Draco never wanted to see this house, this room, the dungeons, his childhood bedroom, the portraits on the walls, none of it - ever again. When Luna and Harry took flight Draco sucked in a heavy breath, the putrid smell of death and coppery blood sucked deep into his lungs and he blew a ball of fire out the large bay windows, overlooking the property's rose garden - his mothers rose garden. The garden that had grown the flower that would save Luna and his lives.