Inevitable

1 | Mourning & Moving Forward

Draco stood in front of the Malfoy family crypt, facing the closed casket, feeling more lost and alone than he ever had in his life.

The only other people there were the hired mortuary employees. 

No one else will mourn Narcissa Malfoy, he thought bitterly.

Two years had passed since the end of the war, and all of the chaos and pain that had followed. Lucius was still serving a lifetime sentence in Azkaban, and Draco was secretly glad. His father was responsible for the Malfoy's involvement in the war. He chose to follow Voldemort before Draco had even been born, and where had following that psychopath gotten them?

Sure, Potter's surprising testimony and adamant demand that their punishment be as lenient as possible had saved Draco and Narcissa from Azkaban, but they were still social pariahs, unwanted anywhere. They'd only had each other for the past two years, alone in that enormous, dreary old mansion that reeked of dark magic.

And then his mother had taken ill.

He could still picture the look on the Healer's face when he told Draco there was no hope for her. Healer Thomas was a kind old man, the only Healer in the area willing to make a house call to the Manor. His mouth had twisted down as he delivered the news, his eyes filled with pity: All they could do was make her comfortable.

"When I'm gone, you need to leave this place," Narcissa had begged Draco, "start a new life, forget the past, and find your peace, my love."

He had given her hand a gentle squeeze and managed to whisper, "I'll try. I love you, Mum."

"And I love you, Draco."

His mother had smiled at him, then, and her face had relaxed as she fell asleep.

She did not wake again.

"Would you like to say something, Mr. Malfoy?" One of the men asked, interrupting Draco's thoughts and hurtling him back to the present.

Draco nodded and stepped forward, placing a gloved hand on the casket.

"Mum," his voice broke, and an icy tear trickled down his cheek, "I'm sorry."

He heard the tell-tale crack of a nearby Apparation, but he ignored it.

"You were brave, and strong. You tried to shield me from the darkness for as long as you could—"

An outbreak of whispers broke out behind him.

"Is that...?"

"No. It can't be."

"Why would he come to the burial of a dark witch?"

"And I know you loved me, and did your best to protect me, even lying to the Dark Lord at the end, so that we could have a better life after the war was over. I'll never—" Draco's voice shook, tears flowing freely now, "—never forget."

A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder as he choked out the last few words, "I love you, Mum."

Draco turned and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Strong arms wrapped around him as he sobbed against a black wool coat, shaking and crying and fighting for each bitterly cold breath. He didn't care who it was, he just relished the feeling of being held while he finally allowed himself to lose control, letting violent sobs wrack his body.

After a few minutes he slowly regained his composure, taking slow, deep breaths as he calmed himself. Finally, Draco pulled away, wiping at his eyes with his gloved fingers, and found himself looking into emerald eyes shining behind round glasses.