A/N: After a very long time, I am back - with apologies and a new chapter. The text in bold italics are flashbacks. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.

Her Funeral

Draco woke up to the sound of an owl tapping its beak at his window. When had he fallen asleep? He glanced at his watch. 8:35. And judging from the sunshine outside, it was morning. Had he slept for an entire day? He only recalled feeling this uncontrollable anger within himself but after that, he drew a blank.

"What on earth happened to me? Maybe mum gave me something." – He mused.

The tapping on his window continued, forcing Draco to get up and look in that direction. It was Harry's owl. Giving him a treat and sending him off, Draco sat down to read. He smiled sadly when he remembered that it was Hermione who had inculcated this habit of giving treats to owls in him.

"Why do you always feed these messenger owls?" – Draco asked, stretching back on his lounger. Hermione was near his study table, feeding Ron's owl Errol.

"To show that I appreciate their effort in bringing the letters to me." – She replied with a smile.

Merlin, she had changed him so much and he missed her dreadfully now. His Hermione was gone. Not coming back. Those smiles, kisses, touches, her laughter, her voice, all gone except for those in his memory.

He shook his head slightly and sat down to read. He swiftly broke the red seal on the envelope and pulled out the piece of parchment. The letter was short.

Hello, Draco. I hope you are alright.

I had never seen you lose control over yourself before.

If you are well enough, you might want to say your goodbyes to her. Dumbledore's office. 9:30 sharp.

Harry.

Well, the letter was rather a reminder. It was damned difficult, yes, but he had to see her one last time. One last time. Draco sighed softly before walking over to his wardrobe and opening it. Robes, coats, shirts, and pants were hanging inside. In one corner was a white tuxedo, and it looked very out of place. A bright colour in a sea of dark colours. He put his hand into one of the pockets of the tux and pulled out a small box. It contained a diamond and emerald ring nestled softly on a red velvet cloth. Twiddling the ring in his hand, he whispered softly, "Things did not really go according to plan, did it?"

He quickly put the ring back in the box and slipped it back into the pocket. He then pulled out a black formal wear.

Harry had a very pained expression on his face while pulling out his black robes. Ginny was glancing at him every now and then, her face mirroring his. His owl, Honour, came back fluttering and resided at his window sill. With no letter. – Harry noted. He had not expected one back anyway. He was not very fond of Draco Malfoy, but then again he had never seen him lose control in that manner. Hermione definitely meant something to Draco than just a friend, or an ally.

"You cannot be serious, Harry?" – Ginny turned around, facing him now.

Had he said that out loud? "What are you talking about, Ginny?" – Harry looked at her bewildered.

"Hermione..." – She looked as if it hurt to say her name – "... meant something more than just a friend or an ally to Draco Malfoy? Are you even aware of what you are implying, Harry?"

Okay. So, he had said that out loud.

"Yes, Ginny. I am fully aware of what I am implying. But there is no other way to explain that..." – Harry trailed off.

"What are you talking about?"

"Ginny... The way he reacted when we first found Hermione, the way he looked at her, the way he took care of her, and the way he reacted at her...her death...it doesn't quite add up. I mean when have you seen a Malfoy break down into tears and then pass out?" – Harry tried to explain, waving his hands around for emphasis.

"Maybe Hermione and Draco were just really good friends. Who would have thought? Is Draco coming to her funeral?"

"I don't know. I did send him a letter telling him to meet me in Dumbledore's office at 9:30. But I don't know if he will attend."

"Now now, Harry, we need to hurry up. It's already 9.15. You don't want to be late today, dear."

A cool wind was blowing and the creaks of the Whomping Willow could be heard in a distance. Black and deep red roses were scattered around, black tents had been put up for the ones giving speeches and for refreshments. The lake was calm and placid except for the small disturbances caused by the Giant Squid swimming too close to the surface. White chairs had been placed in rows and at the very front was a podium with the Hogwarts crest on it. A rosewood coffin lay beside the podium on an elevated platform. It was all done so beautifully. Yes, Hermione Granger would have been proud of her funeral.

Draco wondered who had chosen this location for her funeral.

"Draco 'freaking' Malfoy just said sorry to me? To Hermione 'mudblood' Granger?!" – She shouted, hysterically.

"Don't call yourself a mudblood." – He said.

"Well, you call me that." – She said, tartly.

"And I don't mean it." – He replied, looking away.

Draco was watching the exchange with awe. Hermione looked so fierce and so damned beautiful at the same time. Just like a lioness. And that smirk... He could kill for that smirk!

"You observe me?" – Draco asked, genuinely curious. "Why?"

"Also, thank you, Hermione." – He said suddenly, stretching his arms out to offer a hug.

"It's okay, um... Draco." – She managed, shock evident at hearing him use her first name. And then, she hugged him.

"You are not that bad without those sidekicks, Hermione."

Draco shook his head, willing himself not to cry. She would want you to be happy, Draco. Don't you dare shed tears on her.

He quietly made his way through the crowd and went inside one of the big tents. He immediately spotted Potter, Weasley, and other teachers. They were going to deliver speeches. He slipped out again without attracting any attention.

"Should I give a speech too?" – He wondered aloud.

"I don't see why not."

Draco spun around to see who had spoken and came face to face with the youngest Weasley.

"What are you saying, Weaslette?"

"I am just saying that there is no reason why you should not give a speech for Hermione. I mean wasn't she your friend too?"

"You don't know anything about us, Weaslette. Don't assume things." – He snapped, looking away.

"So, she wasn't your friend."

"Go away, redhead."

"You loved her."

"I told you not to assume things, didn't I?" – Draco gritted out, spinning around for a second time.

Ginny looked at Draco carefully before slowly replying.

"That wasn't an assumption, Draco Malfoy. You know it and so do I. You are not that great of a liar anymore, you know."

Draco sighed softly, and walked off to a quiet and cool pace underneath the big tree nearby. He did not reply to Ginny, just walked off. Of course he could not deny the fact that he did love Hermione. But how had Weaslette found that out? Oh. Maybe it was her Will.

Draco, you are that one person whom I will never forget.

But then again, how can you explain how much someone means to you in only a few words?

I also leave you with a part of myself. My wand. Every witch or wizard is buried with their wand in their hand. But not me. I want you to have it.

But if it was because of the Will, then Weaslette should have come to the conclusion that Hermione loved him. There was no proof whatsoever that he loved her too. But it wasn't of significance. Weaslette knew. So Potter knows. As for Ronald Weasley, Draco doubted he would come to know unless someone verbally made him understand. The guy was no doubt an oaf, maybe only a little better than Crabbe and Goyle. But it did not matter who knew anymore. He loved her and he was going to make a speech.

There were many people at the funeral. Literally many. It seemed that the entire Wizarding community wanted to pay their last visit to the legendary Hermione Granger. The elves were very busy conjuring new chairs rapidly to accommodate the new arrivals. Draco quietly made his way towards the front row of chairs near the coffin and sat down. An elderly woman seated next to him was crying softly while her husband, presumably, was consoling her. Draco turned slightly in his chair to glance at the couple. The woman had her back towards Draco while the man had unshed tears in his eyes. They looked somewhat familiar. Had he seen them somewhere?

Professor Flitwick cautiously approached the couple and whispered softly.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger. I am extremely sorry for your loss."

Oh Bloody Hell.