – Lucius snapped, standing up.

-"But father, I didn't want to. He just pissed me off so much, I just had to do it" – Draco jumped up from his bed and started pulling his father for his robes.

-"It's not that, you imbecile" – Lucius pulled his robes. –"I am mad at you, because you, as my son, could not even kill properly.

Lucius went outside the room, slamming the doors.

Draco did not success to kill André. He just broke his hand and André was unabled to play piano for rest of his life. After, Lucius kind of forgive Draco, and Draco was happy, because he was the most talented kid in the family. He was special.



________________________________________________________________



'Kyrie eleison

Christe eleison

Kyrie eleison'