Sorrows of Stone

The Sorrows of Stone

The young woman slipped into the silent chapel, her brunette hair pulled back from her face under the black hood of her cloak. Brushing the rain from the black wool, she lowered the hood, looking at the casket that lay in state in front of the altar. Only one other person was in the tiny church, a dark-haired young man who ignored her presence, his dark eyes fixed on the body in the casket.

Hermione sat down on the bench across the aisle from Blaise, letting the former Slytherin mourn in peace, her eyes straying to the pale face that looked so peaceful in death. A peace that had never found Draco Malfoy in life. She wondered again why he had taken the path that led to him here, now. To an early grave, with only two people to mourn him, his mother already dead, and his father incapable of understanding that his only son was gone.

"Why did you come here, Granger?" Blaise's voice was raw, and she looked over at him in surprise. He hadn't looked up from his vigil over Draco's body, and she turned her attention back to the casket as well.

"It's a long story." She kept her voice low, though there was a tremor in it, from sorrow or possibly fear, she wasn't certain which.

"We have time. No one else will come." There was a bitter snort. "Even if it hadn't been raining, no one cares about a shallow, self-centered prat. Good thing he's dead, one less useless drain on society." He repeated the same words Hermione had heard from several of her friends, with a biting tone that made her cringe.

"Don't you believe that, Blaise Zabini!" The words were out of Hermione's mouth before she could think, and she turned her head again to meet his eyes. "Just because everyone else says he was useless and self-centered doesn't make it true." Her voice softened, and her face twisted in a half-smile that conveyed a contempt for those who'd never bothered to see Draco's real self. "They never took the time to find out about the person under the mask, never tried to understand him."

"Why should they bother?" He shrugged. "Draco's mask was so perfect, so despicable... they had no reason to doubt it was who he really was."

Hermione shrugged. Even she hadn't thought past the mask until her seventh year, and that project Dumbledore had assigned. Ron had protested loudly when he heard she had to work with Draco, but she'd managed to keep her complaints to herself, and made herself at least try. Dumbledore had been trying to promote a greater inter-House acceptance, and in some ways he had succeeded.

"Even you didn't see him as a real person, did you?" Blaise's eyes were narrowed as he watched her.

Hermione blushed, looking down at her hands. "No. Not until the assignment from Dumbledore." Her voice was quiet, shame tinging it. She looked up again, at Draco's pale face, and her memories wandered back to her seventh year, and that fateful assignment.

"We had been called into Dumbledore's office, and he told us we would be working together..."

~~~

"What?"

My voice was one of two voicing the question, and I turned my head to glare at the other person who'd spoken. Draco Malfoy glared right back at me, his lip curling in a sneer.

"You two will work together under the direction of Professor Sprout on a seventh-year project." Dumbledore had a smile on his face, despite the incredulous looks he was getting from us. "All the seventh-year prefects will be working in pairs on these projects, under the guidence of a head of House."

"And the reason I have to work with Granger is?" Malfoy sounded annoyed, and I was in a similar mood, though undoubtably for different reasons.

"If you would prefer to work with Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure that shouldn't be a problem." Dumbledore's smile stayed on while Malfoy subsided, muttering that no, he would rather not work with either of the Gryffindors, thank you very much.

"Sir, will this effect our studies?"

"You should have plenty of time to study around the project, Miss Granger."

I nodded, and waited for the Headmaster to dimiss us. I was glad to bolt out of the room, and head for the Gryffindor dorms after that. I was not looking forward to Wednesday in the least.

~~~

"What changed your mind, Granger?" Blaise hadn't moved while she was lost in memory, though he watched her with a hint of curiosity in the depths of his dark eyes. "What made you see Draco for who he was? Who he really was."

She smiled, the moment acid-etched in her memory. They'd obliviated Sprout at the end of that day. Draco especially hadn't wanted the professor to remember that. He'd almost obliviated Hermione, would have if she hadn't promised to not tell anyone about the incident.

"We were talking as we harvested mint for Sprout's tea, and I made a remark about him being Snape's favorite in Potions, and that being the only way he passed the class. I was in a royal snit after Ron's behavior earlier that day. And Draco... blew up." She giggled, and was surprised to hear Blaise join her.

"I can imagine. He hated that more than anything, because he was good at potions. Not a natural, like Professor Snape, or you. But he worked at it, and he was good at it."

Hermione nodded. "I know." She fell silent. "How did you and Draco become involved?"

