Draco stood there staring at Lea. Her face was twisted with anger and hurt. When he didn't respond, she pressed on, "Well, are you!"
"I uhm well," Draco stuttered.
Suddenly her face crumbled. "You are, aren't you?" Lea whispered, "Is it because I'm a muggle born, is it?" She almost seemed as though she didn't want to know the answer. Draco couldn't bring himself to say anything; he could hardly make eye contact. "Oh my gosh, that's why isn't?" Rage suddenly streaked her face. "I can't believe you!"Lea screamed. Abruptly, Lea lashed out and pushed him. He fell backwards into his bench and scratched his arm.
"Lea!" he cried as he stood up. But it was too late. She was running down the street. Draco stood there, his white blonde hair raggedly out of place and his left arm bleeding.
Draco walked inside trying to ignore his mother as she came to him. "Dracy, what happened to your arm!" she panicked.
"Nothing!" he growled.
"But your arm!" she shrieked, "Here, let me fix it." She pulled out her wand.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Draco screamed. His mother stood there dumbfounded holding her wand limply. Draco quickly stormed upstairs and shut himself in the lavatory. He turned on the faucet and washed his arm. The warm water turned red as he rinsed his wound. The cut was long and jagged, but it was really deep. He took a towel and wrapped it around his arm. Still enraged, Draco wrenched open the door and stomped into his room.
Draco slammed the door and flung himself onto his bed. He screamed into the pillow shortly. Draco then rolled over onto his back. Staring at the ceiling, Draco felt the full extent of his guilt. It laid on his chest like a bell bar. Draco laid in a stupor for hours. Broken, confused thoughts ran through his mind.
At one oblivious point, Draco finally stood and wrapped his wounded arm. He thought about healing it for a moment, but quickly brushed the thought away. He deserved every bit of pain he received at the moment. Draco laid in his quiet world clueless. But, as hard as he tried, nothing came to him. He had no clear answer of what to do. About ninety percent of his mind was telling him to brush it off. It was a simple mudblood, no one important. Just a bit more filth added into the wizarding world. But there was that little voice with him. And every time he was around Lea, that ninety percent disappeared. All that was left was that last ten telling him that she was more then what her parents were. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
Draco lied in his room for more then an hour. He refused food and ignored his mother's constant hounding. Once it was dark, Draco finally stood. He felt like crap, but he felt that he need to leave. He grabbed his black cloak and his wand. Draco walked to the door. He could hear his mother hovering around outside. So instead, Draco turned to the window and climbed onto the roof covering his porch. Then, ungracefully, Draco climbed down one of the poles and landed on the dirt below. And then Draco stood and walked off into the dark streets.
He walked down the street and watched the grim houses stare at him. The cold windows remained him of eyes. They all glared at him with empty angry eyes. Draco shuddered, he could feel their annoyance boring into the back of his head. Draco moved quicker down the street.
Draco kept walking until he stopped in front of Lea's house. Draco stood there thinking for a moment. He walked up onto her porch. For a moment Draco thought about knocking on the door, but turned away from the idea. Instead, Draco pulled out his wand. He stared at it for a moment then mutter something under his breath. A tiny light came from the tip of his wand.
And there on Lea's doorstep was a black rose. The thorns were gone. Draco looked at it for a moment. The black velvet petals were soft and all aligned. The dark green steam was long and straight. And when one looked closely they could see something engraved in the rose's stem. It read: I'm sorry. It was enough, for now at least. Perhaps, she'd forget about him and he her. None the less, all Draco needed was to leave. To go away for at least a little while. And that's what he did. Without a word to anyone, dressed in a black coat, Draco disappeared into the dark grim night.