Draco didn't even get his own funeral.

The ministry announced a ceremony would be held for the Order members killed trying to apprehend Voldemort. I attached a black fastener to my hair, my eyes still red and puffy from the weeks of crying. I felt no shame or embarrassment in the act, even sat in Ginny's kitchen with Luna beside me. The three of us had reached an unspoken agreement after it all happened. We stayed here together, with Daphne and Hermione checking in periodically. It was a house of mourning.

Harry's funeral had taken place three days beforehand. Witches and wizards from all over the world came to Hogwarts for the event, and the grounds were packed with more people than I'd ever seen before, even at the Quidditch World Cup. With no body to burn, one of Ron's brothers had conjured a large magical phoenix, made entirely of fire. It let out a sorrowful cry, one long note of a melancholy song. Then it burst into flames.

Draco is just as deserving of that, I thought fiercely, shuffling into Williker's Funerals and Services in Diagon Alley. It was unfair and unjust that instead, he'd been lumped in with all the others, as though each were nameless and formless. Just a body count against Voldemort. Unworthy of remembering.

But I did remember. All I could do was remember. His smile, the way it reached his eyes and they flashed into something joyful, something so unlike his usual demeanour. The way his fingers felt as they traced patterns against my bare collarbone. The safety in his arms. The warmth of his chest as I slept. Each whispered I love you, each shouted act of defiance.

The pain of losing him. It was like a shard of glass to the chest each time. All consuming, and so great I wondered how I would ever be able to piece myself back together again.

And I was angry. More than anything, I wanted somebody to rage at, to blame. I wanted somebody to be held accountable, rather than the hollow fury that game with a broken wine glass thrown at the wall, blood dribbling down my arm as I wept and Daphne screamed and the bitter clotting potion left prickles down my throat as I forced it down, the first thing beyond water I'd consumed in days.

I thought Draco's mother would understand. I waited for her to come to the ceremony, but she arrived in a wheelchair, her face drained so white it looked like chalk. Her eyes met mine and for one fragile second I saw a mirror of my own grief, a mourning for the same person. But she looked away a moment too soon, and Lucius pushed her to the other side of the hall.

A ministry official rose and spoke words about the sacrifice, but it all became a meaningless drone in my ears. Heat rose through the room and there were no coffins, no bodies to bury or burn. The weight of it all became suffocating.

"Excuse me," I whispered to Daphne.

I walked outside as quickly as I could, relief hitting me with the cool gust of air sweeping through Diagon Alley. My head began to ache and I rested it against the cool, white pillar, closing my eyes.

"Astoria?"

I turned around quickly. It was Draco's mother, sat in her wheelchair behind me. She rested her hands firmly in her lap.
"You came to our house once," she whispered. "To see Draco. I remember."

I nodded. My eyes flickered to the door, worried Lucius would come to find her, but it stayed resolutely shut.

"He would have hated that," she said with a soft laugh.

"He would," I agreed.

We stayed in silence for a moment. I couldn't comfort her, not when I needed comforting too. I couldn't hug her, or share my condolences. I wanted to, but I knew I would break.

"I want to talk to you about Draco's vault," she said.

I blanched. "I'm so sorry. I'll pay back every galleon, I swear, I-

"No, no," she reassured. "There's no need. It's just… Draco left it all to you."

"What?" my head span. "There must be a mistake."

"Our banker checked the parchment," she continued. "He signed it across the day before he… It happened."

It made no sense. He had ended things before then.

"Almost as though he knew," she finished quietly.

"I don't want it," I said quickly. "It belongs to you."

"I can't access his vault. Only you can."

"Then I'll withdraw it all and hand it across," I said. "I don't want to take it from your family."

She gave a small smile, then eyed me curiously. "I don't mean to pry, but if I may ask… what are you to my son?"

I thought for a moment. "I don't know," I admitted. "But I loved him. I still do." I swallowed, suddenly awkward.

"Well I know that much, dear," she said. "I wondered if you had eloped."

My jaw dropped a fraction. "No, we didn't… We hadn't… I don't think it was that serious. For Draco, anyway," I quickly added, then winced. It was the first time saying his name.

"I don't believe that for a minute." She gave another soft laugh. "I know Draco. I raised him, watched over him. He's never cared for anybody as much as he cared for you."

I tried to stammer another objection, but she raised a hand. "If he had even half a year of happiness before things came to an end… Well, it was the least anybody could give him, after all he's been through. So thank you," she said, tears welling in her eyes. She took my hand in one of her own. "For loving him. Heaven knows, he's not always easy to love."

Tears pricked at my eyes. "But he is. Easier than breathing."

She squeezed my hand a moment longer, then turned her chair to head back inside. She paused before opening the door.

"You are always welcome, you know," she said. "Anytime."

I nodded. "Thank you."

As I was left alone outside, the wind carried my stream of tears away. I wiped at them periodically, more for something to do than a genuine attempt to stop them flowing. I started to walk, with no direction in mind, just to move. I walked until the ceremony had finally ended, and it was time to move.

"This will hurt. A lot," Laurens Deau warned. "I have a vial of the Elixir of Euphoria, as well as a numbing agent. Take both now and you won't feel a thing."

I extended an arm from the clinical bed I was lying on, much like the ones in St. Mungo's. I lifted the vials, gazing into the one most familiar, but also distant. It could have been yesterday and it could have been a lifetime ago Draco and I took it together, that first night. The night, I realised, I fell for him. Not in love. Not yet. But into something.

I unscrewed the cap and tipped it down my throat. I didn't laugh or sing or even smile, but the pain and grief cleared like an unwelcome smog. As my eyes rolled back in my head, my mind became sharp and crystal clear. Several things occurred to me at once.

Firstly, I loved Draco Malfoy. I loved him, and he loved me, no matter what he'd said in the end. I wondered briefly if I could turn back time, back to our last conversation, if I could have saved him. If I'd only agreed to the treatment, the one taking place in the present moment, we could have left the safe house together. He could still be alive. I knew that one would hurt when the potion wore off.

Second, we would be together again in some way. I no longer feared death. Not when it was the only thing that could bring us together again. Because I knew that's how we were meant to be. Together. Two parts of a whole, as though the universe had formed with us already as one. As though the clouds would move and the trees would uproot and the very earth would crack and be consumed and destroyed; as though everything that existed or ever had could be turned to dust and still this one thing would manage to make sense.

And third, I would have my vengeance. I would hunt down Voldemort, alone if I had to, and rip him apart, in Draco's name. I would find every Death Eater in every country until I had purged the world of them all, and made them cry and beg and apologise for what they did. Shacklebolt wouldn't stop me. The entire ministry wouldn't stop me. In fact, the thought of them even trying brought a grin to my face.

I didn't fight when the potion lulled me into a deep sleep. Because one day my eyes would close for the last time, and I would be with him again. I only needed to survive my malediction long enough to take Voldemort down. After that, I would greet death as an equal.

I would be with Draco again. Whatever it takes.

The End

A/n: Thank you so much to everybody who has read and enjoyed Euphoria. It has been a labour of love, tears, wine and a hearty helping of inspiration. The second story, Veritaserum, is up now, and I'll link the first chapter of that here.

s/13809888/1/Veritaserum

It takes place a year after the events of Euphoria. Be sure to like and follow that one too if you want to keep reading :) xoxo