Written for the Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition
Round 3: Peony - Compassion
Hermione took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and apparated.
She landed on her feet. The distinctive sound of gravel crunched under her boots and she slowly opened her eyes. The gates of Malfoy Manor looked different in the sunlight. Hesitantly, she stepped forward, placing her hand on the crest in the center, and they swung open to admit her. Taking another fortifying breath, she crossed the threshold and took the path to the right, towards the copse of dark trees at the base of a shallow hill.
The Manor loomed above her to the left. She glanced at it quickly and shuddered. The bright sunshine, a last vestige of summer, mingled with the first chilly September breeze and it seemed almost a perfect day for sorrow, though she felt very little. As the path became surrounded by trees, she could see Narcissa standing at the exit of the natural tunnel, a few yards away, and she quickened her pace to reach her.
"Thank you for coming, Miss Granger," the matriarch spoke softly as she embraced her.
"My condolences, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione answered timidly. "Are you certain Draco will want me here?"
"Quite certain, dear," Narcissa spoke with a slight smile. "Though he did express concern about you feeling pressured to return to this place."
Hermione looked into the woman's kind, grey eyes. They were so much like her son's that she felt as though she knew Draco's mother better than she possibly could, having only been acquainted a few months. She was keenly aware it was too soon for her to be included in such an intimate family ritual. But they were also uncommonly serious about each other, after only a quarter of a year of courting.
"He's worth a little discomfort, to me," she finally replied.
Narcissa graced her with another sad smile and gestured toward the lone figure standing across the graveyard, alone. Hermione approached him cautiously, pulling a single white peony from her pocket. She placed her left hand gently into his right and he turned to her with a bewildered expression.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Draco," Hermione said softly.
He shook his said and opened his mouth, as though ready to protest. Hermione thrust the peony towards him, instead.
"I know it isn't traditional for a funeral, and maybe not even appropriate…" she grimaced slightly.
"It's fine," he interrupted. He shook his head. "You shouldn't have come here for him, Hermione. He doesn't deserve your compassion."
"I'm not here for him, Draco. I'm here for you." she said, squeezing his hand and resting her head gently against his shoulder.
They stood listening to the wind whistle in the surrounding trees, until Draco broke the silence with a hoarse whisper.
"Thank you, love."