He was entranced to say the least. Death had always felt cold and warped. Something that came too soon, or too tragically, or too viciously. But here, he watched on as people smiled albeit many glassy eyed. They shared and indulged in food and stories, they remembered the deceased as though their passing were something to be celebrated rather than mourned. It was something that, in Draco’s eyes, was far more beautiful than any magic he could weave with his wand. 