I had already started twelve before I even finished editing chapter eleven. Hoping that's a good sign. Also, I give. Chapter 12 is going to be self-indulgent. Maybe it'll be okay that way. It wasn't.
Warnings: This story is shounen-ai, yaoi, slash, gay, whatever you dub it, that's what it is. Tom/Harry Harry/Tom Sirius/Remus Remus/Sirius
Notes: (X) is pov change and or time jump
Chapter 12: The Unimaginable
I'm so pathetic! Harry screamed at himself. Try as he might, and he'd tried hard, he couldn't do it. He slid off the bed yet again in his new room and stomped over to his closet for the sixth time that night. He jerked the door open and glared at the bedside table he'd shoved into it with as much anger and hatred as he could. It stared back at him as innocently as a bedside table could, which turned out to be not that innocent. Each time Harry had opened the door and met with the cursed container, it taunted him to open its drawer.
Why!?
Ron was his best friend. He was a Gryffindor! He was supposed to be loyal, especially to his friends. Ron was making it rather difficult at the moment, but he understood that Ron was grieving and needed someone to blame. Once things settled down, he'd come to his senses and things would go back to normal. He wouldn't accuse Harry of things he did not know of or try to hit him. Maybe they could have a proper conversation along the way too because they'd yet to have one since they'd gone home on the Hogwarts Express at the start of the summer holiday.
None of that would happen though if he kept the necklace around. The shadow inside the pendant was too dangerous to have, even if it had just been trying to keep Harry safe. And part of him just didn't want to face reality, or at least not let anyone else know the truth. He was mad at the shadow for throwing Ron; it was too extreme of a response for Ron's attempted attack. But the longer he'd lied alone on his bed, he realized he was angrier that the shadow hadn't answered him about Mrs. Weasley. He didn't think the shadow had killed her, but there was always that chance and he wanted to hear him say he hadn't done it.
I should have trusted him. The shadow seemed determined to keep him safe, and Mrs. Weasley hadn't been a threat. Not that he knew of, anyway.
Growling, he ripped the drawer open so hard it stopped by millimeters from crashing out onto the floor. He snatched the necklace out and held it up. His anger faltering each time he saw the dent in the pendant's top left side and this time being no different. The pendant looked and felt dead. More so than when he'd thought he'd killed it. Somehow seeing that dent made the throw seem fatal. Like the shadow had cracked its skull on the stairs. Not that the shadow had bones.
Did it?
Now wasn't the time to worry about that. "You should have just answered me," he hissed at the pendant. "I just wanted to hear you say you didn't do it!" Because no matter how much he denied it, his common sense told him that it was possible that the shadow might have done it. And if he had done it, Harry couldn't forgive him. But there was no proof, no reason. But hadn't the shadow been gone the whole day Mrs. Weasley was killed? So, there was a chance….
"No…" Lupin had said Mrs. Weasley had died early in the morning, around nine. Hadn't he been talking to the shadow in the kitchen around that time? He wanted to believe that was true, but he hadn't checked any of the clocks when they'd been talking. He hadn't thought his necklace would need an alibi, ever. Most jewelry didn't, but of course, his necklace always seemed to be the exception to the rule.
But there was still the chance that the shadow hadn't done anything. He'd attacked Ron but hadn't killed him. If the shadow were going to permanently stop someone, wouldn't he kill the person charging at Harry, not the one who'd been out buying groceries to feed him with?
A growl escaped his lips, and he shook the necklace, the pendant swinging back and forth chaotically. Every time he grabbed the stupid thing, his thoughts kept circling like this. He thought the shadow was innocent, but perhaps not, but definitely innocent because he should trust the shadow. But the shadow didn't act trustworthy. But he had been trustworthy. He'd kept Harry sane and safe, why shouldn't he trust the shadow now? Because the shadow had lied about being a gift from Dumbledore and who knew what else.
