Closest To Heaven That I'll Ever Be

29. I'll Be There For You

By Sunday morning, I had decided that the Holyhead Harpies match had fulfilled my social requirements for at least the next six months.

Possibly the year.

I'd gone to watch Quidditch. That was it.

I'd bought myself a ticket, fully intending to sit quietly at the top of the stadium, cheer for the Harpies, eat something unhealthy and return home without speaking to another living soul.

Instead, I'd somehow acquired Blaise as a companion, ended up in a private box, had Draco and Theo join us, reunited with Harry, Ron and Hermione, been fussed over by practically the entire Weasley family and spent the afternoon trapped in whatever ridiculous competition Draco and Theo had apparently decided to have over who could hand me the most refreshments.

I'd then fled Harry Potter twice. Not exactly the peaceful afternoon I'd planned.

So Sunday was going to be quiet.

I had absolutely no intention of leaving the house. I slept late, made myself an enormous breakfast, wandered around in my dressing gown until an embarrassingly late hour and spent most of the afternoon curled up on the sofa with a book.

It was perfect.

Until something tapped against the sitting-room window.

I ignored it at first. Then it tapped again. And again.

I lowered my book.

An owl was hovering outside.

"Oh, for goodness' sake." I reluctantly abandoned my comfortable position and opened the window.

The owl didn't come inside. Instead, it immediately swooped down towards the front garden.

Curious now, I followed it through the hall and opened the front door. There, sitting neatly on my doorstep, was a box of flowers.

I blinked.

They were beautiful. Soft pink roses mixed with tiny white flowers and sprigs of greenery, arranged in a cream box with a pale ribbon tied around it.

I looked up and down the garden. Nothing. The owl had already disappeared.

I crouched and picked them up. There was a small card tucked between the flowers.

To Addalie.

That was it. No from. No initials. No clue whatsoever.

"Huh." I turned the card over.

Blank.

I even tapped it with my wand in case there was some sort of concealment charm.

Nothing.

Someone had sent me flowers.

I'd never really been sent flowers before.

Well, not unless one counted my grandfather once arriving at my house with a half-dead plant he'd found outside The Hog's Head and declaring that it "looked like it needed a home."

I carried them inside.

For the rest of the day, every time I walked past them, I smiled. I couldn't help it. Someone had thought about me.

Enough to send flowers. And although I had absolutely no idea who, it was rather lovely.

Then Monday came.

At approximately half past eleven, another owl arrived at the shop. This time carrying an arrangement of cream roses, lavender, eucalyptus and delicate dusky-blue flowers.