Chapter 15: The Funeral

The rest of the week was torture for Ginny. The students wouldn't arrive until next week, so for the first few days after the blow-up in the Great Hall, Ginny threw herself into work. She wrote detailed lesson plans for the first month's worth of courses, then realized that she would probably have to re-write at least half of them depending on the students' levels of expertise in the early material. So she had scrapped half of her work and started over on crafting alternative lesson plans. But after that source of distraction was exhausted, she had no choice but to sit and reflect fully on what had happened.

She Floo'd Draco every day, but he was curt and cold, and when he answered her questions with harsh one-word responses, she could only keep up the conversation for ten minutes tops. She had been dating him long enough to know that when he had said they were okay, he had meant it in the loosest possible sense. And she had been friends with him long enough to realize that he wasn't going to forgive her easily.

"You've got to stop that." Ginny started as Harry's voice cut in on her thoughts. She sat up straighter in the alcove and immediately winced as her stiff muscles protested against the cold stone.

"Stop what?" she said a little embarrassedly as she tried to settle herself into a more upright sitting position.

"Moping in that incredibly uncomfortable little nook," he said, smiling wryly.

"Well you don't have to go insulting my nook," Ginny said, trying for humor. She didn't like that Harry had noticed her moodiness.

Harry had the grace to chuckle a little at her forced joke. "I guess I shouldn't scorn what I haven't tried." He shrugged and crossed the distance between them, lifting himself by his arms onto the ledge to join her. The nook in question was nothing more than a ledge below a window in one of the castle's dozens of turrets.

Ginny leaned her head back against the cool stone as Harry settled himself across from her. When she turned back to look at him, he was staring at her, eyes bright green and narrowed with skepticism.

"This is without a doubt the most uncomfortable spot I've ever encountered," he deadpanned.

She smiled ever so slightly. She felt a warm tinge of appreciation in her chest. She could tell that he was trying very hard to cheer her up.

"Come on," he said suddenly, dropping off the ledge and holding out his hand. She looked at him quizzically. He rolled his eyes. "Just come on, will you?"

With a sigh, she jumped down and placed her hand in his. "This better be good," she muttered. He just grinned and led her away. He pulled her down the turret steps and through several halls, stopping short in front of a wall Ginny knew only too well.

She whirled to Harry, who was staring at the wall with concentration, his lips moving with a whisper too quiet to hear. "The Room of Requirement?" she asked softly. When she turned back to face the wall, a door had materialized.

"Do I want to know what's behind that?" she said, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Always so skeptical," he said, shaking his head and smiling. He nodded toward the door, and with one last glare back at him, she opened it and walked through. The Room of Requirement was smaller than she'd ever seen it. It was about the size of her bedroom a few floors above and warmly lit by the fireplace that crackled in one corner. A huge round armchair dominated the space and various other comfortable-looking sofas ringed the room. A large dresser stood in a corner next to an old ironcast stove and adjoining cupboard.

Ginny turned in a wide circle to survey the whole room, then whirled to face Harry, who was smiling widely at her awed look. "What is this?" she said.

Harry shrugged self-deprecatingly. "Just somewhere I like to go when I'm feeling…dark. No one can bother you here."

Ginny felt her chest expand exponentially. This was his place, she realized…the place he went to be alone. This was where he went for comfort, and he was sharing it with her. "You don't have to…," she began, but he waved her comment away.

"It's nothing," he said, "There are blankets in the dresser," he added, "and some food in the cupboard by the stove."

"It's great, Harry," she said honestly, bounding over and collapsing onto the round chair. She sank into the cushion and sighed contentedly. It was heavenly.

"Stay as long as you like, Gin," Harry said gently. She raised her head to see him moving toward the door.

"Wait," she said. He paused, his hand on the doorknob. "Stay. Tell me how you've been…I haven't talked to you all week."

She watched him hesitate for a moment. But then he turned and walked back toward her. He went to the dresser and pulled out two big blankets. He tossed one to Ginny before settling himself down on the armchair across from her. Ginny sat up, pulled her knees up to her chest, and draped the blanket over herself.

"Nothing too interesting," Harry answered finally. "A couple house elves helped me trap a Boggart this morning."

Ginny looked at him with mock horror. "Stealing Lupin's lesson plans? I'm scandalized."

"Guilty as charged," Harry said, grinning. "It's a really great lesson. Don't tell him I said that, though."

"Have you seen Teddy yet…since you've been back? He's really big now."

"Yeah, I visited them before work started," Harry said, smiling wider. "They've got their hands full. He's changing his face every ten minutes." Ginny almost launched into a story about when Lupin had first brought Teddy around to the Burrow years ago. He'd taken one wide-eyed look at Draco and his hair had immediately gone platinum blonde. But the thought of Draco made the guilt fall right back into her stomach, and she fell silent.

