Downward Spiral - Draco Malfoy

Chapter Thirty Five

Dina Murry's POV

I forlornly sat on the floor of the balcony connected to my bedroom in the Mikaelson Residence in New Orleans, absentmindedly staring at the people walking down the street and my ears picking up on the jazz music playing in the distance, but I could barely hear it, and I could barely even notice what the people I was watching on the street were doing. In my hand was a cigarette which I impetuously lit with self-magic (no wand magic), and held between my forefinger and middle finger.

I pulled the cigarette up to my chapped lips and I took a long, lazy drag, before I lifted my head up slightly and exhaled; I impassively observed the smoke travel out my mouth and into the atmosphere, and I rolled my eyes in indignation when the sound of trumpets in the distance had begun to sound clearer and clearer.

"You've got to be shitting me." I mumbled to myself as I melancholy braced myself for the seventh god damned street parade of the day.

It has been three weeks, four days and seven hours since I had been separated from Draco (yes, I keep count), and I couldn't even begin to describe how I felt, because to be quite frank, I didn't even know how I felt. I had desperately written a hasty note to him a day after my return to New Orleans, the only word on the parchment being "alive?" and sent it using the spell I had taught him instead of using owls, but he never responded to me, and it viciously ripped me apart not knowing if he was even alive at all. I was heartbroken, and at this point, I'm not quite certain if I even possessed a heart anymore. I was livid with Draco, wanting nothing more than to give his jaw a nice, old-fashioned punch, but I knew that if I were to see him at this exact moment, I would only want him to hold me and reassure me of his presence.

Not only was I grieving the separation of the love of my life and me, but I was also trying to cope with the sudden death of my own mother, who had sacrificed her own life, pushing me out of the way of danger, just so I could live. I never expected her to do that, and this only further fuels my guilt that was gnawing at my skin until it was raw, and I winced at the thought. I have lived my entire life hating my parents and wanting nothing to do with them, and now that my mother is buried six feet underground (although I don't know if she had a burial or if her corpse was rotting somewhere in a ditch now), I realised how much time I wasted in loathing her while she secretly loved me more than she led on.

My father evidently blames me for her death, and I can't get rid of the image of him shooting me the nastiest glare in existence after her death, knowing full well what it meant, and it meant that to him, I am no longer his daughter. I expected myself to feel upset by this, but surprisingly, I was hardly fazed by my father's pure hatred towards me and disowning me. He never showed me any act of kindness, unlike Mother, who had shown me motherly affection at least a few times during her life.

I also felt rather lonely in the absence of my friends from Hogwarts. I caught myself several times thinking what Theodore Nott would be doing at this moment in time, and if he knew who I was and hated me for it? I wondered if Daphne was disappointed in me and felt ashamed to be affiliated with me to begin with. I pondered if Blaise had managed to reach out to Draco in this time of emotional need and craving, because I knew Draco needed it. I knew he needed someone to talk to, especially now that I was ripped away from him, and it was all thanks to him. Why couldn't he just come with me? Why couldn't his parents come too? That way, no one would be in danger, and we'd have nothing to go back to. We could have a proper do-over. We could finally have a peaceful life.

'But Draco is an idiot and thinks he could play the hero by sending me away from him.' I bitterly thought.

I had shut myself into my room the entire time since I'd got here, having Kol drop me off three meals a day and always asking me the same question, 'How're you doing, Dee?'  And every time he would ask me that, I would scornfully give him the cold shoulder and pretend he didn't exist. I knew it wasn't his fault, but he was the one holding me before we were teleported back to New Orleans, and I needed to release my anger on anyone before I drive myself mad. I expected Kol to lose his patience and yell at me, or threaten me, but he never did, and it caught my attention.