Summary: None of them thought they would end up here. Yet there they were one year later. One year on, telling their tales of love, forgiveness, guilt and the ultimate sacrifice.
A/N: The epilogue sort of annoyed me, so…I thought I'd fill in the blanks. This is a year later, after the war. Everyone is in different places, some still mourning, some well and truly moved on. This story is where they are now. Just in case you hadn't guessed...MAJOR DH SPOILERS. Just for those who missed it everywhere else!
Disclaimer: Uh...so not mine.
I guess darkness serves a purpose: to show us that there is redemption through chaos.
-Brendan Fraser
One whole year. 365 days. 8760 hours. 525,600 minutes.
'We are gathered here today, to mourn the losses that we have all suffered,' a low voice droned, 'To let go of the regrets that still harbour us and to honour the deaths of many innocent lives,'
What did that man know about regrets? Did that dumb, mindless, tufty haired man know a damn thing about guilt? The overwhelming, all consuming kind of guilt that he had to live with every day.
It was ironic, that it was pouring with rain today. People head to toe in respectful black robes, huddled under black umbrella's, holding a lovers hand with black gloved hands, wiping away their own tears with a black handkerchief.
It was supposed to be a sunset service, but there was no sun in the sky today. It was almost as if the sky was being mournful out of respect for the many lost. So today, instead of peering out over the calm water, to an auburn sky, they were greeted with stormy, broiling sea, and the dark, grey thunder-clouds gathering in the sky.
The hundreds of people gathered were reflected by the weather. He had heard one small child saying that it was the sky crying for her dad.
He wondered whether it was his fault that her dad was gone. How many people had died in that war?
'Today, we also honour the remarkable courage that the three young heroes, their familes, friends and their support groups that without which, the battle would not be won,'
The said group stood at the front. He could easily recognize those three familiar forms.
Potter, with his arm wrapped around his crying girlfriend, his own gloved hand, tightly enclosed around an umbrella. Weasley and…Weasley. Hermione's face was buried in her husband's shoulder, her body shaking with small sobs.
And yet he was back here. Maybe he shouldn't have come today. He didn't deserve to come today. He hung around the back, so far he was concealed, but not so far that he couldn't hear the minister, and pay his respects.
So here he was, Draco Malfoy, one whole year later.
It seemed as if his life had been turned on it's axis in such a short time. How had he gone from being a Death Eater, to standing in the rain, regrets burdening his shoulders?
He wanted to be a different man. He didn't like the person he became at eighteen. Now, at nineteen, he was changing himself, but he knew, deep in his heart, that for most, he would always be the follower of the Dark Lord, the one who almost killed Albus Dumbledore.
And he deserved it. He didn't deserve to be let off scot-free, because he never physically killed anyone.
But someday's, when another rejected job offer came with another owl, or when another shop shut it's door when he walked past, he just wished that he would be forgiven.
But, for now, he would never deserve it.
First he had to forgive himself. Forgive himself for not stepping in when Granger was being tortured. Forgive himself for not standing up to his father. For letting Severus Snape just die and disappear without a trace.
'Mr Harry Potter wishes to say a few words,'
Draco snapped out of his thoughts at those words, and he looked up. Harry Potter was walking up the stairs leading to the stage, his long black coat billowing behind him.
The crowd murmured, as they watched Harry with wide, excited eyes. Harry had kept a rather low profile after the war, preferring the quiet life after the final battle. So really, this was the first time they had seen him as the Boy-Who-Lived since the last war.
Harry hadn't changed, but his green eyes were more weathered than they had been on other occasions. Draco knew, from the occasional passings in the street, that Harry was happy for the first time. Harry was training to be an Auror. Harry lived in London. Harry was often seen in the middle of a restraunt with Ginny, Ron and Hermione, roaring with laughter, enjoying life.
And for the first time in Draco's life, he envied him. He envied that Harry could attempt to live normally, to move on, and forget about the past.
Harry cleared his throat, raising a gloved hand to his throat. He cleared his throat, and his magically magnified throat boomed across the clearing.
'I am always asked,' he began.
