Chapter Text
“Don’t worry, we’ll meet later. I’ve got good news for you.”
Harry held a small piece of parchment in his hands, the tip of his finger tracing the slanted, elegant script written in ink. It was the last - and final letter he would ever receive from Draco Malfoy. It had been about four days since Draco’s death – Merlin… Harry was already beginning losing track of time: he’d been so distracted and busy that he'd realised only four days had worn on. To Harry, each passing day felt like another eternity without Malfoy, the very man Harry had unexpectedly fallen hard for. The very day after the war, Harry had decided to keep himself busy. He didn't count how many days had passed, because Harry couldn't handle being without Draco.
Harry let out an exhale he hadn't realised he'd been holding in and he looked back down at the small note, studying the tone of those slanted words.
What exactly was the good news Draco had sought to tell Harry?
“Harry! You’re going to be late.” A voice called out from the door - it was Hermione’s. “Oh – coming!” Harry said, rising up from the armchair and putting on his formal coat he had prepared in advance before exiting the room. They were attending Draco’s funeral. “Are you alright, Harry? I know things have been difficult for you recently. For everyone.” Said Hermione softly, expressing her concern. But Harry simply shrugged, unable to express the ineffable storm of emotions racing through his mind. “I'm… I’m not sure, Mione. I just... I'm fine." he murmured.
Hermione nodded quietly, concluding that she shouldn't ask too much but yet, she still wondered what was going through Harry's mind. They entered a waiting carriage and the whole ride, Harry remained concerningly silent. He quietly gazed out of the window, watching as the one blue and sunny sky slowly turn an ashen grey. And as the ride wore on, Harry could not take Draco off his mind – not even a second. He reminisced every moment he had with him; down to the rivalry, to their start of a tentative friendship, and that moment he fell in love. Harry wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep, that this could all just be a terrible dream and he'd have the privilege to wake up next to Draco again.
But it wasn’t.
When they had arrived at the funeral, barely anyone was there. Harry hadn’t looked around much, but he could clearly see Narcissa, Lucius, Pansy, Blaise and Ron, who Harry had forced to come along. He had noticed Lucius, the infamous, fastidious man looked like more broken than ever, eyes hollowed and carved from grief, with a deep set of dark circles.
Harry walked forward until he neared a pit and finally, Draco's headstone - which resembled more of an intricately carved monument. At the bottom stood a stone plaque with the carvings "Draco Malfoy, June 5, 1980 - May 2, 1998" It looked like exactly what Draco would've planned out for his funeral. Narcissa knew him well.
“You’re a bit late, Harry.” Narcissa said softly as she approached him, her eyes red-rimmed and faintly puffy. Harry nodded, unable to look at the intricate statue or meet anyone's eyes currently. “I'm sorry, it's been difficult to go out these days...” Harry murmured, head bowed, unable to meet Narcissa's eyes. Harry felt horrible for the Malfoy's, especially Narcissa. He could tell she loved her son very much.
“Why don’t you take a seat in that chapel?” She offered. “I wouldn't want you getting too overwhelmed. And don't worry, you haven't missed anything significant.” said Narcissa.
Harry nodded, forcing a faint smile. “Right, I’ll go…” Harry turned and walked away, entering the chapel. But instead of setting down, he approached the opened mahogany coffin standing at the very edge, and centre of the chapel. His fingers tracing the intricate wood carvings of the edge of the coffin that someone had put thought into. He then reached out to Draco’s pale face, cupping the cold, lifeless cheek in his hand. Draco looked peaceful, nothing like the tense and rigid expression he had on before facing death’s cruel hands. Harry leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Draco’s cold forehead that had once been warm beneath his lips.
He stood there for a while, gazing at the sheer beauty of Draco’s relaxed face. To Harry, he looked absolutely ethereal, a contrast to that pained and worried expression he had grown accustomed to throughout their relationship. Harry gently cupped Draco’s cheek again, not daring to lean in for another kiss. Because if he did; he wouldn’t be able to fight back his own tears. Harry's heart deeply longed for him to hold him, to bring him back to life. Harry knew that fantasies like this would not come true, and that Draco would be gone from his arms forever.
No amount of magic would fix this.
