Draco's Celebration

Disclaimer: Nope, still do not own HP and Co. Wish I did though.

A/N: Betaed by the lovely thesnapelyone. Thanks to Innerslytherin for the inspiration. Possible tissue warning.

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Thanks for reading.



Draco's Celebration

Narcissa Malfoy came home from the family chateau in France after a four year long self-imposed exile. Wanting to be far away from the war, she had taken flight not long after the news of Dumbledore’s death had reached her ears. After unburdening her luggage onto one of the house elves, she made her way up to the third floor to greet her son. Voldemort’s death had been a mere few weeks ago, but Narcissa knew by reading the Prophet that both Severus and Draco were revealed as spies for the Order. With a rare warm smile on her face and a light in her eyes that had burned out years ago, Narcissa pushed open the door to her son’s suite of rooms.

A pungent smell immediately entered her nostrils and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. Narcissa soon discovered that the odor was nothing compared to the sight she was welcomed to when she flicked on the lights in the room. Laying gracelessly on the floor of the bedroom was a prone figure of a pale man. Sweat matted blond hair clung to the man’s forehead and his charred robes were strewn haphazardly around his body. A piece of parchment was clutched in his right hand and a vial in his left. Spots of chartreuse stained the white carpeting from where the remaining poison had leaked out of the vial and dropped to the floor.

She had found her beautiful heir.

Narcissa collapsed to the floor, silent sobs wracking through her body as the tears ran down her face. She crawled to Draco’s body and grabbed onto his arm, murmuring frantic and incoherent
whispers. The house elf who found her ran to get help from an old family friend. After much coercion, Severus Snape was finally able to persuade Narcissa to let go of her dead son. Severus pried the note from Draco’s cold hand and after much pleading from Narcissa, read it out loud.

He is gone. He is gone and it is all my fault. He did not die by my hand nor by my wand, but by my cowardice. I could have stepped in and saved him, but it would have put Severus and myself in a precarious position of being discovered for what we truly were. How I kept a cold mask of indifference while I watched him being put through bouts of torture and then while watching his death I do not know. I think most of me died then, watching the man I loved more than anything murdered in cold blood. Did I really think I could live without him?

I knew time would catch up with me eventually, but I never knew it would be so dreadfully slow in doing so. Voldemort was killed tonight. The whole of the Wizarding world is celebrating his demise right now. How bloody ironic is it that the same day they are celebrating is the second anniversary of my beloved’s death? How easily they all forget. I bet all the money I have in Gringotts that even Potter has forgotten as well. I, for one, can never forget. It took us so bloody long to get together in the first place and then to only have it brutally ripped from us only six months later.

I have mourned him ever since he left this planet, but that ends tonight. I refuse to mourn him any longer. No, tonight I will finally join him. I have been wanting to do this since the day he died, but I knew I had to hold out for the greater good. Tonight I will be able to celebrate in my own way.

Whoever finds this note, please let Mother know that I love her if she comes back from France. I imagine it will be Severus who finds me and this note since I have forbade the house elves to enter this room and he will most likely be the only person to actively seek me out. Sir, I thank you for all that you have done for me. I never told you this while I was alive for fear of rejection and a sneer directed at me, but to me you were the father I had wished I had and I love you as well. Also, please give Potter my thanks for finally finishing the bastard off and freeing us all. Please understand this is my way of freeing myself.

My one and only request is to be buried by the man I love. Severus knows who I speak of. We could not be publicly together in life, but perhaps we can be so in death.

~Draco Malfoy

Wet spots appeared on the parchment as Severus read and the few tears rolled down his cheek. The tears were not only for Draco, but for the others that Severus had lost during the war that he could not openly mourn as well.

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A year to the date of Draco’s death, Narcissa, accompanied by Severus, went to visit her son’s grave at a small cemetery at Hogwarts. Draco’s plot was in a rather secluded spot in the back with only one other grave right beside it. After a few silent moments, Narcissa bent her head to place a kiss on the cold, hard granite of Draco’s gravestone. She reverently placed a red rose on the top of his stone and looked to the stone to his right. After a brief moment, she placed a white rose on the top of the neighboring grave.

“Take good care of him, Remus,” she whispered before Severus led her out of the cemetery.