Where the Flowers Used to Grow [Mattheo Riddle]

Chapter 11

June 2003

Harry shook his head in disbelief.

"Your reaction makes sense now I suppose. I thought you were just... innocent." She tried to keep poised, tying not to show how disgusting she really felt having to remember all of it. "I just can't believe you'd kissed him at that point. That you'd helped him, healed him... all behind our backs."

"Have you not listened to a word I've said? He was different around me-"

"A real Romeo." Harry rolled his eyes.

"We can't all be like you Harry." Florence felt her anger rising through her throat. "So perfect, so heroic." She scowled. "Congratulations on dealing with your trauma productively Harry, but not all of us have that strength."

"How can you talk of trauma? You walked right into yours, I was born with mine!" Harry growled over the desk, both of them snarling at each other. "You were so desperate to be interesting that you jumped into bed with a bloody psychopath and now you have 'trauma'. I lost everything and had to live in fear my entire life! That's my fucking trauma, Florence." Harry shook his head, trying to calm himself down. "And with all that overtaking my life I still kept myself loyal to what I believed in, I stayed loyal my friends, to what is right!" Florence inhaled deeply, leaning back into her chair.

"And now your friends are your soldiers." Florence sneered. The room fell silent, as Harry's face paled.

"Not all of them."

---

April 1997

Florence hadn't been to her garden in two weeks, ever since Mattheo's birthday. Every night was the same. A nightmare about her dying plants followed by a nightmare of Mattheo watching her die. She would wake up, feeling that cold fog suffocating her lungs and her heart would sink further into her stomach as she wondered if that's what her plants were feeling as she abandoned them, and so the cycle of sleeplessness would start again. One day in herbology it all got too much as she pictured all the plants around her dying, silently screaming as they began to rot and decay. After class she immediately ran out of the castle, despite promising herself she'd never go to the garden in full daylight. She told herself this was the only way to go without having to see him, he'd never know she was there. As she arrived she saw the empty shed. He'd definitely been there then, and he'd taken the presents. She looked to see the tent tucked neatly behind the shed, and the blankets and pillows all packed up. As her fingers trailed through the soil she found herself befuddled. It was damp. Someone had been here and watered for her. Her heart sunk. She walked through all the beds, noticing that they had watered all the beds equally and immediately started draining some of them while conjuring some fire balls to hover over them to warm them up. Some beds were beyond repair, but in general they'd come away from it pretty in tact. She'd been running around so sporadically the whole operation had taken hardly any time. She slowly sat herself down in the shed, the exhaustion of the bed repair mixed with the exhaustion of pretending to hate a boy who'd been so kind to her sinking in. Her head hung in between her knees, her eyes swelling with tears. It was the first time she'd let herself cry over him. She couldn't keep it in any longer, all the confusion and lack of sleep bubbling over the edge. She didn't hear the scratching at the door as her fingers dug into her scalp.

"Lake?" She thought she was going crazy, only making her dig her head further in between her knees as she rocked back and forth.

"Lake what the fuck?" Mattheo ran over to her, crouching down in front of her. "Stop... fucking stop!" He grabbed her hands, trying to stop her from aggressively scratching at her head. He held her hands, looking down at her curled-up body shaking in front of him. His heart began to race, he didn't know what to do. He didn't understand what had happened, where she'd been. He placed her hands around his neck before he wrapped his arms around her body.