Every single eye was transfixed on the man on stage. Every single person was drinking in each syllable that he uttered.
'How I can just live the way I am today. How I can just go to work, and then go for a drink after work in a bar with my colleagues. Everyone asks me why I don't dwell on avenging the murders of my closest friends and family,'
Draco straightened his shoulders, suddenly intent on his words too. How did Potter live normally?
'And it's true. I, like so many others, lost loved ones in that war. But, tell me, what good would it do? For those of you, still out there, angry at the loss of your best friend,' his nodded at Lee Jordan standing in the crowd, 'Or your brother or son,' he bent his head towards the Weasley's, 'Or your husband,' this time acknowledging Andromeda Tonks, 'Do you honestly think, that they would want you dwelling on their deaths? We have mourned them, and we will continue to mourn them. But do we need to mourn them every day? Do we need to be burdened down by regrets, or what ifs? There's nothing we can do,'
Harry looked down as one woman burst into tears, and he glanced sympathetically at her before continuing nevertheless.
'So…by letting your life advance, you're living your life. For all of you. For every person you lost. Living life to the fullest, is like living for both of you. You can't afford to be burdened down with anger towards a Death Eater or someone because they took away your loved ones life! I can only offer the smallest of advice. To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you,'
Harry's words echoed through the chambers of Draco's mind. Eighteen years, prematurely, forcedly wise.
'Don't hold yourself prisoner with remorse, grief and anger. Forgive them, and move on with your life,'
He looked back at the crowd and this time, his eyes swept across the back row.
Draco shrunk away as Harry Potter locked his green eyes on him.
'And more importantly, forgive yourself, set yourself free,'
Draco shivered at those words. Were they directed at him?
The famous wizard didn't look away from Draco, 'So…' he concluded, 'You asked how I live like I do? There you have it. Forgiveness is the key,'
'I think a minutes silence is due to respect those lost,'
He walked off stage, to join his girlfriend, his head bowed. Another witch stepped forward, to read the names of all those who were lost, as the crowd stood in stony, painful silence.
It was the end of the service now and he was the only one left on the cliff side. It had ended so suddenly, as the rain began to pour, heavily and painfully upon bare skin. He was only in a light coat, and yet…he couldn't leave yet.
A monument had been constructed, a tall obelisk carved out of handsome marble. Emeralds and rubies glittered around the edges, and hundreds of names were inscribed into the side, never to be lost with the winds of time.
And here he was, standing on a cliff, overlooking the crashing sea, in the pouring rain, beside the large statue.
His eyes were drawn to the first familiar name he saw. George Weasley.
Draco felt a pang. He had only been two years older than himself when he died.
Colin Creevey.
Remus "Moony" Lupin.
Nymphpadora "Tonks" Lupin
How could all these people he knew have been lost? It was almost dark now, twilight, with non-existent sun setting, making it hard to make out one last name.
Severus Snape
Draco crouched so he was in line with the name. He didn't care that his trousers were getting stained with mud.
His numb fingers traced the inscription, sighing softly. His favourite teacher. The man that may as well have been his family.
He missed Snape sorely. They had never found his body, though, it was said that he had a grave in Godric's Hollow curtesy of Harry Potter.
Draco felt the tears coming. They had been coming since the day he realized Snape was missing. He never mourned the loss of this man. Until now.
Tears streaked down his pale, frost bitten cheeks, mingling with the rain so he couldn't tell which was the other.
'He was a good man,' he heard a clear voice ring across the cliff, 'A strong willed, rude, brash man, but he was still good in the end,'
Draco straightened up to see the figure of a man, standing under an umbrella.
'He was a man who let his tongue slip easily, and he paid dearly for it. And it changed him forever,'
The man stepped closer, through the torrential rain and Draco could just make out his features in the hazy rain.
'Potter,' he snarled instinctively.
'He protected you though. Because he cared for you,'
'What do you know?' Draco snapped, stepping away from the monument, 'What do you know about Severus Snape?'
