A/N: I am so sorry, you guys. I got busy, and then I forgot that there was one chapter left. This is the last chapter, so that's something.

Six

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In the end it was a Patronus that had informed him.

It didn't say the exact words, simply telling him to leave for the Manor in two short words. Come quickly, it had said.

There was a heavy feeling in his gut as he ran to the closest Apparition point, a compression in his chest as he appeared on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. There was a sliver of hope, one so small, so fragile, that it made him run faster than he had ever done in his life only to throw open the large doors while he breathed deeply to catch his breath.

Ever since Potter had been told, the Weasleys had graced him with their presence by being friends and family who refused to leave. At any time of the day there was always someone looking after Hermione beside himself. It had been a welcome comfort, although they annoyed him with their happy chatter and generally ginger habits. It allowed him to leave the Manor more often to tend to the business. It gave him time to sort out the myriad of problems that had grown since Hermione had gotten too weak to work.

The last thing he ever wanted to see in his bedroom was the She-Weasel's red-rimmed eyes as she comforted her sniffling mother. He didn't say a word when her gaze met his, his glance then falling on his motionless wife.

He counted a few seconds, waiting for the steady rise and fall of her chest, and when the average time had passed, he waited some more.

"Malfoy…"

He blinked in surprise, his gaze falling on the She-Weasel as she spoke. He tried to say a word, finding his throat too constricted to even say the word. It took him a while, he had to clear his throat, the sound harsh in the heavy silence.

"Get out," was everything he could say, his voice to hoarse to travel far.

The mother bristled, immediately opening her mouth to chastise him, but it was Hermione's best friend who led her away with a fierce look, her glance meeting Draco's briefly before she was out the door and closing it with a soft click.

Draco stayed stiffly for a moment before conjuring up a chair so he could sit beside his wife.

She looked like she was asleep, the worry lines around her mouth and eyes soothed by her slackened expression. He took his seat where he usually did, taking her small hand in his much larger one as he sat in silence and waited.

It took him quite a while to realise that he was waiting for her to wake up.

The funeral was a large one. There was a sea of people in black, most of whom Draco had never seen in his life. Many of the mourners were witches and wizards who knew of her rather than those who had spoken only a word or two in greeting during the course of her life. The Weasleys huddled together with Potter. Those he had gone to school with and had tortured when he was younger stood just as close. Longbottom's gaze even flitted away when Draco's eyes had fallen on him by chance.

Draco stood a little away from everyone who attended, alone and happily so. He kept his eyes on the closed casket as it was levitated into the hole constructed only a moment ago. The tree it was buried under cast a welcoming shade over him.

The service was short, as he knew Hermione would want it, and as far from sweet as she must have expected it to be. All Draco could do was to block out the crying and wailing from beside him, choosing to concentrate on the slight breeze that fluttered against his dark robes. He stood straight, proud, his eyes dry and his hands clasped in front of him in a form of respect. Potter cried, Weasley sniffled, and Draco kept his eyes on the casket that was covered with earth before a tomb stone so simple it would have caused his family to feel insulted a long time ago.

As the service ended Draco continued to stay where he was, watching warily as those who had attended left one by one. Some had the courage to come up to him and give their condolences, others simply left without a word. Longbottom offered what he could through short, stumbling sentences. Draco simply nodded once and looked away, leaving Longbottom and the rest of the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws of his year to walk away with the Weasleys and Potter.

It was the She-Weasel who stayed behind, silently standing beside him before his curiosity won out and he raised his head to face her.

There was such kindness in his eyes that he had never seen directed at him before.

"You shouldn't mind them," she said quietly. "They just want someone to blame and it's easier to blame you than Hermione." She hesitated a moment, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion, even as a lone tear crawled down her cheek. "I know we're not… friends. But if you need anything…" He looked away from her, and she faltered. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Draco watched her leave, a twisting in his gut reminding him of the amount of times Hermione had rolled her eyes, slapped his arm and said, 'Her name is Ginny, Draco. Ginny. Stop calling her She-Weasel and learn her name. She's one of my best friends, after all.'

The walk back to the Manor was a slow one. He felt lethargic in his steps, his feet heavy and his very being defeated. It was not until he entered the bedroom he had shared with his wife and sat down on the edge of their bed, his hands reaching up to undo his tie, that the entire weight of what had happened really hit him.

It was sudden and it was silent, but for the first time in years Draco Malfoy cried.

Draco wasn't sure what made him think of it. It had only been a few hours since he had buried his wife and he was yet to sleep a wink.

