Lying to myself.
I stared up to the sky. Why is the sun out? That's pretty ironic. Ironic and unfair.
I need to scream. But there are just too many people around. Why are so many people here? I hadn't realised this many people cared.
I glanced at my mother. She is staring down into the hole. The six-foot deep hole. I'm sure she wants to be there too. In there with him.
My father was killed by the Dementors in Azkaban three days ago. My mother has cried for days, yet I haven't shed a single tear.
I keep telling myself I'm stronger than that, but my insides are beginning to cave in. It's here, at the funeral that's doing it.
I look across the hole and standing the other side is Snape. Even he looks able to cry. And he probably has. My emotions feel in competition with Snape.
He's my father, dead in the ground and I can't even cry. I hate myself.
Snape nods solemnly at me. I can't even keep eye contact with him. My eyes begin to fog over. Maybe, I'll be able to cry.
Tears flood down my face, and I feel as if I could collapse. To think I'll never see his face again is breaking me. To think I'll never spend one more day with him is breaking me. It's breaking my heart.
My mother pulls me to her side, stroking my hair, whispering that it'll be OK. I wish I believed her.
They're shovelling dirt on him. My father doesn't deserve dirt. He deserves more.
We leave. Snape comes over to my mother and tells us he's 'sorry for your loss' and 'if there's anything I can do.'
I wish he'd leave. I slump down onto a stone bench that's near me. Snape comes over to me and kneels down by the bench. He looks straight at me, but I'm staring over his shoulders.
I can hear him talking, but taking none of it in.
I distinctly hear him say, 'are you listening?'
I nod dumbly, my stupor not rising.
My mother calls for him to leave me, and he gets up and leaves.
Leaves me to sit, the graveyard around me. Everything is blurred around me but my father grave. It stands out starkly. No gravestone. Just a sign, plunged at the head of the grave, stating who is there.
I get up, still in my stupor and wander over to his grave.
Just mud. No grass covering him. Just a sign, no gravestone.
Perhaps he isn't really dead.
I drop to my knees, not knowing what has come over me, digging at the mud, letting it fly everywhere. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, not caring who hears.
I now have mud everywhere. It's around me. On my face, mingling with the flow of tears, in my hands. I know I'm never going to be able to dig six foot down using only my hands, just so I can attempt to prise the coffin open, just to confirm my fathers death.
People seemed to have noticed what's going on. Snape runs over to me in attempt to pull me from the side of the grave. I don't want to go with him. I try to make myself as heavy as possible. I need to stay. It starts to rain. Nearly everyone has left. There's just three solitary figure left. My mother is stood watching Snape try to pull me from my father's grave. The mix of water, mud, tears, screaming and my anger isn't good. I break free from Snape's grip and fling myself, face down into the mud on my father's grave. I'm yelling. Yelling as if he's going to hear me down there. Down in the ground with the worms. I screw my eyes up at the thought of this. It doesn't work and vomit onto my father's grave into the wet brown mud.
The next thing I know my mother is kneeling on the grass next to me, as I throw up over and over onto my father's grave
Snape has gone to fetch someone to clear the mess I've created up.
My mother lifts me off the grave, with seemingly no effort, and carries me over to the stone bench I was sat at before. She's soothing me, telling me it'll be alright, I squeeze my eyes closed as I get light headed. I haven't eaten for a while.
When I open my eyes again Snape and some man are by the grave cleaning all the mud back onto it and trying to get rid of my sick.
Snape thanks the man and suddenly drops to his knees. Snape's crying. I don't believe it. I can hear what he's saying from here, "Lucius, Lucius."
My father respected Snape, as Snape respected my father.
I never imagined I'd see Snape breaking down at my father's grave.
It carries on like this for hours. It seems like hours.
My mother got up and walked over to Snape. She told him we were leaving, and asked him if he would like to come with us. Snape did not reply.
We arrive home and I can't get the image of Snape at my father's grave. It was like Snape cares about my father more than I do.
And there I am lying to myself again.