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The Principle of Sympathy	By : heerayni Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5831 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not Own any part or character from The Harry Potter series, Or The Master of Magics Trilogy, They belong to J.k. Rowling and Lyndon Hardy, i make no money from this.

Chapter List
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Author's note:

Please review. Your comments mean the world to me.

When I started off with this chapter I was all nerves and nails..but I think it turned out okay. So please let me know what you think. ;)

Chapter 3 : In Wake of a Malfoy

Bewafaon se wafa kertay Guzari hai hayaat

main barasta raha veerano mein badal ki tarah...

(I have spent myself loving the unlovables..

Like the rain cloud that keeps raining in the idle desert)

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"Harry… Wake up mate! Before mum comes through the floo to wake us up and decimates the only ear I've got left."

George's drowsy voice comes from somewhere faraway.

"If you ever trick me into drinking shots again…" Harry whimpers, dissipating whatever menace the threat might've held. His head pounded on.

"I will and you will fall for it again. We both know that…" George scoffed "hence, I come not empty handed." A vial was pushed into his hand that was hanging off the bed. He opened one eye with extreme effort to see what it was. His blurry vision registered the light purple liquid swirling. A Hangover potion.

"A'right I'm up!" he whimpered some more as got up.

Two weeks since the final battle and Breakfast at the Burrow was returning to it's somewhat pleasantness gradually. Fred's comatose state was always there causing impromptu waterworks. It was understandable, but the basic cheerful nature of the Weasleys was too ingrained to be suppressed for long. After all, Fred was one of the most forward icons of Weasley humor and cheer in his generation, a position he shared only with his mirror image twin. Pioneers of laughter.

The martyr's memorial for example, started off as a somber affair, but as soon as George got over that elevated platform for delivering the eulogies, they were all laughing through the tears. That's how it would always be and people like him would always be comforted by the fact that people like the Weasleys did exist. People like him who had very little to smile or laugh about in general.

Harry was still looking around the table at the slightly smiling faces closely observing the glow surrounding his two best friends at which he smiled inwardly, mentally crowing at the success of his covert mission to finally make them yield to each other. Which was the reason he had gone to spend the night with George at the flat above the shop in Diagon Alley.

"Good morning Family!" he was broken out of his internal musings by a greeting from Arthur Weasley, who was apparently just returning from working double shifts at the Ministry to control the damage done to the Muggle world. How far they had all come, from fixing jinxed cars and possessed table lamps to obliviating the memories of London Bridge being destroyed by Death Eaters. This morning Arthur Weasley looked double the age he actually was. Harry covertly observed him as he took his seat at the head of the table. His eyes had dark circles under them. His freckled complexion which every one of his children had inherited was sallow, making his freckles look brittle but it was the stricken expression on his face that was really worrying. Harry had been of the impression that he was coping well with Fred's condition, but then what did Harry know about fears of a parent?

"Arthur dear, is everything well?" asked Molly.

The table had gone silent in the last half a minute. Harry was not the only one who had noticed Arthur's demeanor.

"I am afraid love, I am the bearer of a rather bad news this morning." Harry felt, rather than saw a few backs straighten as all joy in food rushed out of him. His heart clenched in an iron fist. Arthur Weasley looked up at him straight and Harry felt the churn deep inside him. Who was it this time?

"They found remains of Fenrir Greyback very deep in the Dark Forest. His body was severely mangled. Evidence proves that he was in the middle of a dark magic ritual, the magical residue was off the charts, his magical core must've broken during the ritual which was the reason for his violent death, but that is Good riddance, the bad news is that the ritual required some kind of sacrifice, we found remains of someone else as well who Fenrir probably sacrificed…"A sickening dread was churning in his gut now alongside a strange kind of satisfaction at hearing that the violent monster died a violent death. Harry was not proud of feeling that way, but it was what it was. Still the Monster had taken one other with him and if Arthur looked this bad..Harry could only speculate.

"Oh Merlin! Arthur, were they able to tell who it was?" Asked Molly her eyes wide in horror as Harry sat stiff as a board his eyes trained on Arthur Weasley his nails digging into his palm in trepidation. Arthur Weasley looked stricken as he trained his kind brown eyes on Harry again and nodded.

