News of Narcissa Malfoy's death his the wizarding community pretty
hard. It was hard enough to think of the once-cheery and personable Malfoy
as mentally disturbed, let alone dead. Hermione was faced with the task of
answering all owls and queries about Narcissa's death.
When the reports came back on Narcissa's body, it was determined there was no foul play involved and her death was ruled as accidental. Hermione thought this to be a little out of league, but she kept quiet, taking on the responsibility of funeral arrangements, also.
Two days after Narcissa's body was discovered, Draco turned up. Hermione was staring out her bedroom window at the back terrace when she noticed a figure lurking in the dark. Leaning out for a closer look, she determined that Draco had finally returned. She hurried down the staircase and out the backdoor onto the terrace.
"Where have you been?" she cried as she approached the bench. He looked like he had been gone for weeks. His hair was ruffled from running and his clothes were in disarray.
"A trip," he answered shortly and she could tell he didn't want to talk. Instead, she walked up to him and wrapped him in a great hug, holding him tightly. She didn't know what to say, having been lucky and never losing someone that close to her. She held him for several moments until a bang from the Manor drove them apart.
"What was that?" Draco asked, peering through the darkness to the glowing lights of the house. He stood up, prepared to attack whomever was spying on them.
"Don't," Hermione warned, resting her hand on his arm. Slowly, he reached inside his robes to reveal his wand, held steadily, ready to attack. "No one's there," she assured him in a soft, comforting voice and after several more moments of pleading, he lowered his wand.
"How's Dad?" he asked, his voice halting several times.
Hermione shrugged gently. "Okay, I guess. I've been delegated the tasks of arranging the funeral and informing all your relatives." She stopped short, wondering why Draco looked so angry. "What's wrong?"
He looked up at her like he had never seen her before. "You're planning my mother's funeral," he said slowly, as if he were talking to someone who was mentally challenged. "That's what's wrong."
"I know that," Hermione said, her heart sinking. "That's not what I meant."
He turned away from her. "Why don't you just go to bed?" When she protested, he added, "Please. I need to be alone right now."
She obeyed his request, heading back to the Manor, but not before she saw a lone tear trickle down his cheek.
The following morning, Hermione arose to the sound of shouting coming from downstairs. It was apparent that Draco had returned to the inside of the Manor sometime during the night for his voice, as well as Lucius', echoed throughout the great house.
"You practically killed her!" Draco shouted. "Keeping her all cooped up like this! It's all your fault!"
"My fault?" Lucius roared and Hermione was sure she felt the walls vibrate. "It wasn't my little friends that killed her sister!"
"Potter is not my friend!"
"No, but Hermione Granger is."
There was a forged silence as Hermione made her way downstairs. She didn't want to burst in when the conversation turned to her but the two Malfoys made the decision very easy for her.
Draco muttered something and Lucius laughed. "Right. Sure. Then what is she, Draco? Is she your little girlfriend?"
"What's it matter to you?" Draco snarled. Hermione continued to eavesdrop around the corner from the kitchen where the two men were yelling. "My life has never mattered to you and neither did Mum's. The only life that has ever mattered to you has been your own."
"And look where it's got me." Lucius' voice had become cold and drawl, every syllable pronounced with the efficiency of a businessman.
"Well, let's see," Draco said in mock thought, "first it lost you your job at the Ministry, then it landed you in Azkaban prison. Where next, Father? Dead?"
"Enough!" Hermione burst through the kitchen door, determined to stop this conversation before it went any further. "I've heard enough from the both of you. This has got to stop. It's Narcissa's funeral today and you will both act like human beings, for if you don't, you will both dearly pay."
Draco was silent but Lucius sneered. "Oh and what will you do, little girl?"
Hermione eyed him hatefully. Words from her mother's letter flashed through her mind as her rage heightened. "I won't hesitate to kill you myself," she finally finished. She knew it was a bad idea for a threat, but she didn't care. She just wanted him to shut up.
And he was quiet from then on. He stormed out of the room, soon to be followed by Draco, leaving Hermione in the kitchen with a massive headache.
The wizarding church had been prepared for Narcissa's funeral and friends from all over the world were attending. Hermione saw many people she recognized as Death Eaters enter the church and watched bitterly as they greeted Lucius. "Just ignore them," Draco was muttering under his breath and Hermione wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or to himself.
No matter what Hermione did, she couldn't get the grotesque picture of Narcissa's body out of her mind. When the service started, she didn't hesitate in commencing her tears, Draco holding his head high beside her. She clutched his arm tightly, determined not to let him run off and leave her here alone. She knew from the looks that the Death Eaters were giving her that they recognized her, too, and she certainly didn't want to be alone anywhere near these murderers.
