A/N: On a grill next to the review box, you will find skewers on which to place your Hufflepuff hearts. I plan to make tacos out of them to feed to Nagini.
Except for you, Dash: I will ask for yours nicely my wonderful Beta and bringer of ferocious insults. Thank you for adding your merciless brand of brilliance to this chapter and being the leviosa to my wingardium.
Vine
Luna and I sit alongside Hermione in the Hogwarts infirmary. Godfather paces from the head of the bed to the foot, waving his wand over her in an unseemly amount of diagnostic spells while spewing every synonym he can think of for "idiot".
"Stupid, asinine, absolute bloody foolishness…"
"Thank you for saving Harry, Professor," Luna quips.
"Nothing but shortsighted naivety displayed by you Ms Granger," he continues to murmur, popping two oddly black sterile gloves over his hands.
"What was I supposed to do? Leave my friends to fight You-Know-Who by their… Ow, Professor!"
"Shut up. What's infinitely more painful is the myriad of complications you could have experienced from spell damage!" he replies, pressing methodically with his fingertips from her ribs to her hips "What you are supposed to do - simpleton witch - is to stay far away from places where you could injure yourself and the life you assisted in creating!"
"Hypocrite! What about the lives at risk today, Professor? And think about what you're supposed to do!" Hermione kicks her foot while jerking away from Godfather's touch. "You're being needlessly rough with me and my baby when you have every opportunity to treat me well! Do you know that Tonks died? DIED!" she shouts as Godfather presses unrelentingly over her lower abdomen.
"Yes, and you could have perished with her, or now without medical attention. A pity the only professional qualified and available to ensure your longevity is so impishly tactless," Godfather admonishes, punctuating his cold stare with a pop of the gloves into the waste bin. "Granger, you're dismissed in full health."
He directs his ire to me as Hermione brashly stands to her feet.
"And you! I never would have dreamed your self-preservation instincts to be so abhorrently deficient! On. The. Bed. And for Salazar's sake witch - sit… down…"
Hermione and I change places as Luna attempts to strike another conversation with Godfather.
"You know, Professor, you should really start calling us by our first names. It could get quite confusing with all of us having Granger for a family name."
I hear Godfather's teeth click most grotesquely as he grinds them together.
"Delightful," he growls through them, mustering an impatient sneer.
Godfather slices my shirt open with no regard for my dignity, not that there is much left of it to be salvaged. He takes one look at the horrid purple and green bruising and back to me.
"Dolohov?" he questions, arching an eyebrow.
"Yes, I believe so."
"Do you believe it Draco, or do you know it to be true?" he asks incredulously.
"I know it to be true," Luna interjects with a smile. "Dolohov is the large man with the tattoos, right? I stitched Draco up as soon as the curse hit though, so I don't think he lost as many fluids as he was meant to."
"Remarkable," Godfather states, running his thin, frigid fingers gingerly across the bruises. He turns to face Luna. "No one has ever survived this curse. The countercurse has not been made… public."
"That's so sad," Luna replies, her eyes falling into the deepest oceans as the realization sinks in. "They will now though, won't they?" she asks quietly, hope gleaming amidst the despair. I want to kiss the pain away, to tell her everything will be okay, but I'm not certain the truth will be so simple.
"It would appear so," Godfather replies, relieving my anxiety. He waves his wand to illustrate all of my components resting soundly inside me. He shifts a few of them around slightly, causing a strange tickle to bubble forth until he has them resituated. "Excellent work," he tells Luna "I've seen healers less adept at internal stitching."
"Thank you," she replies "I had to save him."
"And where were YOU?" Hermione shouts, rising to her feet while stabbing an accusatory finger dangerously close to Godfather's nose. "YOU could have saved him! You could have saved TONKS!" she screeches, her voice catching in tears and breaking in outrage.
"Ms Granger…" Godfather growls, his general menace retreating methodically into the black recesses of his eyes "As we discussed, your emotions will be heightened during the coming days, and following the traumatic experiences you so needlessly endured…"
"FUCK YOU!" she shouts "You're a COWARD and a snake! The consummate Slytherin! The only person you care to save is YOURSELF unless it's convenient or advantageous to YOU! The only reason you decided to offer your gracious assistance - AT THE VERY END might I add after our soldiers gave their LIVES for this cause - is because your side was being annihilated! You only helped so you could escape Azkaban!"
