It seems that you hacked my soul somehow because this is exactly the story I love to read best. Ending is perfect, bitter-sweet, Draco is just himself, always worried about appearances.

The whole setting made me think of the latest canon funeral where unfortunately I can't find this extraordinary contrast between the tomb and surrounding nature despite the fact that t should be June. Your's perfect, enchanting, calm.

I really loved some expressions, like smelled of silence, which reminded me of some Emily Dickinson's poems or sorrow bleeding into the field around him which describes perfectly the appearance of people who lost somebody.

And this sentence Wanted to play the words over his tongue and taste the futility in them. made Draco a bit of a poet.

Lastly, let me say that amongst Tori Amos' sad songs "Winter" is my favourite but I really prefer "Happy Phantom". hell, "Little Earthquakes" is her best record evah.

Thank you very much for your beautiful fic.