After the service, Hermione had arranged for a private burial, including only immediately family members. As she moved to walk away from Draco, leaving him with his father, he reached out for her arm. "Don't go," he said pleadingly. "Please. I don't want to be left alone right now."
"You're not alone," she told him gently. "You have your father here."
"Enough said," he replied.
Hermione took a deep, steadying breath. "This is supposed to be a time for you and your father," she began but Draco's beseeching eyes made her change her course of speech. "Fine," she said, heading back towards the cemetery.
Narcissa Malfoy was to be buried in a cemetery not far from Malfoy Manor. Hermione knew that Draco would be grateful for this because he could visit her whenever he pleased without letting his father know. The sunshine streamed through the trees, illuminating the minister (Hermione hired this one) said a few words about Narcissa, but Hermione knew that there wasn't much to say. Narcissa Black had come from a family of dark wizards and married one of the slimiest wizards the world had ever known. Yet he still found some things to say that made Hermione sniffle sadly.
Lucius hadn't shown all that much emotion since that morning when he and Draco got into their row. Hermione was a little concerned about him until they arrived back at the Manor. She watched as he dropped into a sofa chair and sobbed heavily. She took Draco by the hand and led him upstairs where she pushed him gently into his room and insisted that he lie down for a while.
"Thanks for everything," he whispered, kissing her gently on the cheek before closing the door. Hermione touched the spot on her face where he had kissed her and headed back to her own room.
She sat down on her bed and began to write a long letter to Harry and Ron. "I don't know how to feel," she wrote. "I obviously feel bad because no matter how evil Narcissa was, she was still a human being. And I just saw an act from Lucius that proves underneath his evil exterior, he really is a human being too." She paused for a moment, considering whether or not she should tell the boys what she witnessed. It seemed rather private and she knew that Harry, who had more experiences with Lucius than he cared to share, would find it hard to believe that Lucius Malfoy was able of an act like crying.
"I feel bad that I couldn't help her," she continued to write. "She really wasn't all that awful to me but I guess there's nothing I can do now." She sighed. "I look forward to hearing from you guys. Love, Hermione."
She put her quill and parchment away and climbed into her own bed. It was barely three in the afternoon but she felt like she had been up for several hours. She closed her eyes and drifted into a restless sleep.
When the reports came back on Narcissa's body, it was determined there was no foul play involved and her death was ruled as accidental. Hermione thought this to be a little out of league, but she kept quiet, taking on the responsibility of funeral arrangements, also.
Two days after Narcissa's body was discovered, Draco turned up. Hermione was staring out her bedroom window at the back terrace when she noticed a figure lurking in the dark. Leaning out for a closer look, she determined that Draco had finally returned. She hurried down the staircase and out the backdoor onto the terrace.
"Where have you been?" she cried as she approached the bench. He looked like he had been gone for weeks. His hair was ruffled from running and his clothes were in disarray.
"A trip," he answered shortly and she could tell he didn't want to talk. Instead, she walked up to him and wrapped him in a great hug, holding him tightly. She didn't know what to say, having been lucky and never losing someone that close to her. She held him for several moments until a bang from the Manor drove them apart.
"What was that?" Draco asked, peering through the darkness to the glowing lights of the house. He stood up, prepared to attack whomever was spying on them.
"Don't," Hermione warned, resting her hand on his arm. Slowly, he reached inside his robes to reveal his wand, held steadily, ready to attack. "No one's there," she assured him in a soft, comforting voice and after several more moments of pleading, he lowered his wand.
"How's Dad?" he asked, his voice halting several times.
Hermione shrugged gently. "Okay, I guess. I've been delegated the tasks of arranging the funeral and informing all your relatives." She stopped short, wondering why Draco looked so angry. "What's wrong?"
He looked up at her like he had never seen her before. "You're planning my mother's funeral," he said slowly, as if he were talking to someone who was mentally challenged. "That's what's wrong."
"I know that," Hermione said, her heart sinking. "That's not what I meant."
He turned away from her. "Why don't you just go to bed?" When she protested, he added, "Please. I need to be alone right now."
She obeyed his request, heading back to the Manor, but not before she saw a lone tear trickle down his cheek.
The following morning, Hermione arose to the sound of shouting coming from downstairs. It was apparent that Draco had returned to the inside of the Manor sometime during the night for his voice, as well as Lucius', echoed throughout the great house.
"You practically killed her!" Draco shouted. "Keeping her all cooped up like this! It's all your fault!"
