Weep No More

Draco had never been inside a church before. The wizarding world wasn't big on religion, but even with the few churches scattered around, the Malfoy family had never really seen a reason to take Draco to church. And in all honesty, he had never felt curious to enter one either. Book after book, lecture after lecture, all religious buildings seemed the same to him: places people went to believe in their faith again. Of course, Draco didn't find that wrong, everyone had a place where they went to find themselves again. But for a Malfoy, no one controlled your actions but yourself. A God, Draco decided, existed no farther than the minds of the persons who needed to have him, to worship him, and to have a higher being in which they could put their never ending trust in.

Draco actually respected these people. Not a lot, but there was more respect for them than he had for other people.

The church of Southbire was something that took Draco's breath away. It was much taller than he would have imagined, and even the dull rain didn't seem to reduce its brilliance. Wet, tired, and bored, Draco still couldn't take his eyes away from the statue of a man pinned to a cross that was in the entrance.

"Draco," Hermione said, pulling at him. "Come on, Andrew's opened the doors."

Taking his eyes off the Jesus Christ, Draco followed Hermione and Andrew into the building. It was warm compared to the outside, but just as quiet. The town of Southbire obviously took care of the place, as everything seemed to have been polished and wiped with the greatest care.

"It's beautiful," he heard Hermione mutter.

"Southbire's pride and joy," Andrew said proudly.

Draco noticed that many of the statues, if not all, had been made out of gold and silver and encrusted with beautiful jewels. He wondered where all of theses riches came from, for he was quite sure even the Malfoys didn't have enough to play around with by making statues. All right, so maybe they did, but they were wizards; they could literally change water into wine if they desired it.

"Don't you think it's lovely, Malfoy?" Hermione asked him, her hands hovering over a statue cautiously. "This place is just magnificent."

Andrew beamed. "The balcony is the best," he said. "If you stand in the centre, you can see everyone. Come on, I'll take you up." The last sentence was directed only at Hermione, and Draco raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Is there a cemetery?" he asked suddenly, interrupting Hermione's answer.

"Of course," said Andrew. "Out back. If you don't mind heading out into the rain again, I'll guide you through it."

"Through it?" Hermione asked, looking confused.

Andrew just smiled.

"Let's go then," Draco said, clutching Hermione's arm and pulling her along possessively.

*

It took exactly fifteen minutes for Hermione, Draco and Andrew to reach the middle of the cemetery. It was actually quite big. Draco had amused himself by reading out loud the headings on the tombs, and scaring Hermione by jumping unexpectedly at her. Even Andrew had laughed when Hermione screeched louder than a cat.

"Rest our beloved lover, son and brother," read Draco, grinning in an evil way. "Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. May you, Henry, fly with the Angels."

Hermione, who was walking not far in front of him, rolled her eyes. "Malfoy, let the dead rest in peace. They must be turning in their graves, hearing you mock the words their family left them for eternity."

Draco smirked and knocked on a grave stone. "Mr. Fitzgerald, do tell me, am I mocking you? With my angelic voice, reciting the poems your mother left you."

Andrew frowned. "Your friend has a point, you know. It is a sin in the eyes of God to make fun of the dead."

"And you do not have an angelic voice," added Hermione.

Draco waved his hand dismissively at them. "I'm a sinner if there ever was one."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Many of these graves are opened," she observed. "Why?"

Andrew approached her. "New dead to bury. We're waiting for a few days." He shook his head solemnly, then exclaimed, "Oh, blimey! I've left my scarf in the church. Hold on, I'll go get it. I want to take you to the rose garden afterwards. My mum tends to it every Sunday."

Before either Hermione or Draco could object, Andrew ran off in the direction of the church, leaving them both in the rain.

"Well, he's pleasant," Draco commented, sitting on top of boulder by Theresa Burns's grave. "Makes you feel all warm inside despite this really cold, really terrible rain."

"Oh, stop complaining, Malfoy," Hermione said. "It's your fault we're here in the first place."

Draco just glared at her.

"Flowers!" squealed Hermione, suddenly. She started picking a bouquet of wildflowers much to Draco's confusion.

"Pansy must be having a ball," Draco said dryly. "Probably making Fiona prepare tea for when I get back."

"She'll make the perfect wife for you, I'm sure," Hermione said, arching her eyebrows.

"Wife?" demanded Draco. "Who said anything about wife?"

Hermione looked confused. "I thought you loved Parkinson. Through all six years of Hogwarts, I've heard how you two will marry and have dozens of Malfoy heirs." She plucked a final flower and moved towards him. "I thought you loved her."

Draco laughed, and Hermione felt even more confused. "Love, Pansy?" he said, tears of mirth already falling down his face (or perhaps it was just the rain). "Granger, we Malfoys never fall in love. Not until our wedding day, and sometimes not even then. Love makes you weak; it makes you forget who you are."

"But all this time..." Hermione paused and chose her words carefully. "It seems as if you and Parkinson can't get your hands off each other. Surely you feel something for her."

"Another sin, Granger: lust. And I'll assure you it's quite mutual. Pansy and I have fun together. She's unique, Slytherin and quite the sex kitten, but I don't love her." Draco pushed his fringe away from his eyes, and stared at Hermione. "Malfoys don't love until we have nothing else to lose, Granger. And when we do love, we never love completely."

"Bollocks!" Hermione said forcefully, surprising both herself and Draco. "It's impossible not to love, especially when you're so close to someone. No human being is incapable of feeling. You and Pansy share something, I've seen it, but you're just afraid to admit it, aren't you? I'm sure that every Malfoy has loved before their wedding day. But your Pureblood pride makes you think you can't, and that you should be ashamed of it. Well, you shouldn't. Love is the purest feeling in the world, Malfoy, no matter what it makes us do."

