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The day of the funeral, it was raining. They buried him in the family graveyard, which was on the grounds of the manor. Draco, Hermione, and a priest. Gustofs parents couldnt make the funeral. As the men lowered Gustofs coffin into the cold, damp dirt, Hermione cried, quietly. For what it was worth, Gustof helped her. Draco stood there, with no expression on his face as he watched the casket being lowered.
'Hermione,' Draco said softly. Draco looked into her red eyes, and put his arm around her shoulders.
'Yes, Draco?' she asked, him trying to comfort her.
'I think-I think we should bring Gustofs piano with us, when we find a home, wherever it may be.'
Hermione looked at him, confused.
'You see, Gustof loved that piano-Klavier, he called it-more than anything in the world. I remember, he would play for days straight without wanting to get up. And he played so well. He was a child prodigy, I thought. He refused to play on any other piano. We owe it to Gustof, not to keep it at the manor, where it would just rot in that room of his for eternity. We could bring it to our home, I think Gustof would have wanted it that way,' Draco said, hopeful that Hermione would understand.
She seemed doubtful at first; the idea of having Gustofs piano in her home seemed strange to her. But, naturally she agreed with Draco. She owed it to Gustof.
After the funeral, Draco drove Hermione back to the hotel they were staying at in Berlin. The whole ride home, it was silent. Both were too deep in thought to speak mindlessly of random things.
They silently entered the hotel room, and set their things down. Draco paced back and forth, running his hands through his sleek, shiny hair. Hermione sat on the bed, staring into space. It seemed to go on like that for a long time. Finally, Draco announced that he was going to sleep, and undressed in the bathroom. Hermione changed, and settled herself into bed. She turned out the lights beside the bed, leaving the room pitch black. When Draco opened the bathroom door, that was the only light. He shut off those lights and made his way over to the bed and got under the soft covers, next to Hermione. She almost couldnt believe that Draco was actually near her again, sleeping beside her.
Draco embraced her with his arms, and pulled her closer. She crept toward him, and buried her face on his chest, which was not covered. He kissed her hair, and ran his hand through it as the other caressed her back gently. Hermione was weeping.
'Shhhh, its ok. Its all going to be ok. You have me now, and I have you. I love you more than any words could ever begin to describe, Hermione,' Draco said, lifting her face to see it. She kissed him, and they then layed together in the darkness until each one fell asleep. They both would have much liked to have made love, but they felt it wouldnt be right, on the day of Gustofs funeral.
The day of the funeral, it was raining. They buried him in the family graveyard, which was on the grounds of the manor. Draco, Hermione, and a priest. Gustofs parents couldnt make the funeral. As the men lowered Gustofs coffin into the cold, damp dirt, Hermione cried, quietly. For what it was worth, Gustof helped her. Draco stood there, with no expression on his face as he watched the casket being lowered.
'Hermione,' Draco said softly. Draco looked into her red eyes, and put his arm around her shoulders.
'Yes, Draco?' she asked, him trying to comfort her.
'I think-I think we should bring Gustofs piano with us, when we find a home, wherever it may be.'
Hermione looked at him, confused.
'You see, Gustof loved that piano-Klavier, he called it-more than anything in the world. I remember, he would play for days straight without wanting to get up. And he played so well. He was a child prodigy, I thought. He refused to play on any other piano. We owe it to Gustof, not to keep it at the manor, where it would just rot in that room of his for eternity. We could bring it to our home, I think Gustof would have wanted it that way,' Draco said, hopeful that Hermione would understand.
She seemed doubtful at first; the idea of having Gustofs piano in her home seemed strange to her. But, naturally she agreed with Draco. She owed it to Gustof.
After the funeral, Draco drove Hermione back to the hotel they were staying at in Berlin. The whole ride home, it was silent. Both were too deep in thought to speak mindlessly of random things.
They silently entered the hotel room, and set their things down. Draco paced back and forth, running his hands through his sleek, shiny hair. Hermione sat on the bed, staring into space. It seemed to go on like that for a long time. Finally, Draco announced that he was going to sleep, and undressed in the bathroom. Hermione changed, and settled herself into bed. She turned out the lights beside the bed, leaving the room pitch black. When Draco opened the bathroom door, that was the only light. He shut off those lights and made his way over to the bed and got under the soft covers, next to Hermione. She almost couldnt believe that Draco was actually near her again, sleeping beside her.
Draco embraced her with his arms, and pulled her closer. She crept toward him, and buried her face on his chest, which was not covered. He kissed her hair, and ran his hand through it as the other caressed her back gently. Hermione was weeping.
'Shhhh, its ok. Its all going to be ok. You have me now, and I have you. I love you more than any words could ever begin to describe, Hermione,' Draco said, lifting her face to see it. She kissed him, and they then layed together in the darkness until each one fell asleep. They both would have much liked to have made love, but they felt it wouldnt be right, on the day of Gustofs funeral.