December 1994

Luna loved life (and fun and singing and believing in everything), but there was something terrible (evil, evil, evil) inside of her. It wasn't hers (but it was in a way. There had been tears and fear and Silver and so, so wrong, but she couldn't remember except that she'd needed help.)

"Luna, stop," and Draco was there. He had climbed into the sky to see (feel, know) her, but that wasn't how the story was supposed to go. He's supposed to die and get thrown into the sky. (It didn't matter. Draco wouldn't waste his time guarding golden apples anyway.)

"Draco," she said with a smile. It was hard to smile with the Silver everywhere (with it gleaming in his eyes, but how had he gotten it, had she given it to him, had she-) She did not want to know (and she did not need to remember.)

"It's not your fault." And it wasn't a lie. His mouth curved into sad smile and Luna could see the Draco he would have been (but not really, that Draco had died). "I think it's mine." And it was because if he hadn't- if he hadn't (it might have turned out worse).

She squeezed the hand holding hers tightly. "I wouldn't have thought one action, one careless, thoughtless action could..." She could feel his hand shaking (just a little). After all, he knew who he was supposed to be (it haunts him).

"I mostly don't regret it. Not anymore." His voice is calm. He knows things now (he doesn't mind blue so much). Sometimes he is everything she ever needed (and that scares her).

The sounds of the Forbidden Forest crawl all over them. Luna has to laugh at the name (like anything was forbidden to the Silver, nothing was worse, more evil, more true).

"Stop," the centaur says (his name is Magorian and Luna wished she didn't know when-). He flinched as they turned their eyes on him. "What are you?"

Draco shrugged. "Silver," it was all Luna knew.

It seemed enough to get Magorian thinking though. He looked up at the sky and down at his feet and off into the distance (never their eyes, he avoided-). His gaze landed on the wand sitting on Luna's left ear. "Your wand holds a strand of unicorn hair in it."

"My mom used to run a preserve for endangered magical creatures. There was a herd of unicorns. The hair in my wand is from the lead mare. She was beautiful." There was nothing more to say. After all they had gone away.

Mogorian nodded. He allowed his eyes to skid over the sleeve in which Draco stored his wand. "What about you, Boy? Do you know where your unicorn hair came from?"

Draco laughed (but it wasn't a happy sound). "I'm guessing from the same herd." (That's how the world worked, same to same, like to like).

The centaur looked to the stars. He sighed. "The stars seem to agree."

A silence fell and the sounds of the night clamored in on them. For Luna everything was getting bright and she knew the Silver was getting worse. (She knew it would always be getting worse.)

Draco squeezed her hand.

"What are you called?"

Luna cast a burning gaze to four legged man. "My parents named me Luna." The words are simple (and they are true) and he steps away from them.

"Humans think she was a moon goddess; they should take more care when invoking the gods. Especially those whose blood is true with promise. "

Luna nods because this is true (true like her blood, and Draco's, and those long ago ancestors that had made it so).

"She rode a dragon; he tried to stop the other gods from imprisoning her."

Draco chuckled darkly (the sound is bitter and cold). "Mother's family always had a thing for constellations."

Magorian glanced at each of them once more, before he turned away from them and disappeared back into the trees. Luna understood. The centaurs could see it better than the wizards could. The Silver was hard to look at. (It was painfully bright and it revealed how things might have been.)

She wasn't surprised when the unicorn herd found them. The kids at school wouldn't have understood. (They feared strange, and Luna, and Draco most of all, and he liked that.) The unicorns understood. That's why they were crying (crying Silver).

Silver, silver, silver.

It burned.