Author: MamaLaz

Story: Resurrection – Still In Denial

Sequel of: I’m Not in Denial

Rating: R

Summary: When the one’s we care for die, there is nothing we can do but try and get over it – but a trivial thing like death won’t stop Draco Malfoy getting back what belongs to him. The second book in the Denial Series.

Disclaimer: The characters of this story do not belong to me, unfortunately. They are all the creation of the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I’m only playing with them and will eventually return them, relatively unscathed.

Author Notes: Well, I’m back. Thanks all for the tons of emails I received, demanding the sequel to IniD after I ended it so atrociously. I hope you guys like this. Who knows when I’ll have the first chapter up but I thought I should just post this up instead of just sitting on it. Thanks. XxxX

Prologue

It was during the compulsory, and usually spectacular feast, back from the Christmas holidays at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when Headmaster Albus Dumbledore made his announcement. The wizened Professor, with an expression of gravity on his face, had got slowly, laboriously, to his feet and raised a wrinkled hand for silence. The buzzing inquiries of whether a fellow schoolmate had had a good Christmas and received a fair amount of presents slowly dissipated and the Great Hall had quietened. The occasional hungry student clattered their cutlery impatiently for the appearance of the always-excellent cuisine.

The silver-haired professor had evenly wished they had all had a good holiday, a speech all students, save first years, had heard before. Yet not even a seventh year could remember his doing so without his comforting, welcoming beam. Or with his expression set so sombre in mood. A look that, if one was observant, seemed to be shared amongst every teacher seated at the head table.

The pupils had looked at each other in questioning, shrugging, worrying and raising the occasional eyebrow. No one seemed to speak, however. They merely watched his every move with shrewd, curious eyes.

Dumbledore had taken off his half-moon spectacles and held them in his hands, looking around at them all with his intense electric gaze. A serious gaze that refused to include the tiniest slip of a smile.

Something was definitely wrong.

The sound, similar to a communal intake of breath being held, pulsated. Ears pricked and bottom lips were worried between fidgeting sets of teeth. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

And then he told them. The entire school was enlightened that Harry James Potter and Ronald Weasley, both fifth years in Gryffindor House, were dead and had been murdered by Lord Voldemort.

Gasps and screams sounded with his words. Girls immediately clapped their hands over their mouths, some with tears springing to their eyes. Boys’ eyes widened, too, mouthing wordlessly at each other. Not one of them could honestly believe it.

Had the Boy Who Lived finally stopped doing so, going against his very name? No. It just couldn’t be true. But it was. And Albus Dumbledore himself was informing them of it.

Most heads turned around, eyes looking wildly at the Gryffindor table in disbelief and, in particular, at one Hermione Granger, who was sobbing inconsolably into her hands as a white-faced and tearful Neville Longbottom clumsily tried to comfort her. Further down the table, Ginny Weasley had her face buried into her brother George’s chest, her entire body shaking and raking with sobs as her fingertips latched onto him, the woollen G on his Weasley jumper distorting under her grasp. Beside them, Fred Weasley had his eyes shut tightly as a teary Angelina Johnson patted his arm with her hand and whispered shaky words of comfort into his ear.

The Gryffindors, used to being centre of attention for far more cheerful situations, sat at the table quietly. Some were staring into their empty dishes in discomfiture and looking at each other with frightened eyes, like the first years. Many were crying softly and clutching each other in sadness, as Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were doing a few seats away. And others, like best friends Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, were staring with hollow, dead-like eyes into space. Even some Slytherins, including Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, were shaking slightly, looking at one another with lost expressions, as though they weren’t sure how to react.

Every student who heard the news and Dumbledore’s words of caution afterwards were strangely affected, many not even touching the food when it finally arrived.

But the ears of occupants of the Great Hall were not the only ones that heeded the Headmaster’s words. For, sitting in a dilapidated house through a tunnel hidden by a bough-swinging tree and with his blank grey eyes glaring into his Observer Screen, a relatively calm-looking Draco Malfoy caught every word. Only an astute onlooker could perceive how his hands were fisted in his lap, the sheet of paper twisted tightly between them cutting into his palms and causing an angry, bloody gash against his pallid skin. If one looked particularly closely, one could distinguish his jaw clenched tightly and his chest rising with unsteady breaths; face paler than even dignity would have usually allowed.

This news was not new to him. Oh no. Dumbledore had already explained what had happened in the battle to the Malfoy. How he and Snape were too late. How they would never be able to forgive themselves and would regret their delay forever. Disgusting and sappy words, really. They did nothing to make him feel better. As the ones he was listening to now didn’t either.

But this was no way the end. Malfoys were denied nothing. They were ruthless and determined and always managed to get whatever they wanted. He looked back down at the piece of parchment he was twisting mercilessly between his hands, loosening his grip, opening it out and ironing out the creases with the pad of his thumb…

… it’s gonna sound nutty but I just wanted to check if you were, I dunno… Ok, I guess. I was also wondering if maybe we could, kinda well finish what we started last night…? I’d like… I mean, we don’t have to… Just Owl me back if you can’t. Yeah.

Ron

No. Nothing ever got in Draco Malfoy’s way. And that included death.

After all, this was only the beginning. And a living Ron Weasley was definitely going to be in it.