WILD FLOWERS ✿ d.malfoy

3.

This street would have fascinated me. Too bad, the artist is on a boycott. The magic passes through me like I'm not there. I can't feel it. I can't feel anything, anymore. I couldn't sleep last night, the end of my world played in repeat in my mind. So, it waited out the night, the sun finally rose. But it didn't rid me off the blues. I don't think anything can.

Remus and Dora (she allowed me to call her that) are tired from carrying books and cauldrons and everything. I talk like I'm being rude and walking empty handed. Which is true. I am. They don't complain, even if they silently hate me now, they don't say a word. Not like I would care.

"There's one thing left," Remus huffs; puts the stack on a wooden table. "Your wand."

I look at him. He's smiling at me. So, he doesn't hate me. Or maybe he's just being overly nice. He did get me money from my vault – apparently, it's over flowing with riches. Who knew I was that rich?

Dora drops all the books she's holding, being as clumsy as she is. I feel urged to roll my eyes, but that would be mean, like bitchy-mean. So, instead I wave my hand. The energy sparks into the air and the books rearrange themselves on the table.

She smiles broadly at me; I nod at her.

"Your hair looks amazing, but maybe," she talks to a strand of my jet-black hair which is no longer matted with dirt and blood, "a bright yellow would suit you."

I cough, it turns into a coughing fit. A strong hand pats my back. I remember the time Rosie dyed my hair blonde whilst I was asleep. I didn't forgive her for a month. Maybe more.

I chuckle under my breath. Dora is smiling so bright, I go blind.

"You both can get the wand," Remus rubs his shoulder, "I'll get us ice-creams."

I protest, because honestly, I don't want an ice-cream. But Dora is speaking over me.

"Ohmygod! ThankyousomuchRemusyourethebest!" she kisses him on the cheek and then sprints away. I stay on the spot, except get pulled along because she had taken my hand. Yikes. I fall through the crowd, but the air cradles me. It doesn't because I don't fall. Seriously, I've got to wake up. But I'm not even sleeping.

"Here!" Dora exclaims. I may be mistaken, but there is a faint blush on her cheeks. Turning back, I can no longer see Remus. I shake my head. She – we stand in front a narrow and shabby looking shop with Ollivanders: Makes of fine wands since 382 BC. written in peeling gold letters over our heads.

"Come in!" I was yanked inside and gained balance with a huff.

"Careful there," I scold. Dora flashes me her brilliant smile and calls for Mr. Ollivander. I roll my eyes. I want to go sleep. Or maybe not. I don't know.

Mr. Ollivander is an old man with silvery pale eyes and almost white skin. Wow. Great for camouflaging. In the snow, of course. White would be too bright for his skin and yellow would do it no justice.

I freeze. And then unfreeze. I'm inhaling armfuls and armfuls of air. I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder, rubbing it. I gulp and regain my composure.

"Ms. Morgana," he says almost dreamily. His voice is hoarse. Like rocks colliding against each other. "I've been waiting for you for a very long time. I know just the wand for you."

Okay. Weird.

"He's like that to everyone," Dora whispers, "don't worry." I nod and scan the shop. The number of shades of brown make my head spin. It's like I'm drowning it. Or maybe I'm drowning in it.

He comes out from between the cluster of shelves with a bunch of boxes. Too many for him, surely. Dora helps him.

"This one," he opens one box with trembling fingers, "Acacia wood, Unicorn tail hair core, 13 inches precise." The wand was brown, almost black. I pick it up and give it a flick. The flower pot on the table explodes showering it's surroundings with water. I wince.