Hello readers! This is chapter two of Waning Moon. Please review, as I am always open for feedback. I have a mistake that I made from the last chapter. At the end of the last chapter, Blaise says "Obligate you?" and it meant to say Obliviate, the memory charm. My computer has spellcheck, and I don't have a beta reader. I should probably get one!

I have only two reviews on the first chapter, but I would like to thank fairytalec for the kind reviews on both of my stories, as well as the lovely messages! This is a short author's note, but the same disclaimers still apply. This is not my work. Also, I realize that I write in a choppy way, and I realize that might be irritating to read, so I am working to improve. The time is also not heavily mentioned, sometimes I say 'weeks pass' and that is difficult to catch. I don't want to confuse anyone!

The names of the chapters are in Latin.

That's all I needed to say. This is the second half of Waning Moon. An epilogue will be coming. Please enjoy!

"I'm pregnant." Luna stood still. If she sat down, she would crumble. How cruel it was for her to bring another life into the world.

"Fuck," Blaise breathed. "Are you sure, Tubsy?"

"Yes, Master," she squeaked. "Three months pregnant. You is impregnated her in September, you have. She is been vomiting, and her cycles is stopped, and her stomach is a bit larger. It's...it's a girl, it is."

Luna thought her period had stopped because of starvation. She had thought the vomiting was from nightmares and nausea. And yet, she was pregnant. Three months pregnant. Three months she had been living there. Three months her soul had been dead. The first time she had sex, the first time she was raped.

She hadn't wanted sex, hadn't wanted any of this. She couldn't be a mother. What would her father say, if he wasn't dead? She was living for two now. "Leave, Tubsy," Blaise ordered. He turned to her. She watched his jaw twitch, veins pulsing in his forehead.

She didn't feel love or hate for her child. Only deep, unending sorrow. She had already failed at being a mother, and her baby hadn't even been born.

Blaise stumbled into the room. But his movements weren't sharp and poised and calculated as they usually were. Luna stood up quickly. "Blaise?" she asked softly.

His eyes glinted. "Am I a monster? Am I as much of a monster as the others?" he asked, slurring his words. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Blaise, drink some water, clear your head," Luna tried. "You're scaring me."

He shoved her against the wall, but not forcefully enough to hurt her. The spirits were affecting his control. "You should be scared of me," he snarled. "You should. I've seen things that would break you."

"What's wrong? You shouldn't drink like this," Luna said, trying to keep her words measured and calm. Her breathing grew out of control. "You shouldn't-"

He slapped her.

Across the face. The smack resounded in her, ringing in her ears. Luna's vision tilted and warped; all breath left her body. "Don't tell me what to do," he spat. "Don't fucking dare to tell me what to do, you fucking bitch." He yanked her by the hair and tossed her to the ground, walked away, swearing fiendishly and crudely.

"I hope they fail. I hope they lose, I hope Potter wins, I hope I die," he said bitterly. "Fuck."

He tossed a newspaper at her, the aim sloppy. The front page of the Daily Prophet had a brutal headline splashed across it. Aurora Zabini and Daughter Found Dead. The pictures showed two grotesque, marred bodies (one much smaller than the other); camera flashes illuminating the corpses. Luna looked up.

Blaise was crouching on his knees, kneeling, shaking, crying. The composed boy at Hogwarts, the graceful Death Eater, the stone-cold 'master' was gone; here was an eighteen-year-old boy sobbing for his sister. Dignity be damned. The most human he'd even been.

Luna stayed in silence. She could not comfort this wild, unpredictable, drunk person. Blaise stopped crying; his handsome face was not red or twisted, but earthshattering grief lingered in his eyes. "Look at you," he said. There was no disdain, only regret. "Sixteen and pregnant. Caged. Look at me. A son of a bitch-" he laughed- "a bastard, a Death Eater. Look at us. I have broken you- a stupid, optimistic, innocent girl.

"Do you know what they did for the induction?" Blaise scoffed, his eyes bloodshot, fidgeting with his family crest ring. "They branded me, told me to kill, and then made a blood bond with Him. Look at me, speaking of him as if he is a god. He might as well be. He holds all of our power. I can't switch sides now. A new measure of loyalty. They killed my bargaining chip, my motivator, to ensure my loyalty. And now they have it."

He sprung up, suddenly violent. He threw the potions against the wall, upturned the table and chair, punched the wall-

"Stupefy!"

Luna stood, the flow and relief of magic coursing through her. It had been months since she'd held a wand, and she was glad to now, even one as cursed and dark as this one, even one that held many sins.

