The Accidental Malfoy

19 | Portraits and Scans

Disclaimer: I do not own this, nor am I profiting off the display of this story in any way.

This wasn't the first wizarding funeral Hermione had attended. No, that had come at the end of her sixth year when Professor Dumbledore had been murdered. That was followed two years later by a rash of funerals she would rather never have had to go to; the image of George having to be dragged from Fred's graveside screaming and sobbing was seared into her memory.

This, however, was the first traditional pureblood funeral, and it was a vastly different affair. There was no crying, not even from Narcissa, who sat stoic and controlled behind a large pair of sunglasses. If Hermione didn't know better, she would assume that Lucius' passing had had no impact. Such was the lack of emotion displayed by Narcissa.

It was a vast difference from the scenes she had witnessed in the Manor over the last few days, where Narcissa had refused to crawl out of her bed, hiding under a mess of blankets and pillows, her face raw and red from the constant tears, having to be coaxed like a small child to take small sips of soup.

The sheer emotion displayed by Narcissa behind closed doors was understandable. She and Lucius had been deeply in love and no matter how calm and collected Narcissa currently appeared, Hermione knew she was going through the steps of grief.

However, it was Draco that worried Hermione. Narcissa's reaction was healthy, expected, and something easily managed, no matter how draining. The icy façade Draco was hiding behind was much more difficult. He had withdrawn into himself, closed off and cold. He had efficiently dealt with the funeral details, following Lucius' wishes to the letter, but she had not seen him shed a tear. She found the lack of emotion disturbing.

She turned to him now, squeezing his hand. She had slipped her hand into his early on in the ceremony. He hadn't pushed her away, which was encouraging, but neither had he wrapped his fingers around hers. His hand had remained straight and unmoving, but Hermione refused to be discouraged. She knew that Draco needed support, even if he failed to acknowledge this himself.

"Come," he said to her in a clipped tone. "The unveiling is happening back at the Manor."

"The unveiling?" Hermione asked, but Draco didn't hear her. He had dropped her hand and strode off as if this whole event was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Hermione patted Narcissa on her shoulder, trying her hardest not to throw Draco a disapproving look. As expected, the media were in attendance and any disharmony between the chief mourners would be seized upon with glee.

"Narcissa," Hermione whispered soothingly, as the older woman remained in the front pew. "Come on, it's time to go."

"Oh yes," Narcissa replied. "The unveiling."

Lucius' widow rose, tottering a little in the pump heels she was wearing, so Hermione tucked her hand around her elbow, giving Narcissa some support. Curious as she was, Hermione knew now was not the time to ask Narcissa what an unveiling was.

Twenty minutes later, they stood in the gallery where Malfoy paintings lined the walls. Hermione found herself standing next to Millicent.

"So, Lucius' portrait is to be unveiled?" she asked.

Millie nodded. "It's tradition for it to be done here in the gallery, but the portrait can be moved later."