Work Text:
Under a starlit sky, colours exploded. Purple, gold, and silver; all rained down, showering everybody beneath in fine particles that dusted their shoulders and sent vibrant sparks shooting out into the night. Literally. Grimacing, as a rainbow of wizarding colour shimmered downwards, with a few stray specks, scorching into the sleeves of his dress robes, Draco winced. A particularly stubborn particle burned painfully, scolding his skin, causing him to curse. “Fuck! For Salazar’s sake-that fucking hurt!”
Theo, standing beside him, smirked.
“Draco, Draco,” he chided, “watch your language - the powers that be are standing right behind you.”
Scowling, as he brushed off the burning debris that littered his clothing, Draco offered a sneer in Theo’s direction. “I’ve been watching, Theo," he sniffed, haughtily, "all through the entire fucking ceremony. And, although, I'll admit, that despite all this, tonight has been quite touching in places - however when the ceremonial fireworks actually burn through your clothing, I stand by my right, as a wizarding citizen, to complain when I’ve been nearly set on fire by fucking purple sparkles.”
Theo snorted. Behind him, the tunnelled sound of air was sucked through tightly puckered lips. Neither one of the pair needed to look behind them to see who had made the exasperated sound.
"Granger," Draco hissed, sharply, sneering in irritation, his teeth set on edge. "Do you have to sound quite so disapproving?"
Huffing again, from behind them, Hermione reprimanded. "Show some respect!"
"Hard to," Draco responded, "when you've been set on fire and are glowing purple—”
A tut, an "oooh", and a "shush" were aimed his way then, not all from Granger he begrudgingly had to admit, as the wizarding firework display finally reached its zenith, showering down golden phoenixes, silver dragons, prancing unicorns and lastly, but not leastly, capering leprechauns. The surrounding crowd, exclaimed in wonderment and awe, leaving Draco to wonder what on earth this had to do with commemorating the dead. Once upon a time, he remembered, it had been sedated, an appropriate ceremony, filled with heartfelt speeches from mourners who wished to recollect their loved ones and wizarding folk who wanted to respect those who had passed on... a sombre observance where wands were held aloft, their tips lighting up the skies as dusk fell. Now, however, within the space of a couple of years, things had vastly changed. No longer an anniversary of remembrance, but an excuse for ministry officials to ply their platitudes, and for wizards and witches to whoop and party... and, perhaps, if he was being fair, to forget for a little while.
Draco, often wondered, if he was the only one who felt this way. Glancing over his shoulder, however, and glimpsing the shadows that tainted the hue of Granger's eyes, he had the slightest inkling that he was not entirely alone.