"It was Draco Malfoy."

Harry sat there, frozen. One sentence echoing in his head. A mother's plea.

"Survive Potter! For my Draco…"

I apparate to Malfoy Manor at precisely 8'o' clock in the morning. The funeral ceremony is timed for 8:30am sharp. The failed mission of last night is still heavy on my mind and the main reason for me not getting a second of shut-eye the past night. I stand outside the wrought iron gate once again recalling Hermione's declaration that the Manor now has a new master and not just from some obscure part of the blood line. No, the new master is a Blood bound nominated, undisputed master.

Ron dismissed the notion entirely last night, sticking to the ancient magics working up theory. I myself am more inclined towards the New-Master theory. The main reason for it is that when I had asked the head house-elf Monk, about the master of the funeral ceremony and burial rites three days ago, he had told me that it was all arranged and I need not worry about it. I had simply at the time thought that Narcissa had nominated someone in her will. Now I am inclined to think differently.

It could be an illegitimate child of Lucius Malfoy's. In extreme cases even in pure-bloods an illegitimate child can be nominated as heir. It could be an illegitimate brother of Lucius' even. Factually I can't care much who the new Lord Malfoy is. No doubt that he would be controlling the wealthiest wizarding estate in Wizarding Europe and that is bound to impress or worry many, i don't really care as long as the rightful owner secures it. What really has me so strung out is a rather personal effect. I would not care at all if after today I am never welcomed inside the Manor. No, it is the fact that though the Wards are at their strongest, I am still allowed inside the manor, whereas Ron and Hermione are not. Well they were not last night anyway and we did try last night. Several times. Something is not adding up and my Auror instincts are on high alert because of this mystery.

An apparition crack and a flash of light jolt me out of my reverie. I turn around suddenly to see a familiar face standing a few feet away from me holding a camera. Blue eyes and dirty blond hair with a wide nervous smile on his face is Dennis Creevey. The younger brother of late Colin Creevey. Dennis stepped into his brother's shoes effortlessly after the war and now works for the daily prophet as a reputed photographer. It makes me very contented to see him doing so well. Even it is something that comes at the cost of my own privacy most of the times.

I groan internally. Good! This is all that I needed on top of everything. Media circus. I know my picture today is going to make special headlines and the Potter and Malfoy rivalry is going to be highlighted, taking the spotlight from the memory of Narcissa Malfoy Not to forget the fact that I am rarely seen in formal robes complete with my Black family crest brooch, A silver and Onyx mounted emblem which can be best described as obscene and way too visible against the black of my robes. Witch weekly is going to have a field week, speculating if I was wearing any underwear underneath these formal robes. Narcissa would've liked it. I often spied newest editions of Witch's weekly on her ivory molded Coffee table, tucked just underneath the Wizard financial. To be honest, mine and Luna's favorite ones in witch's weekly are the ones in which they have encircled my Groin area in red. Winky keeps a collection of them. Gah!

"Harry!" four voices call all at once. Different but familiar timbres. I turn around some more to see Hermione, Ron and Ginny. All in their formal Black robes very much like mine. I smile at my oldest friends, noticing the beautiful glow on Ginny and her startled side glances at the Manor that stands broodingly on the other side of the gate. I turn back towards Dennis putting on my best smile.

"Dennis! How are you mate? It would be nice if you would alert me before taking my picture you know, I promise to give you the best pose." I say in the friendliest way I could manage at the moment. I see Dennis' smile grow so big enough to split his face in two.

"It's so good to see you Harry! I'm sorry, but I religiously believe that the best pictures are when the Subject does not know they are about to be photographed. Natural expression and all that you know." He fidgets characteristically and blushes. The blush is new. I feel my Three Weasleys reaching for me before I can investigate more.

"Hermione, Ron, Ginny…"Dennis fidgets some more smiling at everyone.

