Graves

Graves

The man stood at the gravesite.

It wasn't a very elaborate grave. It wasn't pretty or breathtaking or anything, really. It was just... there. It was simple. Plain. A simple stone, with simple words engraved on it.

Draco Malfoy

1980-1999

It was an unadorned stone, nothing remarkable about it, and wouldn't that just piss Malfoy off? Even in death he didn't warrant special attention. There was no extravagant tombstone for Malfoy, for a convicted Death Eater. No pomp, no ceremony, just a simple grey stone and a small plot of land. It must have irritated Malfoy to no end that he had ended up in such a common place.

The man thought with detached amusement that it would have been funny to see his reaction to his final resting place. He could imagine the sneer that would be in his voice, could imagine the look of disdain on his face. It was a rather amusing picture.

The dark haired man thought that Malfoy would be the type to haunt him forever for daring to see him in such a place, for daring to be amused by him, but if Malfoy had had designs to haunt him, he would have done so already. He would have shown up the same day he died and told him that not only was he going to haunt him for the rest of his life, but that his fashion sense, what little there was of it, had apparently crawled up somewhere and died from humiliation. But, that hadn't happened. It had been a year since Malfoy died, so he assumed that he was safe from the wrath of the enraged blonde.

The man's feet hurt; he had done a lot of walking today, but it seemed almost disrespectful to sit near someone's grave, even if that person had been a git and an arsehole. So he ignored the discomfort in his legs and went back to studying the grave. It was simple...

Wait.

He had already been there. He was going in circles.

The man sighed. He had come all the way here; he would not avoid the issues at hand. Not again. Not anymore. He closed his eyes; anyone who had come by at that moment would have seen frustration on the man's face. Frustration, and guilt. And a little bit of sorrow. Fortunately no one came by to see him in his moment of weakness.

He opened his eyes and lifted a hand to scratch the side of his face, then his neck, then the other side of his face, before he decided to stop stalling and get on with it. Where was all his courage now? Finally, he spoke.

"I know that I'm probably the last person that you'd expect to see here, but- I just... I don't know..." He trailed off, looking at the ground.

"Despite everything you tried to do to me, I'm happy, you know? I mean, the War is over, and I have this beautiful wife, and great friends... and I'm not really sure why I'm telling you this; it's not like you'd be interested... or that you'd care or anything. It's not like it matters or... as a matter of fact, I'm telling you this so that you're pissed of at yourself for failing to make my life permanently screwed up."

He licked his lips. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looked away briefly. When he turned back, his eyes were bright with anger.

"I mean, you tried to make my life a living hell, and look what happened! I turned out fine. I'm married to my best friend's sister, who loves me, and who's amazing, and she's everything one should want in a wife. I have a great job as an Auror, and-" He paused suddenly.

Blinking rapidly, he brought his voice down to a quieter level. "And I'm happy." The statement was made without any emotion, without any inflection, and it contrasted greatly with the man's face. Swallowing, his voice barely a whisper, he continued with, "I should be happy."

He looked away again, at something that only he could see. "I- why can't I be happy?" He brought a hand up to rub his forehead, and his lips curled up into a grimace. "I could have been. If I had been able to... to say the things that needed to be said... if I had been able to be myself, with someone who knew what the darkness was like, how it never let you go, no matter how hard you tried to be rid of it... if I had been able to be myself with someone who loved me for who I was. Instead of as The Boy Who Just Wouldn't Die."

His eyes fell on the tombstone again. "But I guess that just wasn't in the cards." He sounded defeated. He shook his head slightly and paused. It was awhile before he spoke again.

"I should have said something. Anything. I should have-" He closed his eyes. "I shouldn't have pushed you away, in the beginning. I didn't realize- I didn't realize how much I needed you. How much I-"

Opening his eyes again, the brilliant green looked clearer, somehow, even though they glistened with something wet. "I didn't realize how much I would come to love you."

Inclining his head slightly, he pushed his messy black hair out of the way as it fell into his face. "Or how much I would miss you."

He sighed, then kneeled beside the stone, and ran his fingers over the name carved there. He closed his eyes again, briefly, and then opened them. Standing, he let his fingers trail over the stone, until they fell off the edge. He smiled, sadly, and turned to go.

"Goodbye, Draco."

And Harry Potter walked out of the little graveyard, back to his wife, his home. His life.

He didn't look back.