The last chapter. Thank you to all of you who have stayed with me until the very end, even though this was only my first fanfiction.


The door of his compartment slid open. Draco, though, did not think this odd despite having been ignored and left alone the entire train ride. He had been expecting this. The door closed with a soft thud and someone sat down in front of him.

"Hello, Luna," Draco said pleasantly, setting aside his copy of the Quibbler.

"Hello, Draco," Luna bubbled. The bottom of Draco's stomach fell out as Luna pulled from her rucksack a stack of envelopes tied up with a thick yellow ribbon. She set them on her lap, fussing with the bow.

"I got your letters," she said, "thank you for writing."

His blood ran like cement, slow and immobilizing. 'She didn't even open them,' he thought despairingly.

"Cat's got your tongue, I see," she giggled. Her pleasant disposition felt to him like a blade in his ribs. He had written her over a dozen letter and she hadn't even opened them? Why bother giving them back then? Why not burn them if she didn't want anything to do with them?

"Well, here they are," she said, smiling warmly and holding the letters out to him. He took them with out looking at them, his eyes glued to her face, trying to understand what this was to mean, but at the same time with a very distinct numbness in his mind.

The weight of the world came with these letters. All his apologies and pleas had gone unread, unheard, by the person who he wanted most to know them. Perhaps he should recount them all now while she was hear, but Luna had already begun speaking.

"You are very brave to leave yourself behind," she said, placing her hand on his. His chest tightened and he felt his cheeks flush. He looked down at the floor, trying to understand what she had just said. He didn't realize Luna had even risen to leave until he felt a wispy strand of blonde hair graze his face. She kissed his cheek softly, lingering by his ear. "The first and last ones are the only ones that really matter," she whispered. "Goodbye, Draco."

The door slid open. It thudded shut.

Draco pondered. Why should only the first and last of his own letters matter? Obviously, none of them had mattered to Luna if she was giving them back unopened. He untied the yellow ribbon. Draco's stomach flipped.

The hand that had addressed these envelopes was clearly not his, but the name that the hand had wrote was. The letters were addressed to him, and in the top left corner, Luna had signed her name. His fingers shook as he opened the first letter.

May 17th, 1998

Dear Draco,

You won't be hearing from me soon because I cannot reply to any of your letters, and I know that you won't understand this. However, I don't apologize. I knew that you would write to me. You're looking for the answers, or at least, you will be soon. But I cannot be the one to give them to you. That's your job. How do ever expect to heal anyone else if you cannot heal yourself?

It won't be easy. Take your time. But when it's said and done, I'll be back to you.

Your friend,

Luna Lovegood

Draco's eyes grew hot, but he ignored it. He reached under the stack and withdrew the last letter. He looked restlessly out the window. She had read them after all, and from the look of it, she had replied to them all, too. But why the secrecy? He tore the last envelope open.

August 31st, 1998

Dear Draco,

I am so proud of you! You've done it! You've found your answer, your cure! Now stick with it, and carry it with you always.

Do you see now why I couldn't tell you this? Because it wouldn't have worked. You wouldn't have believed that self-forgiveness was the key. It would have sounded rubbish to you. Only you can save you.

You can always move on from the person that you were, but without forgiveness, you will never heal from the pain.

All my love,

Luna

Draco felt oddly at peace. He stowed the letter with its siblings in his trunk. He would read them later. In fact, he would read them for the rest of his life, even when Luna's had burnt out.

The next letters he received from Luna were only two; one, 14 years later, a wedding invitation, and the other 13 years after that, asking him to humor her with a visit.

Draco agreed to visit her at once, but he was blithely unaware that his first visit to Luna since her marriage to Rolf Scamander would be his last.

The village of Ottery St. Catchpole where the Scamander family lived was quaint and cozy as any other, surrounded by grassy hills and plains. A short, wide, brown substantial-looking house sat near the edge of town. It was surrounded by peach trees and other gardens of interest.

The man who answered the door was Rolf. Draco recognized him from the wedding.

"Draco," Rolf said, "come in. Luna said you'd be over." Mismatched shelves lined every wall of the living room holding books and foreign-looking trinkets. The picture frames held scenes of Luna and Rolf in far off places, occasionally joined by a pair of young blonde boys. "Make yourself at home, I'll go wake Luna."

Draco had barely any time to wonder why Luna might have been sleeping if she were expecting guests when the boys from the pictures came bounding down the stairs. One stopped at the landing upon seeing Draco, causing the other one to knock right into him. They both toppled over.

"Oi! Gerroff me!" One said, pushing his brother to the side.

