A/N: So...I don't know why but I have a lot of angsty ideas trampling around in my head. Hope you like it! Enjoy and review please!
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She carefully cupped the flower with her hands, a gentle smile on her face.
"What?" he asked, annoyed.
"I said, quit fidgeting with your clothes," she reprimanded softly. "You wouldn't want to mess it up."
He harrumphed.
"Well, in case it has escaped your notice, we have been in this garden for half an hour already."
She seemed to be lost in her own world.
"A tulip," she murmured to herself, fingering the blooming flower, eying it knowingly. "Such a beautiful implication. Yet how much sorrow does it have? How much hidden beauty? How many secrets? No one will ever know, for it is all hidden behind its layers of facade. Before long it shall wilt, taking its many untold thoughts with it to the grave, back to the soil-"
"Mother, I-"
"-where it all begins."
Both of them were silent. She turned around to face her son.
He saw a tear sliding down his beautiful mother's face.
Her eyes roamed freely over her son's face. Pale blond hair, silver eyes, tall nose, sharp chin, handsome features.
It reminded her of someone.
Someone who is too painful to remember.
"Mother," he began, not wanting to break the tender look on his mother's face, "we really should get back inside. It is getting chilly out here. You'll catch a cold considering the thin robe you are wearing. Fa-father wouldn't want that." He silently reprimanded himself for stuttering. Malfoys do not stutter. Even on the more touchy subjects.
His mother's eyes still never left his face.
He took her hands in his and rubbed them together. With the raise of an eyebrow, he looked up to his mother's brown eyes. The eyes that filled him with warmth and strength.
She seemed to have jolted out of her thinking with his touch. Blinking her eyes, she slowly came back to her senses. It was not very often that Scorpius saw her like that. She had always been the dependable, strong, loving mother she always was.
"Right," she said, the awkward silence filling the space between them, engulfing them. They stood for a few minutes in the cold, amidst the snowflakes that were slowly dancing, twirling among them.
She looked up and braced herself for the glittering cold. How she wished she could be like them, without a care in the world. But oh, how the cold had sharpened her senses.
Some snowflakes, she noticed, come in duplets and triplets. In families.
Scorpius quietly shuffled his feet.
"Go on, go inside," she encouraged him without taking her eyes off the flakes. "It is cold out here. Go have a cup of hot chocolate."
"Are you coming?" he questioned.
Her eyes turned glassy, distant.
"No, I'll just stay out here...to think a while."
He nodded, took off his fur coat, and spread it over her shoulders. She smiled gratefully at him.
Scorpius knew that he had to give his mother some time. Some time to remember, some time to forget.
She watched as his tall form faded away, blending into the cold and shadows, back to the manor.
Coming back to the tulip, Hermione eyed it with a sort of facination and curiosity. She knew that tulips grew in the cold. That is why she planted them in this season, after all. But even in the snow, there is still this one tulip that is still blooming. A tulip that survived.
Tulips aren't like roses or any other flowers that grew only in warm weather. Roses symbolize romance, love that has to happen at the perfect time, perfect place. In a perfect world.
But, as far as Hermione had ever known it to be, the world is not flawless - it is a broken world that is struggling to mend itself. She had seen the worst of the war before.
Carefully through the snow she tred. Hermione walked past the trees, the suckleberry bushes, the snow crunching beneath her shoes. Afar were two swings hidden in the meadow. When spring touches here, all things become alive. The trees, the birds, the flowers. Such happy memories they had left in this wonderland.
A cold dab was on her cheek. She daintily wiped it off and rubbed it against her fingers. It was a tear. She was crying? Strange. She never noticed it.
Hermione saw that her feet had brought her to the tree beside the swings. Serenely, she kneeled down and took in the surroundings peacefully. The snow-coated tree was towering above her, like a snow white angel, protecting her, comforting her. In front of her, the vacant swings creaked under the weight of falling snow.
Using trembling hands, Hermione brushed away the powdery white off the marble on the frozen ground. It felt like yesterday when she read the carefully etched words. Her fingers traced pits and curves of the smooth marble.
"It really hadn't been that long, had it, Draco?" she whispered. "I still remember the times when we sat on the swings, enjoying the beautiful spring, as you read me Paradise Lost." A fond smile streched on her face. "Miraculously, it was your favorite book that was written by a muggle. I remember you being astonished that muggles could write such good novels."
A sigh escaped her lips.
"We're all doing well. Scor just came home for Christmas from Hogwarts. He's doing fine on all of his academics. Besides academically smart, I have also seen you in him, you know. He...just acts different for people his age."
Hermione absentmindedly tapped her fingers on the cold marble. "Ginny came to visit yesterday. Said she was pregnant. They decided to name the baby boy James, in honor of Harry's father. I drink three cups of tea every day. Tea has become my favorite beverage," she ranted, faster and faster."I have also been promoted to manager of Department of Mysteries. I'm just working to keep myself busy. Ron just married Luna. They moved to Godric's Hollow, near Harry's house. Narcissa is living joyfully. Scor's return had made her even more cheerful. Now that the war has ended, everyone is trying to rebuild our society."
Her fast breathing slowed. There was a pause.
"I miss you," she said slowly. "I miss your witty comebacks. I miss someone that would always be my listener. I miss intellectual conversations. I even miss that infuriating ferret smirk you always have on your face." She covered her face with her frozen hands, a new round of wet, hot tears flowed down her cheeks. "Oh Draco Malfoy, what have you done?" she cried out.
The question hung on the frigid air. A soft gust of chilly wind blew her curls around. An owl hooted, a heartchilling hoot.
Still there was no answerer.
"Happy anniversary, Draco," she answered quietly, so quietly that it was only meant for one person to hear.
Hermione Malfoy stood up and walked back, leaving without a trace except for a tulip behind on the plaque. To where it all began.
Reviews would be much appreciated. :)