Flowers in The Garden
By Tasha (BD2)
Me: Yes, I own Harry Potter, ohohohoho…
Me: Okay, I don't own it, but I still have the plot!
Me: What? That's it!
Lawyers: I'm sorry, we were just practicing for the next case.
Me: (sweat drop)
(A/N: Yay, new fic! Set in 1810, England. It's going to be a three-shot, I think. And in no one's point of view. Because stories in the first person ruin all the fun.)
Meh, just kidding. P
"Oh, Draco, everything will be perfect!" Pansy exclaimed.
The Malfoy's and the Parkinson's sat in the room near the dining room, where the men had just finished with their brandy and cigars, and the women with their coffee. The only son of the Malfoy's, Lord Draco Malfoy, was becoming of age, the age to marry.
Two months before his seventeenth birthday, his mother and father had forced him to go to a place called Almack's, where he was supposed to find a young lady to become his bride.
It was horrifying for the young Malfoy. It was any man's dream to have so many ladies that has just been pushed into the socializing scene, swooning over him, and gushing about his bluish-grey eyes and pale blond hair.
He had to face the horror of Almack's once a week for a month. But then, their butler Perkins found a piece parchment in the Malfoy's study. It was a contract that states that Draco had to marry Pansy, the eldest Parkinson daughter. This made Draco feel better, but Pansy was not the first woman that he would choose.
Pansy had long, black, straight hair. She was a beautiful woman, and at first sight, any man in his right mind would fall in love. But her voice was like nails scratching against a blackboard. High, screechy, and she almost (always) screams for the maids or butlers. She was very demanding, she wanted everything her way, but nothing can change her.
Draco just walked around the room, with his hands behind him, deep in thought. "Oh, beg you're pardon?"
"The wedding! We'll have it in the chapel, with white rose petals around the altar…" Pansy droned on excitedly, pointing her fingers at all directions, as if simulating where everything will be.
Her mother and father just nodded and sat on the two-seat couch, they were not listening, but knew not to interrupt her. Her sister, Marigold, who was only fourteen, sat next to Pansy, had rested her head on her arm, which she placed on the arm rest, she shook her head and rolled her eyes, then began to fidget in her seat.
Draco was about to pass the French doors that lead to the balcony, but he stopped. He heard some music, a guitar and a voice, singing. He began to open the doors and walked over to the balcony, and leaned in to see what was happening below.
What he saw were about five caravans, parked in a semi-circle on the edge of his family's mansion's huge garden. In the center of the semi-circle was a bonfire and a figure moving around it. Curious, he leaned against the balustrade and squinted to see who he or she was.
"Then doves will be flying outside the chapel…" Pansy abruptly stopped. "Draco? What are you looking at?"
The Parkinson's and Malfoy's all stood up and went to the balcony. The parents all stood near the French doors, while the Parkinson sisters stood on either side of Draco, both leaning at the balustrade and looking the same way as Draco.
"Oh, it's those Grangers." Pansy said, annoyed.
"The Grangers?" Draco asked.
"A group of gypsies. Not important…" Pansy said, trying to change the subject back to, well, her wedding.
"They travel all over England." Marigold continued. She was the exact image of Pansy. Except that she is less bossy, less egoistic, and her voice does not sound like a dying cat. "Those two caravans," she pointed to the first two caravans on the right. "Are the Weasley's. Funny bunch, huge family too. A Potter lives in that one too, since his parents and family died during the hurricane a few years ago.
"The other two," she pointed to the two caravans on the left. "Are the orphans that the Grangers have adopted. I remember that some of the orphans' families died in the hurricane. It was brutal, they told me all about it…" She shook her head. "And Miss Courage over here, she said she was fighting against the hurricane, while she actually was cowering in her room, and screaming blue murder every time there was thunder." Marigold whispered to Draco. He snorted and received a glare from Pansy.
"Then that one in the middle," Draco pointed. "Must be the Grangers, right?"
"Yes, their only child, Hermione, is really nice, she told me many stories." Marigold replied.
"How do you know all this?"
"They used to stay in our garden. But then they had to leave because of a certain someone." Marigold pointed to Pansy.
"Well, I had to get rid of those scum!" Pansy said, defensively. "You should too, dear." Draco shuddered at the mention of the word. "Should I do it for you?"
"No, I'll go myself." Draco said, and headed out the French doors. He walked out the living room, the guest room, the hallway, then the entrance doors. He walked down the marble staircase, which lead to the driveway. He sprinted to the back of the Malfoy mansion, and slowly walked to the caravans as he caught his breath.
