The Way Things Almost Were | Harry Potter Drabbles

Flowers

"flowers, i remember fields of flowers, soft beneath my heel. walking in the sun, i remember someone." - flowers; hadestown. 

Draco Malfoy

Draco knew how much she hated flowers, but he also knew that it was the only way to cheer her up on her off days. So, when he entered the flat they shared together in north London, he was surprised to see her already on home, bundled up on the sofa, blankets wrapped around her, "Rough day at work?" He murmured, flipping on the light switches in the muggle apartment. She had kept them off, despite it being well past dark, "Yeah," She groaned tiredly before sitting up, "How was Ministry work?" He responded with a curt chuckle, "If Dad sends me one more letter from the Secrecy department, I'll have to report him." His relationship had been purely cordial with his father since after the War and since his brief stint at Azkaban. He had tried, hard as he might, to distance himself from the Malfoy family legacy, but it wasn't until after the war and the way some wizarding families treated him did he realize how much damage his family name had caused. "Here love," His fingers curled around a strand of hair as she sat up groggily, looking at the red roses with caution, "Why?" Her eyebrow arched and Draco huffed in slight frustration, "I can't buy my girlfriend some flowers every once in a while." She huffed back, mimicking him, "You just...you don't buy my flowers. What did you mess up this time?" And they went back and forth, playfully bickering most of the night. Draco didn't fail to see the half-smile she gave when she put them in a vase, looking at them fondly before leaving the room.

Cedric Diggory

The soft rain, the kind of an afternoon meant for staying home and wasting the day away, a mug of tea in her hands, the way she waited for Cedric's safe return. Being an Auror was never easy, but he had been away from her for a week without contact and it made her anxious. It had been months following the war, but several Death Eaters were still on the run and he had vowed to bring justice to those who had died. She swore he could have been in Gryffindor, he was far braver than most people she knew. But, she still worried. She heard the door unlatch, the tea immediately spilling on the floor beneath her. But, she had struggled, post-war, with thoughts that didn't leave her head, the way Cedric had looked after the blast that separated them, at the fear that he would die. She still woke up screaming some nights. She dove for her wand on the coffee table, holding it defensively as whoever was there rooted around the kitchen. "Show yourself," She spoke clearly, a hex on her lips. "Just me!" Cedric called from the other room and she sighed a breath of relief, thankful to hear his voice for what felt for the first time in ages, "Thought I would surprise you," He chuckled, holding up a bouquet of chrysanthemums and tiger lilies. She smiled slightly, wrapping her arms around his waist, drawing him in, pulling him closer than what was probably comfortable for him, but she didn't care. The relief washed over her. The war was over. Cedric was safe. She was content.

Fred Weasley

Fred didn't like to dwell on the war. He immediately went back to reopening the shop with George and the freshly graduated Hufflepuff. The three of them made quite the pair establishing not just the Diagon Alley shop, but the extension of Honeydukes, a dream he hadn't even realized he had until the shop was finally opened. And she had been by his side every step of the way, all tie-dye and overalls, the way she walked into the room and instantly making the mood ten times lighter. She enraptured him and it was just as clear that she was enamored by him. She had appeared one morning at the newly opened Hogsmeade shop, clutching a small gilded book in her hands. The text grew larger until it nearly took up an entire table, "Something I've been working on, not really a joke or a trick, but I think it's pretty." She opened it to the center and a shimmering flower appeared, small fireworks popping out of its center, "Just in time for Valentine's Day, it'll be a hit among the students," She remarked, looking softly as the upturned leaves began to spin around until finally, it closed back up, the cover of the book closing with it. But he wasn't looking at the book, he was looking at her, his eyes warm and pleading as he took her hands in his, "It'll be fantastic," He whispered, "Be my Valentine?" It was still nearly a month away, but he would mean it just the same as he did in that moment, "Of course," She smiled, blushing, "All because of a little trick."

George Weasley

She helped him forget the darker moments of the war, and in turn, he showed her the world. They traveled, to Paris and Morocco, to Australia and Albania to see his brother and the dragons, and then finally back to England. George and her had helped to repair the Burrow following the war and they were content to live there while things got back to normal. And it wasn't until the previous summer that they had been together for nearly five years. It was a peaceful kind of love, the love you never expect to have, but cherish nonetheless, and they were comfortable with each other. Each of them, like a warm hug. In the evening, she would rest her feet on his lap as she read books by authors he didn't even bother to try and sound out the name for. In turn, he showed her the gadgets he was working on, the magicked muggle items his dad had always taught him and how they could be used in the shop. It wasn't until one evening, on one of their nightly strolls that he picked up a summer flower, lilac, he would look back on, and placed it in her dark hair, the purple and brown contrasting each other, "Lets never let this moment end." He whispered to her as he kissed the side of her cheek softly. And they never did, not really. They would carry that simple moment for as long as they both lived.

Neville Longbottom

Neville Longbottom wanted peace. He wanted rest. He had seen far too much fighting, following the war, too much death along the way, and he was all too familiar with the way thestrals grazed in the Forbidden Forest. But he had put that behind him, leaving his nan to watch over the family house that he had been raised in while he pursued a career, a talent, really, that he had always possessed – herbology. He thrived in the new environment, and the girl he had gone to Hogwarts with, the Ravenclaw he had asked to the Yule Ball in his fourth year, had followed him willingly. Together, they harvest exotic plants and wildlife that muggles in the area had never seen but enjoyed all the same. If a muggle entered, they did their best to hide the Devil's Snare, the Mandrake, and some of the more dangerous plants that they housed, but they enjoyed catering to both Muggles and wizards in the community. The Ravenclaw had come to enjoy the shop, spending most of her days tending to the delicate flowers and the livelier plants that inhabited the shop. A sort of quasi-motherhood taking shape that Neville reveled in, watching her from the corner of his eye as he rang up a customer, watching as she ran her hands over the leaves of a creeping vine that reached the heights of the shop ceiling. It wasn't until later in the day when they had finally settled into their nightly routine with her reading and drinking tea, and him going over the bills for the day that he realized just how in love with he were. The way she circled a new flower she wanted in this month's issue of Herbologist, the way she crinkled her nose at the prices, every little bit of her was just as magical as the day they had met.

Oliver Wood

She remembered the first time Oliver had given her flowers. It was after they had spent the day on the banks of the Black Lake, he was dressed in a turtleneck, the weather was still cool enough that it required a sweater and she had wrapped herself up in his cape that he had so graciously given to her as she laid back, looking at the clouds. It was the way he had grown quiet, the way he sat up when she had laid down, the way his mood had grown somber and distant, "We can't do this, can we?" He murmured in a thick Scottish accent, "You're a Slytherin, I'm a Gryffindor, it won't work." And she leaned her head against his back, contemplating it. There was a moment's silence before she finally shook her head, smiling at him, "Nobody bats an eye when a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor get together, or a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff for that matter, so why should we let that bother us." He moved to say something, but she shushed him, "Just enjoy the day, Oliver. We'll discuss that later." In his hands appeared a single peony that he laid next to her leg. She picked it up, marveling in its beauty, "You always had a way with surprises." She pressed her fingertips gently to the petals, running over the soft flower. "You surprise me." Was all he mentioned as she rested her head against his shoulder. And she always would surprise him.