Timeless

3

My mother.

It was seven PM when Harry arrived at the Malfoy Manor. He asked Kingsley to leave early, which the old man was more than happy to give. It was rare that the Head Auror asked to leave early for a personal reason. He went home for a bit, changing his usual work suit to a black one. Fitting for grieving. Was he grieving? 

No, he convinced himself. She was just a distant friend of his.

Sure, sometimes Narcissa treated him less than a friend and more of a son. She would embrace the man a little longer than necessary, much gentler than Molly’s and would cradle his head. She would let go with a smile, tapping his cheek and saying, “Don’t forget to visit me.” Every time without fail.

Sure, Harry sometimes visited her for the chance of meeting Draco as well. But he stayed for the tea and Narcissa’s warm company. They would talk of auror work, high-society gossip, and Narcissa’s plan on throwing the cursed dark artifacts away. Lucius loved collecting those, apparently. And she loved her husband, even though he didn’t. Those artifacts were the only things stopping her from accepting that Lucius was gone and he was not coming back. That broke Harry’s heart.

He would sometimes look at her with a little too much love in his green eyes whenever the warm sun hit her grey streaks the right way. He would catch himself imagining if this is what it would feel like if Lily had been alive. If Voldemort didn’t exist. If the war didn’t happen. 

He would embrace her back, his face buried in the crook of her neck like a child complaining to his mother about the horrors of the world, seeking comfort in her arms. He was tall, but she didn’t mind and enjoyed the few minutes that had her neck and back aching a little. She would softly chuckle, rubbing her palm on his broad back and leaning her cheek against his.

And when the Malfoy house-elf refused to let him inside the manor on Narcissa's orders, Harry felt even more broken than he was. He knew Narcissa heard him plead and negotiate with the elf, or how he almost broke the front door down, or how he broke down on his seventeenth try, kneeling on the porch with tears in his eyes and accidentally asking the elf to ‘bring my mother out’. 

He didn’t come back again after that.

Stopping the tears that threatened to fall, he straightened his suit and tied his hair up. He looked at himself in the mirror a little too long before grabbing his overcoat and leaving. He picked up white roses on his way, the flowers Narcissa planned on planting next after her peonies. 

The house-elf, Jolly was his name, opened the door with a sad smile and a small bow upon seeing Harry. He smiled back and looked around, giving his overcoat to Jolly and walking inside. It was arranged neatly, like the hundred times he had been here to visit Narcissa.

The dark artifacts were not there anymore, so it looked empty except for a few new decorative pieces to replace it. He took a small breath in and walked further into the manor to the small chapel placed out on the edge of the garden. 

Harry’s steps slowed down more and more as he approached the outside of the chapel. The wind was cold and crisp. It was silent, much contrast to what has been going on inside his mind. He looked at the building first, then took a shaky sigh before approaching the double doors. 

He would sometimes find Narcissa here. Sitting down on the first bench and looking up at the cross. She was Catholic, a muggle belief she adapted from a muggle friend of hers in Spain a long time ago.

But now, the seats were empty and there was her casket on the steps right in front of the cross. There were beautiful flowers adorning the entire chapel with black ribbons on it. Draco sure did a good job in this, Harry thought.

He walked inside and closed the door behind him. It creaked as it was heavy and the hinges were old. He swallowed. He had been to countless funerals before, right after the war and the years following that. But this was different. 

This was Narcissa. 

It was different with Sirius and Cedric. Different from Albus. Different from Fred, Lupin, Lavender, Tonks, Snape, and Colin. 

All were important to him. But none reached the deepest parts of him like Narcissa did.

His steps were deliberate and his palms were sweaty. He rubbed them on the sides of his pants, slightly feeling weak. He reached the steps leading to the casket and he hesitated. But, being the brave Golden Boy that he always was, he climbed up and soon, Narcissa’s face came into view.

There, he choked up a sob he was reeling in from the moment he read the letter Draco delivered earlier this morning. His eyes watered and his shaky hands rested on the glass separating him from Narcissa. She looked like she was sleeping soundly. Not one etch of sickness or pain. 

Harry’s shoulders shook with each sob. 

He didn’t notice Draco out the window, smoking his cigarettes and watching him with pained eyes through the small gap of the stained glass. Draco had come out to smoke right after one of his aunts in Lucius’s side left and minutes before Harry arrived. 

He decided to light another cigarette and wait until Harry was ready. 

He stared up at the dark sky, watching the smoke emanated from the cigarette dance in front of him. He thought of his mother. His kind, brave, and resilient mother. He thought of her lying to Voldemort that Harry was dead just because he saved Draco. 

He imagined the afternoons she spent with Harry instead of him. How they’ve laughed together. Draco didn’t get the chance to have those moments with her after the war. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t jealous. He was longing. Regretful. 

He loved his mother. She shielded him from Voldemort multiple times even if it cost her a few Crucios. She embraced him on nights he came home for the holidays or for vacations in between his years in Hogwarts. They would sleep like that, both fearing what might come to them. Sometimes, nothing came. Oftentimes, Lucius or Voldemort did. 

He wondered how they were before he was born. Have they loved each other? Narcissa didn’t like talking  about it. Nor Lucius. 

Draco sighed, putting his cigarette out by stomping on it and looking through the gap to check on Harry. He saw the raven-haired quietly sitting on the first bench, looking at the casket with an empty stare. He swallowed a little, then decided to come back in. 

The door creaked and Harry’s attention was caught. He looked back to see Draco in the same suit he was in this morning. The auror stood up, straightening his suit and schooling his expression back to its ‘strong’ ones. 

“Draco,” he said with a small smile, waiting for the blonde to approach. 

Draco’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t show his inner turmoil. He just nodded at Harry and walked up to him, his head slightly tilted up to meet those green eyes with his grey ones. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Harry said again.

Draco nodded. It was all he could do. What could he ever say? He extended his hand for Harry to shake but the auror took it and pulled him in for an embrace. 

Strong arms wrapped around him and stubble tickled his temple. Harry was embracing him. Not the friendly ones Pansy or Blaise did. Nor the familial ones his grandmother did. Harry embraced him fully with no hesitation and no boundaries. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against Draco’s silver hair.

All Draco could do was nod and bury his face on Harry’s shoulder, his arms slowly coming up to embrace the Gryffindor as well.