If he lingered in the back, nobody would notice him. There at the front of the sea of black was a burgundy-coloured casket. It had a giant 'W' carved into it. He half expected something to explode or confetti to pop out at some point, but nothing happened. That was when the whimpering turned to silence. It was just as a young man, the spitting image of the deceased, stepped up onto the podium.
"Hey, Freddie," he smiled, with tears in his eyes, patting the coffin, like he would a friend on the back. "Wake up, you great sod. This joke's gone on long enough…" He wasn't sure how long he could stand being here. The man up the front looked to be so broken, as the tears streamed freely down his face. He hugged the casket. "Wake up, Fred! Don't leave me here alone…" A woman, his mother, wrapped him in her arms and guided him to his chair.
It was a bad idea for Draco to be here. Although he'd always secretly admired the red-headed twins' jokes, pranks, and banter, it still was not his place. He turned around, and set off into the mist outside the church.