His Hidden Side - Draco Malfoy

23- 5th Year

Year 5

The two months leading up to September 1st couldn't come quick enough. Each long summer day consisted of long lie-ins, a walk around my neighborhood, cooking dinner, and listening to my mother go on and on about her big court cases.

Magic in the house was just like before - practically non-existent. Upon arrival home, my wand, school books and any other magical equipment was under strict observation by obviously, my mother.
At any mention of magic, she'd flap her hand at me, showing me she really does not want to hear it. I'd stay quite and listen to her rant on about the law.

The only freedom I had, was when she was away. I'd read over my school books and if the London weather was nice enough to have a sun, I'd stroll around the busy streets, always ending up walking to the place where I knew there was magic - The Whitehall, which I knew deep below, secretly housed the magnificent Ministry of Magic.

But I no longer needed to camp out at the Whitehall, memorising peoples schedules and hoping to catch a glimpse of magic.

The day has arrived.

I pull apart the disclosed curtains to let the daylight pour in from the windows. My mother jolted awake with a start, squinting against the bright light - exposing her many wrinkles - and taking in shallow breaths.
She sat up in her bed, fully clothed and sweaty from her night of drinking, groaning as she held her head.

"God... I feel awful."

I place a glass of water by her bedside. "Well if you weren't so stubborn you could use magic and charm your hang over away."

"What- are you even doing here?" She lazily slumps back onto her pillows. Before I can't answer the obvious, her eyes widen and an even louder groan escapes. "I've got to take you to that joke of a school..."

"I hardly think Hogwarts is a joke-"

"Sshhhhhh." She groggily climbs out of bed, massaging her temples. "My head is splitting in half..."

"Maybe you should've drank a couple less bottles."

"Don't you start." Alcohol is becoming her outlet, especially recently. What started off with being a wine glass at dinner turned into her going out to the local pub and getting home wasted.
The alcohol numbed the pain and dimmed her anger. She became a walking, living zombie.

Happy Hogwarts student, Mrs. Roswell, a mother, a widow, a crazy lady, a muggle, a drunk, a zombie.

That's Eloise Roswell for you.

Despite the arms of the clock turning dangerously close to 11, she continued to meander around the house and curse under her breath at any inconvenience.

By the time she finished her 30 step beauty routine, there was no time for breakfast. We squeezed ourselves into the front of the car and my luggage and cat into the back. Not a word was said between us for the whole drive to Kings Cross Station.

She was in a particularly bad mood today and it all reflected back to me. But I was bursting with excitement and anticipation. The mere thought of seeing the train was drugging me with serotonine.

I thought about my friends.
I'm beyond excited to reunite with everyone and especially Draco. I've missed seeing his face, his smirks, listening to his laughs (even the insults). I've missed his arms around me and his lips against mine, but I don't know if he feels the same.