"Go on, Dennis, snap a picture, we know you are itching for it!" Ron says playfully. He is in an unexpectedly good mood. Dennis looks at me, eyes shining like an excited adoring puppy. It's sweet but a bit eerie. I nod in ascent as I put an arm across Hermione's shoulder and the other around Ginny's waist. Her hair neatly tied back and a faint touch of very tasteful yet somber makeup. I have posed like this so many times I can hardly count. I feel a strange sensation, like a half-hearted prickle of fleeting magic against the back of my neck. Like a whisper against my skin, so close but silent. Only to be startled by the flash of the camera and it's gone. I turn to look behind me, to possibly detect what has caused the strange sensation, but it's nothing. I give up when Ginny tugs at my hand and we move towards the Malfoy Burial Plot which is a little more than five minutes walk.

It is another sunny day though there is a chill in the wind, which is perhaps because it is still early in the morning. The House elf waiting at the start of the decorated walk-way stands impatiently in our wait.

"Lord Black." The house-elf curtsies before leading us towards our very obvious destination.

We are informed by the waiting elf that Molly, Arthur, George, Bill and Fleur are already there. The walk-way towards the Burial plot is roped and adorned with silver post draped in Black fabric in order to make a tasteful and proper walkway downhill. There are quite a few people I can recognize on our way downhill towards the Burial plot and exchanged polite nods with most of them Slytherins.

The Grey-white Marble ceremonial Hall gleams in the pale golden light of morning sun, nestled between a couple of hill slopes covered with perfectly mowed grass which make it look like a green carpet. In broad day-light the whole thing has an awe-inspiring kind of effect.

"And I thought that it couldn't get more ghastly than that Manor! This is just a whole new level of pretentiousness." I hear Ginny mutter her hand gripping my arm tightly as we descend the slight slope downhill.

"The manor looks loads better now, you're lucky you did not see it during the war when Voldemort was in residence."

"Right, so they have an excuse for the ugliness of that horrendous house, what is their excuse for that?" Ginny's lip curls as she points towards the Ceremonial Hall.

I want to say that the Manor is one of the most beautiful houses I have ever seen but I keep my silence, I know it will not be any use arguing with Ron or Ginny on the matter but of course Hermione just has to jump in.

"Love if you would believe it..." Hermione says somberly.

"Really? Malfoys? making something out of love?" asks Ginny incredulously.

"That is what I said." I look at Hermione curiously. I somewhat find it hard to believe my self. Obsession perhaps I can believe, but love? They were too Slytherin and power hungry for that.

"Obsession and lust I can believe, but they are incapable of love being as Slytherin as they are, and that... is nothing but pomp and arrogance." Ginny points at the ceremonial hall.

Its like she read my mind. But i still feel that judgment too harsh to say out loud

"Oh right! and it's so easy to forget one of the most severe Slytherins we dealt with most of our school life, the one who went by the name of Severus Snape. If it was not for his ability to love, we would not have survived through the war." Hermione is grinding her teeth by the end of it.

I feel thoroughly ashamed at myself. How could I generalize like that? Ron and Ginny look chastised as well.

"Yes, the Malfoy Ceremonial Hall. It was built in the 15th century alongside the whole Western wing of the Manor by then Lord Belenos Malfoy who married a Greek Pure-blood witch. She possessed extra-ordinary beauty and formidable magical talent as well. The young Lord Belenos Malfoy was very smitten with her. When she died after giving birth to their first and only child, he commissioned this Ceremonial Temple in her honor and memory, hence the Parthenon theme as a nod to her Greek heritage. Her name was Athena after all and the statue of Athena which is the center piece of the temple is in her likeness. So it was only fitting, I suppose." Hermione's full encyclopedia mode is a clear indicator of how nervous she is. I wonder if it has something to do with last night.

"Why in the world do you know so much about all this?" Ron asks exasperated.

"Because, unlike you, I paid attention in 'Wizarding tradition' classes I took and no matter how much you want to deny it, Malfoys have always been the most traditional of all wizarding families. So naturally their history is a compulsory reference if you really want to study proper wizarding traditions." Hermione is defensive. I want to elbow Ron into understanding Hermione's situation and elbow Hermione to avoid from escalating into a full-blown argument, but it is impossible at the moment. The only reprieve is that there is not anyone near enough the four of us to hear the argument.

