The Malfoy manor was eerily quiet, the vast halls blanketed in the kind of stillness that made every creak of the old floorboards echo like thunder. You had been given one of the many lavish guest rooms, its high ceilings and ornate furnishings fit for royalty. But no amount of silk sheets or feather-down pillows could lull you to sleep.

The faint chiming of a clock somewhere in the house signaled midnight as you rose from the bed, your bare feet meeting the cool marble floor. Restlessness tugged at you, and so, wrapping yourself in a soft blanket, you wandered the dim corridors, letting the faint glow of the moonlight guide your steps.

Eventually, you heard it—a soft, melody drifting through the silence, carried by the delicate notes of a piano. The sound pulled you in like a moth to a flame, leading you to the grand drawing room. There, seated at the grand piano, was Draco. His head was bowed, his silvery hair catching the faint moonlight, and his fingers moved effortlessly across the keys.

He looked up as you entered, his pale eyes meeting yours in the dim light. “Can’t sleep?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You crossed the room to sit beside him on the piano bench, the warmth of your blanket contrasting the chill in the air. “This song…” he began, his fingers continuing to glide over the keys. “It’s a Black family secret. My mother used to sing it to me when I couldn’t sleep as a boy. It’s not written anywhere—it lives only in memory. A tradition of sorts.”

His hands slowed, the melody becoming softer, more intimate. “I wasn’t supposed to learn it. But…” He hesitated, his lips quirking into a faint, almost rueful smile. He glanced at you briefly, his expression uncharacteristically tender. “I haven’t played it for anyone else,” he admitted, his voice low. “But I thought… perhaps it might help.”