The funeral for Neville Longbottom had the largest turn out of any other wizard funeral in recorded history, a fact which would have made his relatives very happy if any of them were still alive. However, in all fairness, it was a double funeral. Harry Potter, too, was being buried today, not in body, but in spirit. No one could understand why the Ministry had tried to cover up Harry’s death to such an extent they’d even confiscated the body, and they’d covered it up well too. However, the Minister himself was the one to turn against them, resigning his position (an action that was shocking to the world in general, but had nearly given his family heart attacks upon hearing) in disgust, and had announced in a public announcement that Harry Potter had died by his own hand over a week ago. Hermione and Ron had got the world around well, to a point that it was such public knowledge that this event would be in the memory of both fallen Aurors the Ministry could only sit by with a dark red hand print on the side of their faces. Lee Jordan had been particularly helpful, announcing the fact during the half time of a professional Quidditch game, despite the severe lashing he’d gotten from his boss for it.
They’d even summoned up an extra casket, but no grave site, to pay their final respects too. A specific group had a reign of that area, surrounding the casket in a nearly silent mourning, broken only by the occasional sob broken from one of the crying mourners. Left to right, Hermione Granger, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Fred, George, Percy, even Cho, Bill... Charlie hadn’t made it through the war. His own grave site stood only a few steps away. It could be safely said that there was not a single person out of the hundreds there who wasn’t crying or hadn’t already.
Except two, over a hundred feet away, watching silently as the wind whipped around them, not disturbing a single article of sweeping leather clothing or misplacing a single hair. It was illogical, but they’d both felt the need to come, even though Harry did feel more than a little odd mourning himself. He got over that quick enough, telling himself that he would be the only one here mourning Draco. Draco rationalized coming here by the fact he simply had to go wherever Harry did... there were bonds even harsher than love in the world beyond when someone dies by slitting their wrists over your grave, dies face down breathing soil enriched by your decaying form. “Ready to go?” He asked after some time of reverent watchfulness, after all, they had the whole world to see.
Harry smiled at him, understanding. He nodded and turned around, breathing deeply. Behind them, amid the tears and the stories and the white roses that seemed to be absolutely everywhere, the ring around Harry’s casket began to dissipate. They’d paid their respects, but were only officially ending the mourning they had started when Harry had fell into his wearisome depression years ago. They knew Harry had fallen... they just didn’t know Draco had been there to catch him.
Editors Note: Im well aware I fucked up. Neville Longbottom was a Herbology teacher in the first story, and an Auror in the sequel. Lets just pretend he worked as an Auror as a night job, all right?