Chapter 10

                (wow, double figures!!)

Do you people know how much I slave for you?! Come on, R/R!! Thanks.  Oh, yeah, while I think about it… school's started * is unhappy and depressed *. So I won't be getting chapter's up so quickly! If you're bored, I've done a story for English , and uploaded it; don't look at me like that!! It's a fan fic, don't worry. It's about Snape too...mmm... read and review, read and review!!

DISCLAIMER: The plot is all I own! And Draco's mad relations! * g *

                The Funeral- Part I

Draco stood at the door of the Manor, greeting people as they arrived. It was the day of his Father's funeral. The weather was acting quite appropriately; it was grey, threatening to rain, but not quite. It reflected how Draco felt horribly accurately. More people came up the drive.

Automatically, Draco started his bit of dialect, "Yes, it's very sad, I'm so glad to see you here, Father spoke of you often..."

He dropped his polite tone as Mr. Nott and his wife went inside to see his Mother. Father didn't speak of you often! He screamed at them silently. He only ever mentioned you in passing, you great fucking twat! I bet you hardly now him!

He raged on silently inside his head, being carefully not to let it all show on his face. Surreptitiously, he checked his watch. Ten past two. Where was Snape? He said that he'd be there! Draco had received the letter in a state of angst, as Snape had his. What he had read, he saw as positive, although now...was he being foolish? Would Snape ever turn up?

He waited seemingly forever until he saw a lone, dark figure striding up the driveway. He watched, his inexplicable happiness at seeing the Professor mounting as the figure came into clear view. It was indeed, Snape, though looking distant and slightly melancholy, in his own, discreet way. Draco fought to keep a straight face. He wanted to smile, laugh with pleasure so much! He caught himself. This isn't like you?! What happened to cool, calm, don't care Malfoy? He exclaimed at himself in silent surprise. Before he could answer, Snape reached him.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," he said sombrely.

"Professor Snape, sir," Draco replied formally, "I'm so glad you could make it."

"So am I," he said, and moved on through to the hallway, leaving Draco, confused, behind him. What did that mean? Was he being so...proper and correct for a reason? Or had he forgotten that night already? It was hardly a month ago!

Draco hadn't forgotten. It ran through his mind like a stuck gramophone record, playing nothing else.  What did Snape think? He refused to let himself call Snape Severus. What if he said it out loud? Then there would be trouble.

He looked down the list of invited guests. They were all there except Aunt Mildred. He paused, wondering what he should do about her. It was quarter past, and they should probably get the ceremony moving along, before it started raining. Then he remembered; she wasn't coming.  She had sent him an owl that morning explaining that she couldn't. Draco's heart lightened a little more. He hated the woman with a passion, she was like a cat, hissing and scratching, always making trouble.  As funeral's went, he thought to himself, this one isn't go so badly. At the moment.

He went inside to the warmth at last and into the main sitting room. He wove his way between the hordes of people, all of whom seemed intent on talking to him, to get to his mother. She was sitting on a chair, delicately dabbing her eyes with the corner of a black-laced handkerchief.  She was surrounded by a group of sympathetic women, who, to Draco at least, all looked more or less identical. Fighting his way through (in a polite manner, of course), he got to his Mother and told her that they should hurry up with the ceremony. She looked at him blankly for a moment, as though wondering what he was on about before saying,

"Of course, dear, the weather's perfectly ghastly today..." she dabbed the corners of her eyes again.

Finally, they got the ceremony underway, and the burial finished with. Malfoy Manor had it's own private graveyard in the gardens, exclusively for the Malfoy family. It was tastefully done; white lilies, rosewood coffin with silver trimmings...no expense had been spared.

For one of the few moments since he had left Hogwarts, Draco thought of something other than Snape. He thought of his father. He stood at the edge of his congregation with his Mother and other close relations. He tried not to cry too much.

They left the graveyard in silence. No one talked until they got back into the living room, where the house elves had laid out a buffet for the guests. Only then did conversations start, quietly at first, people talking of the dead man in hushed voices. As time passed, they steadily became louder and more forward, the odd laugh here and there gently punctuating the room. Draco mingled with the guests, as his mother had previously instructed him to.

After half an hour or so of being told how good he was and how well he had dealt with it, he managed to escape behind a set of screens that hid one corner of the room. He used to hide here when he sulked when he was little. Now he used it as a quiet place. Behind the screen was a bid, brass chest, big enough for Draco to fit into easily, if he so desired. For now, however, he sat on top of it, leaning against the wall, listening lazily with his eyes closed, to the conversations that were being held outside his little recluse.

"... he was a great man, of course, won't find another like him..."

"...we're they going to read the will later?..."

"...wonder how the boy will cope..."

"Hiding, Draco?"

The last voice was quiet and came from horribly nearby. His eyes shot open to see Snape standing over him, smiling slightly. Draco blushed.

"Sorry, I..."

Snape shook his head.

"Don't apologise," he said quietly. " I know it all seems...so false some how, doesn't it?"

Draco's heart was beating hard in his chest. Snape was speaking to him as an equal! He nodded. He didn't know whether he trusted himself to speak.

"How are you anyway?" asked Snape, leaning himself against the wall next to Draco. Draco shrugged.

"Alright, I suppose. Could be better," he said, as coolly as he dared.

There was a pause. 

"I suppose we need to talk," Snape said reluctantly, regret showing on his face.

"Mmmm," Draco agreed, wondering whether this was good or bad.

The pause returned. Behind the screen, Draco heard someone calling for attention in an authoritative manner.  He glanced quickly up at Snape.

"You'd better go, quick, before you're missed. I'll get out later," he said, calmly. Draco nodded and slipped from behind the screen, back into the crowd.  The man who had called for attention turned out to be none other than his father's lawyer. He was asking everyone to go next door for the reading of the Will. The room buzzed with excitement, making Draco feel sick. Vultures! They filed out of the Living room, and into the room next door where there were rows of chairs set out facing a small portable podium like stand.

Draco wondered briefly about his Father's Will. He knew that he would inherit the house and grounds eventually, not to mention the fortunes that lay in Gringrotts.  He sat in a chair at the back and waited.