A/N: Here I am. Again. And I know it's been long. I'll try to write more frequently now, I promise, but this year I'm feeling much better than last year and I don't have to rely on fanfiction to make me feel better. I still have many, many ideas, though, and I'm planning to write them all one day. So please bear with me, and continue reading. Thanks to everyone who reviewed or put me on their favorites or alerts lists, your help is very appreciated. Thanks so much ;)

This is just a little piece about loneliness, loss and the like. It's obviously set in an AU. I hope you enjoy, and please review!

Disclaimer: Anything you might recognise (characters, setting, etc.) is not mine, it all belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. etc. No copyright infringement intended.

WARNING: Character death. Swearing. Suicidal thoughts.

Memento Mori

The rain was pouring down on her face incessantly, blending in with the tears on her already-wet face. She turned her head up to the clouds, as if searching for an escape that she knew would never come. The raindrops fell heavily onto her closed eyelids, and she felt every single drop like the slap of a fist. Why, oh why, did it have to happen?

She knelt down in front of the grave. "Please forgive me," she whispered hoarsely, hoping they could hear her. But it was too late now for all regrets, too late for all remorse, for all begging for forgiveness. Never again would they hear her, never again would they speak to her. They were forever silent now, and it had all been for naught.

What do you fight for when you've got nothing left to lose? Nothing. Values like freedom, peace, love, what did they mean to her when everyone she loved was dead? There was no sense in fighting any longer. She sank to her knees. Why did it have to be so unfair? Life had never been fair, she knew, but today wasn't a day for reasoning. Today was for mourning. Today was for tears. Today was for rain, and for endings.

And tomorrow, what would tomorrow be for? Nothing, for them in any case, she mused. Hell, they hadn't even seen yesterday, for Merlin's sake. What would tomorrow be for her? She only saw emptiness when she turned her watery blue eyes towards the sky. The rain was still pouring down on her, yet she didn't care anymore. She couldn't even remember a time when she had cared. Strange that a whole life should be forgotten so easily. Strange how it all seemed to fit in the end. It didn't really matter.

She had to forget what had been, she had to forgive and forget, and live on. But how could she, with their deaths on her mind? Why did it have to be those two? She laughed, a bitter, a short laugh, which sounded like thunder in the silence of the graveyard. It always had to be the good ones. Not one of the evil ones had died, of course. They said it had been a simple accident, they said it was fortunate only those two had been killed. Luna didn't care about their fancy explanations- They hadn't seen it coming, though. Her family had found them, hand in hand, a smile still on their faces, but their eyes blind forever, their mouths eternally silent and their love forever dead. It had been over before they had known what was going on.

Luna wondered if the Dark Lord had chosen them especially, for they were no strangers to him. Certainly it had been a mere coincidence, nothing more than a fucking accident, by chance or whatever you might want to call it. Still, the possibility remained. The Dark Lord had known her best friend well, she had given him almost an entire year of her life without ever realizing what she was doing, without realizing she was the one to spread terror and fear in all of Hogwarts Castle. Her boyfriend – what a simple word for such a complicated relationship – her boyfriend had been no stranger to the Dark Lord either. His father had been his right hand for many years, but he himself had refused to take the Dark Mark. What love could do to a person, Luna mused. Love certainly had changed him for the better.

Why did it have to be those two of all people? Luna suppressed a sob. They had wanted to get married, they had even spoken about children. There had been a future awaiting them. They had been happy. She was crying for real now. How could this happen? She fell to her knees, pressing her forehead into the muddy grass near their tombs. Tears were running down her face faster and faster. Funny that they should feel hot on her icy skin. Luna hadn't even noticed her teeth were chattering until then. Yet it was a rainy November evening, and she felt as though the world were going to fall apart.

Her sister, almost, since no bounds of blood or family united them, but if she'd had a sister, it would have been her. And her sister's love. Why?

Her hands were slapping down at the earth now, harder and harder creating a thumping rhythm in sync with her own heartbeats that resounded painfully inside her seemingly hollow chest. She had loved her as more than a friend, had loved her as only a sister could, but to what purpose, to what use? All of it had been so utterly futile. Another bitter laugh escaped her lips. All the love in the world couldn't have saved them. Not now, not then, and certainly not tomorrow. She buried her face in her hands again, bringing mud and grass onto her cheeks that mingled with the tears and the rain and her tangled blonde hair.

It had all been so futile it almost seemed comical now. Who did they think they were, all those powerful wizards with their ridiculous pretentions to rule the word? All those girls that had laughed at the couple because it had been something a proper young wizard of his social standing simply didn't do, dating the likes of a Weasley. They hadn't cared about it, they had even mocked them. For those tow, their love had been enough. His mother had approved it, having dreamed of a true love for many years; his father hadn't known anything – or so they'd thought. Probably he had found out. For her part, she had thought about telling her family, but in the end she simply hadn't had the occasion.

And so it had been her, Luna, the dead girl's best friend, to explain why she had been found in the embrace of the blond-haired young man. That conversation hadn't been an easy one, but they had all been quite understanding. Then, after the ceremony, they had all left, one after the other, their eyes red with tears as they cautiously walked away from the tombs. One by one they had said their last goodbyes, and left. Only Luna was still sitting in front of the graves in the pouring November rain. Even after three hours, she still felt as if she could cry for an eternity, until there was not a single tear left in her frail body, until she sank to the earth with exhaustion and pain, until she was incapable of moving a single limb, lying there in the grass and waiting for the graceful darkness to come and take her far away.

She was clutching her hair in desperation, pulling out entire strands of bright blonde hair covered in mud and ashes. The clouds above were darkening by the minute. Night would soon come over the cemetery and the lonely mourning girl in front of the graves.

Only when a shadow fell onto her face did she open her eyes. There, standing beside her, was Blaise, Draco's best friend. He must have come to mourn without anybody seeing him, she thought. Then, suddenly, she was lifted up into his arms. She was so tired she didn't even try to protest, she simply let him carry her away from the tombs, away from them, away from their corpses and the memories that had been haunting her. Luna buried her muddy face in his shoulder, still weeping silently, helplessly, like a baby who didn't quite comprehend what was happening. "Shh," he silenced her, "don't cry, don't cry, it's all over." His words only made her tears come more frequently, she was sobbing loudly now. "It's alright, it's alright," he murmured, soothingly, or so he thought.

That's when she started pounding her little fists into his shoulder. "No! It's not alright. I'm not alright. It will never be alright," she cried into his robes. He put a reassuring hand on her hair, caressing it lightly. "I know," he said. "I've known for a very, very long time."

And with those words, he Apparated them away, to a room where there was warmth and light. She only felt him lay her down on something soft – a sofa perhaps, she thought – without opening her eyes. His hands were tracing little circles on her back, his voice was whispering lowly into her ears, the fireplace was so warm and the sofa so very soft, she sighed, defenseless, a last tear rolling down her cheek and throat, but she swiped at it before slowly drifting away into sleep.

A/N: 'Memento mori' is latin for 'remember you're mortal'.

Good? Bad? Indifferent? Worthy of a sequel? Please review!

Anna Scathach