Disclaimer:
Anything belonging to the HP universe belongs to J.K. Rowling and others who have bought the rights to meddle with her toys. Anything that's not is mine, unless stated otherwise. I'm just playing around here, not making money, so please don't sue.
Author's notes:
This one was very hard to write and I still haven't figured out why I don't like it much. Warnings for character death, OOC Draco … guess that's about it.
Summary:
The war is over, The-Boy-Who-Lived has died, but what is Draco Malfoy doing at his funeral? Hermione is determined to find out.
Healing a Broken Man
Soft piano music played in the background as more and more people filled the room. There were many faces she recognized, and even more she didn't. In small groups, they filed into row upon row of seats. Together with Ginny and Ron, she'd made sure to get the largest room and fit in as many chairs as possible, but she could already see that it would not be enough. The seats were beginning to fill up and people would have to stand during the ceremony. It was one of the reasons they'd decided to keep it short: that, and because he had wanted it that way, because it suited him.
His casket stood on a small stage at one end of the room. It was made out of light wood and adorned with white flowers. An array of different bouquets surrounded the casket. Some of them were white, like the ones on the casket, most of them in other colours. Yellow and purple, blue and red. One bouquet stood out. Not only for its sheer size, but mostly for its colour.
Hermione counted twenty-two flowers, the amount equalling the number of years he had seen. The flowers that looked like roses but were slightly different were a very unusual colour and Hermione knew they had to be charmed. The petals of the flowers were silver alternating with emerald green; the green an exact copy of that in the eyes of the man everybody here was coming to honour. She wondered who sent them. And wondered if that person knew his true story.
To her left, her boyfriend of four years tried to hide his emotions as best he could. Hermione knew this wasn't easy on him; it was difficult for her too, but in a different way. She put a hand on his leg, squeezing gently. "It's going to be okay, Ron," she whispered. He smiled tightly at her and nodded, but she knew he wouldn't relax until it was all over.
She sighed and scanned the crowd again, waiting for everyone to find a seat or place to stand. Counting familiar faces, she tried to name them all. His best friends and closest companions were all seated in the first rows to her left, but many of their old school acquaintances had come to pay their last respects. The Patil twins were seated some rows behind her, looking sad but not overly mournful. They'd been in his house, his year, but had lost contact over time.
Luna Lovegood sat some seats to their right, almost next to the path leading around the chairs. She sat alone as always. Hermione smiled affectionately when she saw the woman was softly muttering something, undoubtedly thinking she was talking to Harry.
In the back rows Hermione spotted some Aurors whose names she could not remember. They stared blankly ahead, showing no emotion whatsoever, and Hermione wondered if they knew. So few did, so few could. She sighed again and turned her head back to the coffin.
It was a closed casket funeral. When she had told the newspapers that it would be, the reporters had all jumped to ask how mangled he was. Hermione shuddered at the memory and pushed the thought to the back of her mind.
She glanced sideways at Ron and saw a stony expression. He was fighting hard to stay emotionless throughout this entire ordeal, but it wasn't easy on him. Hermione prayed he would be able to deliver his speech and deal with the reporters afterwards, and made a mental note to watch him and step in if needed.
She looked over her shoulder, signalling the head of ceremony to start the music and was about to look back to the podium when something caught her eye. She scanned the rows of people standing against the wall to her right, thinking she might've been mistaken. She wasn't. The walls of the room were white, so she had almost missed it, but when she looked again, she could make out a person with light blond hair. It was so light it almost blended in with the wall but it didn't, not quite.
She watched him as he walked past Harry's casket and followed a small procession towards the middle isle. Hermione realized that there were still more people coming in and the head of ceremony was forced to use the isle to her right as a temporary standing place.
Hermione recognised the fair-haired man immediately as he stopped near her and turned his head to the stage where Professor Dumbledore was addressing the people who had come to pay their last respects to Harry Potter.
