Echo in the Dark

The boy looked like a ghost. In fact, if it hadn't been for the black cloak thrown over his frail shoulders to add a touch of color, the bystanders whispering behind their hands at him would have assumed he was a ghost. He was so skinny and his face was so pale it looked as if he was about to become one anyways. He seemed so young and so lost they almost pitied him. But their family never felt emotion towards another human being, especially one that wasn't part of their own family, and from the way this boy was acting, it wasn't possible they could be related. At least, that's what they all would have assumed if it hadn't been for one thing...

"There is a rather striking resemblance," they muttered shamelessly as if he couldn't hear.

"Yes, and they seem about the same age."

"But the rumors couldn't be true."

"They must be cousins. Distant cousins."

Cousins?

The boy thought incredulously, for he could hear everything they were saying. Cousins? Try brother! Try twin brother! His heart was pounding and he clenched his fists in anger, realizing his mistake a second too late. A small cry of pain escaped his lips as he extricated the rose from his left hand and tossed it down into the pit. As it hit the coffin he felt as if he had been hit in the head by a Bludger. He felt dizzy.

"How inappropriate." More muttering.

"Yes, a black rose for the funeral of a teenage girl."

"Who does this boy think he is?"

He sank to his knees and looked at the ground almost stubbornly. When he looked up the name on the tombstone was going to be different. It wouldn't be his sixteen-year-old sister, it would be an old woman or an old man, someone who had lived a long life and was ready to die. Not his sister, no, not Echo. But as he raised his gaze the name on the tombstone stayed the same. He allowed a single tear to fall from those beautiful yet haunting gray eyes. It glistened in the sun for one brilliant moment before splattering on a blade of grass.

So much like Echo

, he couldn't help but think. Living for one short but shining moment, and then a gruesome and ungraceful end.

"He looks so unnatural crying."

"Has he never cried before?"

"He must have, as an infant, of course."

"It doesn't seem so."

He suddenly felt so small, so alone. He felt like he was going through life with no one at his side, no one to catch him when he fell, no one to help rebuild him when he broke down. It was as if he just realized he was only one person in this world of billions. No, he was less than a person, he was half a person. His other half was gone. His other half was dead. How could he go on now? How could he possibly live without his twin sister? Life just wouldn't be the same.

Oh come on Draco, you were always such a baby!

her voice echoed so ironically in his head. You lived without me for nine years, I think you'll make it through life.

Draco almost smiled to think that she would have been able to soldier on without him. Echo had always been the stronger one. Of course, she would have to be to make it through what she had been subjected to. Draco, on the other hand, had always been the spoiled brat. He had been the firstborn son, the heir to the family fortune, the one that would carry on the proud name of Malfoy. She had been the daughter that came along with the deal.

Yeah right, proud

, Draco scoffed mentally. Malfoys could be described many ways; murderers, thieves, liars and cheats, but proud was not among them. At least not for this Malfoy.

What sounded like a dry, harsh laugh escaped Draco's throat. It was meant to be a sob, but Draco had never sobbed before in his life. Another, more proper sounding sob came out of his throat, followed by another, and another until his bony shoulders were shaking with grief. He fell to the ground and lay there, bawling like a toddler that had been denied his candy until his father came to stop this embarrassing display of sentiment.

As Lucius reached out to touch his son's shoulder in an unusually kind manner Draco jumped up. He knocked his hand away before he could so much as lay a finger on him.

"Don't touch me!" he shouted, and, with a shocking mood change, he turned to the grave of his sister. "I will always love you," he muttered softly before storming off, staunchly refusing to so much as look at the man he had once so foolishly admired.

And so went the funeral of Echo Malfoy, beloved daughter, friend to all, and twin sister to Draco.