Chapter Fourteen – Gone, But Not Forgot
Lucius wasn't aware that his knees had given way, until a single tear drop fell before him, creating a dark circle on the ground. This was a nightmare – Cuba, dear sweet Cuba, could not be gone. He hadn't even realised that she had been that sick – why hadn't she told him? She had been with him for years, they had spoken about everything under the sun since he had been a young boy.
Memories flashed through his mind, each other more different from the other…
Lucius as a pyjama clad infant levitating around his bedroom, whilst the Elf tried to use her own brand of magic to bind him to her.
Cuba pressing a tin of homemade brownies into his hands before he left with his mother and father to catch the Hogwarts Express for the first time.
A thirteen year old Lucius with flushed cheeks as Cuba stood in the centre of his bedroom, holding up magazines featuring scantily clad witches, licking suggestively at wands and broomsticks.
Cuba's waterlogged eyes as Lucius revealed to the family that he had joined the Dark Lord's services straight out of school.
Lucius holding Narcissa's hand as they were declared man and wife, a sobbing Cuba at the back of the service.
Cuba's finger as she delicately stroked the newborn Draco's chubby cheek, as Lucius held him in his arms.
"Cuba…" he whispered. His fingers trembling, he pointed his wand at the Elf before him and the bonds fell away from her body. He tried to straighten, but found himself unable to. The grief that hit him was so overwhelming. The warmth of Hermione's hand was still on his shoulder.
"Master, what would you have Batsy do?" Batsy's voice was high and squeaky, but it was clear that she was trying to hold back her own tears. "Master?"
"Lucius?" Hermione's voice broke through as he remembered the look on Cuba's face when she was to deliver a special note the night she had fallen ill. And brought Hermione to the manor. The night they had kissed.
"Prepare for a funeral," Lucius said simply.
Hermione stood awkwardly at the back of the group. She had a small bouquet of white lilies in her hand, a token of remembrance for Cuba. She had transfigured the flowers from a few tiny weeds that she had found beneath a bush. She was still wearing her summery clothes, and Lucius had forbidden her to change.
"Cuba was not an ordinary Elf. She is not having an ordinary burial, full of doom and gloom," Lucius had said.
The Elves had dug a grave in the shade of an oak tree on the edges of the garden. Cuba's body had been wrapped in the light blue and green striped comforter from her bed, before being lowered inside with the Wingardium Leviosa charm. Lucius had taken charge of the entire service.
It was very simple. Each Elf took it in turns to stand at the head of the grave, where they each shared a simple memory of their time with Cuba. After they had spoken, the Elf tossed a small handful of dirt atop the Elf's body, followed by a daisy.
Lucius stood beside the grave the whole time, his face turned to the rays of sunlight that fell through the branches of the oak, as if he was too scared to look down. His hair was still unbound as it had been this morning, a few strands crossing over his eyes. It was odd to see him without his cane, but Hermione shook herself. This was his home, he was at perfect liberty to do as he pleased. Although, she did notice that his right hand was pressed onto his left arm - the place where his faded Dark Mark remained, like a old sailor's tattoo. It wasn't until the last Elf spoke that he looked up at Hermione. His eyes held so much sadness that she briefly forgot how sad an occasion this really was.
He had really changed. Would he have given a House Elf a funeral before? She remembered the awful treatment that poor Dobby had received all those years ago…
Lucius jerked his head to the grave. He expected her to follow the Elves examples.
Cautiously, she picked her way through the gathered Elves and stood before the grave. She caught a glimpse of Cuba's body, and tears welled in her eyes.
"I didn't know Cuba as well as the rest of you, so I don't really have any memories. But I do want to thank her, for showing me that the world has changed, and always will be."
She refused to look up at Lucius. Instead, she let her tears fall as the dirt and flowers fell upon Cuba's body.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I commit the body of Cuba the Malfoy House Elf to the earth. May your soul find peace." Lucius dropped a plain black sock into the grave, and the symbolism was not lost on Hermione. Cuba was now free.
She watched as he waved his wand, filling the grave in swiftly. When it was now just a mound of earth, he conjured twelve beautiful white roses. He laid them across the grave. He spoke softly, but Hermione still caught the words, "I'll miss you."
Lucius did not have dinner that evening. After the funeral, he locked himself up in his study, not answering the door to the House Elves who came knocking. He had tried to read the new edition of the Daily Prophet, but found focusing on the words difficult. He tried to listen to the Wizarding Wireless Network, but the music did not suit his mood. Hell, he even tried penning a letter to Azkaban, regarding the visitation that his son had requested, but found himself scribbling and doodling on the parchment, instead of forming actual words. In fact, it was late when he knew what he wanted to do.
He hadn't bothered using a glass, but took his first large gulp of the special brand of Ogden's Old Firewhisky straight out of the bottle. The alcohol burned his throat, but he didn't care. He half imagined Cuba scolding him for his behaviour. That he should use a glass, that she did not want him to be mourning her death. That she was old, and that it was simply her time to pass.
"Fucking Elf," he murmured as he took another pull on the bottle. Merlin's beard, he wanted to be drunk, so drunk that he passed out and couldn't remember his own name.
A knock came on the door.
"I'm not in," he grumbled. "Piss off and leave me alone."
"Lucius? Lucius, please let me in."
He didn't answer. She knocked again.
"Lucius, getting stone cold drunk is not the way. I know that's what you're doing in there! Please, just let me in. I want to help you."
"Fucking Gryffindor's with their noble spirits," he muttered, as he left the bottle on his desk amongst the debris of parchment, quills and ink. He crossed to the door, finding a lost looking Hermione. "What?"
"I… I just wanted to-"
"What?"
"I know how you're feeling. I've lost people too."
"Everyone has lost someone, Miss Granger. I don't want to talk about this, so why don't you go put your nose in a book where it belongs and not in my business?"
"What about me? What if I needed to talk to someone? What if-"
Lucius cut off her by pressing his lips to hers.