Blaise fell.

She used his wand to repair the room- "Tergeo, Reparo," - and force-fed him some Clear Head potion from the potion bottles she repaired.

She took a deep breathe. She was scared of him now. "Rennervate," she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open. They were open so wide she could see the whites, stark contrast against his skin.

Two pairs of eyes- one smoky silvery gray, the other dark and swirling- met each other. They were battered, bruised by the strain of evil. One brought it, one felt it.

The war raged on.

Blaise had had his first drink at age twelve. It had been during the summer holidays. He was often alone at the manor, with his mother gallivanting around the world with a new suitor. Her Italian charm brought her fame and wealth. And him.

He hadn't needed any tricks or bribery to get into his mother's expensive liquor cellar. She left it unlocked, sometimes open. She took no precautions; nothing in her lifestyle had changed since having a son.

So twelve-year-old Blaise had went to her liquor supply, and selected a handsome bottle and crystal decanter. He needn't tiptoe around doubts or worries. He poured the liquid into the glass, and downed it.

He hadn't hated it as much as he had thought. Or hoped. He swallowed too easily, and closed his eyes.

At the tender age of twelve, Blaise was sick of life. He was sick of his friends bullying the first years, Potter. He never joined in, never saw the point, but he knew it was petty. He was sick of his mother, prioritizing her flighty lovers over her flesh and blood. He was tired of everything. He was lucky to be comfortable, to be rich, to be alive.

So he sat. And breathed. And drank.

The beginning of Luna's ending was her first hallucination. She was deteriorating. She was losing her sanity. Blaise opened the door to his room, and Luna was there, waiting for him. Her silver eyes glowed. "Hello," she whispered. "Who are you?"

She pressed her bony fingers to Blaise's lips. She liked the look of her ghostly skin against Blaise's dark skin. She wanted to laugh and scream until the world ended. "Why am I here?" she asked, tilting her head.

Blaise stared at her. She wanted to capture the color of his eyes and paint it. She wanted to paint him. Here he was, painfully handsome, a beautiful wielder of death. How many had he killed? How many screamed and cried at his hands?

Beautiful harborer of demise. Beautiful death. Beautiful war, beautiful pain.

"Do you know what it's like? Carrying another life inside of you? In this world? A burden?" she turned and sat on the bed. "When the gods and demons will curse you for failing? When the angels of death howl in delight? They get to take two lives when I die."

She clutched her stomach, laughing to herself. "I know who you are now. We could get married. Forget the whole thing. You have an heir now, Blaise. Are you happy now? You're an esteemed Death Eater, respected, feared. Now you have everything." She sat up straighter. "Come closer."

Blaise stepped closer.

She took his left hand.

She was tired of being restrained. She wanted to be free- free, fly free like all of the creatures she adored. She hadn't thought of them in a while. A burst of giggles fell from her lips. "Do you see them?" she asked, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. "They wait. They linger in the shadows." A sob caught in her throat. "I don't want to die."

She laughed, the sound hollow and desperate, and for a moment she was the whimsical Luna she had been at Hogwarts. Blaise had taken that away from her. She didn't care, she wanted to bleed red for the world to see, to satisfy her demons-

She pulled on Blaise's wrist to the bathroom. Before he could convince her otherwise, she grabbed his razor and slit her wrist. She started in delight at the blood, laughed triumphantly and then it turned into a howl. Blaine tried to still her arm, but she shook him off. "Here!" she yelled. "Here's my pure blood. Red and true, just like a Muggle-born."

She fell to the ground, writhing. Face twisted with mirth, anguish, pain, fear.

Blaise finally grabbed her wrist and tapped it with his wand. The wound closed, and he whispered, in a slightly shaking voice, "Rennervate."

Luna's world stilled and cleared. She didn't realize that it had been shaking and resounding. She was sane, but would it last? "Oh," she whispered. "Oh, my goodness..."

She pressed a hand to her mouth. Blaine watched, impassive, as she sat up and sobbed. She took great, shuddering breaths that racked her body, tears streaming down her face.

"Let me go," she begged. "Please, Blaise."

He almost looked regretful. "They'll kill you and your father, they'll hunt you down."

She nodded, and Blaise crouched down. He raised his hands to her cheeks, pressed his forehead to hers. "I will protect you," he whispered. "I swear."

They sat, in silence and solidarity, for they were both trapped and scarred. They mourned.