Because he threw your friend across the hall, he reminded himself. That should have been all the convincing he needed and yet, he still wanted to defend the shadow. He had never once considered that the shadow might have gone after Mrs. Weasley until Ron had accused him and then he'd thrown his friend into a wall. He growled again and kicked the floor repeatedly, his frustration building. Why. Was. Life. So. Difficult!?
(X)
A knock on the door had Harry stirring. At some point, he must have dozed off glaring at the necklace, because it was still in his hand, and he was sitting on the floor with his back resting against the closet door. He wanted to hate the necklace even more now because despite his pleading, the shadow had not come back and told him everything was going to be okay. That he hadn't killed Mrs. Weasley, that he'd accidentally thrown Ron, even though he knew perfectly well that it hadn't been an accident. He could have at least tried to make things right.
"Harry?" Sirius gave another knock.
"Coming!" He scrambled to his feet, chucking the necklace back into the bedside table drawer. He closed the closet as quietly as he could so Sirius wouldn't know he'd been interacting with the pedant. As one-sided as it had been, he felt guilty for any interaction he had with the cursed thing. After all his shouts and demands trying to get Lupin to send the necklace back, he didn't want anyone to see him holding it like a lifeline.
He opened the door and Sirius walked in holding a tray with toast and some orange juice on it.
"Thought this might be a good idea until Ron's calmed down a bit." He set the tray on the bed. "Did you get any sleep?"
"Yeah," Harry said. He sat down on the bed and grabbed a piece of toast from the tray. "Does anyone else think I killed Mrs. Weasley?"
"Of course not," Sirius said. "Ron's just having a hard time dealing with Molly's death."
"Just making sure." He took another bite of toast. "Are the others mad the shadow threw Ron?"
"We told everyone it was an accident. That Ron tried to hit you and with all the stress you've been under, you used wandless magic."
"What?"
"Y'know. When you get so angry you end up using magic without a wand."
"Right." So now there would be another lie going around protecting the shadow and making Ron look utterly mad.
"We told everyone that's what happened before too," Sirius said as if reading his mind. "That you were too embarrassed to admit it, but the dark mass that Ron saw in the bedroom was actually your magic manifesting due to stress."
"I- is that even possible," Harry asked. He knew wandless magic was possible. He'd accidentally blown up his uncle's sister, not to mention the glass that had vanished at the zoo when he was younger. He'd used wandless magic quite a few times in his past, all of which he'd told Ron and Hermione about. Perhaps this would work. "Does he believe it?"
"He's grumbling, but I think he's coming around," Sirius said. He looked around the room. "Where's the bedside table?"
"In the closet," Harry muttered. He nibbled on the toast while Sirius shook his head.
"Listen, some of the Order members are going to Diagon to get everyone's supplies. Did you want anything that isn't on your list?"
"I want to go with," Harry said without thinking. He didn't want to stay trapped inside number twelve with Ron, who probably suspected the shadow was not a manifestation of his powers going haywire. Nor did he want to try to explain to the twins, Hermione, or anyone else, that he was losing his mind when really, he'd just obtained a psychotic necklace that he had no way of controlling.
"You really shouldn't…" Sirius started. "But I'm the last one to talk," he said.
"I didn't…" His stupidity seemed to have no limits. How could he ask his godfather who couldn't leave the house for permission to visit Diagon Alley? Going to Diagon would be extremely risky, possibly even put the Order members that were going in more danger than they'd ever been in if he stayed home, but the idea of remaining in number twelve…
"It's okay," he said, only the look on his face clearly said it wasn't. "I know how hard it is to be stuck in this place." The look that always seemed to make Harry question his godfather's sanity was taking over Sirius's face. "Maybe we can both get out."
"No," Harry said, Sirius's shoulders dropping.
"What do you mean no?"
"It's too dangerous," he said. "We can find something else to do, anything." He was pleading by the time he finished his sentence. "Forget Diagon, I want to…" He looked around the room, his window. The rain had stopped. "I want to rip out the backyard," he blurted out.
