A/N: Thank you all for your comments on the last chapter. They bring me so much joy!
AlphaBet love to BiscuitsforPotter and DisenchantedGlow!

Before he could rest, Draco was required to give a full account of the evening's events to Potter. Draco let the words flow from him freely, his voice distant, as though someone else were speaking. He told the Auror about spotting the Death Eaters outside the safe house, about Pansy running for her wand just before they gained access from the front and back doors. He told about the duel that followed, and about Pansy's death, though he skipped that bit about her wand not working for her. Mulciber got the best of her. That was all. Aside from that detail, he left nothing else unsaid. Granger sat next to him, anxiously biting her fingernails and listening in rapt terror.

When Draco's report had been given, Potter began assembling a team to go to the Farley house. Draco knew what they would find there: Pansy's body, the wreckage of a battle, and nothing more. Certainly Mulciber would have revived his comrade and fled by now. There would be no Death Eaters there for Potter to apprehend.

With no role left for him to play, Granger helped Draco up the stairs and into bed. She was talking to him. Something about this not being his fault. He wished that he could tell her just how wrong she was. It was all his fault. Pansy was dead because of him and nothing she said could assuage his guilt.

She tried to offer him a Dreamless Sleep Potion, but he refused. He knew he wouldn't sleep without it, but the thought of getting a decent night's rest after what had happened caused his stomach to roil with grief.

"Please, Draco," she insisted as he kicked off his boots and flopped onto the bed. "You need to rest."

Draco rolled away from her, wanting nothing more than for her to leave. "No."

"If you would just—"

"Leave me alone, Granger," he droned, his chest feeling tight.

"But—"

"Get. Out."

It was silent for a moment, and he could practically hear her inner conflict. Finally he heard the sound of her retreating footsteps and the click of the bedroom door, and he was left alone with his regret.

It came in waves, the guilt and grief crushing him, drowning him, before ebbing slightly, giving way to a horrible numbness. He wasn't sure which was worse.

There was a time when he had been able to trust his instincts above all else. And yet he had been wrong about Pansy. Catastrophically, irrevocably wrong. She never was a spy, he knew that now. Whatever suspicions he had had about her were unfounded. If she had been acting strangely, it was likely due to her desire to be accepted in the Order. Draco would never know for sure, and it was all his fault.

She had been his friend once. More than his friend, truly. A trusted confidant, a comforting ally, a lover.

And he had killed her. Killed her as if he had put his wand to her himself. If not for his actions, Pansy would be alive. They would have joked about their close call. She would have teased him about having to save his sorry arse. She and Charlie might have had a future.

But she was gone.

Granger returned in the morning. She sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on his shoulder. He didn't turn over.

She asked if he had slept.

He hadn't.

She asked if he wanted to eat anything.

He didn't.

She asked if there was anything she could do to help.

There wasn't.

When he didn't answer her, she left.

Potter came a few minutes later, needing to ask Draco more questions about the attack.

Draco shared what he remembered and answered Potter's questions carefully, knowing that sharing too much about Pansy's death would cause suspicion to fall upon him.

"There's a team at the Farley house now. We recovered Pansy's remains last night. The team today will pick up the last of the documents as well as everyone's personal effects. I'll have your belongings brought up when they arrive," Potter said evenly. He was there as an Auror, of course, not as a friend.

Draco had no friends here. The closest thing he'd had to one was dead because of him.

That evening, Granger brought his personal belongings up to his room. When she came in, he could hear urgent conversations happening downstairs. She closed the door gently and approached him, setting his rucksack next to the bed.

"Are you sure you don't want a Dreamless Sleep Potion?" she offered.

Draco glanced over at her. She was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she stared at him. He wished she would leave him alone. She should stay far away from him. He was dangerous. Even when he was trying to protect her, death befell the Order.

"I'm sure," he clipped.

Her brow furrowed. "Please, Draco—"

"Merlin's beard, Granger. Will you leave me alone if I take the fucking potion?" he snapped, bringing his hands up to press into his eyes.

"Yes," she replied, her voice a bit colder than it had been a moment ago. "But you have to actually—"

"Fine," he bit out.

Granger left and returned several minutes later with a full tray of food. She set it on the bedside table. "I'll give you the potion and leave you alone after you eat something," she announced, sitting on the edge of his bed near his legs.

A low groan rumbled through Draco's chest. "You're a real pain in the arse. Did you know that?"

"Yes, I've been told," Granger droned. "Eat."

Cursing under his breath, Draco pushed himself to sit up and dragged the tray onto his lap. He forced himself to eat a small roll, a few bites of roast chicken, and several spoonfuls of rice. Granger sat patiently while he choked it down. It was all tasteless, and sat in his stomach like lead on top of his crushing guilt. When he knew he could eat no more he pushed the tray away.

"Happy?" he sneered.

She held out the potion for him and he snatched it away from her, hoping that she would leave before making him take it.

After several seconds of her staring at him, he let out a resigned sigh and drank the potion.

She nodded and stood, picking the tray up with her. "We're holding a funeral for Pansy tomorrow afternoon. I thought you'd like to know. I think it would be a good time for you to end your self-imposed exile."

With that, she turned and left him alone, dousing the lights as she went.

Draco couldn't think of anything he wanted to do less than to go to Pansy's funeral. To have to stand with all the people who had accepted her and know that he had betrayed her... He couldn't imagine anything worse.

But he didn't have time to imagine much else. Dreamless Sleep was effective and fast-acting, and a fuzziness had already begun to creep into the edges of his brain. The last thought that crossed his mind before everything faded away was that a good night's rest was the last thing he deserved.