I stand to my feet, stepping between Hermione and Godfather before wands are drawn.
"You idiotic, ungrateful, snivelling excuse for a Gryffindor…" Godfather snarls "If you had any knowledge of one-quarter of the aide you have received from me you would be kissing the hem of my robes. Some of us don't go about shouting our courtesies to the world. Consummate Slytherin indeed," he scoffs.
"Prove it!" she demands, crossing her arms defiantly across her swollen breasts "You're a liar. The worst sort! The kind who lies to himself then believes it!"
"Silence!" Godfather orders, running his middle finger across his eye. He summons a vial, dripping a murky silver liquid into it.
"Take this to the Pensieve, and you'll have every answer you desire. Afterwards, I fully expect a thorough and accurate apology."
"If the answers aren't sufficient, expect a thorough and proper hexing instead, you pompous, despicable, slimy reptile!" Hermione annunciates acerbically, slamming the infirmary door on her way out.
Luna looks to me then to Godfather and back.
"I think she'll make it safe to the headmaster's office, don't you kitten?" she asks.
I hear Potter clattering noisily along in an effort to placate Hermione's shouting.
"Yes, I believe she will," I respond.
Godfather stares daggers through me, diverting the anger Hermione has brought forth to attack me in her stead.
"It will be your penance for such ineptitude for that child to have an aggregation of her temper and yours. You should pray to every god for the child to inherit your mother's occluding prowess."
"Mine?!" I shout, startled at the egregious assault on my character.
"She's your wife, is she not? Unless the second Mrs Granger here has become so fortuitous at healing that she has fashioned a way to sire the child?"
Luna erupts in laughter, collapsing over the stool she sits on to steady herself against Godfather's shoulder.
"No, no…" she pants out around the giggles. "That's Harry's baby," she sighs, catching her breath "Hermione is our best witch."
xoXOXox
This situation is all so stupid, so perfectly unintelligent, miraculously incomprehensible. I can't stop laughing.
"Lovely, I think it's time for you to get some rest. Let us go see about Mother and Aunt Andi."
"No, no, I'm fine…" I tell him, although I'm not sure that's true.
What I mean is I'm finer than I was a moment ago, more alright than I've been in the past few hours. I'm feeling, which is better than not.
The end of the battle overtook me with the strangest sensation of all-consuming nothing. My sense of purpose was gone, being replaced by a solid, empty blankness surrounding me. It started when the dueller threatened Draco.
"I can't wait to fuck her senseless before I slit her throat."
The jarring threat hit my ears like a flying axe, obliterating his humanity and my morals in one brutal stroke.
I killed him instantly, reflexively. I didn't have time to wonder what his motivations were, that perhaps he was coaxing Draco to kill him first, or maybe he was stark raving mad and required a mind healer; I just killed him. And I didn't feel sorry; I don't feel sorry. Not even angry. I felt nothing.
I didn't care about the children who might mourn the loss of their father or the mother who lost a son. As a matter of fact, when I blew Draco a kiss and flew off, I supposed if they existed, they would be better off without him to stain their lives.
This is madness. Arguing with myself, justifying my actions against their intentions and repercussions. These thoughts have spun away and taken me with them. I don't know where Luna Granger has flown off to or who has taken her place. Am I not the one who saves spiders from demise because they, like me, only desire to live? Are human lives not more influential than animals? But isn't that also what makes them so dangerous?
I belatedly realize I'm still leaning on Professor Snape's shoulder staring into the black abyss of his robes as Draco coaxes me to walk.
"Professor," I mumble into the comfortably dark fabric, snuggling my nose into it in hopes of disappearing there for eternity "How did you turn into smoke? Was it eternal darkness powder? I'd like to try it."
"You can uncover the secrets of the universe after you rest, witch," he scolds me handing me a vial of Dreamless Sleep from the shelf. He must not understand the terrors will still be around when I awaken. "The lot of you are enough to drive any wizard to an early grave. I'll speak at length with Minerva about this inter-house unity bollocks she's comprising, because if I ever have the unfortunate circumstance of attempting to lecture Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Gryffindor simultaneously again I may very well retire sooner than anticipated."
"I know your secret," I tell his robes, unable to bear the burden of it for any longer while my sanity is barrelling away with me.