"Wh, what? Why?" Sirius was staring at him as if he'd gone mad. Maybe he had, but if it kept his godfather inside number twelve, so be it.
"Why not? The backyard is part of the house, right? No one can see us back there?"
"No, but—"
"So why shouldn't we rip it up," Harry asked quickly. If he kept answering fast enough, maybe his godfather wouldn't be able to come up with some kind of excuse. "Lupin said you wanted everything ripped out and redone, so it would be a completely different house, right?"
"I did, but how does ripping up the backyard help the Order?"
Running off to Diagon doesn't help them either, Harry thought.
"We can plant stuff," Harry said. "Potion stuff, healing ingredients. Mrs. Weasley had a garden with vegetables," he went on naming everything he could think of as soon as it crossed his mind. Ron was hurt, because of him. Mrs. Weasley may have been killed, because of him. There was an unknown student from Hogwarts he'd stolen the necklace from and hurt. He refused to add Sirius to that list. "Come on, it'll be fun!"
"The necklace is inside the closet right," Sirius asked uneasily. "You didn't chuck it out the window or anything?"
"No," Harry said, his face darkening. "I wanted to. Why?"
"Because you've gone mad," Sirius muttered, getting to his feet. "Who'd want to mess around in the backyard instead of going to Diagon?"
Harry grabbed the other piece of toast off the tray, crammed it into his mouth, and walked over to his trunk. He opened it and started going through his things, Sirius watching him from the bed. He found the old and torn t-shirt he usually wore when he worked in the garden at the Dursleys and dropped it onto the foot of his bed. He had to search a little harder to find his jeans with all the holes in it. After finding a pair of socks to go with his outfit, he left the room with his clothes.
"You can't be serious," Sirius called after him. "Diagon is loads more fun than the backyard!" He rushed after Harry, while the Gryffindor tried to find the bathroom. "The backyard will be there tomorrow," Sirius protested. "We can go to Diagon today and destroy the yard tomorrow!"
"Just have them bring back pamphlets and we'll order stuff together," Harry said, his godfather stopping.
"Pamphlets," Sirius asked. His face paled, and he looked like he might throw up. "That's not nearly as fun as going in person!"
"If I go to Diagon, I have to take the necklace," he said. He hated lying to Sirius like this, but Lupin would kill him if Sirius ended up in Diagon because of him, and he really liked Lupin and wanted their relationship to remain good. "I can't control it here," he whispered. "What if it attacks someone in Diagon?" He'd said those words to get Sirius to change his mind, but that it was the truth made him uneasy.
Sirius furrowed his brow and frowned.
"I didn't think about that," he said. He let out a lengthy sigh. "Okay. I'll have them bring back the pamphlets."
Harry hated to see the dead look slowly crawling back into his godfather's eyes.
"Why don't we make a section to grow the stuff Lupin needs for that new potion he's using," he suggested.
Sirius' eyes flicked to Harry.
"He might like that… said some of the stuff isn't easy to find…"
"Add some gardening books onto the list. Have whoever's going to order some of the plants we need. They can send it to the subway station to the locker Lupin's renting."
"You really want to do this, don't you?"
Hardly, but it was better than the alternative. Sirius could not go to Diagon and Harry really shouldn't either. He didn't feel like being inside trying to deal with everyone else. They were all probably terrified of him anyway if they thought his powers were spiraling out of control.
No worries, just my life spiraling, not my powers, he thought, shaking his head. How had he ended up in this situation?
"You could show me some defense stuff too," Harry suggested.
That seemed to be the last thing Sirius needed to hear. A grin spread onto his face and he slapped Harry hard on the back as he walked by. Harry winced trying hard to remain standing and not drop his clothes.
"I'll go change," he said happily.
