Everyone dies.
Everyone grieves.
Its normal. Draco decided, totally normal.
And it was. No matter what anyone thought. No matter how they criticised his father, no matter if they thought Lucius had beat him, because he hadn't.
Draco's father had been entirely loving, just not in public or in front of the Dark Lord and whoever thought it nice to send him a congratulations scroll was an unfeeling asshole.
So he watched quietly, clutching his father's old cane in one hand, and the damned scroll in the other. He watched as they lowered the coffin into the dark soil, wands hovering in the rain.
Strange, the youngest Malfoy mused, strange how it rains almost always on funerals. Strange, how when i finally get my life back to normal, it gets ripped to shreds again.
But even as the cold droplets of water washed away the single tear that had marred his perfectly pale face, Draco watched.
He didn't stop watching until the very last grain of dirt was back in place.
He didn't stop watching until his best and perhaps only friend, Blaise Zabini gently took his arm and led him away from the solemn scene.
"They sent me a letter," Draco whispered, "The Grifindorks. Saying they were happy my life is now unblemished by the cruel twist of fate that was Malfoy senior,"
Blaise regarded him solemnly, placing a tanned hand on Draco's shoulder. "They don't understand anything!" Draco suddenly yelled, shrugging the hand from his shoulder, only for it to be placed once more in the same position.
"Dray," Blaise started, blinking against the drop of rain waster that landed in his eyes, just as Draco turned towards him.
"Why?" His voice was suddenly rough, demanding, like the Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Silver Boy that he was sued to.
"Why? Why the fuck would someone do this? Were they all blind? Hallucinating? Did they see bruises on my skin that were not in actual fact there?" The questions kept coming, until Blaise reached out and pulled his friend into a brotherly embrace. "Why?" Draco finally whispered, face rubbing angrily against the cashmere of Blaise's emerald green, turtle neck jumper.
Blaise knew exactly what to say at times like these, he had, after all, know the platinum blond for the larger part of his life.
"Want to go terrorise some first years, then get drunk?
Draco let out a sobbing laugh.
"Yeah, Blaise, i do," He nodded and the two boys set off walking again, this time, towards Hogsmead.