"You alright, boys?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, fine, it didn't hurt," said one. They stood side by side now. They were twins. Draco had heard of course that Luna had had a pair of boys, but the identical twin part must have not reached his ears. He gave a snort. They reminded him of the Weasley twins. He smiled remembering the two brilliant blokes who had taken their lives into their own hands and made so many people happy with their wacky inventions.

"Are you Draco Malfoy?" Asked the other.

"Yeah, that's me. And you are?" He extended a hand.

"Lorcan," said one.

"Lysander," said the other. Draco shook their hands. Lysander gave his brother a look. "Well, if you'll excuse us Mr. Malfoy..." The pair skirted into what must have been the kitchen.

"I see you've met the boys," Rolf said, coming back around the corner.

"How old are they?" Draco asked.

"Just turned eleven."

"Oh, so they'll be going to Hogwarts this upcoming term?"

"Yeah," said Rolf, "well, Luna's ready to see you. She's in her bedroom. Oh, and you're going to want to drink this." Rolf handed him a small clear vial.

"What is it?" Draco asked, swirling the vial.

"It'll keep you from getting sick. Well, I might as well take some more, myself. It only lasts for three hours." He produced from his pocket a vial identical to Draco's and, as it only held a gulp's worth of potion, downed it in one. He shivered and set it on a tall skinny table by the door. Draco absentmindedly followed suit, a terrible sinking feeling growing inside him. A chill passed over his skin and he saw the goosebumps raise on his forearms. Rolf led him to a door down the hall. It was open and Rolf gestured for Draco to enter. This was where they parted ways.

Luna was lying in bed, looking as if she hadn't moved recently. She was propped up by pale blue pillows. Her skin was pale and dull. Her hair looked thinner and silvery white strands had begun to sneak their way in amongst the blonde majority. She smiled when she saw him, but immediately put her hand to her mouth and gave a harsh cough into her handkerchief.

"Hello, Draco," she said, sounding hoarse. "Come, sit by me." She nodded to an arm chair on the other side of the bed in front of a low wide window.

"Luna," Draco said, "what's wrong?"

"You never were one to stall," she sighed happily. Of all her changes, her eyes had stayed the same. They were as dreamy and grey as ever, but perhaps with an older, sadder hue in them.

"Luna," his voice louder, "tell me what's wrong. You're clearly not right."

"Sit down, Draco," she said clearly, "sit by me." He settled into the arm chair. She gazed at him wistfully. "You look so much older..."

"I wonder why, Luna, I'm only nearly 50," he chuckled.

"50, hmm... Well, I'm 46, so what, that makes you 47?"

"Yeah, that's right." Draco said. "Now, Luna," he said gently, "why are you all cooped up in bed? It's only six in the evening, and you can't fool me with saying you were just taking a nap."

"But it's true, I was taking a nap," she chortled. He gave her a look. "Yes, I know what you mean," she said no less pleasantly. She coughed into her handkerchief.

"You're sick," he said, trying to egg her on. She stared at him peacefully. "How long have you been sick?"

"Oh," she sighed, "about a year and a half, maybe."

"A year and half? Luna, have you been to see anyone? Have you gone to St. Mungos?" Draco asked, his insides starting to bubble.

"Yes." She said simply. "It was a rather nice visit."

"Luna!" He exclaimed, exasperated. "Did they give you anything? What is it? Graxely? Consumption? Thatchberg?"

"No, no, it's not as bad that." She gave a great heave and wheezed into the handkerchief. "I got it on a trip."

"Where?" He demanded. He ran his hands over his hair and clenched his jaw.

"The Eglantine Forest," she said. Draco's jaw dropped. He felt as if he were being burned from the inside out with a boiling acid.

"Luna," he whispered, " that forest is illegal to venture into, and for good reason. I warned you, Luna. Don't you remember? At school I told you, I told you that anything you contract there is incurable, unless of course," he began to mumble, "you can get to the Gilead tree... the last Gilead tree is in the Eglantine Forest... the balm of Gilead can heal anything you..." He added hopefully. She just smiled and shook her head.

"No, I didn't make it that far. According to my map, the tree was quite a few more miles in." There was a pause.

"How long have you been bedridden?"

"Three months, now, I'd say."

"Why did you go?" He asked quietly. "To Eglantine?"

"Oh, Draco," Luna said, suppressing a cough as best she could, "there are so many things I haven't found yet."

"Were you alone?"

"Yes."

"Did Rolf know where you were going?"

"No," she looked down at her hands.

"Does he know now?"

"No," she didn't meet his eyes. He paused.

"Luna," he said gently, "this seems... like suicide. You knew what was-"

"I would never do that." She said sternly.