Over the next few weeks, Luna subjected to bouts and lapses of insanity. She laughed, cried, screamed, shook. She spent hours clawing at her hair. Blaise took away all sharp objects while he was gone. She saw Greyback, gnawing on her leg. She saw Draco, leaning over and in her. She saw more chains, more shackles. Jets of light. Corpses. Children wailing. She saw Blaise pointing a wand at her, pain coursing through her body.

Her stomach also got bigger.

Tubsy only braided her hair when there was an occasion. One that involved putting Luna on display. When Luna asked what she was to do, Tubsy only gasped, "He's coming."

When Blaise came to his room to summon her, she asked him frantically what to do. "Kneel by my chair, keep your head down. Be invisible."

She knelt on the freezing floor. Blaise's left arm dropped down, she took his hand, carefully avoiding his Dark Mark. The room got colder, Luna did not dare look up.

The three men stood up and bowed to the Dark Lord. Luna kept her head down. Dolohov launched into a report of the huntings, the killings, Harry. All the while, Luna clutched Blaise's left hand, his family ring digging into her fingers.

Her legs grew number and her back ached as she stayed. "Who is this?" Voldemort asked. Luna's gut clenched. He was talking about her.

She did not dare look up.

"A prisoner, My Lord," Blaise answered smoothly.

"Why is she so valuable?" Voldemort asked, although there was no curiosity in his high, cruel voice.

Blaise huffed out a laugh. "She's pregnant, My Lord, and a pureblood as well. I will need to take an heir soon."

Voldemort dismissed the conversation and turned back to Dolohov. "Continue with your orders, Dolohov."

And then he vanished. Blaise grabbed her wrist and brought her back upstairs. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly.

Luna tried to control her breathing. The room had gotten so dark. There had been pure evil, threatening to crush her, warp her mind, rip her to shreds. Overbearing. Lingering. She couldn't catch her breath. She couldn't breathe.

She wouldn't breathe. She couldn't fucking breathe-

She didn't realize that she was kneeling on the ground, hands twisted in her hair, pulling. She couldn't see. She was going blind.

Ragged pants fell from her. Her hands tore from her head, going to her mouth, shaking.

She was going to die.

Blaise raised his hands to her shoulders. "Luna, look at me," he said.

She couldn't. Not at this monster of a man who did nothing to help, who stood by as she fell apart, who claimed he was trying to help her but was conflicted. Was he scared? Why was it so hard for him to do the right thing?

A sob caught in her throat. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" she asked. She was almost embarrassed. He was her rapist. She shouldn't give him any regard. But he was all she had.

"Of course," said Blaise softly, no judgement in his voice.

She set her head in the crook of his arm, and tried to find solace. She found solidarity.

As two bodies, they needed each other. At the end of the day, they spoke about everything and nothing, and Luna found that helped her sanity. "Can you speak any other languages?" she asked on one such time.

"Italian and French," he answered. "My mother made me learn, as some of her husbands did not speak English."

"I can speak French, and several creature dialects," she responded proudly. "Thestrals, mermaids, trolls, pixies."

Blaise nodded. "I know," he said. "You told me once."

Luna pushed through the compartment door of the fifth-year Slytherins. Sullen and sallow faces flared back at her. "

Quibbler for sale," she said. "Would you like one?"

"No one fucking cares about your daddy's magazine, Lovegood," Draco Malfoy said lazily. "Get the fuck out."

Instead of cowering or fleeing, Luna smiled beatifically and walked to stand in front of Draco, eyes fixed on a point beyond him. She placed a hand on his head, almost condescendingly. "You should stop putting so much product in your hair. It makes you look like a murtlap. A few of the thestrals are teaching me other dialects, and they have a lot to say about swaggering swots such as yourself."

Blaise Zabini cracked a smile, the only one of them to do so. He smirked at her as she exited the compartment, hair swinging behind her.

"Tubsy will leave in ten minutes."

Luna looked over. Blaise was pulling his Death Eater robes over his clothes; he held his mask in his hands. "We're attacking Hogwarts. Warn them. I will tell the others that I killed you. Tubsy will take you to Hogwarts. Fight for the light side. After this, everything will change. This will be written into history as the battle that rocked the world."

Luna nodded, struck at the prospect of everything. "Do...do you have clothes?" she asked. "I need some."

Blaise took out an extra pair of pants and a shirt. He shrunk them ("Reducio!"), and passed them over. And then he dropped to his knees before Luna. Desperation shone in his eyes. He was there for her to command, cast away, disregard. He took her hand in his. "Please," he begged. "Let's run away. I know that's cowardly, but we're to have a child. It deserves a chance at life. Please."

