Author's Note: I've been anonymously reprimanded for my lack of explanation. You'll have to forgive me – it's been a long time since I've written anything and I'd forgotten about adding an author's note … especially since a majority of my former pieces were history for another author's work (see my profile for more information). As it is, this should loosely accompany my story "Goldfish Pond" and gives a little – very little – idea about previous events. There will be more given later, but I will not be rewriting this, as was suggested. I'm happy with it, and that is saying something. Also, I add little tidbits to the 'update' section of my profile every now and again when I post new stories where I disclose information that may not be given in summaries. I dislike every summary I've ever thought of and opt, rather, to throw in a one-line epilogue to my stories. If this irritates you, well, take a number and I'll address your complaint when I choose to wade through the other umpteen requests made by anonymous contributors who don't sign their reviews.

Loss

Mon-Tue.30-31.Jul.07

The back door flew open with a crash and the red-head at the table swore loudly over his breakfast, reaching for his wand. A round-faced man had fallen to his knees at the threshold, his face red and tear-stained; he didn't seem to be able to speak. With the frantic sound of chairs scraping over the floor, the red-head and his wife rushed to their friend.

"What? What happened?" Hermione asked kneeling beside him. Neville looked from one to the other before closing his eyes, his lips trembling as though he couldn't form the words.

"Neville," said Ron firmly, making his friend look at him, but still no sound came. Ron squinted into the distance beyond his back door, but could find nothing amiss. "Neville," he tried again, but the man's face only twisted in despair. "Stay with him," Ron whispered to Hermione, standing up and taking off for the house at the end of the lane.

She was sitting on the ground, her back against the stone wall of a shallow wishing well that doubled as a goldfish pond. Her eyes were unfocused as she held a child tightly in her arms. At first, Ron thought the boy was clinging to his mother as well, but with a nasty lurch of his stomach, he noticed how loosely the arms around her neck were hanging and the skin that covered them had a pale, bluish tinge.

"Luna?" he called quietly, stepping forward slowly. His stomach continued to twist and turn as he moved closer to the two of them. Moving very carefully and tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat, he crouched beside the woman and asked, "Might I hold him?"

Her eyes flitted to the man next to her but only for a second and she clutched the body closer still.

Ron anticipated this and began to ask differently, but she spoke first.

"He wasn't in his bed this morning when we woke up," said Luna softly. Her voice was surprisingly steady. The lump in Ron's throat threatened to overwhelm him. "We thought he might be playing with the chess set you gave him for his birthday." A smile appeared on her lips but faltered as she said, "Wouldn't have been the first time."

Ron heard Hermione call to someone and there was the sound of little feet running through the grass. He looked over his shoulder in time to see a small girl with red curls approaching the wishing well.

"Daddy, what's-?"

"No, Molly!" Ron shouted and the girl jumped and froze in her tracks. "Go get your mum," he said more softly. The little girl didn't move. "Go on, sweetheart. I didn't mean to yell. Send your mother." Molly spun around and ran off at top speed.

"We called for him when we didn't find him downstairs. He likes to play hide-and-seek."

"Ron? Oh …" Hermione gasped when she saw Luna and the boy, bringing her hands to her mouth.

"Caleb loves the goldfish … so much," she went on, "and Neville would hold him up and let him reach in. He never grabs at them, you know. He's so good with them. Just lets them swim around his hands and the smaller ones would … they would slip through his fingers."

Luna had covered one of the small hands with one of her own.

"So cold," she whispered, cupping the hand to her mouth and blowing warm breath into it. "Too cold."

"We need to get him inside, Luna," Ron told her gently. "It's too cold out here."

"Too cold," she repeated as Ron reached forward. "Just too cold."

"Let's get him warm, eh?" he whispered, slipping his hands around the boy's body and beginning to prise him away from his mother. "Just taking him inside to get warm, okay?"

Luna's hands fell from the body and Ron rushed the child into the empty house.

His whole body ached; his bones, his muscles, his head, his heart. It was tired of holding back; tired of being strong; tired of losing. He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands and tears dripping from his fingers. There were voices in the rooms below him and he heard his wife call for him, someone was leaving. He made no movement to stand and worked at suppressing the sound of his weeping.

"Daddy?" a small voice whispered from the doorway. Ron hastily wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve and dried his hands on the legs of his jeans. A small hand touched his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Ron set his daughter on his knee, holding her with one arm and tried to smile.

"I'm fine, Mollybear," he told her, holding back the great sob that grew in his chest. He kissed her forehead and she leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. He felt tears leaking out of his eyes as he held her and he tried to stop them.

"It's alright to cry, Daddy."

He wrapped his other around arm her and she grabbed onto his neck as he broke down all over again.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione murmured, rushing into the room and sitting beside him. He leaned heavily into her and she hugged the two of them as best she could.

He soon realized he was no longer crying for sadness. These were tears of relief. Ron felt a bubble of laughter growing inside him. From the next room, there came the sound of a baby crying. He could hardly contain; he had his family and they were safe, they were whole. He felt himself laughing through his tears as Hermione kissed the top of his head, promising to return quickly before bustling off to see what had woken their son.