Flowers |Draco Malfoy

chapter 31

Malfoys point of view:

I sat in my very depressing room, staring out the window. Five days scince I left Hogwarts. I furrowed my brow, staring more intensely than before at the same view. Dark trees on dead grass expanded, leading to a black iron gate. What went behind the gate, I never really cared. I'm a Malfoy, we don't walk places like poor people. We touch magic things and apparate places.

I missed her, and how she would make everything better. But without her, everything is plain and simple, dark when she isn't there to light it. I tapped the side of my chair anxiously, tearing my eyes from the window and heading out of my room. I couldn't take it anymore.

 I walked down the hall, passing by black doors of rooms I never use. My mother glanced at me questionably from her tea room, sipping quietly on her special purple anti inflammatory tea. I tried it once. It didn't taste good.

I walked into door number seven, the one with the apparateable  thingies. My eyes scanned over them, looking for downtown London. And there it was. The fifteenth one. I stood there for a moment, my head full to the brim with too many thoughts. Before I could stop my idiot self, I reached out and touched it, a little ladybug statue. And then I was gone.

,",&,?

'Cloverville Street,' the sign read, towering over me as I stood there in my black suit. I was getting some strange looks from a pair of muggles who had just passed by me. They were probably wondering why the teenage boy was wearing a black suit in the heated temperature. I took my jacket off, placing it on a lamppost. Maybe some homeless guy could take it. I'd at least be doing something good for the world . And then I walked down  the street as my heart rate sped up. 

If I ever have a heart attack, it's Rosie's fault.

And there it was. A rickitey old shed, but I could see glittering star sculptures hanging from the ceiling at the window. Muggle music streamed through the air, quiet from here, but loud from over there. I walked faster, heart pounding in my chest as I got closer, and then closer, moving past the broken and rusty picket fence that fell a bit as I walked by. I climbed up the stairs, practically hearing my own heartbeat. And behind that door, the old crooked one made from depressed trees, was Rosie. I think.

And then I knocked.