After Draco died, Luna spent the next few weeks wandering, unable to focus. It had been Draco who helped her Sight, Draco who kept her focused on the here and now. Luna could only weep, and sing, and grieve, where everywhere she Saw memories of herself and Draco, talking, singing, celebrating. Living.
Harry's grief was raging, furious, a hot bubbling temper. Luna could See why Draco's death was necessary. It was the catalyst that sharpened his power, forging him into a blade that could win the war. She wondered if Margaret had snipped the threads with that in mind. It was likely. The Founders were good, but they were rarely kind. Except for Alex, who could not now undo what was done beneath the blessing of the heavens.
On Midsummer Eve Luna sat beneath the orchard trees. Her thoughts turned to the year, and the spell-breaking that was her Draco's last triumph. With nothing to see save the blooming trees, simple life without deathly weight, her Sight did not trouble her. She wandered, clad in a simple white dress freshly stained by salt tears. It was dusk when her thoughts turned at last to the simple golden chain wreathing her slender neck. Even if I am not with you, my love will always be, she remembered her Draco whispering, in one of their last, precious days. He walked onward, yes, but his love remained, and with it one last tool.
She grasped the brilliant red jewel on her pendant, and began to weave a request for other ears. Let me use this to find my love. Let it lead me to Draco Regulus Black, son of Narcissa, my love now and always. Let no veils hide him from my sight or Sight. So I speak, so I intend –
Are you truly certain, little sister? Luna heard a voice whisper. Once done, this cannot be undone. You are grieving. Consider what else you might accomplish with this gift.
Do not presume to tell me what I may or may not do, Rowena Weaver of Fates, Luna said flatly, silent and unyielding. This power was given to me, to decide and to use. I will use it to find Draco. This is my choice.
Very well. And so may it be done. I wish you joy of it. Rowena's bitter presence faded from Luna's thoughts. The red jewel between her fingers flared, nearly blinding Luna to the world. When it faded, a trail of silvery light gently draped across the bushes, like moonlight upon water.
Wings will carry me, faster by far than feet. Luna shifted into Starwing, nearly faster than thought. Her wings beat into the air, her eyes sought out the elusive trail. She did not notice where she flew, focused as she was on the spark of hope slowly fanning into flame. A physical trail, in the physical world. Does Draco linger here, could I find him in truth?
Afterwards, she could not have said where she flew, or how far, or for how long. Eventually, her eyes found the end of the trail, just ahead. Starwing settled onto a convenient branch, and Luna tumbled out of the tree. She stumbled forward, hardly daring to look. Then she did look, and all she saw was the gravestone. It was covered in the rosebush Neville had grown, already blooming, but she would know this place anywhere. The beginning of her song sputtered in her throat, unsung wonders of another time. This, now, was a time without Draco. Hope was for fools.
She could not say how long she knelt there, wracked with sobs. It hardly mattered, until a voice broke into her all-consuming grief. Her eyes reached up to trace him, but she refused to hope again. Even though the last light shines upon his face. Even though I would know my Draco anywhere, and this is he. She joined in the song anyway. Luna knew that her younger self was watching, and a bit of old life came into her at the thought of another performance. She would make herself into the girl whose steps would lead back to this place.
"I suppose not. Silly of me, to cry for him," Luna answered, cleverly ambiguous. If this was Draco, then he, Lucius, was buried here, and Luna would not shed a tear for his death. If Draco was buried here, then she was silly to cry for him, when instead she could avenge him. Some of the iron sharpness that Harry had, Luna found in that moment, facing either Draco or his murderer.
"… but I had no choice. You know that."
"I do," Luna said, and knew it to be true. This moment was fated, and choice was something all of them had left behind, long ago.
Draco broke the flower and offered it to her. The red, red rose was glowing with the same silver light playing across Draco's face, and in that moment Luna was certain. Let this power find my love, she had asked. The light showed her a rose, given and received. She knew. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she knew. Draco lived. All the hours and days to come were not enough to contain her joy, her leaping, heart-fulfilling joy of hope redeemed.
She accepted his offer with a voice that she was surprised to find did not shake at all. And when he said, "My lady, your way with words delights me," in the same phrase and tone he had used a thousand times before, the last doubts were banished from her heart. She shifted into Starwing, and settled on his arm, where she would rest for now and for always. Together they walked into the rising dawn, silver light haloed around them both. Luna knew she would See that light for as long as they both lived. She did not look back.