The white roses are beautiful in the sea of black suits and dresses.
"Celebrate the life she lived," faceless wizards say in passing.
"Thank you for coming," Draco replies emptily. Someone tugs his sleeve and points to the trees.
"The group of crows pay their respects, father."
Draco gathers his three-year-old child in his arms. "Tell them I am grateful, son. But the proper term is - "
"Murder," she says from behind. "A murder of crows."
Hermione kisses Scorpius, placing a soft hand on Draco's cheek. "Time to go, love."
She understands unconditionally.
"Say goodbye to Grandma Narcissa, Scorpius."
-end-
Author's Notes:
Prompt: Murder
From March 2011 dmhgficexchange over at livejournal
