THREE YEARS LATER
Grim.
That was the one word that Lucius could make out of his thoughts as he stared at the letter. He could feel his hands shaking, but ignored them as he read the note for the third time. It was addressed to his family and written on thick paper with the Hogwarts seal on it.
He sighed and set the letter down in front of him, looking up to stare out of the window.
Times had changed, he thought bitterly.
The grass was overgrown and the gates to the manor were hanging open at an unnatural angle, slowly swinging in the wind. It was a cold day; Lucius had went out to a hearing earlier, and the weather had only gotten worse. Even though it was June, it seemed as if the sun was mourning alongside the witches and wizards who had lost loved ones.
Love.
What a strange word to describe an intense emotion.
Lucius supposed he had felt love. Not on recent times, but maybe years ago. Maybe when he was younger.
He bit his lip, hand stiffening, stretching the tired muscles in his arm. The mark was gone; it had left a few days ago, but Lucius couldn't help but try to feel for it occasionally.
It used to remind him of someone he knew. Someone he may have loved.
Which brought him to the letter.
He looked down at it. How could a piece of parchment completely destroy his will to move with only a few words? He scanned the words on it:
This is an invitation for the Malfoy Family to join us for Severus Snape's funeral.
It said a few more things, but Lucius couldn't get past the first sentence.
Death.
What a tragic end to a life. Murdered by the Dark Lord and left to bleed out, alone.
What flashed through his mind as he was dying? Was it betrayal? Was it his past?
Was it Lucius?
Lucius curled his hand into a fist. No one would ever know because Severus was dead. You can't ask a dead body about it's last moments alive.
But the thought and idea that maybe, just maybe Severus' mind had flicked to Lucius and the memories they shared and the moments they had comforted him. He could almost feel the cool breeze that came after Severus would whip around him in his cloak. He could just barely sense his hand under his within his tight fist. It loosened Lucius began to smile softly at these thoughts.
Maybe Severus had thought of him as he was dying, and that was enough. The lack of certainty was enough.
Lucius picked up the note again and began to read for the third time, this time forcing himself to go past the first sentence. His eyes became misty, but he continued to read as a faint trace of sunlight began to cut through the clouds and shine on the unkempt yard.
Maybe this is what it was always going to be from the beginning.