"Oh yea, and what did their Pure-blood Wizarding traditions lead to in the end Hermione?" Ron asks in a saccharine tone.

Hermione is about to retort back, I can see the answer shining in her eyes but one look at me and she stops. I don't know what she sees in my face but whatever it was works for once. She sighs and shakes her head as she reaches out to take my other arm and gives me a look that shows weariness.

We reach the steps of the platform on which the whole structure stands in silence; it is then that I realize the number of people who have turned up for the Wake. The width of the structure up close is more than Seventy feet. There are five marble steps which lead to the front yard Patio in front of which seven Marble pillars stand tall seemingly holding up the roof. The Structure itself gives off a very cold vibe in the morning light, at night it is just down right intimidating.

Most people are now making their way inside the Hall. As I reach the top step I spy Kingsley and Percy standing just by the entrance exchanging pleasantries with Anthony Montague, who is the Malfoy solicitor.

After exchanging necessary pleasantries during which Kingsley shakes my hand quite firmly, trying to communicate with me with his eyes, we finally make our way inside and I wonder what Kingsley's reaction would be when he finds out that once again his efforts to acquire the Malfoy estate are unfruitful. Though it was not because of my efforts, I still feel a sort of smug triumph.

The inner part of the ceremonial hall is dominated by an alleviated platform on which is located the huge marble viewing pedestal behind which stands a very tasteful and more than fifteen feet tall statue of Athena complete with small water fountains on either side. A black wood casket with silver metal trimmings, embedded with both the Malfoy and black family crest is poised on the viewing Pedestal, in which a thin and gaunt looking Narcissa Malfoy rests, draped in fine white silk, looking as if she is sleeping. Her dark blonde hair is lose and arranged perfectly on her shoulders and her hands are crossed on her stomach.

Hands crossed on the chest means a virgin and pure, Hands crossed on the Stomach means wife and mother. Yes this woman was a wife and mother and a daughter and sister once. An image of a serenely smiling Narcissa soaking in the afternoon sunlight crosses through my mind. I feel the acute sense of loss then as I kneel in front of her casket my eyes prickle slightly. She looks at peace. She died on her own terms after all and I know exactly what that feels like.

We move to take our places after we pay our respect in front of the viewing pedestal. As we start to make way to our places I am intercepted by a fidgeting house-elf.

"Lord Potter-Black, this is not yous place my lord."

I hate to be called that, but I am wearing the brooch to boot. I feel irritated. I had been hoping to catch a few words with Andromeda before the ceremony started. I look over to see that Ron, Hermione and Ginny have already made their way to the third aisle on the left side of the hall lead by another house-elf right next to where Andromeda stands dressed regally in black with a bouncing Teddy on her hand also dressed somberly for the occasion. I see my Godson notice me and his burgundy hair turn instantly to jet black, imitating mine perfectly. He is about to shout at me smiling as he is showing off his missing front tooth, but I shake my head at him and he stops, I watch as the previously golden eyes are now shining like the most potently green Emeralds. Is that how my eyes are? I wonder for a split second. Surely the mind of the child who adores me so dearly exaggerates. I feel my chest ache with love for this little bundle of joy.

My attention is brought back to the fidgeting house-elf who now looks on a brink of nervous break-down. I frown down at him but gesture at him to lead me to my place. Which happens to be the outer most in the first row on the right side. A place of acute prominence. I have been very discreetly maneuvered. How subtly Slytherin. I smile inwardly.

I look around as I settle in my place. Minister of magic is located in the center of the first row on the left side of the hall. He is still in deep conversation with Montague who only nods non-committingly every now and then. I wonder if it is only noticeable to me because I know that Kingsley is about to have all his hopes of absorbing Malfoy estate just in time for the election, crushed. I feel disgusted. Politics turns honorable men into ignominious bastards.

The photographers and journalists are lined up on the outer edges of the sanctum. I am not entirely surprised that they are here and allowed in. Surely on orders of the new Lord Malfoy, and what Malfoy would not want to make headlines, a resounding statement and a claim to infamy that goes hand in hand with the name? The answer is none. Any walking man with Malfoy blood in his veins would rather die before he lets himself become undistinguished and harmless.