"Oh?" he responds flatly, pulling my shoulders up to look me in the eyes. "Show me."
I stare back into his unreadable gaze, calling forth a picture of his aura as I fall headlong away from my spinning consciousness.
'Why did you do it?' I project into his mind. 'Why do you let the bad things happen? How is your aura still blue?'
A wave of despair radiates into me, cooling my insides to a painfully cold remorse.
'The primary life we must save is our own.' he replies.
"This all could have been avoided," I muse out loud "No one had to die, not a single person…"
"You are correct, Mrs Granger. Unfortunately, not everyone understands nor cares to comprehend sound advice. Furthermore, many are unsalvageably lazy, and such refuse to apply it when the opportunity presents itself."
I take advantage of my Professor's unexpected amicability to ask one more question:
'Is that why you are a Slytherin, Professor? Because you understand these things without being told them?'
He pauses, carefully crafting his response.
'A particular set of experiences is necessary to understand this knowledge well, Ms Granger. One I would never wish upon you.'
The sentiment has me craving to comfort him, to find solace in all of the things he's learned so my friends and I will never have to. What horrible experiences cause one to give up hope of saving us all, to lean on the complacence of selfishness?
I wrap Professor Snape in my arms, taken aback by how small his body is under the robes. His presence is so large, so untouchable and self-reliant, yet he was given this thin body, no larger or stronger than Draco's. It's so unfair, so mercilessly juxtaposing that someone with his strength could be placed in a vessel so frail while weak and sodden Lucius could live in broad shoulders and a heart-jerkingly handsome smile.
Wouldn't it be nice, brilliant, advantageous, for our bodies to be proportional to our auras? Then everyone - not just aura readers - could gauge ourselves for what we are and know others for their insides immediately. The strong and good and caring among us could be granted power over darkness easily then and it would all be so simple. Simpler still if everyone could read auras, or even better if everyone could be given kindness and intelligence in equal measure...
"Oh please do think louder, Mrs Granger," Professor Snape quips sarcastically "The raging headache from being surrounded by spells flying and Fiendfyre was entirely insufficient."
"I think we'll be going now, Professor," I reply, satisfied that the answers I've received will whirl in my mind's eye until I can resolve them for myself. "You'll come with us, won't you?" I ask optimistically.
"I'll be along shortly," he replies "to see to Nymphadora's memorial."
"We need you, Godfather," Draco interjects, his eyes so soft and large, like a warm grey flannel during an unrelenting blizzard.
"I'll be along, Draco, as soon as the snake is secured," our Professor replies solemnly "I wouldn't dare leave you and your mother to tend to the preparations on your own."
"Thank you, Godfather," Draco replies, reaching a hand to shake the Professor's. He is pulled into an embrace instead as the acidic walls of desperation crumble to dust around them.
As Professor Snape lays his skeletal fingers across the back of Draco's head for him to rest it on his shoulder, I wonder if this is how Draco looked as a baby. It's easy to picture Professor Snape consoling him from a cry before putting him down for a nap. I'm almost sure it's true as the Professor allows his eyes to close against Draco's hair, tightening his grip around his back. His rich voice murmurs to rest in the silent spaces -
"I'll be with you. Always."
xoXOXox
Luna has finally convinced herself to depart her perch on Godfather's stool, grasping my hand to make the long walk to find my mother. We stride in silence, taking in the scorched walls and scratched flooring, loose ceilings and tapestries burned into vacant black screens. She erupts in maniacal giggles every few metres or so, muttering shallow explanations of "your baby" or "Professor Snape is so small" as she shakes her head to relieve the tension.
By the time we make it to the seventh floor, her odd outbursts have me shivering inside, unsettling my already unstable digestion and the faltering steadiness of my stride. I force my Occlumency shields to attention as suspicions of her well-being having been thoroughly disturbed start to weave their way into my consciousness. She stops abruptly in front of the tapestry of dancing trolls, meticulously studying it as she melts cross-legged to the floor.
"What are you doing, darling?" I ask, forcing the terror to refrain from making itself known in my voice.
"Isn't it absurd, Draco?" she asks rhetorically, pointing to the picture. "Trolls can dance, and humans can turn into smoke, and I can kill a person."
She looks at me with an unhinged serenity, her wide sky eyes growing cloudy as milk over ice.