What's he doing here? Hermione wondered, irritated that he'd had the nerve to show up. The perfect view she got of his face sucked all the anger out of that thought however. He looked even paler than usual, his skin almost translucent. His silver-grey eyes were dull, void of any sign of life. Draco Malfoy looked more like a ghost than a man, and for an instant Hermione wondered which he was. Then she quickly refocused on why he was here. And she promised herself she would find out why Harry's school rival was here.
Hermione shifted in her seat slightly as Dumbledore stepped down from the stage and 'Nothing Else Matters', one of Harry's favourite songs, started to sound from the speakers. Adjusting her black, veiled hat so none of the rows behind her would get suspicious of her not watching the funeral, Hermione watched Malfoy instead.
The blond man, whom she only knew as the hateful brat from her years at Hogwarts, dropped his head at the words of the song as if in understanding, and Hermione wondered just what had happened to the boy who had called her Mudblood so many years ago.
She hadn't thought of him after school. She had heard the rumours about him fighting on their side of course, but she had never seen him, so she assumed the rumours to be just that, rumours.
She, Ron and Ginny had visited Harry regularly at his house in London. They had had dinners, gone to movies, done all the things good friends did, but the threat of Voldemort had always been with them, casting a dark, unrelenting shadow over their friendship. They all expected things to be better when Harry finally defeated Voldemort, but they weren't. Things only got worse.
Hermione was drawn out of her thoughts by Ron, who rose from his seat to make his speech. She turned her head back to the stage. It may have intrigued her that Malfoy was here, but Ron was her boyfriend, the love of her life, and she needed to support him through this.
Ron coughed into the microphone and jumped back slightly as the sound came quite loud through the speakers. He shot a panicking glance at Hermione, who nodded encouragingly at him. She saw him take a deep breath and start to speak.
"Harry, mate, after all we've been through we should've seen this coming, but we didn't. And for that I'm sorry. We will remember you. As the one who saved us all of course, but I'll remember you mostly as my friend." Ron took a deep breath before continuing. "You were always there for me Harry, no matter what happened or how much we fought sometimes; when push came to shove you were always there." Hermione saw several people nodding out of the corners of her eyes and smiled slightly.
"Thank you for that, Harry. Thank you, and I'm sorry we couldn't do the same for you. You were such a warm and caring person, Harry. You had no one to teach you when you were a child, but you knew how to care and love anyway." A soft smile had appeared on Ron's face, one he very rarely showed anymore, and Hermione was reminded forcefully of how much the war had taken from them, even after so long.
"You always put the needs of others before your own, Harry, and we loved you for that. We all truly did. And now we have lost that. For today we bury you, and we do it with empty hearts and heavy souls." The smile had disappeared from Ron's face and Hermione watched her boyfriend cringe visibly at the blatant lie coming back to him through the speakers. She hoped those present would blame grief for his strange reaction.
"We will miss you, Harry James Potter. We loved you and we always will. Even if you are not with us in the flesh, you will forever live in our hearts, for you truly are The Boy-Who-Lived."
Hermione was not surprised that many cried, but Ron didn't. She put a hand on his arm as he sat back down next to her and he nodded, indicating that he was okay. Hermione turned back to look at Malfoy as another song drifted through the room.
Harry's old rival was staring straight ahead and seemed completely unaware of the room around him. Hermione wondered what he was thinking about and again she questioned his reasons for coming here. It didn't seem like he was planning anything nasty. He seemed … unsettled, like something was wrong and Hermione wanted to know what it was.
She watched him blink furiously a couple of times and could hardly believe her eyes. Draco Malfoy was fighting back tears. Hermione was so shocked she didn't move at all when everybody stood up as the coffin passed the crowd on its way to the graveyard.
Ron gently tapped her on the shoulder and she stood quickly and straightened her hat, slowly walking behind the casket. She glanced at Malfoy on her way out to make sure he hadn't noticed her watching him and could only just suppress a gasp.