He could hear voices from there, happy ones. Not like the ones that he had to put up all those years. He heard laughing, clapping, a tambourine, a guitar and a mandolin.
He looked back at the mansion. The Malfoy's already ushered the Parkinson's in and closed the French doors. Draco walked closer to the caravans and took a closer look.
The children were dancing around near the caravans. The girls were wearing dresses that had patches all over the bottom of the skirt and wore shawls around their heads like a bandana. The boys were wearing slacks that had patches all over them and a white blouse.
They were dancing with the Weasley and Granger parents, arm in arm, and laughing. Three men with flaming red hair about Draco's age (he reckoned that they were the eldest Weasleys) were watching the children dance, clapping to the beat and tapping their feet.
Two men his age were sitting on the foot of the caravans, one with jet black hair and round glasses, the other with red hair, were playing their guitars. Two other men, slightly older than him, were playing mandolins. They were twins, also with red hair. A woman, younger than him, was using a tambourine, shaking it with her right hand, and hitting it with her left.
The person that caught his eye was the woman dancing around the fire. Wearing the dress similar to the orphans, only less patches and the top was white and looked like a corset. Her brown hair was very curly which made it look bushy, and she tied it into a pony tail using a long piece of purple cloth. She didn't put on her shawl, instead she held it behind her back, arms outstretched, she looked like she was about to fly.
Just looking at her, skipping around the fire and using the shawl as if it were her wings, Draco felt like flying. His heart did. He never felt this before, his heart racing and this floating feeling. He wanted to join in. He wanted to feel happy, dance, and laugh like he never did before. All his live, the only laughter he heard was the soft chuckles in conversations that weren't even funny.
He walked closer, wanting to touch her, she looked as soft as the newly fallen snow on Christmas day, as sweet as the first bite of an apple in the beginning of spring. He wanted to feel her, but she felt so far away.
Draco found himself close enough to see her face, her eyes closed, smiling and happiness was written all over her. She kept going around the bonfire, skipping and spinning around, until she bumped into Draco. Everybody stopped.
The children were no longer laughing, the men and the red-haired girl were no longer playing their instruments. The parents quickly ushered the children in, blowing out the oil lamps outside the caravans. The people who were playing the instruments hurriedly turned off their oil lamps and went inside, closing the caravan door, closing the curtains and turning on the oil lamp inside the caravan.
But the woman who just bumped into Draco stood frozen. She looked into his eyes, their eyes locked and they started to move closer to each other. But then she finally snapped back to reality, out of her trance. She backed away and curtsied.
"I'm sorry, m'lord." She said quickly, before putting the shawl around her shoulders, grabbing the pail of water next to the bonfire and extinguishing the flames, and rushing into her caravan.
Draco couldn't move. Who was she? He asked himself. He sighed, blaming himself for not asking her name before she left, and reluctantly walked back up the mansion, and went to sleep, dreaming about the mysterious gypsy.
The next morning, after Draco had eaten his breakfast, he sat on the back porch, looking at the group of caravans. They have not budged, and Draco wishes that they don't go anywhere for a long time.
He watched as the children run around, screaming in delight as the woman with brown hair chase them, while she wore a white sheet over her head. With arms to the front, slightly drooping to depict the ghostly aura, she followed the children, as they hid behind the caravans.
"Woo…." She said, as the children screamed. One boy, jumped on top of her, causing her to tumble down. She was laughing happily as she took off the sheet and the children laughed with her.
She was on her back, laughing, then turned to the right and saw Draco. She quickly got up and picked up the sheet, then turned to the children who gathered around her.
"You children go and play with Fred and George, alright?" She said, bending to see eye to eye with them.
"What, with those goofs?" One girl said with a sad voice, and then her face lit up and smiled revealing where her two front teeth used to be. "Let's go get 'em!" She ran to the caravan and the others followed suit.
The woman threw the sheet into a basket near the caravan on the right, put her hair in a ponytail and went back into the caravan.
"Wait, where are you going?" Draco said, as he got up from his bench and walked up to her.
"Inside, I thought you don't like people like me around you." She replied.
"No, I'm fine, please stay." He said, wanting her to stay with him longer.
"Hermione! It's you're turn to take the horses for a walk!" A motherly voice said.
"Coming, Mother!" Hermione shouted back, and then turned back to Draco. "I've got to go."
"No, it's okay, maybe I could help you out!" Draco said a little too quickly.
"Alright, I'll go get the horses." Hermione said, and went to the back of the caravans. She came back with two horses, one brown and the other black. "I'll go with Soleil," she said, pointing to the brown horse. She raised her right hand which had the reign for the black horse. "You can go with Nightmare."
