A Song for Severus ~ (Not Update, but Edit)

Chapter 43 ~ Draco's Loss

Draco Malfoy woke up alone in his four-poster, feeling Malina’s absence. They had spent the last several days and nights together. Not every moment was spent making love. They had shared thoughts, dreams, hopes and fears, getting closer to each other.

Draco had tried to find out more about Malina’s background. Her parents. Just because she was a muggle-born didn’t mean he wouldn’t find them interesting…the truth was he would. The wizard would like to know about the people who raised her.

“I would rather not talk about them, Draco,” Malina would say, her eyes dark.

The witch had so many secrets, and it was like she had an unbreakable ward around her when he tried to get through to her. But Draco kept at it. Maybe one day she would open up fully to him. He just needed more time.

The blonde wizard rolled out of bed and pulled on his emerald green silk housecoat over his green silk boxers and walked into the bathroom. He pissed, washed his face, brushed his teeth and returned to the bedroom, tying his robe sash and stepping into his slippers. He exited the bedroom and headed for the parlor to have breakfast and read the morning paper.

He arrived to find his breakfast hot and steaming on the table. The house elves had prepared was what Draco liked, grilled kidneys, scrambled eggs, a few smoked fish and brown bread with butter. A jar of honey graced the table along with a pot of tea and cold pumpkin juice. Everything smelled delicious, but Draco wasn't as hungry as he should have been. Breakfast had been much more enjoyable when Malina shared it with him.

Everything was better when she was with him. When she returned from tour Draco was determined to become engaged to the witch. He wouldn’t force a date to be married on her, but he wanted that claim. They could marry later on. Malina still had a lot of living to do. She was an amazing talent, and had the potential to be a very big star. This tour with Dirty Magic could be the start she needed. He hoped her first day out with the group went well, despite missing her.

Draco sat down at the table. The Daily Prophet was rolled up and waiting next to his plate. He fixed himself a cup of tea and sipped it slowly, before filling his plate. He took a bite of bread and honey, then finished his tea.

The edge off, Draco picked up the Daily Prophet and unfolded it, scanning the headline as he did every morning.

Members of Popular Band Dirty Magic Die in Tragic Carpet Accident!

Draco felt as if a great hand had come out of nowhere and wrapped around his body, squeezing him in its fist so he couldn’t draw a breath. Everything around him went dark except those eleven words as the Hand of Fate crushed him.

“No. No,” he breathed, his eyes dropping to the story. Maybe Malina hadn’t been with them…maybe she was safe…safe and shaken. She had to be. Malina couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t be.

Draco read the article. It said that the group had been doing a promotional photo shoot for Felix’s Magic Carpet, when the carpet they were riding malfunctioned. They didn’t have wands with them because the magical cores would interfere with the carpet’s magic, so couldn’t save themselves when it fell. One of Felix’s employees stated they tried to tell their boss that knitting four individual carpets together with magic wasn’t safe, but Felix was trying to save money and said it would only be used once. Apparently, once was enough as far as Dirty Magic was concerned. Felix was currently under investigation and his store closed.

Draco’s eyes filled with tears as he read the names of the deceased.

Miles Ruffins, Innis McGowan, Jonathan Swagger, Howard Baines, Kevin Bailey and back-up singer Malina Pascal.

Back-up singer? Malina was no backup singer on that tour…she was going to be a star! A fucking star! People were going to fall in love with her when she took the stage and sang with that heavenly voice. They were going to love her!

Draco stared at the paper…feeling everything inside him tighten into a small, hard ball of grief.

“Malina,” he whispered, then…he exploded.

”NOOOOOOOOOOO!” Draco screamed, rearing back roaring at the ceiling before flinging the newspaper out of his hand, grabbing the edge of the table and throwing it end over end, food flying everywhere.

“No! No! No! No!” he continued to shout as he threw chairs and small tables around the parlor, turning it into a shambles. House elves winked in, trembling in the corners as they watched their Master fall apart, tearing up everything within reach in the parlor. Then suddenly, Draco bolted from the room, tears streaming from his eyes.

He ran into the bedroom, pulled out his two-way mirror, sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at it.

“Show me the object of my desire,” he gasped staring at his reddened face.

The mirror didn’t respond.

Draco shook it viciously.

“SHOW ME THE OBJECT OF MY DESIRE!” he screamed at it, as if by will alone he could terrorize the shining piece of glass to show him Malina, safe and alive. But this didn’t happen. Only his reflection glared back at him.

“Damn it!” Draco cried, throwing the mirror against the stone wall of his bedroom and smashing it to pieces. He sat there a moment, his arms dangling helplessly between his legs, his head hanging as his chest heaved, the wizard gulping air. Then he looked up and ran over to his wardrobe, digging through his robes pockets until he found the parchment that tracked Malina. He held it up.

“TRACK!” he demanded.

A map formed and Draco let out a sob as he read the name of the place Malina was.

St. Mungo’s Morgue.

“Oh dear gods!” the wizard sobbed, falling to his knees, the parchment dropping to the floor as he cried, then began beating the floor with his fist. Then he tore his robe off, throwing it across the room.

“Why? Why?” he gasped, “She had so much to live for. We had so much to live for.”

