They Don't Tell Us Anything
By
unperfectwolf
Archive: sure, that's cool
Rated: pg13
Warnings: character death
Fandom, Pairing: Harry Potter Un. JK Rowling, dracohermione
Summary: "Out of the crowd, two people he didn't want to see appeared. They were coming to him, towards him. He wondered if they blamed him."
Disclaimer: not mine, never was mine, never will be mine. all is j k rowlings's
Word Count: 773

THEY DON'T TELL US ANYTHING

When he entered the room, he was the center of attention. Much like when he was younger, his presence commanded that people look at him, that they watch him. He was, for all intents and purposes, eye catching.

When he was younger, he'd demanded that respect, wanted it. Welcomed it with open arms.

Now, he looked at all of the faces and cringed, wanting to slink into the crowd and disappeare. He didn't know why he came. No one would really want to see him. There was nothing here for him, except memories.

There were memories, of course, of those years he'd spent in the protective embrace of Hogwarts. Year's he'd spent fighting with people who were his friends and allied with his enemies.

And there were memories of her.

Out of the crowd, two people he didn't want to see appeared. They were coming to him, towards him. He wondered if they blamed him.

He blamed himself, that was a given, but he wondered if anyone else blamed him. Maybe no one else even knew how she had died. He didn't know. He'd disappeared as soon as he was able to move.

When they reached him, it seemed like only he was aware of the eyes on them. They were searching his face, looking for something. What, he didn't know. They didn't seem to be finding it, whatever it was.

"Where is she?" the first one, The-Boy-Who-Fucking-Couldn't-Die, asked him.

"Where is who?" he asked. He didn't know who they were talking about. She? He hadn't 'kept company' with a woman since her.

"Where's Hermione?" the red head reached out, like he was going to grab him, but stopped himself.

He looked at them, his eyes wide. They didn't know. It had been five years and they didn't know. No one had told them. Why had no one told them? Why hadn't someone saved him the trouble, saved him the pain? "You… You don't know."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. They didn't know.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then back at him. Worry etched into their faces as he looked at them, his pale complexion becoming paler.

He wasn't healthy looking. He was pale, paler than he'd ever been at school, and he'd always been extremely pale then. He was leaning heavily on a walking stick, not a decorative one like his father had had, but one that he actually used. He had scars, some visible, some not, that hurt with every movement. Wizarding medicine could only do so much.

"We don't know what?" The-Boy-Who-Lived asked.

"She…" He almost couldn't say, but he did. He forced the words that he had pretended didn't exist for the last five years past his lips. "She died, in the final battle."

They looked at him with such betrayal he wondered what they had been told. Had they been told that she was still alive, off living with him? He wished, so much, that that was true. But he had seen her fall. He'd seen her body crumple. And there had been nothing he could do.

She was dead.

Now he wished he was too. He wished he could escape from the looks that they were giving him, the horrible unbelieving stares that told him they expected him to yell out "gotchya!" and bring her forward from where ever he was hiding her.

But it wasn't the case. He didn't have her hidden somewhere. She was dead, laid to rest as one of the hundreds that had died in the war, in the war cemetery the Ministry had procured.

"I…" the red head tried to say something. "Draco, I'm so sorry…"

Draco just nodded, swallowing against the lump that was forming in his throat. "How… How did you not know?"

Harry turned accusing eyes towards the group of adults from their childhood. "They don't tell us anything. We've had to find out who died on our own."

Ron nodded. "It's been a long two weeks."

Draco stared at them. "Two weeks?"

"We've been in the hospital since that day… You didn't know?" Harry looked at him, eyes widening. "Did they not tell anyone anything?"

Draco looked at them, hurt shinning in his eyes before he could shutter them. "Apparently not."

He turned and left the room as quickly as he could. His uneven footsteps echoed down the hall with him as he remembered all the time he'd spent in these halls, all of the memories he had.

He lived off his memories now, because that was all he had. He lived off the memories and the nightmares, the dreams and the letters.

He lived to see if maybe someday he would join her.

Finished 12 March 2005.