They mounted their horses and started for the park. They didn't speak, they rode the horses side to side, and Draco kept stealing glances of Hermione, but whenever she turned to see Draco, he looked away.
Tired of the silence, Draco tried to start a conversation.
"So, you must be Hermione Granger, am I correct?" He said casually.
"Yes, m'lord." Hermione said, trying to avoid his eyes.
"Don't call me that, just call me Draco." He said as he stuck out his right arm.
"Nice to meet you, m'lord. I mean, D-Draco." She shook his arm with her right arm, and stuttered the last word.
"So, I heard you traveled all over England." Draco said.
"Yes, me and my family have been trying to find a place to settle, and we adopted some children on the way." She replied, finally looking up at him.
"Some? I think you have enough to create a circus of freaks!" He exclaimed.
"Just because the children are less fortunate than you, that does not mean it gives you the right to make fun of them." Hermione snapped.
"Well, I'm sorry."
"Serves you right! It's people like you who don't want to help the children just because your heads are too deep in your arse."
"Alright, I get it!" He sighed, wondering in awe at the woman who just snapped at him. No one has ever. They thought that he will sentence them to death if anyone did. That has happened to his father once, when he once executed a man for calling his mansion 'puny'. His father's genes have seeped through him, but he's not that cruel.
For the next few minutes, they rode around the park in silence, until Hermione apologized.
"Um, sorry for the sudden out burst." She said, slowly.
"That's alright, that was like a splash of water, on my face in huge amounts." He said and grinned.
Hermione giggled, and faced the road again.
Around them, the socialites that were having picnics stared at them. The women stared at Draco with dreamy eyes, and scowled at Hermione. The men, however, merely nodded at Draco, and unlike the women, found it hard to scowl at Hermione, so they all had smiles that looked like it was about to go bad.
"Can we go now? I don't like people staring at me." Hermione tugged at Draco's reign, signaling to the horse to go back home.
"Sure." He replied without a complaint. "Why did you want to leave?"
"Well, you know the caste system around here. The rich can not mingle with the poor."
"I see…" Draco didn't know that, he hadn't even heard of such a thing. Maybe that was why Pansy was so keen to get rid of her.
"Are you getting married tomorrow?" She tried to change the subject.
"If you're trying to change the subject, you're not very good at it." He said with a grin.
"Come on, I've seen that look on my friend Harry before!" She pleaded.
"Oh, alright." He said, pretending to sound reluctant. "Yes, I am. And who is this Harry?"
"My friend, the one with the dark hair and glasses. He's now married to Ginny Weasley, the one with the tambourine last night."
As they were about to pass the intersection, Hermione tilted her head a little to the right and had a curious look in her eyes.
"Why do you always say that?" She asked.
"You always say, 'I see'."
"Well, wouldn't you always say that when you grow up with people, as you say, who have their heads too deep in their arse." He said, grinning again.
They both laughed, and stopped as they were about two blocks away from the mansion. Hermione leaned a little, and looked at Draco's emotionless face. When Draco realized that Hermione was staring at him, he almost jumped off the horse.
"What are you doing?" He said, in a (suspiciously) high-pitched tone of voice.
"Nothing." Hermione sprang back to her seat. "Why do you look so sad?"
"Because I'm getting married." He said.
"But aren't you supposed to be happy?"
"I can't, I don't love the woman I have to marry."
"Then why do you marry her?"
"It's because… Oy, why so many questions?" He said, realizing that she was asking him so much questions.
"Just curious…" She replied, absent-mindedly.
"Curiosity killed the cat." He quoted.
"That won't matter because I'm not a cat."
Draco chuckled at the quirky sense of humor she has. They were nearing the mansion, and they stopped at the driveway. Draco got off the black horse and helped Hermione off. Hermione took the horses by the reign and began to walk behind the mansion.
Draco started sweating, his heart beating faster. He wanted to dance with her, so he finally took up the courage and asked her.
"Wait, Hermione, are you going to have a party like last night?" He asked before she left.
"Yes, why do you ask?" She replied, confused.
"I wish to join you tonight." Draco said, trying to keep his confidence.
"Well, I'll look forward to seeing you tonight." Hermione said, and she left with the horses.
Draco collapsed on the front porch, taking a handkerchief and wiping off the sweat on his forehead. He then heard a person clapping behind him, a door opening and footsteps.
"Well done mate, well done." The person said.
(A/N: Aha! Cliffy! I'm so evil, mwahahahaha… Review please, I'll try to update as soon as I can!)