Bad Blood: A Dramione Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty-Five

Draco

In a matter of months, I went from living in a mansion to sleeping on a park bench. Well, I can't say I slept on this park bench at all; mostly, I just lay here with my eyes closed, trying not to let the few passersby see my shame.

Just as the sun rises, the bottom of the clouds seem to burst open. Tiny white snowflakes begin to fall slowly, getting gradually faster and heavier. As the bench gets colder, I decide to get up and move on. I look around to decide which direction I should go. Since Lucius and Narcissa rarely let me leave the mansion when I was young, I am not familiar with these streets. My best bet is to walk back to where I was last night, so I do.

The streets of London are unusually deserted this morning, causing an eerie silence. My stomach growls even though it has only been a few hours since I ate. The waitress at the diner invited me to come back if I needed anything, but because of my lingering ounce of pride, I can't bring myself to do so. I can't stand owing anything to anyone. Maybe this is why I'm alone, trudging through the cold snow without a coat: because I'm too proud to ask anyone for help.

The streets are dark, because the only light comes from the rising sun and the dim streetlights. However, this doesn't stop one couple from taking a morning stroll. I try to walk to the other side of the street so they don't feel like I am following them; but three bicycles whiz by, so I decide to simply keep my distance.

The man is middle-aged, but he has wrinkles, along with graying hair. It seems premature for him to be aging, but he must be under stress. His wife is holding his hand tightly. She has dark brown, frizzy hair, and a seemingly kind look on her face. Her eyes, from what I can see, are dark brown; everything- her hair, her stature, her eyes, her gait- reminds me of Hermione.

I like to imagine people's life stories by how they look and carry themselves. It's not much information, really, but I have always enjoyed letting my mind wander. As I observe them, their story comes together in my head; I imagine that they are in their forties, with two or three children, all of them under twelve. Perhaps one of them is on a school trip, so they decided to take a morning walk as the others sleep. Maybe their marriage has been rather stressful until recently, for they walk as if something has been lifted off of their shoulders. It's as if a new sense of hope had been ignited. I imagine that they know nothing of the Wizarding World, and I envy them for that. My life would be so much easier if magic didn't exist.

Due to my heavy thinking, I didn't even realize that they had stopped walking. I run into them.

"I'm sorry! I wasn't watching." I apologize, but the woman pats my shoulder.

"It's okay," She says in a small, sweet voice, "You seem familiar. Have we met before?"

"No, ma'am." I answer. The man's eyes fall to my left arm, and I hide the nasty scar.

"Blimey! What happened to your arm?" He asks.

"It was, uh... a lawnmower incident."

"A lawnmower incident?" The woman asks, "I think we believe that just as much as you do." I look down at my shoes. There is an awkward silence.

The man gasps. "Is your name Dragon, by any chance?" I chuckle slightly.

"Draco, yes." I nod.

"Draco! That's him!" He exclaims, looking at the woman enthusiastically.

"How do you know me?" I ask, feeling quite uneasy.

"You'll see. Follow us."

A few minutes later, we're sitting in the diner I was in last night. The same waitress is still here; it has only been five and a half hours since I was in here the first time. She smiles at me as she hands us a menu, along with three cups of coffee. When she leaves, the strangers who are buying me a meal reveal who they are.