"Well," she said after an awkward silence, "You better be careful about making the kids face that Boggart. They've all seen much more terrifying things than we had at their age. Well," she said as an afterthought, "maybe not more terrifying things than you had."

Harry sobered immediately. "Or you," he said softly. "You'd been in the Chamber by then."

Ginny froze. This was the first time anyone had mentioned the Chamber aloud since she'd told Draco about it all those years ago. After that, Draco had carefully avoided the subject, falling into a pattern of skirting any mention of her first year the same way her family had. Only Harry had ever really talked about it openly with her. When they'd dated, they had talked about everything, even the darkest stuff. His comment now was a forcible reminder of how close they had once been.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But still. Be gentle with them, Harry," Ginny replied finally.

He nodded. After a moment, he said, "So. Do you want to talk about it?"

Ginny feigned confusion. "Talk about what?" But even as the words came out of her mouth, she knew it was useless. He already knew she was feeling low…he'd brought her here, after all.

"What happened the other day."

"It was nothing," Ginny said testily. She felt annoyance begin to simmer in her chest.

"Then why are you brooding?"

"I'm not," Ginny said irritably. Patently untrue.

"Yes you have," he said, his voice still calm against her increasingly angry tone. "All week."

"I don't want to talk about it," she snapped.

"Okay," Harry said, shrugging. This sudden change in tack only infuriated her further. She knew it wasn't rational. But all of the guilt was bubbling to the surface as anger, and Harry was the easiest target right now.

"It was my fault!" she burst out finally. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" She fixed him with a challenging gaze, but where other people usually looked away, Harry held her eyes. His eyes blazed into hers, not backing down.

"No," he said firmly. "But it's true."

Ginny laughed mirthlessly. "Thanks for sparing my feelings, Potter," she said.

"I don't patronize you, Gin," he returned. "You know that."

Ginny felt the anger fall out of her. She exhaled harshly. "I should have told him," she admitted. She shut her eyes against the wave of guilt that pulsed through her when she said the words aloud. When she opened them again, Harry was nodding slowly.

"Yeah," he said. "Why didn't you?"

"I knew he wouldn't like it…us being around each other so much. I think he's afraid."

"Of what?" Harry said.

Ginny shrugged. "He won't say it out loud." Harry just nodded. "I knew he'd overreact."

At this, he smiled wryly, rubbing his palm against his jawline. "Well I have a very sore jaw that says you were right about that one."

Ginny looked over at him apologetically. "I'm so sorry about that, Harry."

He laughed. "It's okay, Gin." He paused. "He still isn't over it?"

She shook her head. "He says we're okay, but he's been distant. Cold."

"And you've apologized?"

"Profusely."

Harry sighed. "Well, part of it is probably him being tense about the funeral."

Ginny's brow furrowed. "What funeral?"

Harry's eyes widened at her confused expression. "You don't know?" Ginny shook her head. "I heard about it from Kingsley. Lucius Malfoy is holding a belated funeral for Narcissa. It's today, actually."

Ginny's first feeling was shock. It quickly transformed into a white-hot anger. How could he not have told her! Something this important, and he was letting one bloody fight keep her from being there with him! But then the anger morphed again, this time into a deep despair. He had put up the wall again. Their whole relationship, from the day he had first come to the Burrow, had been about learning to trust each other…to open up. And her one stupid action had made him put up the barriers again. He didn't want her there.

"I'm sorry, Gin," Harry said, seeming to read her thoughts right off her face. "I wish I could tell you where…."

"It doesn't matter," she said quickly, trying to keep the tears down. "He doesn't want me there. I should respect his wishes."

Harry thrust his blanket away and came down to sit beside her. He put a reassuring hand on the small of her back. "With all due respect, Gin," he said gently, "That's a load of bollocks."

That was not what she had been expecting him to say, and she whirled to face him. He was blurred around the edges by the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "That's a horrible thing to say to comfort someone," she said, a tiny bit of amusement finding its way to the surface.

"What did we just say about patronizing?" he said.

"Point taken," she whispered, chuckling a little under her breath.

"No matter how mad he is, he still wants you there. It's his pride getting the better of him," Harry said, "and trust me, I know a thing or two about misplaced pride. You should go."

Ginny sighed. She knew he was right. Draco might need her, but his pride always got the better of him. "When is it?"

"This afternoon sometime. Maybe you could Floo someone to ask?" Harry said.

Shaking herself, Ginny thrust the blanket away and stood. "All right." She paused at the doorway. "How do I get back in here again?" she said. "It's wonderful."

"Just ask for Harry's private room," he said easily. "The room will know what you mean."

Ginny nodded and filed this piece of information away. She turned back to the door, but paused again with her hand on the doorknob. She looked back at Harry over her shoulder. "Why are you doing this?" she asked softly. "You hate Draco."