His eyes were so empty, it was almost as if no soul resided in the body. But somewhere in those depths, or maybe it was in those tears he refused to shed, she found something. A tiny fragment of a broken soul. He had kept his dignity on the outside, Hermione understood, but on the inside he didn't care anymore.
He needs to know, Hermione thought suddenly. But … he couldn't; so few could.
They stood around the hole in the ground at the cemetery and waited for everyone to gather around. Hermione looked at the picture on the casket that stood in front of the grave. It was a shot of Harry in his Quidditch outfit, holding his broom and smiling brightly at the camera. He waved at all of them every once in a while and Hermione smiled involuntarily. If they only knew, she thought as she looked around. But they didn't and they couldn't.
But he has to, it will kill him if he doesn't, she realized as she spotted Malfoy again. He was standing under a tree, slightly away from the gathering. The tree's leaves had turned red and orange and the light of the late afternoon sun that filtered through them cast a warm, orange glow on Malfoy's blond hair. He was standing rigid, staring at Harry's grave, his jaw working continuously. Hermione wondered if he was angry – she knew Harry worked his jaw like that when he was trying to control his temper – but then she remembered that Harry also worked his jaw like that when he was repressing any other strong emotion. What was Draco Malfoy trying to hide?
Hermione turned her nose up at the silver Malfoy crest at the end of the green scarf that was hanging over Malfoy's jacket. It didn't change her resolve to tell him, though, so she pulled on Ron's sleeve a little. The redhead knew his girlfriend inside out and understood she needed to talk. Hermione saw him look around helplessly, trying to find a way to be alone with her but she knew he wouldn't find one. They, of all people, couldn't leave the funeral; they had to lower the casket in a moment. So Hermione faked crying and got Ron to give her a comforting hug.
"Malfoy's here," she whispered into his ear while masking her face with her hair.
"What?" Ron was hardly able to keep his voice down to a whisper.
"Under the tree to your right, look at him," Hermione told him. She felt him gasp silently as he spotted him.
"What the hell is wrong with him?" Ron asked, bewildered.
"I don't know. I'll try to talk to him after the ceremony if you can handle the reporters, okay?" Hermione prayed that he would be honest with her. Everything would go to hell if he couldn't handle the reporters, but she had to talk to Malfoy and she knew it would be her only chance.
Her boyfriend stayed quiet for a long time before saying, "Yes," so determinedly, she knew that it would all be okay.
"I…I think he needs to know the truth, Ron," she whispered. Ron hugged her a little tighter.
"You do what you think is best, hon. I know you will do the right thing," he said, trying to comfort her. She didn't feel that comforted when she pulled out of his arms, but she was still resolved to tell Malfoy. Ron brushed his hand across her cheeks as if brushing away tears as an afterthought, just before they lowered the casket into the hole.
Hermione looked at the small group beside the casket. Dumbledore, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Ginny, Ron and her. Besides them, only a couple of Aurors, McGonagall and the other Weasleys knew. No more than twenty people would know and now she was going to add Malfoy to that group.
Hermione watched silently as more than a hundred people passed the grave to pay their respects and saw the coffin slowly being covered in flowers. When the cemetery finally emptied, Ron squeezed her hand and she nodded as he left to see to their guests and talk to the reporters. Hermione looked away as the gravediggers covered Harry's grave with the large marble tombstone she and Ron had picked out. Once they had left she knelt by the marble stone and traced the words with her fingers. 'Here lies Harry James Potter. Beloved friend and saviour of our world. May you find the peace that was not given to you in life', it read.
"It was all about peace," Hermione said softly when she saw a pale hand place a green and a silver rose in front of the stone.
"I hope he found it," came a broken whisper.
She looked at the green and the silver rose, forming a cross before the tombstone.