Potter chuckled, 'More than you would think,'
Draco turned his back on the other boy, 'What are you doing here? I thought you were going off to a pub or something,'
'I came to say goodbye,' he said, shrugging simply, 'Yet, I could ask you the same question,'
'I thought you didn't need to say goodbye, that you were happy,' Draco replied bitterly.
'I need to say goodbye. They were my closest friends. But I don't hate their murderers anymore. You didn't answer my question,'
What was he doing here? At his monument? At this service?
After a year, of beating himself up, of hating himself, of loathing the inner core of the man he had been, it had all led to one thing.
'I can't let go,'
Harry nodded sadly, 'Yeah… I know the feeling. Just forgive yourself,'
'I can't!' Draco cried, rounding on him, 'You don't think I want to? God I want what you have. For the first time in my life, I envy some. I envy you! I want what you have, to live normally,'
'You need to earn your respect back into the community,' Harry said solemnly, and unflinchingly at Draco's violence, 'You need to fight for normalacy,'
'How?' Draco replied scathingly, 'How? When everyone flees at the sight of me,'
'We're all meeting at the Three Broomsticks in five minutes,' Harry said quietly, 'You want to be normal? Then be normal,'
The boy disappeared with a pop, and Draco was left in the pouring rain, wondering exactly what those words had meant.
As the bell tinkled, signalling everyone of his arrival, Draco knew he shouldn't have come.
He didn't think that 'everyone' meant a small gathering. He figured he could remain a little anonymous in a big group but here…
The first person who met his eyes was Ron Weasley. He surveyed Draco silently, as if daring him to come any closer.
'Malfoy,' he said dangerously quiet.
Draco shook his head. Potter was off his rocker. He couldn't resume a normal life. Not now.
'I shouldn't have come,' he muttered, ready to back out the door.
'Glad you could make it,'
Draco stopped dead, frozen with shock. Did those words actually fall from Ronald Weasley's lips.
'You always were a coward,' Hermione called as her form of greeting. She didn't look a day older, in her long black dress, her bushy hair sleeked back into a bun. The only mark of Voldemort's wrath on her was the thin, pearly white line across her throat, where Bellatrix had been.
Draco frowned to see Hermione and Ron smiling faintly. By now, the entire bar was watching. Harry was leaning on the bar watching him, but making no move to help him. Ginny sat on a barstool passively stirring her drink.
Hesistantly he took a few steps forward. Ron nodded curtly at him, before shifting his stool over.
'Can I…sit here?' he asked quietly.
Was this how hard it was going to be to be normal again?
A smirk lifted the corners of Ron's lips, 'I guess,'
And then conversation fell back to normal. George Weasley was ordering drinks for everybody. Harry wandered over and then he felt a hand on his shoulder.
'See? Not that hard,'
Draco looked at Harry standing behind him, 'Yeah, we'll see about that,'
It was only five in the evening, when Draco found himself talking to a woman who had sidled up to him. Music was blaring loudly and people were beginning to walk out onto the makeshift dancefloor.
'Can I buy you a drink?' she flirted.
Flirting. Something he hadn't done in a long time. He hadn't needed to. In the past year, and the years before that, his life had been the Dark Lord and the aftermath of the Dark Lord.
'I guess you could,' he replied.
'What are you drinking?' she breathed, shifting so she was closer to him.
'Firewhisky,'
The girl got a dreamy look on her face as a fast song struck up, 'I love this song,' she sighed, 'Care to dance,'
Draco looked out onto the dance floor. It was filled with happy, laughing people. Hermione and Ron were dancing, clutching each other tight. Harry and Ginny were a few feet from them, a baby sandwiched between the giggling pair. They had a family. They had love. They had happiness.
He wanted to be one of them.
'Sure,'
So here he was. Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, former child, one year after the Battle of Hogwarts, back on the road to being normal. He hadn't forgiven himself yet, but it would take time.
But now, none of that mattered. There was a girl, and she wanted to dance. There were people, who were willing to be friends. And for the first time, he was free.
A/N: I'll post another character's story soonish. Maybe Wednesday, Thursday at the latest. Press the pretty purple button and I'll love you forever!