They had a cloudy October sky above them and a fresh wind brushed Draco’s hair gently. They were standing on a large field with lines and lines of tombstones that shaded from white to grey; some of them were adorned with crosses at the top. There were no flowers on the graves, however, and in spite of the oak and lime trees that decorated the lifeless burial ground with their colored red and orange leaves, the atmosphere in the graveyard was gloomy. He recognized the place because he had come with his mother every year as a child to visit his grandmother’s grave. They were at The Black Family Cemetery.
Not too far away from where they were standing, there was an ebony coffin waiting beside a rectangular aperture on the ground; there was just one wizard dressed properly for the occasion and no one else; Draco assumed he was going to do the funeral service.
Professor McGonagall gave him a supporting pat on the back and said with a sigh:
“Well, this is where I leave you. I was told the funeral is private, but I could definitely stay if you agree, Mr. Malfoy.”
“It’s all right, Professor. I thank you for your offering, but I will be fine. You can come pick me up in thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes? I could pick you up in an hour if you please.”
“Thirty minutes is ok.”
“All right then,” she said hesitatingly; she obviously didn’t want to leave him alone, but insisted no more, “I’ll come for you later,” McGonagall touched her medallion and disappeared.
Draco had an uncomfortable feeling at the depressive view that was before him. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he was definitely expecting someone to come. He thought of who could have come to his mother’s funeral, and realized Narcissa Malfoy had not many friends. She barely spoke to anyone who was not pure-blood, and even those people would be ashamed to show up. Suicide was considered shameful in the pure-blood tradition; it was seen as a kind of betrayal.
He didn’t even know who had arranged the funeral in the first place. He had thought his father had, but it was obvious that git was not even going to show up. After all, Narcissa was going to be buried as a Black and not in the Malfoys’ Family Crypt as they had planned together. Lucius was a conservative pure-blood, too, and he wouldn’t allow to be seen in a suicide funeral. He felt resentful at his father because he had the feeling he was at fault for his mother’s death. The simple thought made his blood burn inside his body, but he would have the time to deal with that.
He gathered his courage and walked firmly towards the coffin. He felt his chest heavy and a sudden lack of oxygen, but he kept walking. Just before he stopped by the coffin, a wizard Appeared with a loud crack.
“Oh, dear Draco, you have come!” Bellatrix Lestrange suffocated him in a violent hug, “I am so sorry about your mother.”
Draco had to push her away to breathe again. He hadn’t seen the witch since last year but she hadn’t changed much. Her heavy dark hair was messy as usual and she was wearing a long black lace dress for the occasion. He was not relieved to see her, but pleased that, at least, someone else had showed up.
“You must feel terrible. I feel terrible myself! If only I had been more watchful of Narcissa, she wouldn’t have done such a filthy thing! She was a coward, a COWARD!” her voice reverberated in the chilling wind. She grabbed Draco painfully by the shoulder and looked intensely into his eyes, “You must not be like your mother, Draco, or like the pussy of your father. You must be a man, you must be like the Dark Lord, you understand?”
“Yes,” he replied in a low voice and Bellatrix released her strong hold. He knew Bellatrix found Narcissa’s death shameful to the Black family; she was also a strong believer of old traditions. And even though she was a great witch, she was also completely mental. Her company in the funeral was not going to be comforting at all, but at least his mother was going to be buried decently and that was what mattered most to him at that moment.
“What are you staring at?!” she snapped at the wizard of the funeral service.
“Shall we start?” he said timidly.
“I don’t see why not, we are not waiting for anyone else, are we?,” Draco didn’t think Bellatrix would have invited someone else.
“Don’t ask me, you are the one who arranged it.”
“I didn’t, I thought you had,” he said startled. If she hadn’t arranged the funeral, then who had?
Draco heard a second crack and someone Appeared in the cemetery at that moment. The witch that stood before them looked strangely familiar; her deep grey eyes gave Draco the feeling that he was looking into his own for a second. She had black bright hair perfectly done in an elegant bun and she was wearing a black silk dress with lace globes protecting her thin white hands. She seemed to be around Bellatrix’s age. Draco was certain she was his relative, but he couldn’t really tell who she was, it was obvious Bellatrix did, though; her eyes widened in anger at the sight of the witch. She rushed to her and pointed her wand fiercely at the woman’s neck.
“YOU! HOW DO YOU DARE COMMING TO NARCISSA’S FUNERAL?!”
“It’s nice to see you, Bellatrix,” the woman said calmly with an unchanging expression; it was clear to Draco she was not afraid of his terrifying aunt.
“Don’t play being funny with me,” Bellatrix spit the words like acid poison, “Who told you of the funeral and what made you think you could come?”
The wizard who was there for the funeral seemed completely uncomfortable. He gave some steps back and tried to go as unnoticed as possible.
“It was me who arranged it,” she pushed Bellatrix aside gently but firmly as the dark witch stared at her bewildered.
“What?! YOU?!”
“Narcissa wrote to me about what she was planning to do. When the letter reached me, though, it was already too late. I found her dead in the Malfoy Manor. She wrote in her letter she wanted to be buried as a Black,” the stranger’s countenance was calm and peaceful as she spoke, thought it denoted sadness.
Those words startled Draco. His mother had written to her about her suicidal intentions and not to him? Who could this woman be to be so important for his mother? He wanted to ask, but the interaction between both witches was so intense he decided it was better to remain silent.
“You stopped being part of the family such a long time ago; I don’t understand why Cissy would have given you such responsibility,” Bellatrix pointed her with her wand menacingly, “If scum like you arranged this, I have no reason to stay. I will not kill you now just for the little respect I have left to dead Narcissa there. Let’s go, Draco.”
