The rain had made the earth soft, making it much easier to dig up. After recruiting Ron, George, Bill, Charlie, Arthur, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco Malfoy, Harry quickly had Severus Snape’s grave dug by hand, just like he had intended. Simply using his wand to magic a hole just seemed impersonal and almost insulting, and for a man like Snape, that would have been unacceptable.

There were no fancy chairs all aligned in a row. There was no important Wizard from the Ministry to drone on and on about a man he never knew. Not very many wore proper dress robes. In fact, a large number of the guests were covered head to toe in mud, still clutching their spades close to them as they wiped the sweat from their brows. The one thing that made Severus Snape’s funeral right was the amount of people there to say their final goodbyes. Everyone who knew the truth, who knew Snape’s real loyalties, and why he had to do the things he did, they were all there. Heads hung and tears flowed. Sobs shook the shoulders of many, and embraces were held tight in a gesture of comforting. This is what he would have wanted. The bells and whistles that made up Dumbledore’s funeral would have been much too garish for Snape.

Harry stood at the front of it all, facing the headstone he had designed and paid for, and watched as the glossy black casket disappeared into the hole he had helped dig with his own two hands. Ron and Hermione stood off to the side, and a little ways behind Harry, clinging onto each other. Hermione cried into his shoulder as Ron rubbed her back in small circles, whispering comforting words into her bushy curls.

Draco Malfoy was standing beside Harry, but at least five feet stood between them. He didn’t cry, sob, shake, speak, or even blink. His usually pristine golden locks were caked with mud and a smear of dirt ran down his cheek. Draco was as stoic as ever, but on the inside, part of him was going six feet under with his godfather.

Once the casket had settled at the bottom, all of those who had helped dig the hole moved forward with their spades, and one by one picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it into the grave to rest upon Snape’s final resting place. Many others followed suit, and soon everyone was grabbing a handful and tossing it in, their final farewell to the Potions Master they had all never truly known. The strongest emotions running through the vast majority of the mourners were not sadness or grief, but regret and guilt for never honouring the man when he was alive.

As the people began to leave in small groups, those with spades stayed behind and began to shovel mounds of still-moist dirt onto the casket. Some sniffled and cried as they worked, other’s stayed silent and calm. After what felt like hours, Harry shovelled the last scoop of dirt onto the grave, and then used his wand to level out the ground, having resigned himself to one little bit of magic.

Few of them stood and stared at the marble headstone and freshly smoothed dirt, while most vanished their spades and moved away slowly. Finally it was just Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco standing in front of the headstone. Hermione pulled out her wand and gave it a complicated twirl over her head. Lilies of all kinds and colours began to sprout through the freshly covered grave, adding colour and vibrancy to the otherwise dull, lonely grave just outside of Hogsmeade. The Governors had refused to allow Snape to be buried on Hogwarts’ grounds like Dumbledore had been, even though he did just as much, if not more for the Light than Dumbledore had.

The sight of all those lilies broke Harry’s last bit of resolve, and he let the tears roll down his dirt coated cheeks. He sucked in a shuddering breath as the pain and realization hit him again of just how many people had lost their lives for this war – for him. He’d attended so many funerals in the last month and a half that they all began to meld into one mass funeral. Harry was sure he’d never sleep soundly again, or get the smell of death off of every pair of dress robes he owned. You see, many of the dead had been quickly, and not very efficiently, preserved because so many funerals were happening that they had to space them out so everyone could properly pay their respects to each of the fallen soldiers.

Even the fallen Death Eaters had funerals; some in private with their families, and some buried all in a row in some non-descript random patch of forest, the only marker being that of black, blank headstones.

Voldemort himself had been burned by fiendfyre, a celebratory sort of ritual as some danced and sang around the bonfire of burning flesh. Harry did not attend.

As Draco knelt down next to the headstone and placed a silver ring beside it, Ron and Hermione pat Harry gently on the back and took their leave, unable to stand there any longer, just staring at the marble. Harry stayed standing as Draco continued to kneel.

“No one understood him...No one, not even me,” Draco whispered, not looking over at Harry as he spoke.

Harry wasn’t exactly sure what to say, so he said the first thing that came to mind. “I wish I could have...”

There was silence after that, both of the boys – no, men – lost in their own thoughts as the sky got darker and the wind became stronger. Harry looked up as he heard a low rumble of thunder and noticed the threatening looking rain clouds.

“It’s going to rain soon. We should go back to the Three Broomsticks,” Harry said as Draco finally stood from his kneeling position and uselessly dusted off his mud-caked knees.

“Severus loved the rain. He said it reminded him of an old friend who always smelt like fresh flowers after a rainstorm,” Draco said quietly as he finally turned and made eye contact with Harry. His eyes were watery and tears threatened to spill, but he held on.

Harry’s heart clenched as he was almost positive that old friend had been his mother. So that’s what Lily had smelt like; fresh flowers – how fitting. A soft trickling of rain began, splashing onto Harry’s glasses and the shiny marble headstone. Harry took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of the wet dirt and fresh lilies covering Snape’s grave. He smiled and tried to memorize that scent.

“Rain and lilies, what a pleasant combination,” Draco said with a smirk and shake of his head. “Never knew Severus could be so soft. Coming, Potter?” he asked as he turned and started to head back towards the small village to meet up with everyone at the Three Broomsticks.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” said Harry as he took one more look at Snape’s headstone before turning and running to catch up with the blonde Slytherin. They walked side by side in the rain, never turning back to look at the lone grave. It was the last funeral Harry would have to attend for many long years to come.