"Those flowers were yours?" she asked, noting the resemblance in colour between this green rose and the petals of those that had been by the casket. Malfoy just nodded.
He looked at the tombstone with empty eyes, one hand stretching out to it as if he could pull Harry back through the marble. Hermione looked at him worriedly, when the blond knelt down gracefully and traced the letters on Harry's tombstone, just like she had done moments earlier. His hands dropped back into his lap and Hermione thought she saw him shake his head, but the movement was so slight, she couldn't be sure.
Hermione carefully placed a hand on his shoulder and waited until he turned so she could look him in the eye. "Why are you here Malfoy?" she asked, clearly but not unkindly.
"To say goodbye," Malfoy whispered.
Hermione wondered why he kept speaking in whispers, but wondered even more why Malfoy would say goodbye to Harry. He smiled bitterly when she asked him.
"I was wrong," he said, his voice a mixture of regret and pain. "I never learned to think for myself when I was in school, but when I graduated my father wanted me to travel, so I did. Big mistake on his part. I learned to think for myself and learned a whole lot of other things too. I learned my father was wrong, that Muggles didn't need to be dangerous. That we made them dangerous by scaring them ourselves with our secrecy. I learned I could follow my own path and I learned I had a heart."
Hermione frowned. So the rumours might've been true, but what did that have to do with anything? But Malfoy continued talking before she could ask.
"I cut off all ties with my family after ensuring part of my inheritance. That's when I learned what it was like to be alone. I had no family left and everywhere I went people assumed me to be something I wasn't". Hermione felt something in her chest curl in on itself at the look that shadowed Malfoy's features. It was one of intense pain. Pain and understanding.
"I had nowhere to go. Until I walked into him that is. It was by pure chance Harry and I were in Diagon Alley at the same time. He later told me he preferred to call it fate, but it saved me nonetheless. He was the only one who didn't turn away from me. He listened and he understood". A small but warm smile had spread over Malfoy's face and his eyes had glazed over slightly, like he was not entirely here.
"He showed me it was possible to have a life without a family, that you could make a family of your own. I knew I could never be part of his, not after what I did to him in school, and I was afraid to ask him to forgive me for that, but he taught me I could make my own family. I never asked Harry for forgiveness and I never thanked him for his help," he told her.
Then, suddenly, Malfoy turned his head, staring at her. Hermione pushed some curls behind her ear nervously and stood up to place some distance between them. The look in those pale grey eyes was scaring her. It was hollow and filled with remorse. It hurt her just to look at them.
"Can you forgive me Hermione? Please?" he asked, his voice sounding small.
Hermione looked down at the broken man in front of her and saw nothing of the boy who used to call her names at school. "I can, Draco, and I will. Harry would've too, I'm sure," she nodded.
"Yes, he probably would've," Draco agreed. "I visited him often after our talk. Not that he knew, I always watched from a distance, sometimes greeted him in passing, but I rarely really talked to him. It didn't matter, it happened anyway…"
Hermione kneeled beside him as Draco trailed off, a smile on his face while unshed tears were again shining in his eyes.
"What happened Draco?" she asked softly. Draco turned to look at her again and she recoiled slightly from the suddenly intense look in the eyes that were so dead before.
"I found out I had a heart. But I never told him. Now he's gone and I'll never be able to. He'll never know," he spoke in a hollow tone. His voice sounded dull and dead, like it all didn't matter anymore and the fire that had burned in his eyes moments before had gone. They had turned empty once more and suddenly Hermione understood. She understood the empty look, she understood his showing up at Harry's funeral, she understood this man's pain. Draco Malfoy had fallen in love with Harry Potter and he hadn't had the courage to tell him. Hermione suddenly understood why Harry had acted so differently the last times she had seen him too, why he had seemed depressed. She'd thought it was something else, that he was mourning the world he had to leave behind, but now she recognised it.
