Tristan had disliked the funeral service. But then he had never been a fan of them. All he could think of was the feeling he'd had as a child at his parents, the gutting feeling of the nothingness after death. He had been paid to attend though, and he'd gotten to see his little brother.
He was taking photographs of the flowers when Pansy returned. His brother had had to go back into school. But he was not to be alone for long, it seemed.
"Pansy Parkinson," he said as he turned, lowering his camera, a smile turning up the corner of his mouth. "My dear, all of my plans are exceptional." His eyes flicked up her body and then down again. "And you deserve nothing less."