Disclaimer: I own nothing of J.K.Rowling's, and I'm pretty happy I don't. Cause, if I did, then the end of the story wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?

Ch. 4: The Cemetery

The cold wind that shuffled my hair fit the scene of the graveyard, almost ominously. White tombstones matched the clouded sky. My eyes rested on the graves, again. I took a deep breath. I could barely feel my heart beating; for some reason, I was so tired. Even though, it was morning.

I looked to my right. Draco was kneeling on the ground, before a grave with white and purple flowers upon it. I wondered if he still cared about the quality of his black robes. Like at Hogwarts, they were still the most expensive you could find, but now, he didn't seem to mind to touch the mud before the tomb stone.

Walking quietly behind him, I read the writing engraved in the marble:

1990-2007

Pansy Parkinson

Only daughter of Sir William Parkinson and Madam Orchid Mince

"A lovéd fiancé"

For some absurd reason, I smiled at that. Back at Hogwarts, he used to always call her that, his 'lovéd fiancé'.

He loved her so much.

Pain gripping my heart, I walked back to stand before the gravestones of those most important to me.

Sirius, gone so early. He was taken first.

Hermione, I thought, Ron… Together in Death. Why? Why not before that? Why? Upset, I remembered the scene:

'You will not get him!' shouted Hermione, wand raised. She stood stiffly in the large garden of the Malfoy Manor, not in it's best state. Several statues were destroyed and debris scattered the once stunning garden. Standing upon the platform surrounded by various statues, she blocked my fallen figure from Voldemort – who drained me in a spell.

A hiss accompanied the blaze of red eyes, 'Stand aside you silly girl.' I saw him get closer to the platform, before smoke blocked my vision.

'Never!' she screamed, her voice echoed dully through my aching head, 'You can't get through to him, not on my life!'

'Oh,' the hiss sounded again, very confident, as an ancient statue was blasted out of the way. I felt dust shift around my face.

'It's much easier than you think, Mudblood.'

'No, it's not, Tom!' Hermione, true to character, still tried to reason with him

'It isn't! Because we love him,' she had still tried to make him see reason,

'Because I love him!' she tried to make him see reason, even…at the end of all things

'And you will never take him from us!'

I fell to my knees. The responsibility was just too much to bear.

'Hermione!' Ron had shouted as she fell, struck by the one killing curse.

'Wake up!' he had cried, 'Wake up, Hermione… Hermione, I love you.'

Maybe, it was a blessing, in an odd sort of way. To have those three truthful words, be the last you'd ever say.

And Remus. Oh, Remus. He didn't get all the action of the field. No, he died, so slowly, just after the war. If Voldemort was still alive, I would have murdered him for it.

'Don't worry, Harry…' he coughed, lying on sheets of white. 'Why don't you go and enjoy the celebrations?' I heard a shout of joy and a bottle of Champaign exploding. 'I'll be fine.'

'No, you're not fine, Remus,' I told him. 'Your face has paled, more than before. That curse- it's killing you.'

He lay silent, eyes closed.

'You're going to die. You're going to die like the rest of them. Just like them, he took them from me. And now, he's taken you.'

'The medics have told me-'

'Don't lie, Remus! All the marauders are gone now, aren't they? They've all been wasted. Killed.'

'To die, Harry,' he said, finally admitting it. 'Is not the end. Souls will go to another place… they will live on.'

'What are you talking about, Remus?' I said, much faster than his slow speech. 'What-'

'Harry,' he interrupted, 'Lily would have been so proud. Her little Harry,' his eyes unfocused, seeing another world. 'Her little Hero…'

'I don't want to be a Hero, Remus,' I whispered, feeling his hand go limp. 'I don't want to be Harry. I don't want to be.'

That was when I made my decision, I remembered. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. 'Almost done?' came the question.

'Ya, I'm done,' I got up, wiping a hand across my eyes. We walked sullenly to my car, parked in the lot. Getting inside, I waited until Draco had gotten into the passenger seat. Putting my key in the engine, I stopped.

'Take your time,' Draco said, reminding me of his old sarcastic self. He leaned the passenger seat back.

Yes, I thought, I'll do just that.

Throwing open the door, I stomped over to the graveyard again. I walked past many gravestones. Gryffindor students, other classmates, teachers. I stormed past the Death Eaters, even they were buried – thanks to Dumbledore.

Finally, I stopped, before one huge stone – which almost seemed to smirk down at the occupant of the grave, he who tried to defy death.

Voldemort.

Raising my wand, I took no caution of muggles, as I threw curse after curse at the grave. Every flash of light, which hit the stone, seemed to stop and dissolve. No, I thought in a fanatical craze, I have to kill you! I have to hurt you!

Minutes later, as I tried my hundredth- billionth- spell, I heard a voice behind me.

'Don't try anymore,' came Draco's calm voice. I turned to face him, exhaustion filling my features.

'NO, I have to do this. I hate him! What he's done, it's just-'

I stopped as Draco cupped my face in his hands, 'Don't try anymore, Harry,' he repeated, as though talking to a child. He paused before adding,

'I've already tried them all.'

As though a dam had broken, my tears could no longer stay put. Breathing ragged, I dropped my wand to the dirt and took comfort in crying in the cemetery.