"Great," he called after his godfather. Okay, I got him to ditch wanting to go to Diagon. Now… Now he'd just gotten himself into an entire backyard makeover and he didn't know the first thing about building gardens or making a yard look presentable. His Aunt Petunia had already made the garden before he'd arrived at Privet Drive. His duties had included pulling weeds and watering. Sometimes his aunt made him dig a hole so she could plant a new flower or bush, but that was the extent of it. His aunt always measured out the distances the plants needed to be from one another, and she was in charge of mixing the fertilizer. She'd told him exactly where to put the dividers and small fences to make sure nothing strangled each other.
Harry went into the bathroom and changed into his old clothes. He went down the stairs, grabbed his shoes, and picked them up. Harry was not about to get yelled at for wearing his shoes inside, not when he'd been helping them clean the inside of twelve and knew that every centimeter of clean was sacred. So, he carried them into the kitchen and went straight for the backdoor.
"Harry?" Harry turned, Lupin meeting his gaze, eyebrow raised. "Where are you going," he asked trying not to laugh. "And what are you wearing?"
"Eh… Sirius and I decided to do the backyard today," he said. It was then that he noticed the Weasley children at the table. Fred and George were laughing, no doubt at his clothes, and Ginny looked stunned. Luckily, Ron was not present.
"Really? I suggested that the other day, and he growled at me."
Harry couldn't explain to Lupin that he'd had no choice, but to convince Sirius that redoing the backyard was the best thing ever with the Weasley children behind him.
"I, er. I had to," he said, emphasizing the word had. "I told him to give a list to whoever's going to Diagon Alley to get the stuff we're going to need to start a potion's garden."
A light flicked on in Lupin's eyes. "That's a great idea," he said wearing the fakest smile Harry had ever seen on him. "It's not a huge backyard, but it has a lot of potential. I bet we could use it for a lot of things back there."
Sirius entered the kitchen, looking somewhat put off.
"Why are you talking so loud," he asked Lupin.
"I'm just so happy you decided to help Harry with the backyard! I really wanted to plant some stuff back there, but I didn't have time to do it myself," he said quickly.
He's good, Harry thought.
"Y, you didn't say that," Sirius said, his face paling. "You told me the other day it'd be good for me to get fresh air, not that you wanted a garden!"
"Sirius, if I'm going to force you to do something, it won't have anything to do with a garden."
Sirius' face turned red. "We'll have everything ripped out and ready to plant in the next few days."
"You think you can do it that fast," Lupin asked. Harry could just hear the challenge in Lupin's words.
"Of course," Sirius snapped. "I could have it finished by tomorrow if it doesn't rain," he said confidently. "Just add the stuff you need for the potion onto the list, okay?"
Lupin smiled and gave Sirius a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you."
"Come on Harry." Sirius turned and almost stumbled out of the kitchen with Harry next to him. He shut the door, took one look at the backyard, and sat down on the cement slab: his enthusiasm gone. "Manipulative werewolf," he muttered.
"Huh?"
"I'm not stupid. I know you're both trying to keep me from wanting to go to Diagon." He stretched his arms out. "I appreciate it, really. You chose to come out here and handle this instead of trying to convince the Order to let you go to Diagon and I know Remus wants the yard cleaned, but Come on, look at this place." He motioned to the yard.
Harry did look now, his heart sinking. The backyard was a disaster zone of weeds reaching to Harry's waist. Two enormous trees, both dead and threatening to fall onto number twelve at a moment's notice hunched in the yard, one on each side. How they'd survived the storm yesterday, Harry didn't know. He was positive he could see something running through the grass and possibly laughing.
The fence's paint had all but dissolved, its wood covered in mold. The only spots that didn't have weeds were three mounds of dirt in a spot that wasn't getting any sunlight. Ivy clung to every inch of the back of the house and looked like the vines were choking it. Some of the bricks from the house scattered the ground, at least where the weeds were short enough to see them. He had a feeling there were more hidden amongst the grass, and probably a trove of unknown objects, and he hoped he wasn't the one who found them.