"I hate seeing you unhappy, Gin," he replied, meeting her eyes with a resigned expression on his face.

"Thank you," she said truthfully, and then she hurried out the door.

Five minutes later she was back in her room, pacing before the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder in her hand. Who could she ask? Who would know where and when the funeral was being held? Not her family, certainly. None of her friends from school. She realized that she hardly knew anyone from Draco's former life…she'd never met any of his Slytherin friends. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a thick piece of parchment sticking out of the wastebasket in the corner. In one swift moment she retrieved it and flipped the card open. Inside, in fine, spidery script were the words:

To Draco Malfoy:

As you have not contacted me in recent years, I shall have to trust that this owl finds you to deliver this message. The new Ministry has cleared me of most charges; your mother's efforts to shield you from the Dark Lord proved fertile ground for pleading duress in almost all circumstances. Instead of imprisonment, I have been sentenced to a heavy fine which I have already paid. I would not be writing but for the fact that we both loved your mother very much; that much, at least, we have in common. I will be holding a belated funeral for her this Saturday at five o'clock at the Manor. I expect your attendance.

At the bottom was Lucius Malfoy's signature and seal. Ginny realized that Draco must have received this note here on Hogwarts, on the same morning that he had gotten that fateful Daily Prophet. Setting it alight with her wand, she tossed the Floo powder back in the bowl by the fireplace. She brushed her hands and glanced at the clock. Four-fifty…she could just barely make it on time. In retrospect, she should have realized that the funeral would be taking place at Malfoy Manor. But somehow, she had never really associated Draco with that place.

She went to her dresser and pulled out a black dress, cut high in the front, and slipped on sheer stockings and low black heels. She pulled her mane of red hair up into a bun and fastened the simple locket that Draco had given her on her seventeenth birthday around her neck. She threw her wand and a few Galleons into a clutch and hurried out the door. As soon as she was beyond the castle's wards, she Apparated away.

Ginny was still trying to get her bearings when she was jostled from behind by a black-clad man making his way up the lane she had landed in. She realized, glancing warily around, that there were about a dozen other people heading up the path, and by their attire she assumed that they too were going to Narcissa Malfoy's funeral. Following them all silently, she took in the manor before her.

Draco hadn't been exaggerating. It was huge. She passed through the wrought-iron gate that he had described. It didn't look very imposing, but she could almost hear it crackling with magical defense spells. The house itself made her shiver a little. It was so looming and cold-looking. So unlike any of the homes she had ever shared with Draco.

Ginny followed the other mourners into the house through the front entrance. The foyer was just as magnificent as Ginny would have expected, given the enterior of the house. Vaulted ceilings and expensive-looking sculptures dominated, but she didn't have much time to take it all in. She followed straight through the foyer and into must be – she remembered Draco's description of the manor – the larger of the two parlours. This room was milling with black-clad people speaking in low voices, and Ginny immediately scanned the crowd for Draco.

A few of the other people in the room looked up as the newest group entered, drawing familiar faces into their small groups, but in the process, several people spotted Ginny. She heard darting whispers following her as she moved slowly across the room, still scanning for Draco's tall figure. She distinctly heard the words "Weasley," "blood traitor," and "Potter" among the whispers, and she felt a slick bile of fear on her tongue. A few months ago, some of these people would have taken great pleasure in torturing her. She forced herself to swallow…it was different now. Their presence here meant that they had escaped Azkaban, which meant that they had successfully convinced the Kingsley's ministry that they had been under duress during Voldemort's entire reign. They were good citizens of the Wizarding World now. Their freedom depended on it.

She couldn't find him, and for a brief moment she wondered if she and Harry had been wrong. Maybe he had rejected his father's invitation and wasn't here at all. But no. She knew him. He had loved his mother more than anyone (except maybe Pansy, she thought wryly). He must be here.

A group of mourners in front of her caught sight of her and all moved out of her way, whispering furiously. She felt a sudden urge to hex them. But then she spotted Draco twenty feet before her, his platinum blonde head bowed closely to the woman beside him. They were speaking swiftly in low voices, but Draco, always attune to his surroundings, seemed to notice the disturbance in the area around him and looked up. Their eyes locked.

He didn't move for what felt like a full minute but was probably only a few seconds. His expression was inscrutable. The woman next to him noticed the direction of his gaze and turned to Ginny with a surprisingly defensive glare, moving to step in front of Draco. This seemed to move Draco to action; he put a hand on her arm to still her and, a determined look on his face, strode over to Ginny.

"Ginny," he said quietly.

"Draco," she returned, but before she could say any more, he place a hand gently on the small of her back and led her into the next room. The whispers followed them, and Draco immediately closed the double doors against them. This seemed to be the smaller parlour. The walls were lined with portraits of what Ginny could only assume were Draco's ancestors.

