Everything is yellow. It's too bright and Draco can't bear to keep his eyes open. His mother didn't even like daffodils, but everyone seems to think she ought to have loved them.
Draco feels nothing. He's not sad, he can't cry, he wonders if he's made from stone and has no heart. It doesn't feel like his mother is in the coffin; Draco can't even imagine it; the thought is absurd. She would never consent to lie still; she would never accept all that yellow surrounding her.
She's not here, but when the service ends and people turn to leave, Draco's insides twist in anger. They think she's in there and they don't even care; they mean to leave her here, all alone, with flowers she never liked, in small space to suffocate in.
Draco wants to turn around and yell. Grab everyone's sleeves and force them to return. They can't leave her. They just can't.
He wants to pull them back, but he can't move. He felt nothing but the wave of sadness that strikes him now is more than he can bear. Tears rush down his cheeks, warm and fast, and Draco wants to scream. Maybe he does.
But then someone's there, standing next to him, holding him. He feels arms wrapping around him, squeezing tight, and he clings to that embrace; he doesn't even care who it is.
He thinks he'll never stop crying, but he runs out of tears and his throat hurts so much he feels like retching.
Hands lift his head and Draco stares at the blurry outline of the person holding him.
"Do you even recognize me?" the man asks and Draco panics for a second because he doesn't. He blinks and chases the tears away, and his vision clears.
It hurts to nod and move his head, but Draco does it anyway. "Potter. Of course I recognize you."
He hasn't seen Potter in years and he has no idea what he's doing here. He wants to ask. Compose himself and play the host, but someone grabs his shoulder from behind and pulls him away.
Draco's surprised to see his father, who squeezes his arm and hands him a handkerchief. Father nods at Potter and turns to Draco. "We're wanted inside, Draco. We must go."
"Yes. Yes, I know." Draco looks at Potter and Potter gives him a small smile, nodding his understanding. Draco lets his father pull him away.
By the time they reach the manor, Draco's eyes are dry and he's stone again. No one saw him break. No one except Potter. And somehow, that's okay.
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branchandroot
Daffodils (Draco, Harry, G, 450, character death (not Harry or Draco))
Date: 2012-03-26 06:16 pm (UTC)Draco feels nothing. He's not sad, he can't cry, he wonders if he's made from stone and has no heart. It doesn't feel like his mother is in the coffin; Draco can't even imagine it; the thought is absurd. She would never consent to lie still; she would never accept all that yellow surrounding her.
She's not here, but when the service ends and people turn to leave, Draco's insides twist in anger. They think she's in there and they don't even care; they mean to leave her here, all alone, with flowers she never liked, in small space to suffocate in.
Draco wants to turn around and yell. Grab everyone's sleeves and force them to return. They can't leave her. They just can't.
He wants to pull them back, but he can't move. He felt nothing but the wave of sadness that strikes him now is more than he can bear. Tears rush down his cheeks, warm and fast, and Draco wants to scream. Maybe he does.
But then someone's there, standing next to him, holding him. He feels arms wrapping around him, squeezing tight, and he clings to that embrace; he doesn't even care who it is.
He thinks he'll never stop crying, but he runs out of tears and his throat hurts so much he feels like retching.
Hands lift his head and Draco stares at the blurry outline of the person holding him.
"Do you even recognize me?" the man asks and Draco panics for a second because he doesn't. He blinks and chases the tears away, and his vision clears.
It hurts to nod and move his head, but Draco does it anyway. "Potter. Of course I recognize you."
He hasn't seen Potter in years and he has no idea what he's doing here. He wants to ask. Compose himself and play the host, but someone grabs his shoulder from behind and pulls him away.
Draco's surprised to see his father, who squeezes his arm and hands him a handkerchief. Father nods at Potter and turns to Draco. "We're wanted inside, Draco. We must go."
"Yes. Yes, I know." Draco looks at Potter and Potter gives him a small smile, nodding his understanding. Draco lets his father pull him away.
By the time they reach the manor, Draco's eyes are dry and he's stone again. No one saw him break. No one except Potter. And somehow, that's okay.