"I murdered them, Draco. I murdered your aunt, I murdered the dueller…" She trails off to stare back at the tapestry. "I let my monsters roam free, Draco. They broke out of their cages for a moment and people died."
"That's utter rubbish, Luna. Those people were trying to kill us. They were the monsters," I remind her.
"We were trying to kill them, and we succeeded spectacularly," she whispers, her voice haunting the air between us. "And yet… the tears won't come, Draco. I don't even care."
"We're not murderers, Luna. We're soldiers. Defenders. We saved so many from a fate worse than death."
"A fate worse than death… Yes." she rambles, staring into nothing, or perhaps a world of her own creation. "Like what your cousin went through this afternoon. That senseless torture, the fate worse than death. Is that what we were fighting for, Draco? There's no justice in the world. It's all unfair. There's no logic to it."
She says this like it's her first time discovering this fact. I've seen her heart break, but her mind - her precious, brilliant mind - is crumbling before me and it's too much to bear. The light going out in her eyes shreds my soul into slivers. I kneel beside her taking her beautiful face in my hands.
"Listen, Luna," I say gently "It can be fair. It can be logical. But only with people like you in it, ok? I need you to stay here with me for a while, just a little while longer, my love." I run the back of my hand down her cheek. It's soft as powder, smooth and dry, desperate for the cleansing release of her pain. "Stay with me until we can bury Dory's body, until we can meet the baby, ok? Then you can get lost in that labyrinth inside your head if you need to."
She grips my hand to stand, staring at me as if through a fog, something separating us that I can't put my finger on.
"Ok," she replies lifelessly, reaching for the door handle.
The Room of Hidden Things is nearly empty at our return, the enormous wards replaced by a handful of lingering gingers alongside families of Dumbledore's army. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Hermione sitting in Potter's lap on the grass, both of them swaying back and forth as they shed quiet tears into each other. They must be under a silencing charm, as the Weasel's lips move in what is surely a joke but its sound can't be heard across the emptiness.
Mother and Andi are away from the others, Mother casting cooling charms across my aunt who stands immodestly in an undershirt and trousers with her arms outstretched to her sides. Her olive skin has blistered bright red, her silken hair is visibly as dry and brittle as stable-bedding.
"Andi, I'm so sorry…" Mother murmurs as she continues to send her cooling winds.
"Nonsense, Cissy. You're too proficient with your wards. Don't apologise for being exceptional."
"You were not the intended occupant."
"Remind me to never find myself on that list."
The two women smirk at each other, a knowing tell they are in on a joke the rest of us cannot comprehend.
Luna sprints towards them as soon as she catches their sight, kicking off her shoes in her haste. She flings herself into my mother's arms, nearly knocking her over with the affection. Mother looks to me with alarm written all over her features. I shake my head almost imperceptibly for I too am taken aback by the display.
"I'm so sorry…" Luna gasps "I'm so sorry for your loss Lady Malfoy." She turns to Aunt Andi "And Mrs Tonks, it's so horrible..." Seeing the burns on my aunt's arms, Luna takes one of Andi's hands in both of hers, bowing to place her forehead on her knuckles. "I hope… I hope…" she chokes out, rivers of saltwater streaming out of her beautiful eyes, down her cheeks, and through her nose. "I hope they… soar in the… stars." Luna falls to her knees, burying her face in her arms in an uncontrollable sob. I rush to lift her, but Mother is already kneeling in front of her.
"Quite magnanimous of you to consider our grief, Mrs Granger," Mother croons, pulling one of Father's handkerchiefs from the pocket of her robes to wipe my lovely's tears. The sight ties my stomach in knots. "You must understand we are far beyond you in years, and we've seen death before."
Mother has a majestic way with diplomacy, spinning the truth so thin one can swallow it without so much as a sip of bitterness. "Seen death before" is indescribably more palatable than "A woman was eaten by a snake on our drawing-room table," or "My eldest sister was gutted on the floor in front of me."
"But Tonks!" Luna moans, gulping in air as she digs her nails into her ribs, "Your daughter! Your only child!" she wails towards Aunt Andi who is dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Shh…" Mother coaxes, "Our tears wouldn't please her, now would they?"
Luna sniffles, wiping her nose indelicately on her sleeve. Mother for her part remains stone still, not so much as scrunching her face in repugnance.