"… Is it safe," he asked, feeling the urge to go running back into number twelve.
"Who knows," Sirius said. A distinct click from behind let them know they'd been locked outside. "Guess we better hope so." He let out another sign before standing back up. "You brought your wand out, right?"
"No," Harry said, frowning. "I'm underage."
"You can use underage magic here," Sirius said. "Thanks to the charms on this place the Ministry can't detect anything we do here."
"… Think Lupin would be nice enough to shove my wand through the window?"
"Maybe," Sirius said. He gave the yard yet another look and removed his wand. "I guess the sooner we get this done, the better." Sirius snapped his wand toward number twelve. "Accio!" Harry's wand came flying towards them. Sirius caught it and handed it to Harry. "You know how to use a shield charm?"
"Yeah."
"Good. We're going to do this the easy way." He walked over to the closet set of weeds and pointed his wand at them. "Just try and not let the house catch fire."
"Wait, what?!"
"Incendio!" Flames shot out of his wand. The fire flickered and died before managing to burn anything. "Why didn't it work? I used to do this all the time!" He stared down at his wand and gave it a few shakes.
Harry leaned against the house and dropped his head onto it, his breath coming out in gasps, his eyes wide. What was his godfather thinking? He could have killed them all!
"Has everyone lost their minds," Harry whispered. Thank Merlin it had rained so thoroughly the day of before. When he managed to compose himself, he turned around, Sirius looking at him, obviously amused.
"Got you," he grinned. Harry stared at his godfather, not sure of anything anymore. "Give me some credit, I know not to burn the house down," Sirius said. "Not when my parents have already left and died." He continued to laugh as he raised his wand again. "Diffindo!" The patch of weeds Sirius had aimed at fell away in a ruler-straight line. "You know this spell, right?"
"Yeah." Only, the few times he had used it his cuts had never been so straight. "How did you manage to cut it so evenly?"
"Practice, focus. Used it a few times in some pranks. More in some fights." He swiped his wand, more weeds falling to the ground.
"Fights?"
"Any spell can be turned into a weapon, you just have to know how to use it as one," Sirius explained. "With enough control, you can cut someone's hair, the lawn, or you can dismember an enemy."
Sirius's casual tone over dismembering someone did not ease his growing anxiety. "But we're starting with grass and straight lines, right?"
"Yeah. You can work with the yard. I'll get rid of the ivy trying to eat the house."
(X)
Harry lied inside the tub his brain only working enough to let him know he hurt. His entire body was throbbing, far worse than it had before he'd gone to sleep the night before. Somehow all the magic he'd used had taken more of a toll than if he'd cleaned, if that's what you could call it, the yard physically. They'd spent hours in the backyard, Sirius having Harry cut away the weeds layer by layer until he could almost manage a straight line.
He sighed, sank into the water until it reached just above his mouth, and closed his eyes. They'd worked hard, and yet there was still so much left to do. Sirius had gotten the ivy off the house and the lawn they'd found underneath the weeds was short enough for them to walk on now. The giggling had turned out to be a clan of gnomes. Sirius had wasted no time in throwing them into the air and using his wand to send them flying. Somewhere along the line, they'd uncovered a broken garden bench, a crumbling birdbath, and some wooden structure that may or may not have been a torture device. Most of it had dissolved or something because only what they thought might be the legs were left and those pieces of wood had rusted shackles attached to them.
Just what kind of people were Sirius's parents? Sirius had said they were dark wizards, but he hadn't thought that dark. The hot water relaxed his muscles, but he knew he was on a time limit. Knowing he was going to be cringing in a second, he leapt out of the tub all at once. The cold air hit his body immediately, every muscle tightening and undoing all the benefits the hot water had just given him. He dried himself off and pulled on the black robes Lupin had left in his room that morning. The new robe felt stiff and looked too formal for his liking, but Mrs. Weasley would have approved. She would want everyone to look their best for her send-off.
