Title: A Lamentation of Grief

Author: Bex Drake

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/ Hermione Granger

Disclaimer: The world of "Harry Potter" belongs to the fabulous J.K. Rowling.

Words: 2084

Warnings: Character death.

Author's Notes: This was just something I had to write after reading HBP, it's a kind of response to what I have read, I guess. Oh and it doesn't matter if you've read the HBP or not, as there are no spoilers. This is a one-shot, so please do not ask for more chapters.

Summary: Sometimes you can love someone too much at the expense of others.

'I am drowning. Drowning in my grief and my sorrow. Selfishly, I cannot seem to pull myself free- not even for the kids. They despise me. My children look at me in repulsion because I am not strong enough for them. I am a broken thing, not the tempestuous witch I once was. I am twisted and harrowing, and I have to pretend that I am okay. But okay isn't good enough- not anymore. And let us be frank, it never was.

'We stood on different sides, neither of us had a choice with our designation in their war. By the time the war began in earnest I was pregnant with our first child, although I did not know it at the time. Like a fool I believed in a "happy ever after"; a child's dream, a fairytale not something I should have believed because I was always the logical one- The brains. But not to him; to my heart I was something more, just as he was more than a snivelling Pureblood coward to me.

'We were the real life "Romeo and Juliet", although we never killed ourselves. We both survived the war, just. Still, we were both disillusioned with the outcome so we clung to one another. We were happy for a time, so happy we contemplated marriage but it wasn't to be. I was to bear bastards to a Pureblood name. The irony stings even now.

'They killed him, because his skin was marred by a dark mark- sorry "The Dark Mark". Because he had been a Death Eater. They didn't care that he had repented, that he had a family. He was just as guilty of his "crimes", although they never stipulated what these crimes were to me. His mother and father blamed me. I don't blame them even if it isn't entirely fair. I was after all The Boy Who Lived's Mudblood friend. Yes Mudblood, not Muggle-born as I used to say when I still believed in fairytales.

'Still, it won't be long until I join him finally. I am sure my children will be overjoyed, as will my ex-best friends. I feel tired, which is nothing knew. I have felt tired since the day they murdered him in the name of justice; tired to the bone, and I have been stretched and careworn. The potion is finally taking effect it would seem.

'"Mother?" My eldest, Juliana, asks stalking into my bedroom. She has started doing this recently, probably in the hopes that my anger will rouse and pull me momentarily from my grief. "It is past midday, you should not be in bed." She continues frowning, her silver eyes narrowed- so like her father when he was frustrated.

'"That does not matter." I reply, struggling to sit up and lean against the pillows. It is more of an effort than I would have believed; this strangely detached feeling does not help. "I have something to say to you." I add, as she turns to leave the room in a huff. Her back stiffens and she turns to face me.

'"Yes Mother?" She sneers. No Mum or Mummy like there once was when she was little and her Dad was alive. Of all of them she is the most bitter, but then she has the strongest memories of her father. She is more like him than me; although she has my brains everything else she gets from her father.

'Once I would have told her not to take that tone with me, but I cannot find it in myself to care today. She looks surprised that I do not reprimand her for her poor manners. "I have completed my will, finally." I say watching her face for a reaction. "When I am gone, you will be put into the care of-"

'"I am sixteen Mother, nearly of age." She interrupts with a glare. "Only two more months and then I will be old enough to look after myself. The Mediwitches said you had at least another six months." I laugh, and it is not the bitter sound I am used to. It is a joyous sound that I have not used since his trial.

'My daughter looks unsettled, fancy that. "I will be dead in a mere half an hour." I say firmly. My daughter blanches, and surprisingly looks shocked. She rushes forward and picks up the glass which she believed just contained water. "You cannot save me. You will not even try Juliana." I say firmly, as she sinks onto the bed next to me. Her despair surprises me, as she searches my face but only sees the truth of my words echoed back.

'"Why Mummy must you leave us alone as well?" She demands, her eyes over bright with tears. I feel the first pangs of remorse in my heart. They are, after all, my children- our children- and I am leaving them to fend alone in a world that does not want them. The use of "Mummy" is particularly heart-wrenching I find. But since he has been gone, this world has been a cold place of shadows and I am a creature of warmth and light. I cannot survive.

'I reach up and stroke her face tenderly, wondering about what could have been if I had been stronger. "I loved your father too much." I reply honestly. "I love him so much, that I don't feel I belong here anymore amongst the living. I have talked to your father's parents and they have agreed as a last favour for their son that they will take all three of you in." My daughter looks up in shock.

