Atmosphere

There was a pause. The birds sung on but Draco's mind would not settle.

"Please, call me-"

"Tonks?" he interrupted, glancing behind in time to see that pink hair return again. "Yeah. I know."

They'd been through this so many times before. Especially when he was young, no older than eight, while he was dropped off at his aunt's and his mother did whatever she did, his cousin had reminded him almost constantly what to call him. But Draco had just smiled and continued to call her by her proper name.

Years and years ago, when they had last seen each other, they used to play outside in the garden. Draco didn't like it as much as his grounds but it was very good for adventures. But it had begun to rain and they were playing board games. Boring games described them perfectly. Draco didn't care what his aunt had said - the pieces were broken and they didn't move...

The present caught up with him.

He heard her smile and felt her sit down next to him. A slight breeze rippled around through the over-grown grass, rustling the still branches above him. He waited for her to speak. As far as he could remember, and he could remember very accurately, neither Tonks nor her mother had even acknowledged that... this had happened.

But together they just watched the shrinking group of mourners mill around. Draco watched an unknown couple make their way along the narrow gravelled path towards the house until they disappeared behind a wall of blooming trees. When he wrenched his eyes away he realised his cousin was looking at him.

He looked away after a moment, mumbling under his breath, "Why are you here?"

At this point Tonks actually snorted, breaking the surreal quietness effectively. "Because we're family."

Out of all the answers, he expected, that was certainly not one of them. The moment dragged on before he said what was in his head. "And when has that ever meant anything?"

It was a statement. He didn't need a reply. He didn't want a reply.

"We've been in the wrong family then," she answered simply. Draco did not like the sound of that we.

No - you've been in the wrong family, you weirdo. I've done fine.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He did. And the hesitation before he spoke couldn't have done a better job to show it.

But Nymphadora did nothing. She didn't contradict him like his father would have, nor did she indulge and agree like his mother. He wasn't sure how to continue. Luckily she did.

"Do you know any of them?"

She was talking about the people a little further down the slope. Draco cleared his throat. He knew most of them, all of them by sight and a few personally. All except two might as well keel over for all he cared.

But he wasn't going to let her know this.

"Of course. Don't you?"

"Not personally."

Draco frowned for a moment, wondering how on earth she could.

Oh yes, she was one of Dumbledore's puppets. She probably knew all about all those people down there, all she had to do was find the read papers, filed away neatly in some huge cabinet in some obscure Ministry office. Draco shifted his position. He watched another group of people slowly make their way towards the house. Merlin only knew what and who they expected to be there.

He rubbed his eyes. He was so tired all the time.

There were several loud cracks as a group of people Apparated into the area. Draco watched them shrewdly - they weren't expecting anyone else. But he couldn't see them properly, the sun had now decided to emerge from a bank of cloud and blind him. He wasn't really bothered, or surprised - his mother had a lot of friends it seemed.

But Tonks clearly saw them and swore loudly before saying, "Who do they think they are? This is a graveyard for crying out loud-"

Draco felt the blood drain from his body and felt something unsettling slide into his stomach.

Graveyard.

He glanced down at the new set of arrivals. No one was speaking to them except a random uncle. That really could mean only one thing. Ministry. By now his cousin was practically twitching on her seat.

"Do you know who they are?"

She didn't look at him.

Graveyard.

Somehow, he didn't want to sit next to her anymore and stood up abruptly. Rubbing the back of his neck he turned around and saw her looking back at her.

Merlin knew what everyone else, his family, would think of him if they saw him here, with her and her pink hair. He took a step back.

"Look, are you here for a reason?" he snarled, running his fingers through his hair. "I've got enough going on at the moment. I've got to talk to these people, organise House elves, find the bloody creatures first actually, study for this exam..."

He sighed, his temporary anger already fading beneath him.

"Have you even cried?"

He stopped thinking abruptly; staring at her with something he hoped was disgust. He didn't think he'd got away with it, not with all the other emotions rippling away in his chest, trying to get priority.

"Excuse me?"

She wouldn't repeat herself. It was a pity he'd heard her the first time. He cleared his throat.

"Why are you here?"

Tonks frowned. "I told you. We're family."

When it suits you. And no, actually, I haven't.

"Just go away, Nymphadora," he spat, turning around and stalking back to the crowd. There was so much more he'd like to say to her, scream at her. He didn't look back and didn't see her frowning at the back of his head.

All of a sudden he found himself level with the latest guests, watching them watching the ground beside them blankly. He didn't recognise them. They had better have a good reason to be here... a really good reason.

But pasting a bland smile on his face, he coughed politely. "Can I help you?"

There were three of them, all men and all of them older than him, wearing the same cloaks. Two were looking around silently and the other talking to that uncle. Draco decided to concentrate on the quiet ones.

Unfortunately, the other man decided to take control.

"Are you Draco Malfoy?"

Something of his broken pride rose within him again. Or maybe it was the fact he was being looked down at.

After a momentary glance at the small group looking right back at him, he answered that he was. "And who are you?"

The man gave a strained smile. "Adam Smith. I'm sorry. I didn't realise that this was... a difficult time for you."

Draco gritted his teeth, picking the most scathing comment from the selection his brain had created. He didn't sound very sorry.

But someone else spoke. "I work in the Ministry. I've never heard of you."

He turned around, not recognising the voice but knowing already who it was. This time she had a petite, pretty face on a petite, slim body, dark brown hair and equally dangerous eyes. Draco glared at her. Everyone else in the family stared at her warily. Ministry guests were never welcome guests.

Adam Smith's strained smile seemed to come under more pressure. Draco watched it falter for a second.

"The Ministry has many areas-" Draco felt sorry for him now. He was treating her as a secretary, which, he suspected, was not a good thing to do. "-Not to mention all of the people that work in London alone, all those departments with minor branches. Hundreds. And then there is the Northern subdivision-"

Finally she snapped. "I get the idea."

Smith's two friends smiled meaningfully as he turned back to Draco, putting his back on show to Tonks. Draco was torn between hating and liking him, especially when he saw her glare ferociously.

"Mr. Malfoy, can we speak to you? It's rather urgent..."

He trailed off as Draco's momentary indecision rapidly turned to hating.

"Can it wait?"

Smith shuffled on his feet and rearranged his case into a different hand. He didn't look remotely uncomfortable as the suns intensity increased, despite the fact he was in heavy winter cloaks. Draco's skin was beginning to itch all ready.

Clearly he had asked an awkward question. All three of them took identical positions of embarrassment.

"I'm afraid-"

Draco could see Tonks winding up for another rant and decided to take Mr. Smith to one side.

"I'll ask you once more. Can it wait?"

Adam Smith bristled. Maybe he wasn't used to being talked to like this by a nineteen-year-old.

It was then that Draco looked at him properly. He looked no older than thirty, quite a veteran, and no doubt had a happy, loving family waiting for him at home. His hair was neatly trimmed, dirty blonde and short, and freshly shaved.

How nice of them to make an effort.

Though Draco was hardly an expert on this kind of thing, he definitely knew that Adam Smith didn't spend a lot of time behind a desk.

Draco's eyes drifted over the man's shoulder and unconsciously up to the sky. The clouds were starting to dissipate gradually, making the dull blanket of cloud that had hung over him before seem like a distant dream. Slowly he realised that he was being spoke to.

"...And it can't be easy for you, especially that you're mother has-"

"You're right. It's not easy but of course you are making the whole situation so much better."

Smith visibly paused, opened his mouth before shutting it. "We have no spare time for three weeks. If we come later it will be out of the blue."

By now Draco was walking away. "Perfect. It'll make my week."