I cried all the way home – even through the hilarious incident of Draco's skill in driving.

Stopping with a jolt in front of our apartment building, Draco got out of the car, quickly. He opened my door and started pulling at me to get out.

'Come on, Harry,' he said, through my sobs. 'Come on, get out. Get up.'

Refusing to meet his gaze, I looked at the blurry surroundings of the car. My glasses had been discarded of long ago.

'I'm not dragging you up those horrid stairs into your apartment.'

They died. They're dead.

'Are you listening to me?'

They died thirteen years ago. They died.

'I'm warning you, Potter. Get up.'

They're not coming back. They're dead.

'That's it, blast the muggles, I'm using magic.'

Somehow, I made it up to my apartment. Somehow, I crawled into bed. And, somehow, I managed to sleep – just sleep.

When I awoke, the sun was still up and the weather much warmer. I shuffled around looking for my glasses. Picking up my wand, I stuck it in my back pocket.

'Anne!' I called, opening our bedroom door. 'Anne, my glasses –'

Suddenly, I stopped. Someone was in my apartment.

That someone was behind me.

In a quick move, I turned and grabbed at the person. Locking him under my arm, I slid my wand to his neck.

'Merlin, Potter! It's me,' cried the man.

'Oh, you, Draco,' I said, easing my grip.

'Still got it in you, have you,' he asked, 'So do I.'

Caught by surprise, my legs left the floor and I completed a full flip before landing on my stomach.

As I tried to regain my breath, I felt Draco move towards the couch. Getting up, I managed to ask, 'How long have you been here?'

'Not long,' he replied, playing with the TV controller. 'As long as you've been asleep.' The blonde looked down at his gold watch, 'About four hours.'

'Oh,' I said, sitting down on the couch closer to the television.

As he continued to play with the buttons on the controller, I heard him mutter, 'How do these blasted things work?'

'Simple, here,' I took the controller from him. 'Up, and you change the channel to the one higher, and down, and you change it back. Got it?'

'Yes,' he said, snatching it back, 'I knew that,' turning the tables he continued, 'do you remember everything?'

Everything… yes.

'Ya.'

Glancing at me briefly, he continued, 'Good.'

'Then,' he said, 'you'll be ready to tell your wife and child who you really are?'

'Ya.'

'And who I am?'

Ya, I thought, finding no need to verbally respond.

'And what you did?'

Ya.

'And what you're going to do?'

Ya – NO.

'Wait, what am I going to do?'

Looking at Draco, I could practically hear his thoughts, pathetic.

'You'll tell her that you'll have to leave for a while…'

'No, I can't do that.'

Ditching the television set, Draco turned to look at me, 'Harry, you've been a good boy so far. Agreeing with everything I've told you. Why the sudden change of heart?'

'Because,' I said, standing, 'Anne and I've worked to get this house; we have a child. We have responsibility. And, she's been great lately letting Tom go to Hogwarts. I can't leave her now. Not only that, I have a job.'

Changing topics, Draco asked, 'Why'd you name him Tom?'

'I forgot a lot of things, Draco,' I said, sitting back down, 'But I could never forget Tom Marvolo Riddle. Never.' Looking away, I continued, 'So I remembered that name, I thought it was a bit of my past, and so I named him Tom, my only future.'

'Now,' Draco interrupted, completely indifferent to Harry's speech, 'Tom's going to Hogwarts. Tom will find out about everything that happened to you in your past. Tom,' he stressed, 'will have a new opinion about his dad, who hid from everything.'

Harry felt his temper rising, as he remembered the old Slytherin.

'Tom will meet Slytherins, who will taunt him. Tom might be lucky enough to meet my son, Harry, who will know more than just what's written in the history books,' Draco raised his eyebrows, 'much more.'

'Malfoy,' Harry said, a bit past angry, 'This isn't one of your old games. I can't just put my family on hold. You don't seem to understand-'

'No, Potter – you don't! This is no game. This is real life, with real people who really want to kill you. And, they'll do whatever it takes. Your family is in danger, Potter, just like how your friends were. And you're going to make the same mistake, if you don't listen to me!'

Silence left the two men standing and glaring dangerously at one another.

Then Malfoy looked away. 'Think about it, Potter.' He grabbed his coat and turned away towards the door. 'Dumbledore will know about this.'

As the door slammed, Harry sat back down on the couch, his head in his hands. As his wife came home, he decided he was going to tell her everything. He was going to tell his family absolutely everything – then he wouldn't have anything to hide, no heartache for later.

Well, he'd give Tom a PG version.

Then, suddenly remembering how he would beg for information in his fifth year, Harry brought the rating up.

To a PG 13.

Author's Note: Hi everybody! Ok, real sorry it took so long. Now, don't be too mad, but I have to say that I'm traveling over the summer… to my beach house, where I can't bring a computer or update… Really sorry.

But, on the bright side, you can read my other story, Gray Eyes, Gray Heart. I promise it's good – well, I like it. And I just updated two new chapters.

Well, love and hope your well,

Magicalme

Oh, just in case you don't know, to know when I'll next update this story without checking all the time. You can just add me to your Author's Alert list while you review. Therefore, you will get an email when I update- oh, and you have to be logged in.