Harry reluctantly forced himself to take a step back, not wanting to overwhelm himself; he really did not want to be seen of crying in front of people today. He then made his way over to one of the benches, sitting beside a window with stained glass on its corners. Harry gazed out the window, his eyes locking to the grey sky. No matter how much he wanted to tear his gaze away and look at Malfoy again, Harry knew he wouldn't be able to control his own emotions.
About fifteen minutes had passed, and Harry felt someone shaking him, waking him up after nearly dozing off. “Harry, it's time for the burial…” Hermione whispered, helping Harry get up. She could see the way Draco’s death and the war took a toll on him just from looking at those dark circles beneath Harry's eyes and the gaunt face that had changed in the matter of days. Harry quietly nodded, following Hermione outside. The sky grew a deeper, almost a dark blue sort of grey, potentially indicating a storm. Once they had reached Draco’s grave, Harry saw that the coffin was now closed and hovered slightly above the pit with a levitation charm.
Hermione handed Harry a white rose, knowing he could be forgetful sometimes at severe events like this. Harry took the rose, feeling the delicate petals against his fingers. “You know, don't be afraid to cry. It's completely understandable” Hermione murmured, trying her very best to offer comfort as she reached over and rubbed Harry's shoulder. Ron, who had been silent for most of the service reached over as well, placing a hand on Harry's right shoulder. "I don't have much to say but... I'm here for you." Ron muttered sorrowfully.
As the coffin was slowly lowered down into the pit, Harry still could not bring himself to cry in front of others. He laid his gaze on Narcissa, burying her face against Lucius's shoulder while letting out soft, silents sobs. As for Lucius, he had a look of utter disbelief and distress etched onto his face. That only made it more difficult to hold back his tears – the salty warmth of tears threatening to escape his eyes any second. Narcissa took the first step forward, letting the flower she had brought plummet gracefully onto the lid of the coffin with a dull thud. Then, it was Lucius. Everyone who had attended each took a turn until it was Harry’s.
Harry's breath hitched and with a shaking hand, he stepped forward and brought the rose out tremulously. A part of him did not want to let the rose go just like he didn't want Draco to go - but in the end, he let go, watching as the rose landed gently onto Draco’s coffin with a last dull thud. Harry finally let a singular tear slip down his cheek, the warmth burning his chilled skin. He then stepped back, taking a deep breath. Harry could no longer tell what was real; a part of him still could not fathom Draco’s death.
Once they started throwing the soil over the coffin, Harry felt an immense wave of grief wash over him and tighten in his chest. He didn't want to see the coffin disappear from his sight, knowing Draco was inside in an eternal rest. It was like a seal to their parting, an eternal wall between two lovers. His heart felt like it was shattering painfully at the sight of the coffin materialising beneath the soil further, and further. He subconsciously reached out, imagining the feel of the wood beneath his fingers, imagining the feel of Draco’s lifeless yet soft skin beneath his fingertips.
When the funeral had come to an end, Narcissa approached Harry with tearful eyes. “Draco meant to give you this…” She said softly in a wavering, hoarse voice, taking out a small, delicate box wrapped in velvet from the pocket of her dress. As she brought the small box to Harry, he gently took it. “Thank you.” Harry said as he inspected the velvet box before carefully opening it – inside was a gorgeous silver ring with brilliant green gemstones. Inside the silver band wrote the initials HP and DM carved into it, written in Spenserian script.
“Oh, it's… stunning.” Harry breathed out, admiring the craftsmanship. Narcissa couldn’t help but smile, even though the immense grief she felt. “I hope you keep with you... He had it commissioned about two weeks before he died.” Narcissa said softly, giving Harry the time he needed to reply. Tears pricked at the corner of Harry’s eyes, and he gently closed the box. “Again, Thank you… I-I hope to meet you again, Mrs. Malfoy.” With that Harry turned, giving Narcissa once last glance and a faint smile before taking a step closer to the grave with slumped shoulders.
Constricted tears swelled up from Harry's eyes, rolling down his cheeks. Tear after tear, they showed no signs of coming to a stop and instead, increased. Hermione and Ron watched from afar - they weren't really close to Draco as Harry was but both of them knew Harry needed time to grieve, even their thoughts were different from one another. "We should give him time..." murmured Ron, with Hermione nodded. Harry fell to his knees, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. He didn't want to draw too much attention to himself; he just wanted to grieve in peace. Because Harry never expected their planned future to end so suddenly.
