An End And A Beginning

14: Melancholy Played In a Minor Key

At 9.30am exactly on the morning of the 6th December 2002, Draco answered the door dressed in his full mourning wear and ready to face the day despite surprising nerves. Still he felt good in his new robes and that helped his confidence; the rest he'd have to face as he came to it.

When Harry Potter and Angelina Johnson stepped across the threshold of Malfoy Manor, Draco was reminded of the Remembrance Service he and his father had attended. Harry wasn't in his standard Auror uniform but rather, in regimental Full Ceremonial Dress including his medals. He even carried a sword on a wide black stable belt. His buttons were gold and the braiding and cord duly matched. The black wool of the long coat was so fine and dense that the black seemed to be woven from the very dark matter of the universe. The only exception to the uniformity of black was crimson-red piping down the legs of his trousers, a red band around his mandarin collar, and a gold and crimson-red sash; the gold embellishment signifying his position as Assistant-Head Auror. Angelina Johnson stood beside him in the same uniform but without the gold on her red sash. And both had black peaked caps with black and red braiding tucked under their left armpits in exacting precision. The peak of Harry's cap had additional gold detail and looked surprisingly impressive.

Of course, Draco's eyes were only for Harry. He looked remarkable and incredibly handsome, though Draco was aware he might be somewhat bias. He also kind of wanted to throw himself into Harry's arms but both of them stayed stoically still with no more than a brief nod from Harry, whose eyes were trained only on Draco's face, concern radiating through that expressionless mask he'd learnt to wear. Draco finally realised, seeing Harry like this, that it was Auror training that had taught him to hide his emotions.

'Mr Malfoy,' said Angelina, clearly oblivious to the tension in the air, 'my condolences.'

'Thank you,' said Draco. 'Won't you both come in? Angelina, I need to introduce you to my mother...'

It all felt horribly awkward and Draco wondered if he should have addressed her as Auror Johnson, though that seemed weird after school and playing Quidditch against her for so many years.

He was saved by his mother's timely arrival at the top of the grand wishbone stairs that descended into the hall of the Manor. He was briefly reminded of a time from before the war when she wore the same tailored coat to drop him off at the Hogwarts Express, though now she also wore a hat with a black net veil. He swallowed down a lump in his throat. It all suddenly seemed very real when seeing everyone dressed so respectfully in black. People seemed to automatically behave more formally and all the more gracelessly because of it despite their efforts.

Harry immediately stepped forward and walked halfway up them to meet her. 'Narcissa,' he greeted and there even seemed to be a sharp click together of the heels of his highly polished boots.

Draco wondered if that was special military training too. Still, he watched as Harry took her hand and escorted her to the bottom of the stairs as if it were the first time she'd ever walked down the stairs in a pair of heels.

'You're looking very splendid and dapper, Harry,' she said with a small smile of gratitude. 'Don't you agree, darling?' she said to Draco.

He narrowed his eyes briefly and didn't respond. He was grateful that Angelina was too distracted by the grandeur of the hall and the swathes of Christmas ivy and pine that adorned the bannisters on the stairs.

It was then that Etienne also arrived. He too wore a full military uniform; also black but his jacket was short with a parachute wing insignia on his right shoulder. His mandarin collar was pompadour-blue and matched the panel down his trouser legs and his blue stable belt. Like Harry, he displayed a row of medals over his heart. However, instead of a peaked cap, he wore a sandy-coloured beret with a flaming Excalibur badge worked into the cloth directly above his left bushy eyebrow. It somehow seemed incongruous that he should have long hair, though it was neatly braided down his back.