There was no point in trying to tame his hair, so he left the bathroom and went back into his room. The bed looked so inviting considering his lack of sleep. How he hadn't been able to sleep after all the yard work was beyond him. He'd been sure being so worn out that all he'd need was food and a bath to sleep through the night. That had been somewhat true. He'd staggered into the kitchen covered in dirt and scratches, Sirius looking just as bad. Tonks had burst into a fit of laughter upon seeing them. They'd cleaned up, had dinner, and Harry had gone straight to his room and collapsed onto the bed.
He slept maybe three full hours before something caused him to stir. He thought maybe the shadow had been walking around, but when he lit the candle in the room, it was empty. The rest of his night played out as it had the night before, a fitful evening of waking and sleeping until finally he'd grabbed the necklace and climbed into bed with it. For whatever reason, it worked, and he managed to sleep the rest of the morning until Lupin had woken him up around seven to get ready.
According to his watch, he had little under half an hour before Lupin would drag him out of his room. He dropped onto the bed, his eyes falling onto the necklace he'd left on his pillow. The self-contempt he was beginning to associate with the cursed thing followed. Just how long did he need to keep the stupid thing, anyway? When was he allowed to get rid of it without losing his mind, and where in the hell was the shadow? Scowling, he lifted the necklace up.
"You are a drug," he growled at it. It showed no signs of answering, which only angered him more. "Do your job and answer me!"
The necklace shot out of his hand and landed in the corner, Harry jerking up. He looked around the room expecting to see the shadow standing close by, his eyes narrowed at him, but the room was still empty.
Slowly, he climbed off the bed and moved towards the necklace. He made sure to stay alert in case the shadow tried to ambush him. To his disappointment, he made it to the necklace without anything else happening. He picked it up, frowning as he noticed a second dent further up on the pendant's left side.
Maybe Dumbledore could tell him more at the funeral.
He slipped the necklace on and removed it fast, a gasp coming out. The necklace was freezing. He dropped it back onto the bed and pulled his robe back. Sure enough, there was a red blotch where the pendant had touched the skin on his chest. This made no sense. He touched it with his hand and felt no cold.
"Fine, be that way," he muttered, dropping the necklace into his pocket.
(X)
Did all funerals take this long? Harry had been sure with all the rushing that morning that they'd be home by lunch, but it was already nearing eleven and the ceremony hadn't even started yet. He felt horrible for wanting to leave but staying wasn't exactly doing his mental state any good. He moved down the hall, keeping his head down so no one recognized him. What he wouldn't do to be able to go outside. Lupin had warned him already if he so much as opened a window without an Order member nearby that he'd lock Harry in the basement until he went back to school. He knew Lupin wouldn't, but probably best not to push his luck. Lupin was stressed out enough, probably because Sirius was present with a flask of Polyjuice potion in his pocket.
It wasn't easy to avoid running into people either. The hall and every room he'd found so far was packed with relatives and friends, some of them crying, others holding drinks and talking. It looked like there was some kind of deranged party going on and he wanted nothing to do with any of it. Where could a person hide during one of these things? Mrs. Weasley's funeral had a lot of people attending and down the other hall was another funeral going on, that one just as packed. In fact, some of the people were there to attend both funerals. Harry had yet to catch the name of the other deceased, but since the Order hadn't mentioned it, he doubted it was someone he knew.
A door Harry hadn't noticed before swung open on his left, an older wizard leaving. He hardly gave Harry a second look, his head held high as he strode off towards the second funeral.
Taking a chance, Harry poked his head inside. The room was dimly lit, but there were tables and chairs inside and a fridge. Most importantly, it was empty. He closed the door fast and sunk into the first chair he could. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts, but this still beat having to deal with all the people outside. When the attendees weren't going on about Mrs. Weasley or whoever the other person was, they were noticing Harry was Harry Potter and bombarding him with questions.
