Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, places, creatures etc. that is the sole property of JK Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Bros. I make no money for this writing, this is purely a work of fiction and any resemblances to real people are coincidental and not the intent of the author.
The rose garden was Draco's favorite part of Malfoy Manor. The gentle breeze rustled through the roses making them dance. The warmth of the sun was blocked only intermittently by the trellises that the climbing variety clung to. The sweet smell always put him at ease. It was so different from the sterile sent of the manor. His mother insisted everything be white and clean, Draco thought it had something to do with what Lucius did to her at night.
Draco caressed the head of a perfect red rose. It was so delicate, so fragile. There was a time once he thought his mother much like this rose. Lately though he knew she was the thorns hard and protective.
No he was the rose, the delicate blossom that must have protection or it will perish.
Draco kneeled allowing the stones of the path to cut in to his wool covered knees.
Yes he loved this place, because when he walked in his gardens, far away from the darkness of the dungeons and the screams of their 'guests' he could think of Harry.
Only in his mind could he call the savior such a thing. Only in his mind could he imagine the Boy Who Lived would come and save him from this hell.
In reality Harry hated him, loathed everything Draco's name stood for.
The wind rustled his platinum hair as he allowed himself to look towards the Manor.
Storm clouds hung low in the sky. He knew should go in, back to the bleak reality of his life.
He stayed, watching the clouds encroach on his garden paradise.
When the rain began to fall he allowed himself to cry. His tears mingled with the clean droplets polluting them with salt.
The blond watched as the water rolled off of the delicate roses, leaving them unchanged.
"What I wouldn't give to escape." He whispered barely loud enough for his own ears to pick up over the roar of rain.
In the distance he could make out his mother's form gliding across the yard protected by a rain away charm.
Draco ducked closer to the bushes allowing the thorns to bite in to his skin, drawing blood and tearing at his clothing.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, for a moment Draco prayed for lightning. He knew his mother would retreat inside if there were lightning.
He took a chance to peak up from his leafy hideaway; the lithe woman was walking back towards the Manor.
He had gained his freedom if only for a while.
Draco relaxed allowing the small pinpricks of pain to lull him in to a daze. The blond man was sure he was cold, yet he felt better than he had in months.
He felt clean.
The wind whipped at his face when he stood. Draco wasn't sure how long he had sat watching the lighting in the distance and listening to the rain cleanse the world around him.
The blond knew he needed to return to the Manor, there was no true escape from the reality that was Voldemort.
Yet as he walked steadfastly towards the looming white building he had hope. Hope that his situation too could be cleansed, not by rain. No, rain didn't hold the kind of power necessary to cleanse Riddles soul.
But maybe Harry did.
Another one of my random one shots…
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