A Heavenly Betrayal (Draco Malfoy Love Story)

Funeral

Draco had no desire to go back to his dormitory; instead he went to the boy’s bathroom and sat back against the door, his body numb and his mind aching. He knew he had to let go of Maria, it was inevitable. Nonetheless, his HEART seemed to have vanished along with her: there was a great gap in his chest that taunted him – that simply couldn’t be filled with anything else. It was as if he was bearing an open wound that ran deep in his flesh, a cursed wound, inflicted by the most powerful kind of magic: love. He knew he had to face the Dark Lord alone, for it was his burden and not hers. He had to go back; he had to make sure that he didn’t belong with the other Death Eaters. He didn’t want to live a life of lies anymore, he didn’t want to please his rotten family or follow orders that he didn’t approve of. For the first time, Draco was in control of his life. Yet there was still a shadow lingering over his head, a doubt that his new freedom was for the best. He simply had to see for himself, he had to go back to figure out where his allegiance truly lied. Only there would he find all his answers.

***

By the following morning, all that had happened was common knowledge and McGonagall announced that the remaining end of year exams were cancelled. A funeral would be held for Dumbledore, and everybody was welcomed. Draco was trying his best to avoid being seen, since many rumours were circulating about him and not all of them were in his favour – anyway, he by far preferred spending his days alone in the Dark Forest or by the Black Lake than facing the naive and often too simplistic students. They just didn’t understand, and they probably never would.

Yet someone did understand him, but that cause had already been lost long ago. He knew he would never get over the pain of leaving Maria behind. She was a bright and BEAUTIFUL witch who, somehow, rightfully owned his heart. He knew for a fact that no one else could make him feel like she did; she was all he had ever wanted, and she was all he just couldn’t seem to get.

The castle itself was gloomier than usual, and its thick walls held a dreadful silence. It was as if Dementors had passed, leaving the students speechless and distraught. The air was so heavy that one had a hard time breathing and the Great Hall was no longer filled with excited talk or loud chatter. The mournful atmosphere that haunted the castle was inescapable; even the June sun could not warm up the students’ low spirits.

While Draco was outside wandering along the Dark Forest, Maria spent her days inside the library. Luna’s comment had given her an idea: it was somehow risky, yet considerably safer if she succeeded properly. She had never done anything similar to it before so she had to look up many things in Madam Pince’s precious BOOKS... She found everything she needed, and even more; however, she didn’t allow herself to heighten her hopes too much. She had been hurt before, and she remembered the pain only too WELL to know not to do that to herself again – only time would tell.

The following Sunday, Dumbledore’s funeral took place outside on the castle grounds, by the Black Lake. It was a most beautiful summer day; it almost seemed as if the weather was also keen on honouring their Headmaster. A snow white tomb stood in front of the crowd of students, teachers and other wizards who had come to pay their last tributes to this singular and outstanding wizard. Even some magical creatures peeked through the many trees bordering the Dark Forest, mostly centaurs who had always respected Dumbledore. Everyone was silent; even the wind had decreased to a soft yet chilly breeze. However, the merpeople inhabiting the Black Lake were singing a slow, wailing melody which surprisingly eased the atmosphere as it interrupted the mourning silence. As Maria sat down beside her fellow Ravenclaw friends, she noticed a brilliant spot of red in a near tree: it was Fawkes, his magnificent head high and his feathers glistening majestically under the sunlight. She marvelled at the sparkling phoenix and looked around her once more; Fawkes was right. Everybody was mourning, sullen and she couldn’t help but think that Dumbledore would never have wanted his passing to grieve his pupils, his friends, his colleagues or anyone for that matter. He would have wanted to be remembered for his good days, for what he truly cared about, for the love he gave and devoted to every aspect of his dear school. Just like Fawkes, she had to lift her chin and go on… but she still couldn’t stop herself from spilling a few tears when the last speech was over and when everyone, most of them also teary, got to their feet to rest all kinds of white flowers over his grave. She felt horribly responsible for their beloved Headmaster’s death; it wasn’t something she was likely to forget. She couldn’t stand staring at his pure white tomb anymore, so she got up and walked towards the Black Lake, where the merpeople had already vanished underwater. She sat down on its shore and cried; she cried her bitter regret away.