Draco chuckled softly. "Didn't know you were a romantic bint, Granger," he said, passing a hand through his hair again.

Hermione smirked at him. "There are many things you don't know about me," she said.

And then she promptly collapsed to the ground.

"Fuck," swore Draco, quickly jumping off his rock and squatting next to her. "Please, please don't go loony on me now, Granger. Not with Muggle-boy coming soon."

Hermione moaned, but didn't move. Draco squeezed her hand. Hermione's bouquet tumbled away from them.

"Granger, I'm going to count to ten - very quickly - and if you're not up and moving, I'm going to slap you." Draco shook her. "One... two..."

"Come on, adora," Draco hissed, ignoring where the sudden term of endearment had come from.

Hermione's eyes fluttered opened and she stared at Draco in fear. She tried to say something, but no words came out.

"It's okay, Granger, just stay there for a moment." Draco helped her sit up. "Are you all right? Are you one-hundred percent bookworm or one-hundred percent barking mad?"

"I'm - I'm all right," Hermione said, her throat sore. Tears were flowing down her face. "Oh, God," she whispered.

Draco frowned. "What did you see? What happened?"

"I'm... Malfoy, did you research this spell thoroughly?"

"No. I just wanted to fix you, Granger."

Hermione took a deep breath. "It was so dark, Malfoy, so terribly dark. There was just a candle flickering, and I was holding it. And then suddenly the flame stopped, and I..." She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Granger, what happened?" Draco demanded, pulling her to her feet. "We're going back. You're in no shape to stand here. Fuck Andrew. He's taking too long."

"I'm dying," Hermione said slowly. "The potion is killing me."

Draco's eyes almost popped out of his skull.

*

Pansy took a quick sip of her tea, and then added another spoonful of sugar. Percy, who was seated across her, smiled.

"We'll be leaving in two days?" she echoed, with a relieved smile.

"Two days, rain, storm, or snow," Percy assured her. "Roget told me he understands that we would like to get back to our fellow companions. He himself offered to drive us to Dublin."

"I hope these two days pass quickly," Pansy said. "I couldn't stand to stay in this wretched place much longer."

"We could have had much worse," Percy told her.

"And we could have had much better," she pointed out.

Percy couldn't argue with that.

Pansy looked out the window, at the rain, and sighed. She was worried about Draco. "Do you think he'll take much longer?"

Percy didn't need to ask who, so he just said, "I wouldn't know what to tell you."

Pansy turned to look at Percy. "What is it like to live with more siblings than you can count?"

It wasn't an insult, and Percy knew that. "It's quite the experience," he said, searching for deeper words. "Whenever something is missing, you need to ask so many more people than normal. When breakfast is about to be served, you need to hurry down or you'll have little to eat left."

"But your two older brothers aren't living at home," Pansy pointed out.

"And yet I have so many little brothers to take care of," said Percy.

Pansy smiled. "I've always wanted a baby sister," she said slowly. "I wanted to dress her up like my own private doll. Show her how to act towards boys, how to successfully hide her diary from our parents."

"You're an only child?" asked Percy.

She nodded. "My mother always wanted another daughter as well, but she can't have any more children because of an accident that happened too long ago..."

Percy knew she wouldn't tell him about the accident, so he didn't ask. "Look, here comes Malfoy and Hermione," he said, pointing out the window. Worry suddenly filled his eyes. "They don't look all right."

Pansy quickly followed him as he stormed down the stairs.

"Hermione, what happened?" Percy asked, as she and Draco entered the inn, drenched and looking like two sewer rats.

Hermione laughed coldly. Draco looked at the floor, oblivious to Pansy's reassuring smile.

"Let's get you up to the room and into some dry clothes," Percy said, helping Hermione up the stairs. He quickly turned around to look at Draco, and gave him a brief smile.

"Draco, what happened?" Pansy asked, as they made their own way up. "Granger looks like she's been through Hell and back."

Draco passed the sleeve of his shirt against his forehead and sighed. "Come on, Pansy, I'll tell you upstairs. I feel about to collapse."

Pansy looked at him in worry. "Draco..."

"Come on, would you?"

Pansy watched as Draco hurried up the stairs.

*

It had taken Percy twenty minutes to convince Hermione into some dry clothes that Fiona had brought up for her. After Hermione obliged, he persuaded her to get some rest while he talked with Malfoy.

"I want to know what happened," Percy told Draco, once he had assured that Hermione was warm.

Pansy did not look at either of them, and instead started to read "Dante's Inferno", a book Fiona had brought up in case they were in the mood to read.

Draco glared at Percy. "She says she's dying," he said softly. "She says the potion is weakening her to the point of death, Weasley."

Percy slammed a fist on the table. "We have to do something!"

"We need to repeat the antidote," Draco said. "But we don't have the book."

"We need to get home," said Percy. "Dumbledore could help her."

"It's two days until we get to even go to Dublin," Draco objected. "Who knows how long Granger will last?" He stared at Pansy with an expression Percy could not figure out. "Weasley, if what Granger says is true, every vision she gets is a step closer to her death."

"She won't die!" Percy roared.

"Keep your voice down!" Pansy scolded. She closed her book and got up from her chair. "Granger is not stupid, or have you forgotten? Do you think she doesn't know we're talking about her ill fate as she tries to sleep? Do you think that she doesn't know that she'll die as long as we're stuck in this last pit of Hell?" She glared at both men, and stormed into the other room.

"We can't let her die," Percy said softly. "I won't let her die, Malfoy."

Draco nodded. "Whether you believe it or not, Weasley, I don't think Pansy will either."

Percy looked at the door that connected their two rooms. "I know that. But what about you, Malfoy, will you let her die?"

Draco's answer was said without any hesitation. "No, not while we're here."