My situation makes sense to me now. How could I forget that I was invited here as Lord Black, the head of the house of black to which Narcissa was born. I am a display piece, perhaps the most valued one. It makes sense now why I would still be allowed to enter the manor. I should be prepared for full onslaught of Malfoy manipulation. I should be ready for that offer of allegiance. As much as I hate to admit it and more than that be it, I am an important person, even if I was not the one to defeat Voldemort, I would still be heir to two of the oldest and most prestigious Blood lines. Potter and Black. I am the one wearing the obscene jewelry to show for it am I not? What with the skull and the wand and the ravens that are the synopsis of the black family crest. I have been wanting to change it into something benign, but I feel that Teddy should decide on it when he comes of age I am only the care-taker as far as I am concerned. Now the Malfoy Emblem is a different story altogether. With Emerald as the signet stone and the design that incorporates dragons, peacocks and serpents all in such arrogant tastefulness that one has to applaud at the genius and nothing is more genius than the words that adorn the crest. The motto of the house of Malfoy.

Sanctimonia Vincet Semper (Purity always conquers) It says. I don't doubt that the wordplay is homage to Salazar Vinicius Slytherin.

I can't help but think it is sort of a pun perhaps. Purity always conquers for the house of Malfoy.

Malfoy means Bad faith.

If only blacks could be that creative.

I knew those Latin classes would come in handy. I shake my head and focus on my surroundings only to see the Ceremony performer, a plump and balding man, dressed in dark purple robes, indicating him as the rite performer and observer from the Ministry, take his place between the Statue of Athena and the viewing pedestal and gesture with his hand for silence. I turn my head very softly to see the Ceremonial hall filled with people. The low chatter quickly dies down and within a few seconds there is almost pin drop silence in the whole sanctum and before I can fully enjoy it, I feel the tickle again. I want to concentrate on it so I lower my head. It's a shy curious little thing. It withdraws innocently when I reach out for it but as soon as I retreat it comes to play again. I wonder if it is a sentient piece of magic bound to this place. If it is, it is extraordinary, but I remember that I also felt it just outside the Manor when Dennis was taking our picture. Curiouser and curiouser. I can almost envision it, like an animated little friendly snake. Seeking my attention, enticing me to play with it, literally purring with pleasure when I concentrate on it.

I am about to grasp it with my mind when my concentration is wrenched. As the silence breaks by the sound of footsteps. The magic recoils and disappears and my instincts go into high alert.

Someone is walking towards the front in a sure confident gait. I hear a gasp and then a few murmurs as I fight with myself for some unknown reason to turn and look who it is. This is it. The work you have been doing for years now is going to come to depend on the acceptance of this new Lord Malfoy. I panic at the thought, realizing that I have not thought about that possibility at all and it is all I should have thought about.

Every step echoes and vibrates deep within me for some reason. My mind is moving a mile per second.

I tell myself that I am not going to turn around. This new Lord Malfoy has located me in the place of prominence amongst his guests. Definitely some kind of power play is about to follow and the best course of action against the doubtlessly Slytherin attack would be indifference and non-deference. I will not give him the pleasure of realizing that I am non-plussed at the moment. I am a Gryffindor God Damn it!

The best kind of courage is the faked kind. The mystery that kept me up last night is about to unravel and I feel myself tensing even more. As the footsteps reach nearer and near I find myself looking down at my hands. I concentrate on the only other piece of jewelry I wear A ruby ring which is the only other thing of my father's that I hold.

The footsteps pass me and I cannot help but flick a glance towards them. All I see is high quality, Black Dragon hide boots and the dancing sleek Hem of heavy Black silk brocade robe lined on the inside in dark silver grey silk, and of course, the silver and black pointed base of a cane. Very similar to the one Lucius Malfoy owned in his day which carried his wand. As the figure passes me the sound of the footsteps feels muted. The steps are elegantly calculated and effortless in their grace somewhat reminder of Lucius Malfoy. I inhale deeply and silently as I straighten my head once the danger has passed, because surely, this is what danger walks like. I can feel it deep in my instincts.