Draco straightened and looked up at the ceiling as if he were looking into heaven itself. His red-rimmed gray eyes glinted with hatred and rage as he spewed his venom to the gods he imagined were looking down on him.

“I don’t believe in you! Benevolent gods! There are no such beings! If you do exist, I hate you…I fucking hate you all with every fiber of my being! How could you take her? How? Murderers! Murderers!” he screamed, before falling back into sobs, stretching out on the cold tile floor and rolling to his back, closing his eyes and shaking his head back and forth.

This went on for several minutes, the house elves creeping into his bedroom and standing about helplessly, their ears flattened to their heads, and their heads bowed in sympathy for their master and the lovely Miss that was no more.

Finally, Draco stopped, his eyes opening and turning toward the house elves, who all looked at him sadly.

“Why?” he asked them softly, “Why her?”

One elf slowly walked forward. His name was Eli and he served the Malfoy household for many years. Draco was much kinder now than he had been growing up, and the elves had come to love the young wizard, whereas before they had only feared him. Draco had no one to turn to concerning Malina. He had kept her such a secret. Even Severus only knew he had a witch who was not happy with his disappearances. Draco had shared nothing else. Only the house elves really knew who she was and what she had meant to him.

“No one knows why these things happens, Master. Is sad, yes, but is life…and life is precious because these things happens, sir. We is all very sorry about the Miss. We will helps you all we can, sir,” Eli said reassuringly.

Draco looked at all the elves, then pushed himself up from the floor and stood in the bedroom forlornly, wiping at his eyes. There was so much pain inside him…it was unbearable, the kind of pain that would send him into Malina’s arms. But those arms would never bring him comfort again. Malina was gone.

Dead.

“What am I going to do without her?” he whispered brokenly.

Eli walked up to Draco’s side and peered up at him.

“Live, Master. You will live,” the elf said softly, then waved a claw at Draco as the other elves rushed up. Draco slumped, the elves catching him and lifting him up.

“To the bed,” Eli directed, “Lets him rests for now. Lets our master rest.”

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All around the wizarding world, people were mourning the death of Dirty Magic. Flowers were strewn all over the back lot of Felix’s Magic Carpet store, which was shut down. Wizards and witches were calling for Azkaban, claiming the greedy wizard had all but murdered the band.

The students at Hogwarts were subdued and saddened, and Albus said a few words about the band at breakfast, what a loss they were. Dirty Magic had played for a few of the school’s events before they became big stars, and even came back once for free because Dumbledore had believed in them before they hit it big. It had been quite an event. Albus didn’t let anyone know who would be playing until they appeared on stage. The students went berserk and it was one of the best dances in Hogwarts history.

St. Mungo’s Hospital was surrounded by blockades and Aurors as crowds stood vigil outside and photographers tried to sneak in to get photos of the battered bodies. They lay side by side in the basement of the hospital on gurneys, under a stasis spell, covered with white sheets, their pale toes tagged to identify them. The morgue workers put them back together as best they could, but the bruises were still visible. The morticians would handle that.

One by one the bodies were claimed by sobbing relatives. All but one.

Malina’s.

Her parents had been contacted, but no one arrived to claim the witch. She lay there alone in the dim light of the morgue, waiting.

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Later that evening, Draco pulled himself together enough to go to St. Mungo’s. The crowds had dissipated once it was found out the bodies had been claimed. Malina had no fans, so they all went home.

Draco walked into the hospital and up to the desk. A medi-witch looked up at the wizard. It was easy to see he was grief-stricken, his eyes ringed in red.

“May I help you, sir?” the witch asked Draco gently.

“Yes. I want to know if the body of Malina Pascal had been claimed yet,” he said to the medi-witch.

“No sir, her muggle relatives have been contacted and instructions given how to claim her, but no one has showed," she replied.

Draco blinked at her, unable to believe that Malina’s parents would just leave her here like this.

“I…we…Malina and I were…close. Could I claim her body?” Draco asked her.

The witch shook her head.

“You would have to have written permission from her next of kin,” the medi-witch said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a form.

She then pulled a chart, and Draco saw Malina’s name on it. She filled out a part of the form with the address of the witch’s parents using the information on the chart.

“Here you go. This is their address. Mr. and Mrs. William Pascal. Get them to sign it and we can release the body to you,” the medi-witch said to him.

Draco took the paper and studied it, then looked at the medi-witch.

“Can…can I see her?” he asked softly.

The medi-witch shook her head.

“No, I’m afraid not…not until you have that paper signed. And to be honest Mr…” the witch hesitated.

“Malfoy,” Draco said, his gray eyes resting on her.

“To be honest, Mr. Malfoy…I wouldn’t advise seeing her before the morticians prepare her. Impact death is terrible on the body,” she said softly.

Draco’s eyes began to fill again.

“Thank you,” he rasped, turning away and quickly leaving the hospital.

“That poor young man,” the medi-witch said, her own eyes filling at Draco’s obvious pain. “Life is so unfair.”

Draco walked out into the night air and took a deep breath. He stared down at the parchment, studying the address of Malina’s parents. He wouldn’t go there tonight. He was in no state. He’d visit them tomorrow and get them to sign the paper as well as find out just why they didn’t claim their daughter’s body.

There had to be a good reason.

There’d better be.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.