She turned back to him; he was still leaning by his arms against the doors, his heads spread two feet apart. Then, abruptly, he turned to face her.

"What are you doing here?" he said, his voice gentle. "How did you know…?"

"I saw your dad's note in the wastebin," she said shortly. She considered leaving Harry out of it, but she was done keeping Harry-related information from Draco. "Harry told me you probably hadn't asked me to come out of pride."

She wasn't sure how Draco would react to this, but he actually smiled wryly. "Ironically," he said finally, "I think he knows me pretty well."

Ginny smiled, encouraged. "How are you doing?" she said gently, hazarding a step nearer to him.

"All right. It's strange being back here."

She nodded. "What about everything with your mum?" she said.

He shrugged. "I buried her a long time ago," he said.

"Then why do you look so…tired?" she asked gently. She stepped forward and ran her fingers lightly across the side of his face, lingering on the dark circles under his eyes and the paler-than-usual skin along his cheekbones. Her touch seemed to dissolve whatever hesitation had kept him at arms length. He melted against her, leaning his body against hers and holding the back of her head to his chest.

Holding each other tightly, they stumbled back across the room and collapsed together onto one of the couches. "It's just…seeing everyone again. It's so different now," he said in a rush, his forehead leaning against hers so that their noses almost touched.

She reached up and ran a soothing hand through his hair. She had known he would need her here.

Then he looked right into her eyes and said, "You should have told me, Ginny. About Potter working at Hogwarts."

She met his gaze. "I know."

"You can't keep secrets like that from me. You and I, considering who I am and who you are, we were only ever going to get one shot at this. One shot to really trust each other. There can't be any secrets, Ginny."

She felt them crossing lines, the last remaining barriers between them. She knew it was because emotions were running high today.

"I know," she answered.

"Especially not about Potter. I have to be able to trust you."

So here was the last line before them. She barreled onward. "Why is this so important with Harry?" she asked softly.

"Because," he replied, his gray eyes blazing, "You loved him once, and now that he's back…I'm afraid…," his breath hitched with emotion, and Ginny knew that this was difficult for him to say out loud. "I'm so afraid that you'll leave me to go back to him."

She resisted the urge to pull him into a tight hug, instead keeping her gaze focused on him so that he could see in her eyes that she was telling the truth. "I loved Harry. But I love you. I'm not going to leave you. No more secrets, I promise."

He held her gaze for several seconds, then exhaled deeply. "Okay," he answered softly. "Okay."

He recovered himself, standing and pacing in a wide circle, rubbing his face vigorously. When he turned back to her, he looked like himself again. The intensity of the moment was gone, but he smiled at her and held out his hand. She took it and stood.

He leaned in and kissed her deeply on the mouth, one hand cupping the back of her head. "Thank you," he whispered into her ear. She didn't know if he was thanking her for getting rid of his fears about Harry or for coming to be with him at the funeral.

"You're welcome," she replied. They walked together back across the room to the tall double doors. She knew that their clasped hands would send a wave of whispers through the parlour on the other side.

Draco seemed to think the exact same thought, because as he pushed the doors open, he turned to her, grinned, and said, "Chin up, Weasley. We're together; everyone should know it."

They buried Narcissa Malfoy in the family vault, and Ginny tried to ignore the indignant swell in her chest when she read the family motto inscribed above the arched doorway: Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. Purity Always Conquers.

As soon as the service was over, Draco squeezed her hand. "I'm going to go say goodbye to Parkinson," he said. Ginny nodded as he moved away. She watched him walk over to the dark-haired woman he had been speaking to earlier. So that was Pansy Parkinson. She was mildly surprised. She wouldn't have recognized the girl from their Hogwarts years. Though she could make out the traces of the pug nose, Pansy seemed to have grown into it. Her face had lengthened, and she had grown out her hair. She was much more attractive now. Ginny remembered the way Pansy had stepped forward when she had arrived; she wondered how much Draco had told Pansy about their fight. She wondered when they'd started speaking again at all. Draco was saying something to Pansy, then leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. Pansy wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a close hug. Ginny looked away.

She noticed the other graves around them. Abraxas Malfoy. Brutus Malfoy. And some even farther back than that. When she looked up again, Draco was making his way back toward her. And to her surprise, he pulled her against him in an embrace. He kissed the top of her head. And in full view of his father, the remaining guests, and all the gravestones of his Pureblood ancestors, he held her close, whispered "Let's go home," softly in her ear, and Apparated them away.

Author's Note: Please review! I hope the last bit wasn't too sloppy – I have a horrible cold and my medicine is currently making me very drowsy…but I wanted to finish this up and get it posted for you :) We are entering the long territory of Draco/Ginny fluff – I hope you like what's next!