Author's Note - You know, Luna is an awful lot of trouble. I absolutely adore her character but, Lord, she's difficult to write. She just kept going off on these tangents about possibly imaginary creatures and I'd have to drag her, kicking and ranting, back to the prompt. I'm still not sure I succeeded.

This drabble is a response to prompt 9 of the Tattoo challenge by sick-atxxheart on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum here on ffnet. Hope this is worthy, sick!

Tattoos, Slorts, and Luna Lovegood

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Every night, she kisses his tattoo gently. She knows he hates it because it makes him remember. But then, that's why he got it, isn't it? He marked himself so he'd never forget.

873. That's what the tattoo over his heart says, 873. It's the number of people killed during the second war with Voldemort. It's the number of times Harry feels he failed. It's the number that is slowly tearing her lover into pieces.

She'd tried to tell him it wasn't his fault, they all had. He had worked as quickly as he could, saved as many as he could manage, while still completing his mission objectives efficiently. He had nearly killed himself more than once just to save one more, hold off the enemy a little longer. He'd once even had his entire left hand severed at the wrist from a well aimed slicing hex just to save a little boy behind enemy lines. Were it not for Hermione and her clever preservation and blood clotting charms he'd have lost the hand permanently, if not lost his life. Still, it wasn't enough, not for him, never for him.

Luna supposed it stemmed from the Dursleys, may the Slorts consume them, and their abuse. They had always demanded absolute perfection from Harry, even at his youngest. The slightest thing that went wrong was blamed on their nephew. Indoctrinated from infancy, Harry had believed them.

Dumbledore, though he never meant to, reinforced those teachings. In his efforts to save the world and Harry's innocence, yet still keep every crucial bit of information to himself he had forced Harry into accepting responsibility in impossible situations far too young.

Then Dumbledore allowed himself to die without leaving any instructions or advice behind. He'd foisted off the entire fate of the wizarding world and the horcruxes on Harry, unintentionally doing the same thing he'd always detested the wizarding public for doing.

Sometimes she wondered if it would have saved them all a lot of heartache if she'd just warned him about the Greygosts hiding in his beard in her first year. But then, they'd seemed rather comfortable, there. They'd probably already served their incubation period of 10 years and had begun the journey through his hair follicles to feast on his brain.

She looked down at the number, once more. She'd kissed it again tonight, despite his protests, and she'd kiss it again tomorrow night. She wasn't quite sure why she did it. Maybe it was because her mother had always told her that nothing could be hurtful if you looked at it with the right feelings in mind. Perhaps she hoped her good thoughts and feelings would soak in and change the way he viewed it.

Then again, maybe she just liked the cute way he scrunched his nose up at her when she did it.

Smiling slightly, Luna laid her head back down on Harry's shoulder and snuggled in. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly, happy to be with him after another fun romp together.

Suddenly, Harry began to twist half-heartedly beneath her in sleepy annoyance. She continued to run her fingers lightly up and down his side, however, tickling him as he slumbered to prevent Jujubees from moving in and feeding on his sadness. He's sad enough as it is, he doesn't need them pulling more to the surface just so they can go back and deliver the emotional energy to the Daily Prophet to sprinkle on their papers. Enough people read that rot already without adding Harry's powerful emotions to their allure charms.

Things would be so much easier if people just read the Quibbler. It, at least, was reliable.