It's exactly forty-five years after my wedding.

At the age of sixty-seven, I have two sons and one girl, and ten grandchildren. My eldest is Michael Thomas and he's now forty two. He has three sons and all three of them are named after the members of his favourite Muggle band, 30 Seconds to Mars. My second child, Michael's twin, is Robert David. He has four children, two boys and two girls, one for each of the Houses at Hogwarts. My youngest, Diana, is three years younger than her brothers. She has three girls, triplets, and all of them are the biggest heart-breaker Hogwarts have ever seen. My sons, even if they're not related to their step-Granddad by blood, have almost all of the traits that he's proud of, be it the good ones or the bad ones. But they have my mother's temper too though, so I guess it's rather fair. My daughter, on the other hand, is the exact photocopy of my husband, even if she looks a lot like me. There are no hints of my parents on her. Well, probably except for her brain. All of my children inherit Mum's brilliance. In fact, I'm almost sure that Diana is almost smarter than her Grandma – even if Dad said it was impossible. But give it to Dad to praise his wife for every second of his life.

"Mum?" my oldest calls, knocking the door of my room softly.

"Yes, Mike?" I say, wishing that he hadn't come in so soon. That way, I could probably pretend for a few minutes longer.

"Let's go now. Better we don't make them wait anymore." I nod my head and move to follow him out of my room. I stop him abruptly just right before we get into the car.

"Is this truly happening?" I whisper, feeling very much like a child but I don't care. Michael bites his bottom, something I often see my own mother does.

"I'm afraid so, Mum." I nod for the second time that day and slide into the car. Awhile later, Michael takes his seat behind the driver-seat and soon, he's driving away from the house.

"Is your Uncle coming?" I ask when we've been on the road for a few minutes. It's been awhile since I've heard about Elt. He moved to America just a year after he graduated, and just several years later, he got married with an American witch. They have a son named Leonard, and a daughter Katherine together. Leonard five years younger than Diana and only a year older than his sister.

"Of course. He said he'll meet us there. Him and his family are Apparating straight from Boston."

"Okay..."

For the rest of the journey, the both of us are silent. It's better that way because, after forty-five years, it's nice to have several minutes of utter silence just for myself. I'm thankful that Michael understands that. I love all of my children but it's always Michael whom I'm the closest with. He just knows me too well it's sometimes worrying. When we reach my parents' place, I see a lot of people have been there as well – and by a lot, I was talking about a hundred-something people coming. With the help of my son, I get out of the car. Usually, I'd go ballistic if Michael's treating me like I was crippled. But this time, I let him since I've no energy to stand, to be honest. I find my husband already waiting in the vast garden of the Malfoy Manor, sitting beside Mum. My other children are sitting with their family. Last but not least, my eyes land on my brother; the second person I always depend my whole life on after my father. Forgetting the fact that I wasn't as young as I used to, I push Michael away and run as fast as I can toward Elt.

"Rosie!" Elt exclaims when I practically jump on him, hugging him a bone-crushing hug. "Hey, long time no – sis, are you crying?"

I am. I don't know when, but tears fall freely from eyes. Once I've started crying, I can't stop. I try to say something to Elt, but it all comes in a jumbled mess. So, instead, I choose to just hug my brother and let it all out. I cry and cry, but even if I'd ran out of tears, I doubt I could start talking soon. My brother, bless his heart, says nothing. He just stands there, one hand around my waist while the other one stroking my hair. Being in Elt's arms remind me of the another pair of arms that used to hug me many years ago.

"Let's sit down, sis," Elt mutters, guiding me to sit on an empty chair. When he tries to move, I latch my arm around his he doesn't have a choice but to sit beside me. I know act like a child but I don't care. I need my brother now.

"We are all here today to pay our respect to the man who all knew all these years, the man who did a lot for the British Wizarding world; Draco Malfoy..." the minister begins the speech but I tuned out immediately. His words bring back memories of what have happened for the past few years.

Dad had been battling against a rare kind of leukeamia called Acute promyelocytic leukeamia, or APL for short. It was only a few weeks after my sixteeth birthday when it was revealed that he had it around with him since he was seventy years old. The fact that the symptoms appeared twelve years later was a miracle, said the Healers. They were a little pessimistic though that Dad would be able to live longer than a year or two because of how long he had it, and also because he wasn't exactly young anymore. But Dad was determined to prove the Healers wrong. He did everything possible to help with his leukaemia. Miraculously, when the doctor estimated that he'd only live for a year or two, he lived for seven more years.

It wasn't easy for Dad to live with his leukaemia though. He had to go through various treatments, both the Muggle-way and the magical-way. He went through surgeries, chemotheraphies, and countless of spells and charms to make sure the damned APL wouldn't win so easily over him. His thinning hair started to fall off, he lost his ability to walk, and the final nail in the coffin was when he forgot Elt. It turned out that one of the spells they put on him had several consequences, one of them being memory-lost. The bodies of wizards and witches function differently than Muggles do, but even for a wizard's standard, Dad has lived far longer, what with his condition. Still though, weak and practically depending on everyone to do everything, it didn't mean that Dad wasn't hurthing. He was, everyone was. I hurt too, seeing how my father was reduced to such a state.

