draco pov
' if I'm dead to you,
why are you at the wake? '
When I wake the other side of the bed is cold, my hand stretches out, subconsciously seeking Rosie's warmth but only finding the smooth silk covering of the mattress.
And then it hits me as I realize who I'm searching for and the smell of burning rosemary reaches my nose, I'm in Rosie's room.
There's a hand shaking my leg, making me jolt and roll onto my back as my eyes flutter open to the warm sun shining through the curtains by the balcony.
Oh no.
Whitman's eyes were wide, leaning on the poster bed frame with a face of confusion. "I don't think I even want to know"
In an instant I sit up, so quickly the urge to puke comes in a wave. Truthfully I have no clue how I got here, what I did to even be in this position but I'm sure it's fucking stupid.
My mouth opens and closes, trying to find words my short circuiting brain cannot make.
How much did I drink?
"Stop talking so loud" I mutter before covering my eyes with the heels of my palms.
Whitman speaks as if he knows something, that stupid pretentious bastard. "Yeah I'm going to uh....leave and figure this out"
The sound of his rhythmic breathing rings in my ears, clearly deciding to stay in a state of shock.
"Then go" I snap before wincing at the loudness with a grimace.
He scoffs back at me but the expression of confusion stays while slowly moving away, "Glad to know the alcohol didn't wash away your normality of being a dick"
With a grumble I cover my eyes again, the sun clearly determined to remain my enemy. His heavy steps ring as he begins walking out of the room and slams the door but my mind is beginning to reel so deep in thought that everything sounds muffled.
Let's rewind, if that's possible?
My idiotic father decides to have a blown episode and proceeds to chunk a bottle of whiskey at my head after fighting me. So I did what any logical and reasonable human being would do, I threatened him with the broken glass.
Ah, good family fun.
Then mother began to freak out and the anxiety attack started to arise deep in my bones. As usual I found myself needing something, someone. But who goes to a person for help? Weird if you were to ask me.
Okay the memory is coming back...I recall going to Grimmauld, thinking maybe the best solution was to tell Rosie what happened and demand her to give me some salvation from the atrocity that is my existence but then I realized I'm not a fucking pussy.
Where did I go after?
Yes! That new bar in the wizarding part of London, Esmeralda's Noon I believe and-
Oh no.
Oh...no.
Everything slowly starts to come back.
Getting so drunk and instead of finding relief only feeling guilt consume me over her.
I mean, what the fuck?
Rose has consumed my existence from the beginning so ardently, not even wasted parlor drinks can make her go away.
Cruel if you ask me.
The girl who infuriated me more than anything, the girl who had been challenging me and everything I believe in since she was capable of opening her mouth, the girl who were wielded her words like knife and walked with such a insatiable elegance while being the coldest in the room.
The girl who could fool any human into believe she was the most sadistic being.
But then she'd walked up to you, lay her hand on your arm with the gentlest of touches and speak words that'd bring even a man made of stone to life.
That was my damn issue.
She was damn issue.
I wouldn't laugh for days and the corners of my mouth would not turn up, then she'd come by with a taunting but witty remark-pulling that happiness out of me.
She had showed me what it meant to be alive, how it felt to be alive and I had been craving that feeling every minute of which we were parted.
When the edge felt too near and my hateful words became too much for anyone to handle, she'd come and revive me-bring me back to the land of the living and make me wish to be alive regardless of hating my pathetic guts. The life we had grew up in always felt like a glass cage, taught to see and feel one way and one way only. Rosie had always seemed to live in a different world than the rest of us, something me and the boys agreed upon. Floating in a different plan of existence, despite how cruel the world had been to her, she saw the most beauty in it. Always staring off in the distance or escaping in the depth of her mind, I'd lay everything down to go in there for even a minute.
When we were younger I used to always ask her how she could be so kind and have so much faith in humanity after the harshness displayed at her. I never could comprehend how she could believe there was any good left in our surroundings but Rosie had simply pointed at a strange man with a cane and beard on Knockturn alley, beginning to make up a story for him. She explained to me that every part of her believed we were all capable of loving someone if we knew their story, that behind every person was a background that'd woo us all into seeing why they deserved love.
Rosie was never gentle, not in her words or actions or steps and definitely not when fighting but when I needed her or it was just the two of us, she was gentle-Rosie was always gentle with me.
Of course my drunken arse would go to her.
Who wouldn't?