He had been thinking about their conversations and torturously reminiscing about their arguments with each gulp of Firewhisky before the first inkling of a memory nagged at his consciousness. Before he could even think as to the possibility he was hoping for, he found himself opening the Malfoy Manor vault and stepping inside, passing ancient items before he reached for a jewellery box that had been charmed with a myriad of powerful hexes.

Taking it back to his study, Draco sat down by placing the box before him on the table. He then pulled out his wand to undo one hex after another, concentrating hard to focus on the memory so he could remember the sequence in which Hermione had used protective spells on this wooden box.

Once it was all done, once he was sure, he placed his wand carefully on the table and lifted the lid. As he remembered, the small, black stone simply stayed there, looking unimpressive and unimportant.

Hermione had gone looking for it in the Forbidden Forest years ago, knowing that keeping it out there gave it the opportunity for it to be someone's dangerous weapon. Draco never thought that he would ever use it.

He had turned it three times even before he could contemplate his options.

"Draco."

His heart stopped as he looked up. She looked the same, as she was the last time he had seen her. She looked tired, drawn, but her eyes were vibrant, even though her image looked more of a shadow than a proper corporeal form. She was smiling at him, and without meaning to, Draco smiled back, getting to his feet unconsciously with every intention to grab her to him.

But then her gaze fell onto his hand and her smile dropped instantly.

"What did you do?" she asked in panic, her eyes full of fear and worry.

He covered the stone with cold fingers, his expression defiant. "I wanted to see you. I didn't get to say goodbye."

She eyed him sadly. "I'm sorry. I tried waiting for you."

"I know."

She smiled lightly then, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I left a letter for you. I gave it to Ginny to give you. She promised she would, after…"

He smiled despite the ache in his chest. "How many pages?"

Her eyes widened, a small laugh escaping her. The pang in his chest got worse. It had been months since he had last heard that sound. "Not too many."

"A hundred pages, then?"

She laughed again, and all he wanted was to hear her laughter continue. "Maybe a few more."

"I can ignore the first fifty pages then."

"Not if you want a haunting," she teased.

Her smile fell at the same time his did.

"I have to go now, Draco. I'm so glad… I'm so very glad that I got to see you one last time."

He wanted to agree with her, but the words were stuck in his throat.

Her smile was small and full of affection. "Goodbye, Draco."

"Goodbye," came his automatic reply, the word sounding too stiff to his own ears.

She watched him for a moment before she said gently, "Drop the stone."

Draco's eyes fell on the stone in his hand. It was such a small thing that had given him so much happiness. He couldn't imagine giving that away.

"Draco…" Hermione said insistently.

He was shaking his head as he pocketed the stone. "No. I'm not letting you go."

She eyed him incredulously. "You don't mean that."

He fixed her with a serious stare. "I do."

"You know the story. You know how dangerous that stone is. It will drive you mad. Draco—"

"I'm done with this discussion, Hermione," he said harshly. "You'll stay here with me. This is not a debate."

She stared at him for a moment, disappointment colouring her gaze. "I can still go, if I want to."

"You wouldn't," he whispered, suddenly fearful for what she had threatened him.

"I'm not going to let you make a stupid decision." She straightened her back, her eyes sad. "Goodbye, Draco."

He didn't mean to, but when he spoke her name, his voice broke. She did stop, though. She did turn around.

"I just need to tell you a proper goodbye."

"We just did that."

"No. Not like this. I need… time." I need you, went unsaid.

She contemplated his proposal for a while before she spoke. "How long?"

"A year—"

"Draco."

"Only a year. I'll let you go, then. I just need one year."

He could see the war inside her head, the list of pros and cons she was so used to making before any decision was made. "Only of you promise me something."

"Anything."

"I meet you only for an hour." His lips parted to protest but she spoke over him. "Only for an hour. In the evenings near my grave."

His lips quirked with amusement. "A bit morbid, don't you think?"

She didn't smile. "I need you to remember that I'm never coming back each time we meet. Agree to my terms, Draco. It's the only way I'll stay."

His expression sobered instantly. "You'll stay tonight?"

"No." She shook her head. "But I'll meet you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he agreed with a nod.

"Get some rest." She smiled affectionately, her tone taking on a teasing quality. "You look awful."

Draco had barely decided to reply her when she disappeared in front of him.

It had been a taxing day, a tiring year and an exhausting lifetime, but Draco Malfoy couldn't help but touch a stone through the thick material of his robes and smile.

Fin.

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A/N2 - Thank you to all who gave this a read. I know it's a difficult subject matter, so I appreciate you giving this a chance. Right then. I'm off to write comedy now.