Blaise gave her a surprised look, and then began to speak.

~~~

I looked up from my book, surprised to hear someone else in my favorite hiding spot. I liked it under the Slytherin bleachers on the Quidditch pitch, with nothing but the scaffolding and seating around me. Especially on a nice rainy day, when the only people who came out to the Quidditch pitch were those in need of mental help, Quidditch players, or both.

"What are you doing up here, Zabini?" Malfoy looked surprised as he climbed down from higher under the bleachers. I hadn't noticed him when I settled into my favorite spot, and blinked.

"I come here whenever I have free time, to study, or just read. It's better than the library or the common room." I shrugged. "And you?"

He shrugged, saying nothing as he settled into another corner of the frame. I watched him for a moment, then returned to my book. I couldn't quite concentrate, though, with him staring at me, as if trying to figure out something he'd never seen before. I did try, for several minutes, until I realized I read the same paragraph five times, and didn't remember a word of it.

Snapping the book shut, I looked up to meet his gaze. "What is it, Malfoy?"

"I..." He trailed off, and shrugged. "Nothing."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. There was nothing more true about Malfoy, I had found, then his self-assurence, even if he is an arrogant prat at times. Then again, I suppose most of my house is like that, myself included. Probably why I like coming out here. I can be myself here. "Nothing."

He nodded, and leaned back against the beam behind him, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face as he did so. I studied him as he stared up at the bleachers above us, almost looking like a statue, if one didn't notice the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

"What are you staring at me for, Zabini?" He glanced over at me, though there was no annoyance in his eyes.

I shrugged. "Nothing." A slight smirk danced at the corners of my mouth, and he returned it with a ghost of a smile.

"Nothing?"

"Mm-hmm." I nodded, and tore my gaze away, opening my book again. Maybe I'd be able to get back to it.

"What are you reading?" He interrupted me again, and I gave him a look of exasperation that I regretted when I saw the curiosity starkly written in his face get shut behind his usual mask. "Unless, of course, you'd rather not tell me."

"No. I'm actually reading something my cousin sent me. It's a comparison of Muggle chemistry and potions." I shrugged. "It's amazing they've survived this long."

"Chemistry?" He looked puzzled. "What is that?"

"Something vaguely resembling potions that Muggles use." I shrugged. "It takes a bit to explain. I can lend you a book on it, if you want."

His eyes widened. "You have a Muggle book? Where someone could find out you have it?"

I snorted. "Where else would I have it? And it's not where someone can find it. I'm not some stupid Hufflepuff." I was retreating into my usual facade, to protect myself.

"Of course not." He paused. "I might be interested." He was being careful in his phrasing, probably protecting himself, as well. We do that a lot, Slytherins. Some of us even become the masks we project.

He swung down from the beam, climbing down to the stairway, and soon vanished from sight. I turned my attention back to my book, wondering if maybe I'd just seen the real person behind Malfoy's mask.

~~~

"It started with a book?" Hermione chuckled, surprised. "That's a new one to hear."

Blaise shrugged. "He loved to read the books Margerie sent me. Not that I was supposed to be talking to her, since she married a Muggle, but..." He shrugged again.

They looked up when the door to the chapel creaked open, and Hermione's eyes widened when she saw Ron slip inside, followed by Harry. They made their way up the aisle, looking at Draco's body a moment.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, about earlier." Ron's voice was soft, and he blushed as he spoke, his face almost matching his hair. "Even though I..." he trailed off, squirming uncomfortably.

"We should have come for your sake, despite our differences with Malfoy." Harry spoke for Ron, punching the red head lightly in the shoulder. He sat down on the bench near Hermione, and then looked over at Blaise. "Um..."

"What?" Blaise met his eyes squarely, his tone and expression defensive. "Do you have a problem, Potter?"

Harry shook his head, while Ron sat down beside Hermione, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He looked over at the couple, then at Draco's body, and back to Blaise. "You, and Malfoy were...?"

"Friends. Very good friends." Blaise paused, then sighed. "Lovers."

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss. I can't say I liked Malfoy...."

"You hated him. And he hated you." Blaise shrugged. "It was a fact of life. You don't have to be sorry because he's dead. Hell, if you were the one in the casket, Draco would no doubt be celebrating."

"But," Harry pressed on, doggedly ignoring Blaise's words, "I wouldn't wish anyone dead. Except Voldemort." He rolled his eyes at the wince from the former Slytherin. "And he is dead, for Merlin's sake. It's just a name."

"With some rather unpleasent feelings attached to it, thank you, Potter."

They all turned around when the door opened again, and someone else stepped in. The younger people simply watched as Snape came up the aisle, missing his usual sour demeanor as he paused in front of the casket to pay his respects.

"Professor Snape. I didn't expect to see you here." Blaise was the first one to recover his voice, and Snape turned to look over at him. The younger wizard supressed a shiver as the coal black eyes met his.

Snape didn't speak, simply took a seat in the bench behind Blaise, and the younger wizard looked over to the former Gryffindors in mystification. They shrugged in response, with no more idea why Snape was there than he did.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione cleared her throat, speaking softly. "There are other people who care, Blaise. They will come. For the living, even if they don't come for the dead."

~~~

I watch the chapel fill, slowly. People I remember from school, that I had never been friends with. They aren't there for me, but I don't care. They are there for Blaise, for Hermione. For Snape. Oh, it's a laugh. Me, the person least liked - after Snape and Voldemort - at Hogwarts, and the chapel near the Manor is filled with people come to help bury me. More than can be said for some people more liked, more loved.

"Hey. Draco. You going to hog the watching pool all day?"

I look over my shoulder, and grin at the people gathered behind me. Cedric is glaring at me. He wants to look for Cho, I think. He always does. Or so they keep telling me. It's a bit of a joke here.

I shrug, and take another look. Weasley has his arm around Hermione, and she's crying into his shoulder now, letting out the tears she didn't earlier. Blaise is talking to Potter, of all people. Snape even has someone to talk to, even if he isn't talking much. Too many people who don't understand, I suppose.

"Draco!"

Oh, I have got to move now. They're too impatient. I shrug, but I make them wait a moment longer. I got what I wanted. No one is going to forget me. And no one is going to leave my friends out in the cold. I smile. Who knows how long I'll be here? Long enough, though. Long enough for Blaise to live a long life among friends, and join me before we go back.

Until later, lover.