The next day, Draco locked his door to avoid Granger from bothering him anymore. He could hear people arriving in the early afternoon from the various other safe houses. There was a growing hum downstairs as the crowd gathered.

Unsurprisingly and all too soon, someone was knocking at his door. "Draco," Granger called. "Can I come in?"

Draco glared at the door. When exactly had she started calling him 'Draco' anyway? Like they were friends. Like she trusted him. Like he wasn't a soulless monster...

The door knob rattled. "Draco," she said, dropping her voice. "The funeral is about to begin."

He wasn't going. He had decided this morning.

"Draco—" She sounded so disappointed.

Someone called her name from far away and he heard a muffled conversation. A moment later, the door knob rattled again. A pause, and her footsteps departed.

The sound downstairs diminished as everyone made their way into the back garden. Draco pushed himself to stand and shuffled to the window. He could see everyone gathered on the lawn. A grave had been dug near the stone wall surrounded by well tended flowers. The dark wooden casket sat by the grave, its top open to reveal Pansy. She was small and pale in death, her useless wand placed under her hands against her heart. They'd dressed her in stylish navy robes—the last ones she'd ever wear.

He could see everyone, dressed in black and faces drawn in grief as Kingsley began his speech. Draco couldn't hear what was being said, and he didn't want to.

From her place next to Potter, Granger looked up at his window, her eyes locking with his. Her frown deepened before she turned away from him, wiping a tear away from her cheek.

Heart clenching, Draco turned from the window and flopped back down onto the bed face down.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing Draco knew, his door was swinging open. He opened his eyes to see Granger pocketing her wand and helping herself inside. She closed the door with a frown and rounded on him. "Sorry," she murmured as she approached the bed. "I did knock."

Irritation swirled within Draco like a maelstrom. "My lack of response should have been a clear indication that I didn't want to be disturbed."

"Everyone is worried about you," Granger noted, placing her wand back in her pocket.

"Color me touched."

"You can't stay locked up in here forever."

"You're not my healer anymore, Granger. Which means you don't get to order me about."

She paused briefly before replying. "I'm not here as your healer. I'm here as your friend."

Draco turned his head, eyes roving over her. Her concern was painted all over her face. To his memory, he had never seen her so dressed up, with the exception of the Yule Ball, of course. Her black dress was simple, but elegant, its full skirt falling to her knees. Her black heels clicked against the wooden floors as she shifted her weight. She had even put on a bit of makeup. If he had been in a different mind set, he might have thought she looked rather pretty, even with her red-rimmed eyes and downturned lips. It seemed like quite a lot of effort to put forth for a dead woman's benefit.

People grieve in mysterious ways, thought Draco.

"Pansy was part of the Order," Granger said sternly when he didn't reply. "And beyond that, she was one of your friends. I don't know what happened to you two over the years to make you fall out, but you were close once. She deserved to have you at her funeral. It doesn't do either of you any good for you to sit up in your room moping while the rest of us are trying to figure out why this happened. You were there. We could use you. But instead we're having to piece things together from your report. Sulking won't bring her back."

"I am not sulking," Draco grumbled.

"Could have fooled me." She leveled him with a stern glare.

Draco grimaced. Couldn't she just leave him in peace?

Granger sighed, pulling her hair over her shoulder and twirling it nervously in her hands. "Listen, I know you're grieving. I don't want to push too hard. But I just think you could channel your grief more productively. You're not the only one in the Order who lost someone. We can all help each other through this."

Without another word, she turned and left him again.

Granger had not bullied him into taking another sleeping potion, and so Draco found himself wide awake at nearly three in the morning. Granger's words kept swirling around inside his head, tenacious and refusing to let him rest. Loathe as he was to admit it, she was right. Pansy deserved better.

The house was quiet as he ventured out of his room and down the stairs. He didn't pass anyone else on his way to the garden. There, Pansy's grave was in a fresh mound of loose earth surrounded by white daisies. He knelt down before her headstone, the ground cool and damp beneath his knees.

"Hi, Pansy," he intoned miserably, feeling unbelievably stupid. "I know you can't hear me. I know you're not there… or here… or anywhere."

His throat felt tight and he swallowed painfully. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

The knot of guilt in his gut coiled tighter.

"I know it doesn't make a difference and nothing ever will… but I'm sorry, Pans. I should have been there for you today. But beyond that, I should have trusted you. I should have protected you."

He felt his eyes begin to sting and his jaw grow tight. But it wasn't until his voice broke that the tears came.

"I know you can't grant me forgiveness." Tears slipped down his cheeks and he sniffed. "Even if you could, I wouldn't ask for it. I don't deserve it. I just—I'm sorry."

The well of words inside of him had dried up. After the apology, what else was there to say? What else could he say? She was dead, and nothing was going to change that.

Knowing he was alone in the garden with no one to witness him, he let himself cry freely. Tears dripped down his chin and onto the freshly turned earth. When was the last time he had cried like this? Truly cried?

The thought only brought more tears.

Moonlight shone down on him, illuminating his grief in hues of silver and blue. And when his tears finally abated, that grief began to feel less like a rock dragging him down to the depths of the sea.

Draco knew that apologizing at Pansy's grave and weeping for her loss wouldn't absolve him of his sins, but for the first time in days, he felt truly awake and aware. Of course, the numbness hadn't gone completely. And while the pain in his soul was still crippling, he finally felt the beginnings of what it might be like to be whole again.

A/N: Updates every Monday.

Next chapter posts on June 8th.

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