Draco Malfoy's Famous Last Words

DRACO'S P.O.V.

I take Evelyn's hand in mine, as we walk over to the grave site. Evelyn stands next to my mum and releases my hand almost instantly. I look over to see her taking James in her arms. She cradles him close to her chest, soft tears falling onto his blankets as he sleeps.
I wrap one arm around Evelyn's waist, hoping that she won't be irritated with me all day. We listen to the traditional proceedings in silence. Evelyn handles everything well, up until the end.

The Dark Lord begins to ceremoniously place the dirt back into the grave with swift flicks of his wand. I don't know what it was about the casket being buried. Maybe it finalized it, maybe Evelyn just realized the seriousness of the situation at that point, I don't know. All I do know, was she scared me to death.

"Narcissa, take James," Evelyn whispers. Her voice is too high pitched, too dreamy.

Mum obliges and takes James from Evelyn's hands. Apprehensively, I stare down at her face. Her skin has gone white, and her eyes are wide open with shock. She looks as if she's about to throw up.

"Are you okay, Evelyn?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Liar.

No more than two seconds after she replies, she faints. Luckily, I'm able to catch her in my arms, just before she smacks the ground. Nervously, I glance up at the Dark Lord for permission to take her back to the Manor. He simply nods, understanding the frantic look in my eyes.

"You need any help, mate?" Monty asks.

"No, I've got her," I state, scooping Evelyn up in my arms bridal style.

"Draco," Blaise says before I disapparated, "Take good care of my baby sister. She's the only family I have left."

"You make it sound like we're leaving forever, Blaise. I'll see you in like half an hour."

"I know, but just in case. You never know what's going to happen," he gestures towards the grave.

I give him a nod of respect, "Don't worry. I'll always take good care of her."

With these words, I disapparated, leaving the mourners behind.

The squeeze from apparating woke Evelyn up. I lay her down on my bed gently. She is extremely dizzy and disoriented looking.

"Are you all right, Evie?" I ask her.

She reaches up and gingerly touches her forehead, "I'm fucking peachy."

I look over her skeptically. Apparently she feels well enough to be a smart ass, but she looks a wreck. All her make up is smudged down her face in dark, black, streaks. Her hair is slightly frazzled from the breeze blowing it. Her cheeks have shiny stains lining them from where tears once flowed freely down. If she saw herself in a mirror, she would have a fit. However, to me, she is still the most beautiful girl in the world.

"Let me get you a cold, wash cloth," I suggest, "You can wipe your face off and cool down a bit. Sound good?"

"Yes," Evelyn sighs, "Thank you, Drake."

I kiss her forehead as I rise, then go into the bathroom. I find a dark green wash cloth and wet it down with cold water. When I reenter the main bedroom, Evelyn is lying on her back with her head on my pillow.

"Here, love," I whisper, placing the cold cloth on her forehead.

"Thanks," she replies, half smiling at me.

I dab the cloth along her cheeks to clean up her makeup. She doesn't need to know what a mess she is. Vanity is the last thing she needs to concern herself with today.

Evelyn closes her eyes contentedly. She looks so angelic, so perfect. Seeing her this way, how peaceful she looks in this moment, made something click in my mind. I was sick of waiting, sick of all this death, sick of this war.

"Let's get married," I state.

Evelyn cracks open her eyes just enough to roll them at me. She holds up her left hand.

"I think we've established that we are going to do that."

"I know," I whisper, taking her left hand and kissing the back of it, "But I want to get married now."

She sits up and stares at me as if I'd just told her that I'm in love with Pothead.

"Draco, we can't get married today," she protests.

"Why not? Our families are already here for the funeral. You were planning on wearing Rebecca's wedding dress anyway, right?"

"Well, yeah, but still. We had a fight an hour ago, and it's not like post-funeral matrimony is exactly a romantic concept."

"I know, but Evelyn, seriously, we don't know what's going to happen anymore. All this death has made me realize that I don't want to wait any longer. I want to marry you today."

Huffing, she plops back onto the bed. I still haven't persuaded her. God, give a girl a diamond and she's all about a wedding. Take some actual initiative, and she freaks out.

"We can't," she states again, "Harry isn't here. He is my brother after all. We don't have food, or music, or seating arrangements, or anything ready."

"Harry couldn't come anyway. Both our families hate him. He is the enemy, remember? As far as plans go, don't you know anything about my mum?" I ask.

"What do you mean?"

"She's had the wedding planned for months."

Evelyn rolls her eyes. "Maybe I wanted to plan my own damn wedding."

"Again, have you met my mother?" It pisses her off, but she knows I'm right.

"Draco, we can't get married today," she says, with hint of finality in her tone.

I cup her face in my hands and give her the most passionate kiss I can. It catches her off guard, and right when she starts kissing me back, I pull away.

"You're marrying me today," I state.

"Draco, I can't," Evelyn groans.

"It's now or never."

"Bastard."