Work Text:
Draco looked up at the sky. A clear blue with nary a cloud to blight its purity. Weather warm, with a soft breeze whispering against his skin.
It was on a Spring day like this that Harry died. Sudden, and all the harder for it. Draco hadn’t been there. He’d let Harry handle the shopping trip and taken the children to visit Mother and Father. He’d been going to meet Harry at home.
But Harry hadn’t made it. He’d had a heart attack on the way and collapsed in the street. Draco had waited for a while, thought Harry may have gotten caught up talking to the fans that never seemed to get over his boyhood heroism.
Draco had been confused when Kingsley Shacklebolt showed up at his door. A friend of Harry’s, sure, but hardly a regular visitor. Draco hadn’t taken in his message at first. Harry. Dead. Kingsley spoke and Draco had heard static. Then, noise. A cacophony in his head. Endless, racing thoughts. Then one stuck. How would he tell their kids?
He’d gone to pick them up and struggled to prepare them for a world without Harry Potter.