I can almost safely bet that if she took away my sight and hearing, dropped me a million miles away-my hands would still somehow find her own.
Fuck sake, I'm such a sap.
But then all at once I remember it all, all of it.
Deciding nothing would keep me from her after too much whiskey to think, going to get her flowers because idiotically I believed our tradition of giving flowers when mad would fix the fact she hated me, my drunken mind believing a woman like her deserved more than a bouquet-
I bought her two floral shops?!
Oh my fucking-I put Rosalie Malfoy?!
I'm going to be sick.
What a great way to expose how pathetically in love you are with the woman who hates you.
Really Draco, great work you idiot.
In a instant I'm out of the bed, head spinning while searching for my shoes. It doesn't take long to find them at the foot of her bed, and neither does me rushing into her fireplace.
I step out into the foyer of our manor, thankful not a person was in sight as I tossed my shoes onto the shiny wooden floor-clutching my forehead as I rushed to the kitchen.
Standing by the four stoves is Elva on a stool, her pointy elf nose turned to me as she takes in the unruly appearance of myself. "Master Draco? Are you alright?"
With a grunt I cross the black crystallized tiles, dropping down onto the island stools and clutching my head. It's safe here, no one in my family even steps foot near the kitchen. Anytime they need food or drink, one of the elves brings anything they want.
What is Rosie going to think?
Hate me even more?
Probably.
I can confidently say I am questioning my entire existence as the memory of me stumbling and signing her name on document after document flashes by.
"Elva" I call out, the elf shuffling over with a calm reply.
"Yes Master Draco?"
Kill me.
Please kill me.
"Apparate me to the roof" Grumbling and grimacing at my own actions.
"Uh..." Elva speaks timidly, "May Elva ask why?"
"So I can pitch myself off"
She intakes a sharp breath, baffled by my words. "Master Draco, Elva cannot allow it"
I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, internally dying more and more as the seconds pass. "Go obliviate Rosie," I paused to side eye her with frantic energy, "Go to Grimmauld and obliviate her"
Elva appeared mortified at the idea, "Elva...Elva cannot....Kreacher is there and he carries knifes"
"I'm going to fucking kill myself" No, I am not being dramatic as everyone would say. The heels of my palms dig back into my eyes as I groan repeatedly, "Elva-take me to the roof"
"Master Draco you are...scaring Elva"
How idiotic can a man be? Showing up at the love of his life's home and telling her not only did he buy her two flower shops but also signed it with his last name? Could I be any more fucking obvious? Who wouldn't want to die right now? Stupid fucking whiskey, always making me turn into a loving little shit.
I'm a fucking head case.
The door of the kitchen opens, heavy leather shoes hitting the marble and pointed heels clicking, nearing me quickly.
Oh.
Great.
Fucking fantastic.
The sound of my father's cane slammed down infront of me from across the island, slowly I lift my head up, following the tip of the cane up to his empty eyes where my mother stood next to him with crossed arms.
"Arriving home at noon?" He questions, spite laced in his annoying tone. I stare at him while pressing my hands on my temples, his nose upturning at the smell of me. "And you brought the bar home with you?"
"Father, with the amount of drinking you do, I don't need to" I retort with aggravation, if he hadn't layed a damn hand on me I would've never ended up at Rosie's and then taken myself to a bar because I couldn't see the one person I wanted.
I've been restraining myself for years, I'm not usually this weak.
"Draco! Watch the tone you take with me!"
"What?" I snap, slamming my hand down on the black stone counter. "Going to hit me again? Well? Go ahead father-I could give less of shit"
He stammers back, retracting his came off the counter with a lifted chin and a sudden calm voice. "Draco last night was an-"
"An accident?" I cut him off, scoffing after as I drop my head back down into my palms. "Yeah"
After ten years of him doing this it is always the same excuse when brought up. New flash you fucking cunt-accidents aren't intentional.
"Draco dear, you are fine" My mother replies cooly, the sound of her nails wrapping around my fathers arm. "We just came with a question"
I find myself incapable of anything other than a grunt.
"Yes well I received an invoice from Gringotts about an odd purchase"
My head lifts again, lazily raising a brow. "Since when do you get notified when money is being spent?"
Father smiles sadistically, as if proud of his title as the richest wizard in England. "Those filthy little goblins only reached out to tell of sixty five thousand galleons being spent on floral shops, it alarmed their systems from being so odd"
"We figured it must've been a mistake," Mother butts in, "But your father left as I kept taking to them-you signed for the purchase?"