I see the figure kneeling in front of the viewing pedestal. Head bent down on the cold marble. The first thing I noticed is the long silver blond hair, gleaming in the muted grey Marble light, cascading in lose wavy layers carefully styled covering the neck and upper shoulders almost as long as Lucius' once were, but very different than the straight curtain style he wore it in. Never a fan of long hair on men myself, it strikes me that on this particular head it looks so… perfect.

Shoulders square and lean and broad, a fighter's shoulders which is just as astonishing as the hair. A fighter Malfoy? It's an outrage.

The hands holding the edge of the pedestal are pale and elegantly long-fingered could be considered almost aristocratic were it not for the strength I can see in those fingers. I also notice that the cane which I had previously deduced as similar or same as Lucius' is in fact different. In place of a silver serpent head inlaid at the top, this one has head of a Snarling dragon. A Norman Silverback to be exact. I know because their temper is only seconded by the Hungarian Horntail that I had to steal from in my forth year. I am still taking in the details when the prostrate figure stands back up with a feline grace from the kneeling position, an impressive feat for someone that tall. I believe he has an inch or two on me, around 6 feet 3 inches then. A given Malfoy characteristic.

He walks around the right side to stand next to the ceremony performer holding on demurely to the cane in front. I finally decide to take in the face of the new Lord Malfoy now that he is finally facing towards me. I look only to find a pair of silver eyes trained on me. I freeze in place.

'Malfoy?' a part of my mind shouts as it recognizes and the other part hopes I haven't yelled it out loud.

'Draco Malfoy?' My mind shouts again and the snarky other half says 'Very clever Harry'.

'Ferret-face Draco Fucking Malfoy?' says the first part while the other one says 'not very fitting anymore is it? That title?'

'Ferret-face, dead for past Seven years… Draco Malfoy?' and the other part finally grasps it, 'Oh yeah… That!'

What the fuck?

I blink my eyes just to make sure I am not hallucinating. The silver eyes are still trained on me, a sharp murderous, enraged glint in them. The expression on his face is stoic in contrast. I feel a splitting headache coming on. The face itself is very different from when I last saw it. The pointy faced, sneering, lanky and thin brat is long gone. In his place now stands a Tall, intense, stoic, mysterious and probably insane Lord Malfoy if the murderous gleam in his eyes is anything to go by, with broad and lean shoulders and long hair.

Apparently he isn't dead and the remains they found in the forbidden forest next to Greyback's corpse were not his.

Then where has he been for past Seven years whilst his father and Mother both wasted away.

And isn't he still supposed to be dead? He was a death eater himself, yet he does not look like he is wasting away. No, he is very alive and still staring at me.

Astonishment, confusion and anger rises in me in such a drastic wave that I finally break the eye-contact lest I do something extremely inappropriate like punching the new Lord Malfoy in the face. The Ceremony performer is now saying something which my mind is still too shocked to comprehend. Then I feel everyone shuffle around me and taking out their wands, snapping me out of my buzz. I look up again, pointing my wand skyward and letting my magic flow freely which lights the tip of my wand in a golden light. I venture to look towards Malfoy again who now stands straight looking down into the casket towards his mother. I see sadness lining his face. Only to see him look up at me again, his eyes hauntingly intense. I feel something shudder in me.

This intensity is not entirely new. I remember this mercurial intensity in his eyes from when I had almost killed him with 'Sectumsempra' in the Moaning Myrtle's lavatory back in the Sixth year. It was there when he refused to recognize me in front of Bellatrix Lestrange when we were brought to the Malfoy Manor by snatchers. It was there when I disarmed and took his wand from him before escaping the Manor with Dobby. And it was there when I reached for him on the broom to save him from imminent death by fiendfyre in the room of requirement hours before his mother saved my life and helped me bring down Lord Voldemort. It has been there, as it is now, deeper than but not as raw as before, more controlled now.

