Chapter Forty-Eight:
(A/N. Here's an angsty chapter to counterpoint the sweetness…wait…hold on…my muse has just informed me this contains sad fluff too! Oh well sorry! Anyway, I changed the names on this chapter an handed it in as an English essay for a story on a quote from a book. Bonus points to whoever guesses it! Heehee! I got a 7, on the IB scale. IE, it was perfect. No mistakes. So hopefully that's good…Finals for this week so don't expect an update for a week or so…)
It was raining and the irony of the situation didn't pass Draco's attention. He stared down at the ground as the moisture seeped into the dirt and turned it into mud. It was spring and yet sod leaves littered the ground at his feet. The rain had soaked through his clothes and his hair lay flat to his head. He raised his crystalline-blue eyes and sought out the coffin which rested near the hole where it would lay forever more. His father had meant nothing to him and yet Draco knew that it wasn't just rain that slipped down his face. So many what ifs. What if Lucius had been a good father, or a good husband? What if he had changed his criminal ways to be with his family? Draco shook his head, useless thoughts of course. Lucius was dead and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Yet it still hurt. The people gathered around the grave, their clothes as black as the sky above, weren't here for the man lying inside the coffin, looking as immaculate as he had in life, a rose clutched in his hands. They were here for him. Their heads were bent; any sympathetic glances lost on Draco.
"Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust." Dumbledore chanted quietly his voice echoing in the heavy silence. His mother stood to one side, her hand held in front of her mouth and her eyes red with tears. He hated her for crying, he hated himself for crying. Lucius was dead, they should have been rejoicing and yet Draco didn't feel happy. The ceremony ended and Draco realized he had missed most of it. His face remained as impassive as marble as the people gathered around him to give their condolences. As they walked away, Narcissa came toward Draco.
"Lucius is dead." She stated unnecessarily. He looked down at her thin form and wondered if she had been eating. The bruises her husband had left on her were still visible even though Lucius had been dead for more than a week. Draco glanced back at the coffin.
"Yes, he is." He said wearily. Two men were slowly lowering the coffin down into the earth.
"How will we get by without him?" She asked desperately. His silver blue eyes turned to meet her dark ones. He had never realized how much this woman had needed the man that now lay dead. The man who Draco had only called Father and even that title had been forced. The man had never deserved to be a father.
"What do you mean, Mother?"
"What will we do now?" Her voice was pitiful, begging for an answer. Draco sighed heavily.
"What we have always done." He answered wondering if those words would be enough. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a beautiful brunette walking away from the crowd who had come to mourn with him and making her way toward him.
"What is that, Draco?" Narcissa asked drawing his attention back to her. He smiled, a true smile filled with love.
"Survive and live on." He said and walked away meeting Hermione halfway. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest and he was glad for the comfort and warmth her touch brought. He kissed her forehead lovingly.
"Does it hurt?" She asked softly. He looked down at the grave which stood so near them. He was about to lie when he realized that she would know and that she wanted the truth. He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
"Good." She said and he frowned down at her. Confused by her softly proclaimed word.
"Why?" He asked his voice filled with pain. She smiled at him tenderly and brushed away a strand of his hair.
"It means you're still human." She whispered and brushed her lips against his. He pulled away and smiled at her.
"Thank you." He said and she nodded. She turned toward the grave and Draco saw her eyes fill with determination.
"Go say goodbye and let's leave." She said and he realized that this ceremony had hurt her as much as it hurt him. He nodded slowly and walked away from Hermione and squatted down near the grave.
"Father, you chose the wrong path. I didn't want to be like you. I'm sorry for all the things we couldn't share because of you and because of me. All I wanted was your love, even if I didn't know what the word meant, but you could never give that to me or Mother. You couldn't even give me your pride and acceptance. Therefore, I found love and acceptance somewhere else. I have another family now. Good bye, Father. Maybe you will find some rest in death." He said and looked up at Hermione who was standing next to him, looking down at the coffin somberly.
"Yes, flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." She murmured, quoting a famous Muggle writer. He stood and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Hermione pulled a rose from the pocket of her cloak and tossed it down to the coffin. Together they walked away. Draco glanced back to his mother and saw her staring as the men shoveled dirt into the grave.
"Why do you think she stays?" He asked. Hermione looked at him with eyes wise beyond her years.
"We are incomplete alone, that is why we seek another kindred spirit." She stated and he pulled her closer.
"I love you, Hermione." He whispered. She snuggled into the crook of his arm and he could hear the smile in her beautiful voice.
"I love you too."
