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Draco Malfoy sat on the lone bench as he, with tightly crossed arms and a displeased look, watched his own funeral. Harry Potter, who noticed the look on his lover’s face, wrapped his ghostly arms around Draco.
"What's the matter, love?" Harry asked and Draco turned to look Harry in the face.
“I came all the way here to my own bloody funeral only for them doing everything wrong!” He grumbled, “That is NOT how I want my funeral to be like!” He’s even disappointed in his parents and best friends for ruining his funeral.
“Calm down, love,” Harry stroked his lover’s back, “it’s just a funeral-” he tried his best to calm down his ragging ghost lover but was cut off when Draco snapped at him looking impossibly murderous.
“Calm down?! It’s my fucking funeral -and yours- I want the biggest celebration ever. I really don’t want people crying over our grave! That’s disgusting!” Draco ranted.
“I know baby-” Harry started again, but Draco shushed him with his ghostly pale hand.
“Where is all the alcohol?! Why isn’t there any confetti floating in the air? Where’s my favourite chocolate fountain? Where’s the fucking music?!-” This time Harry cut him off.
“That’s it, Draco! We’re leaving right this second if you can’t appreciate all the work our friends and family did!” Harry was going to drag Draco back to the Otherworld, but Draco pulled back.
“But-” Draco began to complain and Harry shook his head, his eyes flashed with warning.
“No, Draco!” Harry said, his tone final. He turned and started walking with a very grumpy Draco behind him, who rambled under his breath about them still being alive if they hadn’t agreed to that bloody Auror Mission that Robards assigned them.