"Draco, there's something you need to know, but I can't tell you here. You'll have to come with me, okay?" she told him kindly. The blond looked away from Harry's gravestone reluctantly, but got up anyway. Hermione took off towards her car, searching for her car keys on her way out of the cemetery.
"Harry was very depressed the last days before his funeral. I thought it was something else that bothered him, but I think I understand now," she told Draco. The broken man walking beside her didn't answer, just stared at the ground. Hermione noticed he was swallowing repeatedly and almost told him it was okay to cry, but thought better of it. He wouldn't cry in front of her anyway.
"What is it you wanted to tell me?" Draco asked tonelessly as he looked out of the car window. Hermione shook her head. "I don't think I'm the right person to tell you, actually," she said and headed into London.
Draco didn't ask any further, in fact, through the whole long drive, he didn't talk at all. He just stared out of the window listlessly and Hermione got the distinct impression again that he truly didn't care about anything anymore. Now she knew why. She shuddered at the thought of Ron dying and looked at the man next to her with pity. He really does have to know, she thought as she turned up the driveway of a beautiful mansion.
"Please don't tell anyone this address, Draco," she asked as she turned the key in the lock. "You'll understand why in a minute." She took Draco's coat and led him through a hallway and onto a stairway to a room on the first floor.
"Hey 'Mione. Did you bring Ron?" a deep, slightly rough voice said as she entered the room.
Draco practically flew into the room at the sound of that voice. He shook his head disbelievingly and leaned against the wall for support as he saw who stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window at the far end of the room.
"You need to talk to him, Harry," was all Hermione said before she retreated out of the room.
"Harry?" Draco asked in a choked voice. He pushed himself forward and stretched out his right hand as if to make sure Harry was not a ghost.
"Yes Draco, it's me," Harry answered and grabbed the hand hovering in front of his face. He didn't really expect what happened next. Draco sobbed once and blinked as a tear trickled down his cheek.
"Oh God, I thought you were dead. Why did you do this? Why?" Draco asked, shaking his head because he didn't understand. Harry cupped the side of Draco's face with his left hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I wanted to tell you but I couldn't. Nobody can know I'm still alive," he said.
"But why?" the blond asked again, staring up at Harry, blinking another tear away.
Harry pulled Draco onto the red leather couch in front of the window. "I was going crazy. The media followed me everywhere. After I defeated Voldemort it got worse instead of better. They even followed me into Muggle London. I couldn't even shop for groceries without being attacked." Harry held up his hand as Draco made as if to interrupt. "Last week, we heard that there's a new group of Death Eaters emerging. They're planning on resurrecting Voldemort, but only after they've killed me, so I can't defeat their Dark Lord again. With all the media exposure I was a far too easy target, so we decided to fake my death, massive funeral and all, to distract them. I moved here the day the papers announced my death so nobody could find me. We agreed to let as few people as possible know the truth to minimize the danger," Harry explained, "and now Hermione brought you here. Why?"
"I was at your funeral and she saw me and…and…." Draco shook his head and looked at Harry helplessly. Harry, shocked by the emptiness he had seen in the man's eyes when he'd entered the room, was glad to see some life return to them. He was devastated, Harry realized.
The realisation triggered a chain of thoughts. Harry realized Draco was devastated because of his death, which meant he cared, which meant he didn't only come to Harry that day because he had no one else to turn to, which meant there might be a chance…
"Why, Draco?" he asked again, bending over towards the blond slightly. He could clearly see the red rims of Draco's eyes at this distance and Harry knew he had been fighting tears for a long time.
Draco seemed to search his eyes for something and, as he found it, he blurted: "Because I needed your forgiveness, and I needed to thank you, and I never got to tell you that… I love you."
Harry felt warmth spreading through his entire body. He smiled. "I forgive you," Harry whispered, before closing the distance between them and placing a soft kiss on Draco's lips.
From behind the slightly opened door, Hermione smiled to herself. Today she had succeeded in healing a broken man, twice.