He placed his head onto the table and closed his eyes. It seemed even the Wizarding community didn't have much common courtesy. Who cornered a fifteen-year-old at the funeral of his basically adopted mother, to ask him about his scar and whether or not Dumbledore was lying? How was he supposed to know if Dumbledore was lying? He hadn't found the headmaster yet to even ask about his necklace, let alone everything else going on. He also didn't think he should be using Mrs. Weasley's funeral as a way to spread the word that Voldemort had indeed risen. He'd kept his answers to a restrained "I stand by what I said" and "You know my thoughts on the matter."
He cursed, hearing the door open and close. Was ten minutes alone really too much to ask?
"Guess you would be here," the voice said.
"I don't want to be bothered right now," Harry said.
Harry could hear the fridge open and close. "Tired out from all the autograph signings?"
Harry's eyes snapped open just as a water bottle rolled towards his face on the table. He sat up, his eyes narrowing at the person in front of him.
"What are you doing here," he demanded.
"Same reason you are Potter or are you under the impression only your family members can die?"
"Of course not," Harry growled.
There was no doubt in Harry's mind now that the universe had gone mad. Draco pulled a chair out at his table and sat down, a water bottle in his own hands. The Slytherin unscrewed the top and took a drink.
"So Weasley's mother died, huh?"
"Yes," Harry said. "Not that you care."
"One of my cousins died, not that you care," Draco countered. He set the water bottle down on the table.
Harry wasn't sure how to react to that. He didn't care that Draco's cousin had died, but that was beside the point.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" He couldn't start a fight at the funeral, no one would ever forgive him for causing a scene. He wished the shadow were nearby though in case Draco didn't feel the same need to keep things civil.
Draco's face hardened, and he started tapping the water bottle gently against the table.
"Can we be civil for once without it leaving the room?"
So, the world is ending, Harry decided. How long before Voldemort came out with a public apology? "Fine," he said, taking the bait. "Everything stays in here."
"A cousin I met once when I was five is dead. My parents paid for the funeral, and they're making sure everyone here knows, to show how great they are. My mother has been dragging me around and showing me off like a prized dog, and if my father pointed me out to one more stranger explaining to them I'm the Malfoy heir, I was going to cast unforgivables on everyone in the room."
Harry raised an eyebrow at that. He'd thought Draco liked being dragged around and shown off. He acted like he loved getting attention at school.
"Father actually tried to stop Weasley's mother's funeral this morning, because he didn't want this cousin's sendoff to be stained by a Muggle lover's funeral next to it," he said, a growl creeping into his voice "More like he didn't want his social event spoiled," he laughed and grabbed the water bottle taking another swing from it.
"… Why are you telling me this," Harry asked.
"Who else am I supposed to tell? Crabbe? Goyle? They don't understand," he said his voice soft. "They're too stupid for that."
"But you think I will," Harry asked, choosing his words very carefully. "After everything you've done to my friends and me?"
"Death is death, Potter. Even if we hate each other, that's one thing everyone understands." Draco deflated after that, his body slumping in the chair, his eyes not quite focusing on anything.
"Yeah," Harry said, wondering when Draco had matured so much. Those words were probably the smartest thing Draco Malfoy had ever uttered, at least in front of him. "Some people don't seem to understand what's appropriate for a funeral though."
"No kidding," Draco muttered. "I thought my father was going to have the funeral director arrested for allowing Weasley's mother's funeral to happen today, but when he found out it was more convenient for some of the guests, he dropped it as a favor to them."
Well, if they were going to be honest.
"I'm waiting for Percy to show up with bodyguards and Daily Prophet reporters," Harry said. If Percy showed up for the funeral at all. Fred had told him that Percy hadn't replied to any of the letters Mr. Weasley had sent. Charlie had gone to the Ministry, where he'd been told Percy didn't want to see him. He'd left a message making it very clear that someone had to tell Percy that his mother was dead.
Draco stared at him, the water bottle at his lips. "You're not joking, are you?"
"I wish I was," Harry sighed.
(TBC)