A/N: I always find, during intense periods of writer's block, that writing fanfic can ease my woes. My track record of finishing things that I start is poor at best, but I don't expect this to be a mammoth tale. It's an exercise, really. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
This story takes place during the summer between HPB and DH. It has AU moments hither and thither. It's a Snapefic.
NOCTURNE: Prologue
At dusk they congregated; huddled like storm-wise crows against a bruised purple sky. They gathered in the shadows of the gray moors behind the manor, dark dead grass sparse between ancient tombstones thrusting out of the earth like jagged teeth.
Narcissa, resplendent in her mourning, lifted a lacy black hand to dab, with prim sadness, at an invisible tear. Lucius, his silver hair unbound, kept an iron hand on the shoulder of his toddling son. Draco knew with the prescient clarity of childhood that now was not the time to tug at Mum's skirt and beg for a turn on his shiny new toy broom.
Uncovered were the heads of the Malfoy family, yet in the indeterminate near-distance were perhaps a dozen more black-clad mourners, faces cowled and bent towards the ground. Wizard funerals were about the family -- different from a Muggle burial, where lots of people whose names you cannot quite recall express heartfelt sorrow, and then march to the kitchen to dine on the food that friends and neighbors have brought to you. The Malfoys followed the traditions of old, even if their contemporaries were beginning to veer more towards funerals-as-a-free-firewhiskey-trough. They would never know the names of those who joined them in paying respect.
Five house elves appeared from over the hill. In a house with fewer financial assets, the coffin would be charmed alight by members of the family. But it was not expected of that poor, frail, fragile Narcissa -- a weeping ghost of a woman, held together only by the strength of her husband -- would have the fortitude to transport her daughter's body.
Through the rolling mists came the silently weeping elves, the shell-pink, child-sized coffin suspended a few feet above their bald, knobbly heads. Bearing their gruesome cargo, they approached the thatch of empty earth 'round which the surviving Malfoys gathered. Lucius murmured a word, and the coffin floated, with surprising fluid grace, down into the deep, dark hole.
For the benefit of her audience, Narcissa let out a ladylike, audible sob. Draco, having been freed from his father's grasp, tucked his small figure next to his mother's side, only flinching a little when she knelt down and crushed him against her body. She was cold, he thought, as he put his little arms around her. She smelled of lavender, and something sharp -- lemonflower, like the potion-oil they used to keep his door locked fast at night. Eariler that year he had begun having nightmares, and would bring his tears and trembling to Mum and Dad, who did not seem to sleep, and were always staring at each other, eyes burning, still dressed, when he went into their room at night.
"Mum?" he said quietly. "She's going to be all right. You said." Draco tilted his head, missing the swift, cutting look that Lucius directed at his wife.
"Yes," said Narcissa, avoiding her husband's gaze. "She won't be with us anymore. But she'll be all right."
"Good," said Draco. He gave his mother another awkward hug, his chin tucked over her shoulder. He looked out across the field at the other people gathered in a half-circle behind them. A strong, brisk wind kicked up, bringing with it the distinct brittle threat of snow. One of the mourners' black veils rippled, and Draco caught a glimpse of a hooked nose and sallow, yellow-white skin before the cowl was drawn down again. I
"Mister Snape is here," he told his mother. He thought it might make her feel better; she was always more friendly and smiling whenever Mister Snape was around.
"Quiet, Draco," said Lucius. Draco swallowed hard shut his mouth. He extracted himself from his mother's grasp, and they turned to watch as sheets of damp earth pattered down onto the surface of the coffin.
"Bye-bye, Ariadne," said Draco cheerfully. He felt his mother's hand tighten around his own as the sun set and the ground swallowed his sister.