Eight months before he died, he got worse. There were times when he would go straight for two days without waking up, and then he'd cry in pain like a baby. Not to mention, he was slowly forgetting everyone he knew of. After he forgot Elt, he forgot about Mum. Sometimes he'd still get bits of memories about them too, but it wasn't enough. He had forgotten his grandchildren completely, as well as his friends and collegues. I was the only one he hadn't forgot, and I wished he would never forget me. Every time I came into his room, I was scared that he'd look at me and ask who I was. And I couldn't help myself from letting out a huge sigh of relief when he greeted every time I came to visit. I knew was selfish when I said it was okay if he forgot everyone else but me. I didn't care though. I needed my father, even if he was too old to do the things he used to do for me.

I was with him when he died. I was reading him his favourite book To Kill A Mockingbird, just a month after his nineteenth birthday,when I felt his hand wrapped around mine. I looked at him, noticed he was paler than he usually was, given his pale-complexion and the leukaemia. I asked him did he need anything. He nodded his head softly since lately, he was losing his ability to talk. His other hand moved, pointing at the oxygen-mask on his face. At first, I thought he wanted me to take it off. So I told him no. He then shook his head and motioned me to lean closer. I realised he wanted to say something to me. I leaned closer, my ear just an inch away from the mask. I was expecting him to ask me who I was because, for the last few months, I'd been preparin for this day. But instead, he sang. And I cried the moment I realised what he was singing so faintly from his mask.

I Don't Wanna Close My Eyes

I Don't Wanna Fall Asleep

'Cause I'd Miss You, Baby

And I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing

'Cause Even When I Dream of You

The Sweetest Dream Would Never Do

I'd Still Miss You, Baby

And I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing

I cupped my a hand over my mouth, trying to hold back the sob I'd been holding all the while he was singing. I failed though, and the dam broke. I cried because, for the first time ever, the truth finally sinked in. The truth that I wouldn't have my father with me forever. I cried so hard I was afraid that I'd run out of tears. But I could still notice the sudden absence of breathing. How silent everything seemed so suddenly the moment Dad finished singing. Trembling from top to toe, I took a look at that. I thought I was going to die when I saw my father, my true knight in shining armour, was dead. The man who had given me the world, something my biological father had failed at, had finally broke his promise of never leavin me.

He could never tuck me in again every night – even if it was only as joke.

He could never me cook breakfast for Mum when she was sick again.

He could never give me a kiss-goodbye again after I came to visit.

He could never watch my favourite movies again.

He could never listen to all my stories about my children again.

He could never dance with me again every Christmas – even if it wasn't a proper dance.

He could never smile and tell me everything was okay anymore.

He could never tell stupid stories to my children anymore.

He couldn't do any of the stuffs he used to do for me all this years. And it broke my heart more than the time Lysander and I almost had a divorce.

Because his death wasn't something that could be changed.

"...and now, let us raise our wand to honour Draco Malfoy!" the minister ends his speech. Everyone raises their wands, litting the tip of it.

I've finally stopped crying. Elt has gone to talk in front of everyone about Dad. Originally, Mum wanted me to do the talking, but I said no. I wouldn't last a minute standing there, talking about how great Dad was. He wasn't just great. Yes, he did some horrible things in his youth, things that I knew he had nightmares about until the day he died. But all the things he did for me, for Mum, for our family, more than enough to made it all up.

They lower his coffin into the ground and Eltanin, as the true Heir of the Malfoy fortune, is the one who closes the grave with his wand. I see my husband waves at me, and I come toward him. I'm actually rather surprised to see her all composed and calm. To be honest, I was actually expecting her to go hysterical like I just did. But, no. Mum is the perfect epitome of poise and regale. One look into her eyes though, I know the truth. She's far more broken that she let it shows. When Dad died, a part of her died with him too. I can see it in her eyes. So, you can imagine my surprise when she looks up at me and smiles sincerely, all the life coming back into her eyes.

"Hello, Rose," she says, smiling. Even if she's all crinkled, I think she looks just as beautiful as she was decades ago.

"Hey, Mum," I greet, sitting on the empty seat beside her. I hear Lysander says something about leaving, but I'm not really sure about it.

"How are you, girl?" It doesn't matter that I'm already sixty-seven years old. She still calls me girl, as if I was still seventeen.

"You know..." I trail off, not really knowing what to say. "What about you, Mum?"

"I'm alright, I guess. Devastated, of course, but not so much now."

"Pardon me?"

She's got to be kidding.

Looking at me, her smile grows even bigger. "Rose, your father never really leaves us, you know. He still lives on, through the memories we hold dearly to our hearts. Besides." She stops, looking at Dad's grave and smile fondly. "I'm almost ninety-one years old. I can feel it's going to be my time soon. And Draco's just went ahead of me to make sure I get my VIP entrance-ticket to Heaven."