Love, Draco

the funeral

The symphony of I'm sorry for your loss echoed through the hall, and Draco was getting quiet tired of it, to be honest.

The weren't there for him, he knew that much.

The Potters came to the receiving of friends fifteen minutes early. Albus and Scorpius were always side by side, being the best friends that they have been since first year.

The family stayed together, but Harry dispersed from them to come beside Draco, who was standing beside the coffin, on the verge of tears.

Harry silently stood beside his former enemy, looking at Astoria's open casket. He lightly rubbed Draco's back. They both felt thousands of age-old feuds go away, and with those memories came the thousands of apologies.

Slowly Draco let out a ragged breath. Unsteady. That was Draco's entire persona for the past few months. He could never breathe right. Sleep was now becoming a foreign thing, seeing as nightmares were a frequent thing.

He felt a arm wrap around his waist, and he looked down to see Scorpius hugging his father tight.

Later that evening, Draco knew how fickle time was. The reviving of friends and funeral were all a blur. The sadness of a loss of a great person flodded the area, and Draco got more sympathy than he thought he deserved.

It seemed like every person he had ever talked to showed up. They seemed to feel for him, although they will never know the greatness of his wife.

As Draco stood outside the funeral home, letting the crisp nightly air come in and out of his system. He could never breathe right since she died, but now, as he was finally accepting her death, the air felt nice.

Draco Malfoy was for sure a broken piece of work, but maybe - just maybe - he could find out how to breathe again.

~~~

Sorry it's late and short, but funerals are hard to write.