"My fault?" Lucius roared and Hermione was sure she felt the walls vibrate. "It wasn't my little friends that killed her sister!"
"Potter is not my friend!"
"No, but Hermione Granger is."
There was a forged silence as Hermione made her way downstairs. She didn't want to burst in when the conversation turned to her but the two Malfoys made the decision very easy for her.
Draco muttered something and Lucius laughed. "Right. Sure. Then what is she, Draco? Is she your little girlfriend?"
"What's it matter to you?" Draco snarled. Hermione continued to eavesdrop around the corner from the kitchen where the two men were yelling. "My life has never mattered to you and neither did Mum's. The only life that has ever mattered to you has been your own."
"And look where it's got me." Lucius' voice had become cold and drawl, every syllable pronounced with the efficiency of a businessman.
"Well, let's see," Draco said in mock thought, "first it lost you your job at the Ministry, then it landed you in Azkaban prison. Where next, Father? Dead?"
"Enough!" Hermione burst through the kitchen door, determined to stop this conversation before it went any further. "I've heard enough from the both of you. This has got to stop. It's Narcissa's funeral today and you will both act like human beings, for if you don't, you will both dearly pay."
Draco was silent but Lucius sneered. "Oh and what will you do, little girl?"
Hermione eyed him hatefully. Words from her mother's letter flashed through her mind as her rage heightened. "I won't hesitate to kill you myself," she finally finished. She knew it was a bad idea for a threat, but she didn't care. She just wanted him to shut up.
And he was quiet from then on. He stormed out of the room, soon to be followed by Draco, leaving Hermione in the kitchen with a massive headache.
The wizarding church had been prepared for Narcissa's funeral and friends from all over the world were attending. Hermione saw many people she recognized as Death Eaters enter the church and watched bitterly as they greeted Lucius. "Just ignore them," Draco was muttering under his breath and Hermione wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or to himself.
No matter what Hermione did, she couldn't get the grotesque picture of Narcissa's body out of her mind. When the service started, she didn't hesitate in commencing her tears, Draco holding his head high beside her. She clutched his arm tightly, determined not to let him run off and leave her here alone. She knew from the looks that the Death Eaters were giving her that they recognized her, too, and she certainly didn't want to be alone anywhere near these murderers.
After the service, Hermione had arranged for a private burial, including only immediately family members. As she moved to walk away from Draco, leaving him with his father, he reached out for her arm. "Don't go," he said pleadingly. "Please. I don't want to be left alone right now."
"You're not alone," she told him gently. "You have your father here."
"Enough said," he replied.
Hermione took a deep, steadying breath. "This is supposed to be a time for you and your father," she began but Draco's beseeching eyes made her change her course of speech. "Fine," she said, heading back towards the cemetery.
Narcissa Malfoy was to be buried in a cemetery not far from Malfoy Manor. Hermione knew that Draco would be grateful for this because he could visit her whenever he pleased without letting his father know. The sunshine streamed through the trees, illuminating the minister (Hermione hired this one) said a few words about Narcissa, but Hermione knew that there wasn't much to say. Narcissa Black had come from a family of dark wizards and married one of the slimiest wizards the world had ever known. Yet he still found some things to say that made Hermione sniffle sadly.
Lucius hadn't shown all that much emotion since that morning when he and Draco got into their row. Hermione was a little concerned about him until they arrived back at the Manor. She watched as he dropped into a sofa chair and sobbed heavily. She took Draco by the hand and led him upstairs where she pushed him gently into his room and insisted that he lie down for a while.
"Thanks for everything," he whispered, kissing her gently on the cheek before closing the door. Hermione touched the spot on her face where he had kissed her and headed back to her own room.
She sat down on her bed and began to write a long letter to Harry and Ron. "I don't know how to feel," she wrote. "I obviously feel bad because no matter how evil Narcissa was, she was still a human being. And I just saw an act from Lucius that proves underneath his evil exterior, he really is a human being too." She paused for a moment, considering whether or not she should tell the boys what she witnessed. It seemed rather private and she knew that Harry, who had more experiences with Lucius than he cared to share, would find it hard to believe that Lucius Malfoy was able of an act like crying.
"I feel bad that I couldn't help her," she continued to write. "She really wasn't all that awful to me but I guess there's nothing I can do now." She sighed. "I look forward to hearing from you guys. Love, Hermione."
She put her quill and parchment away and climbed into her own bed. It was barely three in the afternoon but she felt like she had been up for several hours. She closed her eyes and drifted into a restless sleep.