Kill me now.
Sixty five thousand galleons?
Oops.
"It was purposeful" I add in with a thick swallow, wondering what Rosie must be thinking.
"Why exactly did you buy the best floral shops England has to offer? The money is no matter but I am simply confused" Father holds a certain look of distaste at the thought, "I assume this was a stupid drunken mistake of your foolish nature"
I force myself to sit up straight, running a hand through the icy waves atop of my head. The lie rolls off fluidly, "I'm making business investments-isn't that what you wanted from me?"
Mother stifles a laugh as the cruel man next to her gives me that proud look I've yearned from him my whole life.
"Very well-I'll tell Gringotts it was no mistake" He grins and pushes her hand off, "Be sure to use whatever intellect you've managed to gather from me over the years to do the paper work tonight"
By the time he exits the kitchen my mother is smiling widely, leaning across from me on the counter with a knowing glint in her softened gaze.
"What mother?" I ask grumpily and impatiently while casting my eyes away, "I cannot do this right now-I have an appointment with death"
"Oh Draco" She giggles, "Rosalie Malfoy is the one who actually owns these shops, correct?"
I gasp with horror at her knowledge before going to slam my head into the marble, an action she quickly prevents. "Mother...let me die in my sorrows"
As if this is the most amusing thing in the world she giggles again, pushing my chin up. "How did my girl react?"
"You think I remember?" Literally kill me now, I beg you universe. I swat away her hand and cover my face once more, "Mother I am running away-I am running so far away not even the minister will find me"
"Draco" She continues to find humor with laughter, "Don't you think this is a sign to give in? Just be open and tell her everything?"
"Tell her?" That is the worst possible solution I've ever heard, Rosie does not want me-I feel as if I'm dead to her. "Mother I cannot"
"Hmm..." She clicks her tongue, "I wonder what she would think if she saw what you wrote about her the other day"
My tired eyes snap to her, turning wide. "Don't you dare"
"Rosie was cunning and ruthless, she was perfection" She taunts me and I die a little more inside, "Your father never wrote about me in such a way"
Yeah because you married a piece of shit.
"What are you doing?! Snooping around my room?!" I am completely horrified and wincing at my loudness, "Now I'm definitely running away!"
With a sigh she stops her giggling, "We mustn't be so scared of love my darling-you might have had to kill whatever was between the two of you but you cannot go on pretending as if it didn't kill you as well" She doesn't have to be right all the time, I wish I could shout that at her as she reaches forward for me. "One of you has to give in and accept the word hate will never apply to how you feel for one another"
"I can't tell Rosie" I mutter back, moving away from her touch. "I cannot ruin everything for her and I'd rather die than have her reject me-to claim she could never love me as I do her"
Foolish of me to think I could ever truly go home.
"But-"
"Just stop!" I shout, muttering an apology after when she flinches. "I-I can't. I'm not brave enough"
"Oh my sweet boy" She circles around, her arm rubbing down my spine. "You're the bravest I know"
"Bullshit"
"Remember what the two of you always used to do? When one would anger the other you'd bring each other a flower from the garden as an apology, never needing words to communicate"
How could I ever forget?
She continues on as my face drops, "The important things between loves is not found in their conversation and words, it is in simple touches, the movement of their lips, stolen glances-and so on. That is how you and her have always communicated and luckily so, most people will never find someone who understands them so deeply or holds a strong enough connection to be such a way"
Is she trying to break my heart further?
Because everything fucking hurts.
Thanks a lot.
"Doesn't it say so much that even in a state of delusion and intoxication you still held onto the way you two apologized?"
My always hardened gaze softens, and I think if my eyes start glassing over any more I might have to tear myself away and pitch myself off the roof before I can be stopped.
The corners of her lips quirk up, a teasing voice returning. "You did afterall sign Rosalie Malfoy? That sounds very brave to me"
Seriously?
Seriously woman?
I groan and cover my face, slumping down onto the counter. "Fuck off" I mutter, "I'm running away to Switzerland, changing my identity, and living amongst the Swedish"
She busts out into laughter, clearly finding entertainment in my pure misery. "You're being dramatic dear"
"Dramatic?" I gasp up at her, head laying on my arms against the marble. "I am anything but dramatic! I all but confessed my love last night-I'm going to throw up"
Yeah, I'm definitely going to throw up.