City Sickness

[Chapter five]

What Now?

I leaned my back against the wall and bit my lip in frustration. My hands were freezing and I seemed to have lost my extravagant leather gloves. It actually surprised me that I even had the insolence to wear them in the first place. After all, they were a gift from my Father. The last gift he ever gave me. I sunk my hands into my pockets and tried to ignore the harsh wind that was cutting against my cheekbones. At some point it had started to snow. Fragile, silvery flakes floated around me, landing onto my hair and shoulders. I had been standing there for hours, waiting for you to come. I had seen you four days earlier. I had come here every single night after meeting you.

How stupid of me.

Of course you wouldn't come. Why would you? By this time you had probably figured out who I was, and I knew you didn't want to have anything to do with me. And even if you didn't know it was me you had absolutely nothing to come here for. Nothing. Except that muggle jazzclub I saw you come out of the last time. It was my only hope, really.

Just after lighting up a cigarette and taking the first drag from it I saw a massive, pitch black car swerve from around the corner. It took me a while to realise who it was. I had no idea what he was doing in the area. Later on he told me he had been looking for me. He never told me how he had managed to find me.

The car slowed down and stopped beside me. The window was rolled down. He smiled to me and asked how I was doing. It didn't really take too much persuasion. I smiled back to him and climbed in, smelling the leather and his expensive aftershave. If it had been someone else, I would've told them to sod off, but he had always been so tender and caring and I really needed to feel loved, even just for an hour or two.

He was a regular, an elder gentleman who would have spoiled me with roses and champagne if I had only let him. He was boring and ugly, but he never hurt me or made me do unpleasant things. Sometimes he just wanted to hold me or talk to me. He had showed me pictures of his wife and children. The pictures had not moved.

I even had once told him about you. He had said he would take care of me until I found you.

I'm not sure when I had realised he was a wizard. I think it had been his way of holding a chopstick that finally disclosed him. The way his fingers had curled around it was so obvious. We had been in a Chinese restaurant, he insisted on taking me out for a dinner every once in a while, and my eyes had been fixated on his dry, elderly hands. I had asked him, if he carried his wand around all the time. He had just stared at me for a while before his face melted into a relieved smile.

"I knew there was magic in you, Draco."

It had been my turn to stare at him. I still can't believe I had actually told him my name.

I took one last look around, my guts twisting with anguish and yearning. I knew there was no use staying out there. You would never come. I bit my lip and lowered my head in order to prevent myself from hitting it against the door frame like so many times before. It had taken me a while to get used to cars. My Father had never had one.

I closed the door and leaned my head back, closing my eyes and drowning into the darkness around me. The car hummed slightly under me. I had never imagined that something with a motor could make so little noise.

I kept my eyes shut as we drove through the plaza. I was sick and tired with the everlasting coldness and the colours of the night and the whole bloody London. I just wanted to sleep this off and forget.

I never saw you again.

****