"Rest in peace." I say alongside the crowd. As the black casket is levitated a few feet in the air and a rumbling sound indicates the opening of the viewing pedestal and then the Casket is being lowered into the sarcophagus. It is a basic feat of magic but it's dramatic value is never lost on me. As the casket is levitated into the sarcophagus I see Malfoy step up to the edge of the pedestal, as we all lower our wands.

Nodding towards all present he stands straighter his eyes meet mine for a split second, freezing me in my spot again. This is becoming ridiculous now.

"I would like to present you all with my gratitude for being here today, to honor, My mother, Narcissa Malfoy. Her life and her death speaks volumes about the metal she was made of so I do not have to say anything and belittle her with words that would never be able to do her justice, as her Silence in her last years indicated. Still, I would like to recite her favorite words for all to listen. Words she often bestowed me with but I never understood until today."

He lowers his head and his voice filled with audible melancholy now. It is the same drawl but much deeper in tone and scale. He is the same, but entirely different at the same time. His voice vibrates something deep inside me as I realize I am quite disturbed at his sudden reappearance, and I do not know how to react to that or why it is affecting me so much, but it is what it is.

"What do I care, in the dreams and the languor of spring,

That my songs do not show me at all?

For they are a fragrance, and I am a flint and a fire,

I am an answer, they are only a call.

But what do I care, for love will be over so soon,

Let my heart have its say and my mind stand idly by,

For my mind is proud and strong enough to be silent,

It is my heart that makes my songs, not I."

Those words are still echoing in my mind when I feel people shuffle around me, indicating that the ceremony is over. I look up again to see Malfoy standing in front of Minister who is apparently just as shocked and expressing as such to which Malfoy is nodding solemnly. I want to go up to him but something makes me hesitate.

What would I say to him? I am angry. No, I am furious with him, because I saw Narcissa wasting away. Where was he then? Why didn't he come to her when she was all alone and suffering. Then again, what did I know about if he did or didn't come? I wouldn't know because Narcissa never said a word. Suddenly I feel extremely stupid. I devoted a lot of effort towards what I believed to be a friendship with Narcissa and I am just realizing that perhaps it was just my imagination. Perhaps during last four years she was not Stoic towards me, but indifferent. Had I been so foolish? Self-appointed myself as the defender of Malfoy honor? While she laughed at my stupidity behind my back with her very much alive son. The realization is… Painful.

I still stand in the same spot when my waist is suddenly held in a vice grip by an enthusiastic Teddy. Grinning at me openly his missing tooth making him more endearing. I see Andromeda making her way towards Malfoy. Her only surviving Nephew. The new Lord Malfoy. Of course she would go to him before me, he is blood after all and what am I? An imposter I suppose. A part of me resents my thought process at the moment but I don't care. I need to get out of this place so that I can lament my stupidity in the safety of my home. Only, it's not my home is it?

I now see why I was made to stand in such a prominent place. Even if no one else sees, I know an insult when I see one. All Hail stupid Harry Potter, King of fools.

I make my way across the aisle towards the Weasleys with a hopping Teddy holding my hand and keeping my scorching anger in check.

"Bloody hell Harry, didn't see that one coming did we?" Ron says to me his expression very confused. I simply nod. Starting to feel suffocated all of a sudden. I need to get out of here NOW.

"I need to get out of here. Could you hold on to Teddy and perhaps get the word from Kingsley as well?" I ask Ron. He must've have seen the desperation on my face. He glances back at Hermione who is talking rapidly with Molly.

"Yeah! Sure mate! Come along Teddy! We'll ask Andy if you could come with us to see Rose and Hugo yeah?" he says taking the hand of a confused by apparently pleased Teddy from me. As I bend down to give my Godson a kiss before turning swiftly and using all my auror reflexes to find my way out of the suffocating place. I nod at a few people who crossed my path and make my way out of the Ceremonial Hall clear before anyone else. I feel the tickling magic again, but I pointedly ignore it. Refuse to acknowledge it.

The walk back up the hill is sort of cathartic for me and I reach the apparition point in record time. I stand staring at the wrought-iron gate again for a few seconds vowing to remedy my stupidity by never trusting a Malfoy again.

Soooooooooo? next chapter Draco's POV..:D Don't forget to comment.
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The Principle of Sympathy