Isolation

Chapter 45: Harry

Blaise sighed and rubbed his eyes, staring hard at Theo. "I keep expecting him to open his eyes, jump up, and say 'You two are so gullible', or something. Seems like the kind of shit he would pull."

Draco nodded. "He always did have a twisted sense of humour."

"I feel like I should say something, but I don't know what to say."

"He wouldn't have cared for anything sentimental anyway. He would have laughed at you and told you to grow some balls."

Blaise chuckled. "True. Nevertheless..." The humour fell from his face like rain. "I will say this to him: Goodbye, Brother."

Pain tugged at Draco's stomach. He felt sick again, unbalanced, like he was trying to walk steady on a rocking boat. It was hard. Greif was new to him, but it was all he could feel now. It was at his core, and it was consuming. Even in the spare seconds his mind managed to drift to another topic, the grief was still there, like a dark voice constantly whispering in his ear. He wanted to say things; wanted to apologise for things he wasn't even sure he'd done. He wanted a conclusion; an ending that was in his control. He wanted to say goodbye, but he couldn't. Blaise had done it, so why couldn't he?

"Where's Granger?" asked Blaise.

"She and Weasley went to look for Potter. Apparently someone saw him talking to Longbottom or something."

"I'm going to find Luna. Maybe try and help with all this... mess. You coming?"

"No, I want to stay here for a moment," he replied. "I'll come and find you in a bit."

Blaise hesitated for a second and appeared to stop himself from asking Draco a question before he quietly left Draco's side and disappeared into the crowd. And then Draco was alone. Well, perhaps not alone. Are you considered alone in the company of corpses? That question plagued him until he became aware of Hermione's comforting presence beside him.

"Did you find Potter?" he asked.

"No. Can't find Neville either, but Oliver said he was helping him bring in the injured, so I'm guessing Harry's doing the same. I don't think he would..." she paused and lowered her eyes.

"You don't think Potter would what?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "I managed to find us some tea."

"I told you, I don't want tea."

"But it will-

"I don't want the tea, Granger."

"Then what do you want?" she asked, frowning. "Tell me what I can do to make this easier for you."

Draco sighed. "Just...keep speaking to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Anything."

Hermione chewed her lower lip with thought. "When I was nine and my Grandmother died, my Mum told me that she was in a better place. I remember thinking about that better place and wondering...if it really is better, then why doesn't everyone just go? Why do people stay in this place if there is somewhere better?"