A Serpent and His Rose [To Be Continued...?]

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You didn’t go to the funeral service for Draco. Not that you were even invited. You sat on your bed for days following the night at St. Mungo’s, just staring at the wall, the photo box of Draco’s letters sitting beside you. You did not acknowledge your parents at all when they came in. You didn’t eat, or sleep. You did cry, a lot.

“She needs help.” You overheard through your door after about a week of this.

“I know she does,” your father agreed, “but sending her away? She needs us!”

“We can’t help her, she won’t even talk to us. And with everything else that has happened this year… I’m worried. I’m scared for her.”

You heard her begin to cry and felt the urge to go to her. But you didn’t. And you didn’t care if they sent you away. You didn’t care about much of anything anymore. You heard your parents leave your door and was about to return to staring into nothingness when a pecking sound reached your ears. An owl was sitting outside of your window. You would have chosen to ignore it if owls weren’t so freaking persistent. He pecked away at the glass until you gave in and opened it. He spat the letter out at you and hooted angrily before flying away. You made to drop the letter in the waste bin but the writing stopped you. There was your name, Andrea, scrawled across the envelope in that all too familiar writing you had been reading over and over again all week long. You ripped it open with shaky hands. One sentence was written inside. Twelve words that when put together in that order managed to bring the life back into your eyes again. It read:

I told you I would find a way out of this mess.

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