'I can see in her face that she knows how much it has cost me to go to them for help. I know they despise me and that they will not burry me alongside their son, but I am content knowing I do not have much longer to wait until I will finally be with him. "I thought Grandpapa refused to speak to you." She utters. "Daddy was always sorry that they would not let you come we went to visit the Manor. Grand-mère explained it was because…" She trails off helplessly, unsure if she wants to tell me her paternal grandparents' views of me. I know they like to believe that I am nothing more than a slut, a little diversion that their precious son embarked on to keep his sanity.

'I smile. "They want to be part of your lives, and I am going to let them be as they have promised to let you visit my parents and my friends if any of you want to." Her surprise is evident, echoing mine when I discovered that they were prepared to allow this just to have their grandchildren in their manor. "I want you to promise me that you'll look after Dom and Cleo for me, and that you'll keep in touch with my side." I say watching her closely. My daughter is sometimes too like her father, and so she lies to protect me. It can be quite endearing, but recently she has lied to hurt me and I have forgiven her for that indiscretion.

'She stands up, and opens the curtains. I allow her, knowing she needs to think. Once I would have been content to hear a lie, know although it will hurt I want the truth. I want my children to be able to let go of me, and this is the first step. I will not have them become trapped in their grief like me. "I promise Mum." She says finally, as she turns to face me. I smile, and she begins to talk only I do not hear.

'Something distracts my attention, a presence I have longed to feel for so long. I have missed him dreadfully, and from the way he is watching me he knows it. He moves towards me, and he is just like I remember him from the days when we were young and in love, before the war contaminated us. He smiles, as he nears the bed and it lights up his whole face; his silver eyes sparkle with promises and I find myself smiling back. He reaches out towards me, and for a moment I am afraid that this is some horrible dream, and then his lips are on mine and I know it is not.

'I cling to him, and he is the one who breaks the kiss. He rests his forehead against mine. "God, I have missed you," He says breathlessly. I distantly I can feel tears running down my face. "It has been so hard watching you, and being unable to tell you I was there. Not to be able to hold you, or feel you." He kisses me again. "I was going insane." Gently I stroke his hair and he crumples against me in tears, clinging to me. Apparently I wasn't the only one to suffer.

'This was not how I expected our meeting to be. Although now I can no longer recall what my imagination came up with, all I know is I am here with him and I no longer care about anything else. He draws back, his impeccable composure gained once more and I half envy him for that. No matter what his inner turmoil is he can hide it from the world, something I have never been able to manage. He straightens and looks at Juliana with a caged grief, and then he turns and regards me. "Are you sure they no longer need your guidance?" He asks his face blank and from that alone I know that my answer is important.

'Am I sure? No. I doubt I will ever be, but without him I am a shadow of a person. The children need me to be whole and strong, but without him I can no longer be that. I am no longer sure if even with him I can be that; be the person I was before he was cruelly ripped from me. I used to think there was nothing that I could not eventually forgive my friends from doing; but I cannot forgive them for taking him from me. They destroyed us both in their petty need for revenge. "You must be sure Hermione." He says firmly. "Once you have made your choice that will be it. The living cannot see the dead, and the dead cannot interact with the living. We are two different worlds. As a ghost you can see the children, check on them, but you cannot protect them or help them."

'A thought strikes me suddenly. "Have you been checking in on us then?" I ask, wondering suddenly if he saw first hand how grief has destroyed me. He nods, holding my gaze and there is no pity in his eyes just my grief reflected back. We have both suffered.

'I look over at Juliana, and I know suddenly that although she needs me his parents and mine and our friends will be enough. They won't be me or him, but they will be enough. And I suddenly realise that Juliana will understand if I don't stay and that she'll explain it to the others when they are old enough to understand- that as much as I love them, I love their father too much to be whole without him. It's true, although this revelation irritates the inner feminist in me.

'I reach over to Juliana and kiss her on the cheek, and then I step out of my body. Suddenly I am the girl I once was, and I find myself smiling as I meet his eyes. For me, this is enough and as I glance back at Juliana I hope that she will find someone who will mean as much to her as her father did to me. I move towards him and kiss him. The first kiss of what I know will be many. I am with him at last, the man I love and I do not regret having to die to achieve it. "I love you Draco Malfoy." I whisper into his ear.

'He kisses me again. "And I love you to Hermione." He responds. And then we leave our children to their grief and go out to live in this new world. Knowing that we'll be back occasionally to check in on them and that being together again will be enough.'