About an hour passed of sobbing and the rain had not subsided – instead carefully churning into a storm. Harry heard the soft rustle and crush of footsteps behind him and he turned to face Ron and Hermione. “You’re going to get sick out here, mate…” He murmured. “Let's go home and then we’ll leave you alone.” Ron promised, expressing his sympathy towards Harry. He held out a hand and Harry reluctantly took it, hauling himself up as he wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his coat.
Both Ron and Hermione led Harry back to the warm carriage. But for some reason, Harry did not want to feel the warmth of a house nor a carriage. He simply craved and yearned to feel the warmth of Draco’s skin again. Harry bowed his head, his mind a reverie of memories. He desired to have an eternity with them, wanting to witness every moment of life with Draco.
“Harry…” Hermione said softly. “I'm sorry for your loss.” She murmured. With that, the three made their way back to the burrow at Harry’s pace, allowing him to take his time grieving. When they entered the house, Molly turned to greet them, but she paused, her voice softening. “Harry, dear… Why don’t you go wash up? I’ll make Treacle tarts for you.” Molly offered softly.
Harry nodded, wiping the drying tears away. “Yeah, I’ll be down later…” Harry mumbled before parting from Ron and Hermione, making his way upstairs. Once Harry entered the warm tub, a contrast from the chill and sorrowful environment earlier, he sighed. Harry sank into the water, nearly completely submerged. He wanted to drown himself - but he just couldn’t. Harry closed his eyes, resting the back of his head against the porcelain tub.
“Harry, do you think this’ll end well?”
A voice echoed in Harry’s mind. It was Draco’s.
Draco's voice was soft and haunting in his mind, and his face... He would never be able to forget that look.
“Yes… I promise you that. We’ll graduate and even buy a house together.”
Now it was his own voice. The words sounded familiar, almost like… a conversation he’d most likely forgotten while grieving. A bead of a tear welled from Harry’s eyes and he submerged himself fully into the water, trying to distract himself, trying to forget Draco had ever died. Trying to get the memory of his dead body out of his mind. But Draco had looked the most peaceful that exact moment, and Harry could paint every detail of the sight of him on a canvas if he wanted to.
When Harry was done bathing, he looked into the mirror – seeing a deep set of dark circles and red rimmed eyes. He shivered, immediately forcing his gaze away from the mirror and instead focusing on dressing up. Once he descended down the stairs, Molly came up to gently greet him. “I hope you’re feeling better, Harry…” She said softly. “I'm still getting the Treacle tart ready, why don't you rest up on the sofa a bit?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley…” Harry murmured, forcing a small smile before approaching the living room where Ron, George, Hermione and Ginny sat. Harry approached the sofa, trying to get comfortable but he just couldn’t. Ron soon approached him, holding a wool in his arms. “Er – do you want to use this Harry? You don’t seem really comfortable. But I promise we’ll leave you alone once mum is done with the Treacle tarts.” He said, holding out the blanket to Harry.
“Thank you, Ron.” Harry said softly, gently taking the blanket from Ron’s hands and draping it over himself. He sighed, only feeling slightly more comfortable. He remembered that one time Draco had come over to the burrow in the early days of their relationship, it would’ve been much nicer if he was here again. “Listen, Harry… I just want to make sure you don't stress yourself too much – I know you really loved Draco.” Hermione said, trying her best to offer support. “We’re here for you, just know that.”
The environment was sombre, and no one really wanted to talk to Harry, besides Hermione and Ron. But they knew Harry wanted to grieve in peace and to be alone.
Harry simply nodded and tried to relax for a moment. Molly soon came over, holding a plate of Treacle Tart in her hand. “Here you go, Harry… You can go upstairs – be by yourself or stay with us.” Molly said, trying her best to make Harry feel comforted. “I think I’ll go upstairs, thank you.” Harry croaked out and Molly gave a gentle nod, allowing Harry to have his space.