“I’m not leaving. She’s my mother,” he spoke for the first time since the arrival of the second witch; he was resolved to stay.
“She was your mother, Draco. She’s dead now,” she stared at Draco as if hoping that would make him come to his senses and follow her, but he didn’t. She looked at both of them enraged and spoke in slow threating words, “Do as you wish, but I warn you, interacting with this people is considered betrayal. The Dark Lord will hear about this.”
She Disappeared from the graveyard, leaving only an uncomfortable, tense air behind.
The witch, who gave Draco an impression of authority and respect, one similar to the one he felt when he was around his mother, had been staring at him with her wide soft eyes intensely since the moment she had Appeared. She resembled Bellatrix somewhat, but unlike her, her appearance was serene and elegant.
“I knew Narcissa had a son,” she said with a hint of nostalgia in her deep voice. She seemed to realize she hadn’t introduced herself properly, for she suddenly said, “My name is Andromeda, Andromeda Tonks. I’m your mother’s older sister, but she might have avoided mentioning me. I’m sorry we have to meet in these lamentable circumstances and that you had to witness such scene. I am really sorry about your mother’s death.”
Draco simply nodded, not knowing what to say. His mother had indeed talked about her older sister, just once in his life, but just as an example of what should not be done. Andromeda Black had married a muggle, a mud-blood, and that made her a traitor. That was why he had never met her before; it was as if Andromeda had never been born. He didn’t understand yet why his mother had written to her, after pretending for years she didn’t even exist. There were many things indeed that Draco did not understand, like the whole situation of being in a graveyard waiting for his mother to be buried.
“You are such a handsome young man; you look so much like your mother,” Andromeda looked at Draco affectionately, smiling weakly, and making him feel uncomfortable. He didn’t really know how to react around her, and said nothing.
The wizard from the funeral appeared suddenly behind them.
“Shall we begin?,” he said more confidently now that Bellatrix was gone.
“Yes, please proceed,” Andromeda nodded.
Draco suddenly felt a strong gaze coming from his left side, but there was nobody standing there. He stared into the emptiness with suspicion; he had the impression he was being observed, but he decided he was just being paranoid and ignored the feeling.
The wizard, who introduced himself as Jacob Hemingsborg, stood before the coffin and after clearing his throat, said solemnly:
“Here lies Narcissa Olivia Black, daughter to Cygnus and Druella Black,” he then gave a short sermon in Latin. Draco didn’t know what it meant exactly, but he knew it said something about family honor and heritage. It was a custom of old magical families. When he finished the sermon, he said, “Her spirit has left us, but her memory will remain in the echoes of time. May her soul be forgiven and rest in peace in eternity.”
Only the whistling wind penetrated the deep silence that followed the wizard’s words. Draco gasped at the intense pain he felt in his chest as he stared at the coffin that protected his mother’s lifeless body. He thought of the summer: his mother had been drinking too much; he had pointed it out a few times but Narcissa kept saying she was doing just fine. He knew she wasn’t, but he didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what to say. They never spoke about their feelings because his father thought that was not appropriate for a boy.He realized then he had always being so busy trying to be the perfect heir to the Malfoys for his father he had forgotten how to be a good son to his mother, and he felt sad and angered at the same time. The man he had been trying to impress all his life was not even there, but he would show him now who Draco Malfoy was and then he would know the kind of son he had raised; he was going to pay for this.
“If you wish to speak some words, you may now,” Hemingsborg broke the silence.
Draco tried not to think of his father because this was his mother’s moment, and he was not going to ruin it thinking of someone who did not deserve more attention than her, not this time. With a soft flick of his wand, he conjured a beautiful bouquet of white magnolias. They were his mother’s favorites and it was a habit to have a bouquet like the one he held in his hands on the dining table at the Malfoy Manor.
“Narcissa… I loved you always. Thank you for everything you wrote to me in the last minute. I wish I could have done more,” Andromeda said as she conjured a bouquet with different kinds of white and yellow flowers and placed them on the top of the coffin.
Draco felt hopeless as he realized he was never going to see his mother again; this was the last time they were going to be together in the same space. He placed his white magnolias on the top of the coffin, and caressed the cold funerary box tenderly with his hand.
“Don’t you want to say something?” Andromeda asked him expectantly.
“It’s too late now to say anything,” he replied dismally.
“It’s never too late, Draco,” she said in return, but he didn’t believe that. His mother was dead and noting he could say now would change it.
Hemingsborg glanced at them to confirm he could proceed and both of them nodded.
“By virtue of the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I, Jacob Hemingsborg, declare Narcissa Olivia Black was buried on the tenth day of the month of October at fifteen with twenty in The Black Family Cemetery.”
He pointed the coffin with his wand; it levitated in the air and then fell into the rectangular aperture on the ground smoothly. Fresh soil covered the aperture completely by a spell of Hemingsborg’s wand. He conjured a white tombstone that read “Here lies Narcissa Olivia Black, beloved mother and sister.”
Draco conjured another bouquet of white magnolias and placed it on his mother’s grave.
“Well, I must leave you in your mourning now,” Jacob Hemingsborg waited for Andromeda to nod and Disappeared immediately.
He stared at his mother’s grave; the image was engraving in his memory. For some reason at that moment he thought of Potter and his intentions of coming to the funeral. He said he wanted to be there. He didn’t understand him at all. Perhaps it was just his heroic habit of doing always the right thing, but he had been completely outrageous.
Andromeda approached Draco, interrupting his thoughts.
“This is my address. You can write whenever you feel like it,” she handed Draco a piece of parchment. She stared at him for what seemed like forever and then vanished from his sight.
He kept the parchment in his robes. He suddenly felt completely exhausted and thought he was going to black out, but Professor McGonagall arrived first to take him back to the castle.