Written for Professor Monse's Level Two Homework


To say that Draco Malfoy had a bad experience with flowers, or a certain type of flower, was an understatement. In fact, you could even say that they had become a fear of his.

1984

A four year old Draco was sitting in the gardens of Malfoy Manor, pulling tufts of grass out from beside him. He was very bored. His father was reading the Daily Prophet whilst drinking tea, and completely ignoring the little boy. He pushed himself of the ground and wobbled precariously for a few moments until he regained his balance. He ran as fast as his little legs could take towards one of the flower beds and sat himself down beside it.

They were strange flowers, he thought. The petals weren't even the same size. And there was a strange blob of colour near the middle. He reached a chubby little hand over and pulled one out from the garden bed, bringing it up to his nose as he had seen his mother do various times.

'Achoo.'

He dropped the offensive flower.

'Achoo.'

'Achoo.'

His father ran over to him and picked him up off the ground.

'Draco, you know better than to be playing with your mother's flowers. No dessert for you tonight.'

1989

His father had finally agreed to teach him how to ride a broom. He had just turned nine that year, and was running about the house to find Lucius when he reached the dining room. There was a large vase of flowers sitting on the middle of the table. He had seen these flowers before; he remembered the peculiar petals and the strange colouring in the centre. Yet, he could not recall where he had seen them before.

Leaning over to take a closer look, he felt his nose itch.

'Achoo.'

'Achoo.'

The table shook as he sneezed and the vase toppled over and shattered onto the ground into a million pieces.

'Achoo.'

His mother had heard and ran into the room to find the vase, a family heirloom, destroyed. Whipping out her wand, she pointed towards the mess and uttered Reparo. The vase pieced itself back together and went back to its original position upon the table.

'Draco dear, you are obviously feeling unwell. Flying lessons can wait till later. Now off to your room.'

1991

He was sitting in a compartment on the Hogwart's Express, attempting to hide his nervousness from Crabbe and Goyle who would surely report it to his father. The door slid open, and a girl walked and sat next to him. He recognised her, he'd seen her at the parties his mother had held in the past few years. The Parkinson's daughter. What was her name? Prissy, Penny, Perry? No that wasn't it.

'Hello Drakey.'

'Ms. Parkinson.'

'I just know we'll both get sorted into Slytherin. And then we can spend the next seven years together,' she said, looping her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder.

Draco tensed. Prissy Parkinson, or whatever her name was had always been so annoyingly clingy. As he turned his head slightly towards her, he saw a familiar flower tucked behind her ear. He could feel his nose beginning to tingle. Quickly, he pushed the girl off him, and dashed out of the compartment towards the bathroom, calling out that he was in desperate need to test out the 'facilities.'

'Achoo.'

'Achoo.'

All around him, students began to open doors and stare. Who was this weird kid with the sneezing problem?

'Achoo.'

He made it to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

1995

He stormed through the hallways in anger. Stupid Potter. He always found a way to ruin his day. As he rounded a corner he collided into someone.

It was Milicent Bulstrode.

In her hand, she held a bouquet of flowers.

And not just any old flowers.

It was those flowers. The flowers of doom. The same flowers Parkinson wore in her hair during their first year of Hogwarts, and then every Hogsmeade weekend after third year began.

Panic surged through him and he took off, running away from the girl before she could hear him.

'Achoo.'

'Achoo.'

He wouldn't likely make it through class today if Milicent and her silly flowers were there. Damn her.

2004

Astoria Greengrass and her future mother - in - law Narcissa Maloy were seated in one of the many drawing rooms of Malfoy Manor. The women were talking about plans for the upcoming wedding, in two weeks time. They looked up as his school friend Pansy Parkinson strode in through the door and sat herself at an armchair beside them.

'Pansy dear, we were just talking the wedding,' Narcissa said, smiling at the girl.

'Did you and Astoria pick out the flowers yet?'

'Yes, we did just as you suggested.'

'Oh, I simply love pansies, they're my favourite flower.'

'Ofcourse they are,' Astoria replied.

She honestly thought it to be slightly egotistical that Pansy loved pansies.

'You know, I used to wear them in my hair all the time.'