Harry got up, plate in hand as he ascended from the stairs. He didn’t feel hungry at all, he was never in the mood to eat in the first place. He’d only agreed; hoping that he would feel better. Harry set the plate down on a drawer, collapsing against his mattress like he was completely drained of energy. Beside him sat the box – the velvet fabric shining softly under the warm lights. Harry gently opened it, taking out the ring and slipping it onto his finger. The ring fit perfectly; it was exactly made for him.
Harry turned to his side, carefully playing with the ring. What was Draco’s thought process when commissioning the ring a fortnight ago? Harry thought. Clearly, Draco definitely made the green gemstones inspired from Harry’s own eyes. Harry smiled softly, bringing the ring hand closer to his chest. He closed his eyes yet again, relaxing against the plush mattress as he slowly slipped into a deep slumber.
...
It was late at night, Harry had been wandering around the hallways of Hogwarts, thankfully – he hadn’t got caught. From the tip of his wand – a gentle blue light swelled from it, casting a glow over the Marauders map. Recently, Harry had begun suspecting Draco was a Death eater, given his sickly appearance and quieter demeanor. He had noticed Draco seemed to run off at times or just disappear altogether when he had free time and Harry knew something was definitely going on.
In the Marauders map, Harry caught sight of the name Draco Malfoy at the astronomy tower at such a late hour. This could be a perfect chance to see what Malfoy was up to – Harry thought. Harry quietly crept his way up the stairs of the astronomy tower, making sure he wouldn’t draw too much attention. Once he had nearly reached the top of the tower, he whispered, “Nox…” With that, the gentle light from his wand faded in an instant.
Slowly, Harry peered over and spotted a figure with pale, blond hair. Draco Malfoy. For a moment, Harry stood still. Draco wasn’t doing anything, simply leaning on the railing and looking over the surrounding land around Hogwarts. Draco sighed, leaning over further and stepping onto the middle railing. Draco was in fact thinking about killing himself, yet at the same he worried about his family. Harry’s eyes widened and without thinking – he raced over to Draco. “Malfoy, what in Merlin’s name are you doing?” Harry questioned, gripping onto the back of his waistcoat and pulling him back.
Draco was startled out of his trance, turning around abruptly to face Harry. “What are you doing here, Potter?!” Draco asked Harry, suddenly feeling more irritated than ever. “I should ask you the same.” Said Harry, “What was exactly what you were about to do right, there Malfoy?” Harry questioned, trying to study Draco’s expression. Draco’s mouth opened then shut – struggling to utter his words out. “I-its none of your business.” He said sternly. “Now out of my way!” Draco shoved Harry away, descending down the Astronomy tower stairs. Harry simply sighed, feeling slightly agitated. If Draco was really going through something, he needn’t mope about it to himself.
Harry didn’t know why Draco ought to be like this all the time; so stubborn and complicated. With a sigh, he said: "Mischief managed.” Harry closed the map, heading towards the stairs and descending down it just like Draco did – but less festering. For now – Harry would watch Draco closely – closer than ever.
The very next day, Harry sat with Ron and Hermione in a corridor. “I saw Malfoy last night… I think…” Harry murmured, unable to describe what he saw. “Come on, tell us, Harry.” Hermione said to Harry, crossing her arms over her chest as she listened intently. Harry took a deep breath and began speaking. “I think I saw Draco trying to jump off the Astronomy tower last night… And there’s definitely more to this than him just being a death eater.”
Hermione tilted her head and Ron’s eyes widened slightly. “Do you think he's depressed?” Hermione asked. “I’ve noticed he hasn’t been acting like his idiot self lately, and he looks almost… sick. I wonder what's going on with him.” Hermione said, questioning herself for a moment. Ron nodded, “And his father went to Azkaban too, I’m starting to wonder what's actually going on. You’re starting to make me think Draco might actually be a death eater, Harry.”
Harry sighed, not knowing if his conclusions were true or not. But he deeply felt that Draco was an actual Death Eater. “Well… Before he noticed me, I saw that he seemed very distressed... I don't know what's truly going on but it looked like he was planning to throw himself off the railings.” Harry ran his fingers through his hair, recalling that moment Draco started to lean forward. “I stopped him and he just seemed to be pissed at me.”
“That git is mental, I suggest we leave him alone.” Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. “For now.” Responded Harry.