"Then I don't understand-"

"I have children, Draco! And I know firsthand what it's like to lose one's mum!" She whispered fiercely. She meant to go on, but her breath got caught in her throat and she hacked into the handkerchief. Her eyes closed and her hand slipped away from her mouth as she fell back onto her pillows. The white handkerchief was spotted with varying shades of vermilion, showing their age in their hues. Where the blood had met the black thread of the embroidered 'M', it had turned deep auburn. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Sweat glistened on her cheeks.

"So it is," he mumbled, "it's Cypress Lung." Draco had felt fear many times in his life, but none so strong as this. "You're going to die." Her eyes remained closed, but she smiled. "Of all the things to pick up in Eglantine, you pick up the worst of them all."

"It was foolish of me, wasn't it?" Luna said faintly. "I thought that if something should happen to me like this, I'd just go to the Gilead tree and take care of it, but I was mistaken." She coughed and sputtered again. "Daddy had always promised to take me there one day, despite the prohibition. He never did like the Ministry much, so you can understand why he didn't mind disregarding the rules in front of me." Her eyes fluttered open. "Now, we have a bit of business to discuss."

"Business?" He asked.

"Yes, Draco, business." She replied. "How long do I have?" He gave her a long hard look, but she would not avert her eyes.

"You say you've been bedridden three months?" She nodded. "Then that gives you at best two."

"Two months," she said conversationally. "Now, about my boys-"

"Lorcan and Lysander?" Draco said, a ghost of a grin coming to his lips.

"Yes, the twins," she said warmly, "they're going to Hogwarts this September, by which time you say I'll be sleeping." Draco cringed. "You're still working in the hospital wing, aren't you?"

"Well, yes," he said, a bit apprehensive, "but this year was going to be my last year."

"How long have you been at Hogwarts?" She asked.

"Eight years now, the year after Scorpius started, so yes, eight years." Draco answered.

"I'm glad to hear McGonagall keeps offering you a contract." She said thoughtfully.

"You want me to... stay for your sons?" Draco asked.

"Yes, I do." Luna said sadly. "Since, as you say, they won't have me from August on out, I would really like it if someone were there for them at school. Rolf just can't do that." She struggled to sit up a bit. "Draco," she took his hands in hers, "do me this favor. Please. Watch over my children while they're at school. You won't have to do all that much. Just check in with them and don't let anyone call them loony and help them stay focused on their studies. For me?"

The pair of grey eyes met. Draco brought her hands to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers.

"Of course, Luna," he said, his chest tight. She pressed her palms to his cheeks and turned his face up to hers.

"Thank you, Draco." And there was a Luna many of her colleagues had thought they'd never see. Not a dreamy little girl silently heartbroken, but a grown woman smiling at it all, but they were wet smiles.

"I still love you, you know," Draco said heavily.

"I know," Luna said, "I've always known. I just hope that you know the same." She leaned back and coughed. "But don't despair about it now. We wanted different things, after all."

"You wanted to travel the world," Draco agreed, "and I just wanted to repay my debts."

"And you have, " Luna said, letting him take her hands. "I'm so proud of you. You've done it, Draco, you've really done it." She sniffled and coughed again, this time so violently that a bloody chunk of something came out onto her handkerchief, but she did not let Draco see this. "Please don't come back to visit me." Draco blinked. "It will only get worse from here, and I don't want you to remember me any worse than this."

"Luna," he said disbelievingly, "that's even harder than asking me to work for seven more years."

"But it's the way I want it."

"Who's to say you get everything you want?"

"I don't, and I haven't, so please help me in that endeavor." She sighed. "Besides, who's to say you get everything you want?" Draco thought long and hard about this; to honor the wishes of a dying friend or to satisfy his own vain desires.

"But there are so many things I want you to know!" He said desperately.

"Then tell me," she said simply. She had caught him. "Draco, please don't come back." Despite the harsh meaning of her words, they resonated with him. Her eyes, though sad, were warm and pleading. He nodded solemnly. "Thank you."

But Draco couldn't speak. To leave her that day, with a cure impossible, knowing that she would only suffer, had begun to suffocate him. It was if his mind was being Cruciated. He then knew what was happening; his heart was breaking.

He stood up and kissed her forehead. "I forgive you," he whispered.

"Goodbye, Draco." She kissed his cheek and let him walk away. He would walk for a long time once he left the Scamander house. Astoria would be worried when he showed up to the Manor in the late morning the next day, and when she would ask him where he'd been, he could not quite tell her. He was back on a road worn and weathered, wandering with Luna in the fields of sunrise.