"Lord… Lord Malfoy!" she hiccups, turning to look at me with her bloodstained eyes, running her cold, sweating fingers down my jaw.
Mother gracefully guides her chin back around to look her in the eyes.
"Ms Granger, I have known for many years my husband would suffer a violent death. Those who live in the manner he did will always suffer an undesirable fate."
Her unsaid words hang like a noose around my neck.
'I thought I could change him. I thought my love would save him. I hoped he would return to be the man he once was. I took the risk, but I was wrong.'
Luna says nothing, opting to drop her head in concentrated shame towards the floor. She is mourning for all of us, thus forgetting to mourn for the one who matters most.
"How about we arrange a visit with your father, hm?" Mother asks "I believe you are far overdue for an audience with him, Mrs Granger."
"L-Luna," my wife chokes out wiping her face and nodding rapidly "Please, call me Luna. We're family now, aren't we?"
"We are indeed," Mother replies brushing Luna's curls back. Mother stands as tall as she can at her minuscule height, pulling Luna up with her. Together, they could be giants; Titans among us. "As your Mother - in Law, by Magic, and in Love - I would like to welcome you, Luna Ginger Granger, to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black."
Luna, obviously lacking knowledge of this impromptu welcoming ritual, bows her head and says her thanks to Mother. I step forward, reciting the proper response.
"We graciously accept your generous invitation to join your Noble House. We will honour your name with our lives."
"As we will honour the name of Granger," Mother responds.
Mother and Andi both bow gracefully with one ankle tucked behind the other, sharing the same knowing smirk from earlier this evening.
"I don't have anything so elaborate," Luna adds "but I love you too, Narcissa, and I'm happy to be a part of your family."
"And I am happy to have such a sufficient pairing for my son. Come, let's get to my sister's house. We have additional family members to attend to."
"Wait," I say, jogging on my wobbling legs to meet the Trio beneath their charms. Hermione waves her wand to allow me entrance. "Come on," I bid. "We have to prepare for my cousin's funeral."
The Weasel hangs his mouth open, staring dumbstruck.
"Uh… I'll go to the Burrow," he says, jerking his thumb in the direction of his copper-haired kinsman.
"Later," I tell him, "For now, you need to come with us."
He continues mutely gaping as Potter and Hermione begin walking towards my Mother and Luna.
"Are we going to talk about it, mate?" he asks, fear permeating his every sound.
"You saved my life. What is there to discuss?" I ask, raising an eyebrow in question.
"I killed your dad, mate. I… I didn't mean to be so…" he makes a horrible face, stretching his mouth down to his neck in some caricature of revulsion. "He was going to kill you, and after Fred, I just couldn't…"
"It's alright, mate," I tell him, clapping him on the shoulder. "But please repeat that to my Mother, and the word you were looking for is 'brutish.'"
"Brutish," he repeats, nodding once. "I can remember that. Sounds like one of those odd muggle names," he says with a barely noticeable grin.
"That's Brutus, idiot," I tell him, pushing his head to the side. "It would seem you received all of the colouring in the family but I was gifted with all of the intelligence."
"Sod off, Granger."
"You first, Weasel."
We make our way back to Mother and Andi. The Weasel awkwardly apologises and Mother obligingly accepts, Potter disgustingly bites his nails while Hermione sips nausea draught, and Luna buries her face in my chest as I wish for the whole endeavour to be finished with. We fly to the apparition point and make our way to Andromeda's.
Upon landing in the sitting room of her usually quiet home, I know my wish will not be granted for a long, tedious while.
xoXOXox
We arrive back at Mrs Tonks' home to the piercing screams of a newborn. Professor Lupin is pacing the floor, bouncing his son in his arms as he tries to get him to take a bottle. It's been all night since the battle began, and the first rays of sun are lingering over the back garden to splay through the square windows across the wooden floor.
The air holds still in my chest as I see the baby's face. He's so tiny and new, bright red and scaly with half-cleaned away birthing fluids. He is stretching his tiny arms, arching his back as he screams for his mother. I step towards him, entranced by the sadism of it all, of how fate could be so cruel to such a small creature.
"May I hold him?" I ask Professor Lupin.
His eyes are bloodshot, his skin leathery and scarred. He smells of tobacco smoke and day-old blood - mourning and endless regrets.
"Please be gentle," he tells me, releasing the last memory of Tonks into my arms.
