Broken Shards
A/N: Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Ron are 25 in this, the
others are various ages *I'm too tired to figure them all
out*. Lucius and his wife are gone, imprisoned in a war two
years before this takes place. The war is
still being fought and our heroes are on the front lines.
The handkerchief is an old funeral custom of my families and not
to be considered gross.
Apology: This fic wrote itself, which normally for me indicates
I've written a REALLY bad fic, but I'm leaving it her for you to
judge. Also the end is the beginning...it'll make sense as you
read it.
*****
Draco pressed his face to the glass, not even feeling the cold of
the frozen window as he stared out at the bitter snow. The
glass in front of his eyes fogged and a pale hand raised to
wipe it away. He moved back, away from the
window and stared at the reflection of his study, once his
father's study. He looked so lost in that reflection, a man, no,
a boy, lost in a world he was never meant for.
He turned away from the window and walked past the cold
fireplace, it's long dead ashes stirring with his movement but he
paid no head. He sat at his desk, running his hands over
the worn wood.
His reflection stared back at him, cold, haunted. He
looked like an ice sculpture, not real. He opened a drawer
and pulled out his wand, running his hands over the smooth wood
before pointing it at himself, closing his eyes. "Avada
Kedavra"
****
Harry watched the flames in the fireplace lick over the logs,
letting the warmth seep into his cold, weary bones.
December had come and with it his much needed vacation from the
Ministry. Two years had passed since Voldemort had regained
his power and followers. Harry was one of the warriors on the
front lines, one of the few. The dream team, as Draco put
it one night when they were training, had been working hard
trying to bring Voldemort down, piece by piece, removing his
supporters and waiting for him to crumble. Most of the
'team' was still hard at work, despite the late hour, moving the
fight from their ministry offices to the Malfoy mansion.
Harry laid back, slipping off his glasses, listening to Ginny
yell at her brothers for spilling hot chocolate all over the Dark
Arts book she was reading. He smiled to himself when he
heard Fred mutter something and Hermonie yell a tongue binding
curse that shut him up.
"I thought I'd find you here...you're always here."
Harry shifted and tilted his head back when he heard the study
door open and squinted, trying to figure out who it was, only
able to see a form and paleness. "Draco?"
"Who else would it be?"
"Nearly-Headless-Nick, the Bloody Baron, The Grey
Lady..."
"Oh are they moving in now as well?"
"Why not, Hogwarts is no more, all they have left to haunt
is the Forbidden Forest."
Draco sighed, sitting next to his lover. "I still
think my father should have been killed for torturing
Dumbledore."
"We all do, well, all except Fudge, the idiot."
Draco said nothing, just curled up with Harry on the floor,
laying his head on the other boy's chest. Harry stroked his
silvery hair and kissed his temple lightly. He thought back
to what Draco had said when he entered the study and smirked,
turning back to the fire. "Of course I was here, it's
warm here."
*******
Fred, Ginny, Ron, and Percy watched silently as they laid Harry
Potter's body to rest. Ginny held tightly to Ron's bandaged
hand, tears flowing down her face as the casket was slowly
lowered into the ground next to his
father's and mother's.
Percy handed a handkerchief to Dumbledore. The older man
nodded his thanks, wiping his eyes that never seemed to want to
stop crying. He handed it back to Percy whom wiped his own
eyes before passing it down the line. The tear
stained cloth finally reached Draco whom stood apart from his
friends,staring emotionlessly at the deep, black hole in the
earth. He didn't move for a moment, before tossing the
cloth into the hole, watching it come to rest next to the blanket
of black roses covering the coffin. He silently turned away
and walked back to his waiting limo, ignoring the Priest
starting the service.
****
Hermoine stood silently in the study, staring at the cold and
empty grate that was the fireplace. She shivered and
glanced at the clock. "The funeral should be over now,
their all heading home." She whispered, part of
herself amazed at how stupid a statement she made. She
watched the house-elfs packing away the pictures of Harry, the
little momentos Draco kept around the study. She turned
away and opened a window, inhaling the cold, crisp air caused by
the snowstorm. Harry shouldn't have been our there that
night, he should have remembered his wand and cloak. All
these should and shouldn't haves that floated through her mind,
everything that Harry should or shouldn't have done that would
have kept him from walking up to the store for Draco, that would
have kept him safe and warm inside the study instead of on that
stupid errand, that would have kept him from walking strait into
Voldemort and getting killed. That would have kept him
alive. She closed her eyes and turned away, closing the
window. She left the study silently, not seeing the black
limo pull up to the house.
******
As the green flashed, killing it's cursor, he was thrown back and
into the wall. The frozen window behind him shattered with
the impact and as the broken shards rained down on the body
below, the ash in the grate stirred,the long since dormant logs,
flaring to life with a strange blue fire, feeling the study with
a warmth that was as cold as the snow outside.
Saitaina's Diary