Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the particular way in which these words are ordered.
Author's Note: A one-shot that I've been meaning to write, though I hate to think of Draco as ever dying. Read and review, tell me what you think.
The brown-haired girl was crying loudly, and from the dark circles under her eyes, it was obvious she hadn't slept at all the previous night. On either side of her were sitting a tall boy with red hair and freckles, and a shorter, black-haired boy with glasses and a thin scar on his forehead. It was obvious that they were shaken and upset, but they weren't crying.
In the casket at the front of the church was a boy with white-blonde hair; he was good-looking in life, and looked much the same in death. The reason for his death was impossible to tell by looking at him. The only sign that he was no longer living was the coldness of his body.
An old man with hair white from age, a white beard, and half-moon spectacles stood at the front of the church. The only sounds that could be heard were those of people crying and being comforted.
"Draco Malfoy was a fine young man," began Albus Dumbledore. "He had a brilliant mind and a caring heart, though he refused to admit it. To save someone he loved, he paid the ultimate sacrifice. And so, this would be better spoken by the person he loved most, the person who knew him better than any other." He gestured kindly for Hermione Granger to come and speak. She wiped her eyes and tried to control her sobbing as she walked. She was shaking furiously, but knew that if she didn't speak for him, no one else would be able to.
"No one knew Draco as I did. He went to great lengths to make it seem like he didn't care about anything – or anyone." It was obvious that she had spent many hours practicing her speech, but that couldn't stop the tears. "Even though I met him in our first year, I never really knew him until our seventh. It seems like such a waste now, those first six years." The tears which had slowed were now coming full force again, but she kept talking. "He was determined not to show any weakness, and for that reason, we kept our relationship a secret. He – he thought that, as long as no one knew, we would be safe. B – but we weren't.
"Draco Malfoy saved my life, and that's the reason why he's dead. We were in Hogsmeade when it happened." Everyone knew what had happened, but it was important for her to tell it, to explain to herself more than anyone else that it wasn't her fault, that she hadn't made him do anything. "The Death Eaters attacked us. Th – they only wanted me, because of Harry, and because I'm muggleborn, but he stepped in. He tried to fight them off, but there were too many of them. I t – tried to tell him not to, that he couldn't stop them, but he did it anyway. Because that's the kind of person he was. He wouldn't let a friend die, no matter what. He told me once that it was his Malfoy honor." She smiled a bit at that, like it was an inside joke that the two of them had shared. "Thanks to him, I'm still here. He saved my life! He didn't have to for any reason other than he wanted to. But he did."
She stopped looking at the ground, and directed her teary-eyed gaze at the people in the church, instead. "I know that most of you thought he was just an arrogant jerk. And to most people, he was." There was no point in lying. She knew that the last thing he wanted said at his funeral was that he had been a kind, caring person to everyone, and everyone loved him. It would be an insult to his memory to lie now. "But to me, he was more than that. He made my life Hell for the first six years I knew him, but for the last, it was Heaven with him. He could be the nicest, most loving person on earth when he wanted to be. And that's how he was, at the very end. He could never bring himself to tell his father that he didn't want to join the ranks of Voldemort." There was a collective, involuntary shudder at the sound of the name. "But he did it in action. And no matter what your memories of Draco might be, good or bad, he made sure that he would never be forgotten. So whether you loved him as I did or couldn't stand the sight of him, honor his memory, and never forget." Her voice, which had become stronger towards the end, finally broke into sobs, and the tears that had stopped for the first time in days came back full force. Harry and Ron went up to where she was standing and helped her walk back down to her seat, but not before she laid a single rose, charmed silver, on his closed coffin and whispered her thanks, and that she would always love him.
Eventually, people began to stand up and walk to the coffin, sometimes whispering their final words to him, sometimes setting flowers, most shaking and some crying. And Hermione's words were true; they would never forget him. Whether, in their mind, he was Draco Malfoy, the Incredible Bouncing Ferret, or just Draco Malfoy, he was in their mind, just as he had wanted, and always would be.