The baby's wails grow louder for a second, then he smells me. He sniffs and sniffs, shaking his head to send the most adorable sneeze into the air.
"Bless you," I say in my softest tone, looking into the eyes that can't yet focus.
The baby startles for a moment before sniffing again, latching onto my shoulder with his parched lips. He continues gumming along my collarbone until I realize what he's searching for.
"You won't find any milk in there, little one," I tell him, reaching one finger out to Professor Lupin.
He drips a drop onto the pad of my finger and I place it in the baby's mouth. He sucks heartily - almost painfully - as his bony gums quest for more. I open my palm for the bottle, which Professor Lupin places there. I slip my finger out of the boy's mouth with a pop to replace it with a fountain he can drink from. Bubbles begin to form in the glass as he pulls down the nourishment which will fuel his new life.
"There," I say "All better." I turn to Professor Lupin, who looks as if he could sleep for a thousand years straight now that the crying has stopped. "What's his name?"
"Teddy," he says "After his grandfather,"
"Well, Teddy, it's quite nice to meet you. I'm your cousin Luna, and we are going to have lots of fun together."
Draco wraps his arms around me from behind, placing a kiss to the top of my matted hair as I stare deeply into Teddy's blue eyes. No, not blue, grey. The dark ginger clumps of hair stuck to his scalp begin to transform, turning the softest white beneath the dirtiness.
"He's a metamorphmagus," I say to no one in particular, hoping the fact of it will stay the swell of feelings I'm not ready to accept. Maybe one day Draco can teach me to occlude.
"Beautiful, isn't he?" Draco asks softly, stroking the down away from the baby's face around the bottle.
The suckles grow fewer and farther between, ending with a burst of bubbles as Teddy let's go to fall asleep.
"He is," I reply, "You are."
Draco comes around in front of me to take his cousin from my arms, striding away to find a suitable place to lay him to sleep.
"Don't go in there!.." Professor Lupin pleads as Draco toes open the door to the bedroom, instantly turning around to make his way up the stairs.
"Don't worry, Remus, I'll take care of her." Narcissa consoles him, closing the door all but a crack. "Will someone please call Severus? I can't seem to cast a patronus with… Dory's wand."
She walks into the room to shut the door, and I'm left alone with my feelings. I desperately need work to keep my hands and unstable mind busy.
"Mrs Tonks?" I ask, turning to Draco's aunt "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Call Severus," she says, sinking defeatedly into the sofa "I can't cast a patronus right now."
In an hour or so, we're all gathered in the back garden around a funeral pyre holding the body that once housed Nymphadora Tonks. At the request of the Black sisters, we all have on formal robes, navy blue tinged with silver here and there. How similar this ritual is to those all around the world - wear something special, get all of the sad out, say your last farewell and remember them fondly.
Professor Snape says a few beautiful words about Tonks - her bravery and selflessness, daring and kindness, loyalty and conviction above the seething opinions of others. All of these things I know to be true. The world lost a jewel, and it's our job now to let her brilliance sparkle through us. He casts a containment charm around the pyre as Narcissa lights the flames, then it's over. Tonks is gone forever.
I hold Draco tightly as he lets streams of regret pour down. Although we all release our pain through our expressions, he's grieving more than most of us. He lost her while she was still alive.
As the last of the smoke clears, we file into the house to take up our customary sleeping areas. Draco and I open the door to our room to see a little human fast asleep in the centre of the tufted bed, feather-soft white hair gleaming in the sunlight.
We each snuggle to either side of him, forgoing the blankets and pillows for the warmth of our hands against his round stomach.
I wonder what we will say to him when he's old enough to ask "Where's my Mummy?" Will we try to be honest, to tell him the wicked hearts of wizards and witches stole her away from him? That we sent her love for him with smoke into the air because not one single person was brave enough to demand she be treated like a human being?
I dig the tip of my wand into my arm, hard. I burn it hot until the white blisters into the brightest, most saturated bubblegum pink I can imagine.
Or will we mislead him for his innocence? Tell that half-lie the Blacks seem so proud of? Should we let him think her soul is all in one place, just waiting to be reunited with him? Or will we explain in detail she's never coming home and her ashes can only return to the stars?
I stare at the brilliant pink star shining life over the kitten, and I know I'll do everything in my power to ensure he knows the truth.