only you

chapter 2 - goodbye, ron

It was the grandest, most beautiful, sunny day that Draco had seen in a long time. Soft and sweet mentions of clouds drifted through the sublimely bright and clear sky, like lovers in boats rowing across a lake. It was warm, and the comforting rays of sun were almost smothering in their intensity. A beautiful day, truly. The time Draco knew Ron was emphatically not enough, yet he liked to think that this kind of day would be his favourite. Behind the jealousy, drunkeness and poorly-timed jokes, stood the young, freckled and insecure kid that entered the gates of Hogwarts those years ago, who loved days so grand and so beautiful. In this respect, it seemed this day was perfect for Ron's funeral, as dark as that seemed. It had been just a week since his death, and now what remained of his family: Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George and Ginny stood beside his great cedar casket as it was lowered into the ground. Alongside them, stood many friends from Hogwarts, long-travelled family, Harry and of course Hermione.

The priest said a few parting words about Ron, on how he would not want us to dwell on his death, rather carry on the spirit he maintained in his life and further his dreams, speaking positively, if not generically of Ron's life. It was clear that the Weasley family was not prepared for another death in the family, as they had already suffered greatly under the weight of the loss of Fred. It was an injustice that Ron's act of genuine, if not drunken, heroicism to save Hermione was met with another young life stolen. This loss had punched another hole within the Weasley's perfectly formed family, and now another hand stood still on Molly's family clock.  

Hermione stood slightly away from the gaping hole in the ground where Ron was being laid to rest. She was glancing into the pit, glassy eyed and completely vacant of tears and filled with unflinching grief. She blamed herself for this, Draco knew that much, and even though he was unwilling to allow this, he did, for this was how Hermione needed to understand what had happened. She had the most horrific, unrelenting year of her life, and had managed to emerge from the other side, unharmed by Cheriah's attempts on the life of hers and of Draco's. She was alive, yet burdened with her survival. It was on her face - that deep, neverending solemnity which beckoned you to a place you did not understand, yet were drawn to. Draco had touched this place, with the loss of his father, and had similarly blamed himself. He told himself it was not good to dwell upon those days anymore. He only hoped that the experience could guide Hermione through what was to come. She had survived, with Ron as the lonely casuality.

His thoughts were interrupted with the clanking of the casket into its hinges, and Ron was finally in the ground. The priest said a closing prayer, and it was finished. One by one, each attendee withdrew from the casket, scraping themselves off the ground which they had been melded to with each parting word of the priest. Arthur took Molly by her shaking shoulders and led her away from Ron's grave, silently trailing tears down his face. Ginny, whose face had been pressed against Harry's shoulder after the priest said his opening lines, pried her face away from his now wet dress shirt and the two left. Others trailed away until only Draco and Hermione remained. 

"Hermione?" Draco called, stepping forward.

He reached out and touched the small of her back, which she greeted with a flinch. Her head whipped around her golden brown locks, until her face was just inches away from his own. From so close, he almost see her mind trying to return to its normal state. Her eyes flickered, she blinked rapidly, and her brow minutely twitched ever so slightly.

"Yes?" She replied, finally registering that her name had been said.

He placed his hand within hers and smiled at her. God, she looked fit to break even by the sunlight that surrounded her.

"You ready to go?"

She glanced back at Ron's grave one last time, except she didn't turn back. 

"Hermione..." He stepped forward again, saying this.

With a few steps forward, Hermione's glistening eyes came into sight, and the downpour of tears on her face she so desperately held in came flooding out. She placed her head on Draco's shoulder and wept with tiny sobs, as Draco held her in his strong embrace. Draco knew he would take any torture to take back all of this. Just to end these endless moments of pain.

Hermione sniffed and stepped away from him again, staring up at his face with a wistful smile. 

"You really are the best thing to ever happen to me, Malfoy."

His eyes widened and he took a step back. Speechless, he smiled and ruffled her hair, taking advantage of the foot of height he held above her.

"Come on, Hermione," He said, placing his arm around her shoulder once more and guiding her out of the cemetry, "I think it's about time we get to the wake."

They stepped away together, sidling through each headstone and walking amongst the green grass, as the sun shone down on them, each step taking them away from the large headstone marking the loss of their dear friend.

Ronald Billius Weasley, a friend, brother and son, it said. That piece of rock would hold the memories of the man for an eternity, and would never be able to capture his essence of joy, loyalty and stength.

What Hermione and Draco didn't see in the cemetry on that great and beautiful Sunday morning, was the large black umbrella that loomed about five headstones back, grasped by a manicured hand and held with a very firm grip of grief. 

The family and friends of dear Ron had grieved him today, but one other person stood unacknowledged in pain and pentinence, knowing to well of the hatred that awaited them if they dared to stand among the bereft. 

Pansy Parkinson closed her umbrella and wiped a lone tear from her face. She'd lost two men by one woman. And that woman would pay.