Luna licked her lips, looking away as tears sparkled in her eyes. "I am part of this war, Blaise. You are too. It's better to be dead with morals than alive with none." She dropped to her knees, pressing her forehead to his, their knit brows touching. She gripped his muscled, tense arms. "Thank you, Blaise," she whispered. "You helped me in this hellhole."

He nodded, drawing a breath, and handed her his wand.

Immediately, Luna felt all of the pain and anguish radiating from it. "Take it," he said. "I can get another one."

They exhaled; this was over, this was done.

"I hope we never face each other in this battle. If we see each other again, I will be your master once more, or a prisoner." He stood up; kissed her forehead once. "Give them hell, Luna."

Luna was free. She was leaving her prison.

She would fight.

Tubsy brought them to Professor McGonagall's office. She set Luna on the carpet, bowed, and vanished. "Miss...Miss Lovegood," McGonagall gasped. She set her spectacles down and rushed over.

Luna gripped onto her arms as if they were lifelines; tears were streaming down her face. "They're coming," she rasped. "Blaise told me. The Death Eaters are storming Hogwarts. Get everyone out."

Luna ran through the crowd. Her feet were destroyed; she had no shoes. Her face was smeared with soot, her eyes were stinging with smoke and remorse. The ashy and acrid scent wafted through her, as if it were poison, cutting into her.

Luna was battling a masked Death Eater. He was on the weaker side, and she knew she was lucky. But after months of not using magic, no physical activity, and the shock of the events put her at a disadvantage. And she was pregnant. She gasped as a spell cut a slash into her arm, and she stumbled.

He took the chance to blast another spell, knocking her back onto the ground. He towered over her, bringing his wand up, preparing to bring it down in a beautiful slash of death. An arc of murder.

And then he froze. Fell to the side.

Blaise was there, his face frozen in anger. He grabbed her wrist, rushing her off to an alcove in the hallway, hidden away for a moment. "Where else are you hurt?" he demanded, healing her arm wound.

"Nowhere else," Luna said. "You should go, Blaise-"

He stepped away, but with an afterthought, returned. "Here," he said, voice barely above a whisper. He slid his family ring on Luna's finger. "If things go wrong- they'll know that you're with me. If- if I don't make it, tell our child I'm sorry. You don't have to tell her about me-"

"I will," Luna said, her voice quiet.

He took a breath. His throat bobbed. "We might not get out of here alive. And if I don't, tell her I'm sorry for raping her mom, sorry that I failed her, sorry that I died."

Luna couldn't speak. She nodded.

He walked away from her, looking back. "I am sorry."

Luna limped through the midst of death. She was dying, or dead. She might as well have been. Just a walking skeleton. Just a walking corpse. Apparently no one had qualms with cursing a pregnant teenager. Everything hurt, she had seen death and gore and pain like never before. Even if she made it through the night, she wouldn't want to see the light. She couldn't live if others died.

A few of her ribs were broken, she thought, maybe some internal bleeding. And then she saw Blaise again, battling another student. He was wearing his mask, but she recognized the easy grace and confidence, even while fighting. She realized that he was fighting a Ravenclaw.

She recognized the Ravenclaw's face, a seventh year. Whip-smart. He matched Blaise's power. And then Blaise paused.

His opponent took that as an opportunity- raising his wand- and then Luna cast a Shield Charm between them.

The Ravenclaw was blasted back. Luna went to Blaise's side. "You didn't fight back!" she screamed, slapping his face. "You imbecile, you need to live."

Blaise shook his head, a mirthless smile on his face. "I don't deserve to. But you do. Go. Leave this place."

And then Dolohov saw them. Blaise pushed Luna behind him.

"I thought you killed her, Zabini," he sneered. "And now you're helping her escaoe. Betrayal, if I've ever seen it."

He didn't give them a chance before he cast the Cruciatus on them. Luna knew that her baby would not survive.

She and Blaise turned to each other, gripping their arms, tears streaming down their faces.

Dolohov paused, his cruel face twisted, contorted in disgust. "One last chance, Zabini. Kill her, and I will let you go."

Blaise paused, fingering his wand. And then he drew it on Dolohov, his ethereal face twisted in a sneer. He spat in Dolohov's face. "Burn in hell, Antonin."

Draco grabbed Blaise's arm. "Come on," his best friend gasped. "He's calling us all back, to the Forest."

Blaise couldn't go. Luna was gone, she could be hurt-

"Please," Draco begged. "I can't go alone. My parents aren't there."

Blaise looked at him, looking like a scared teenager. The same person who spoke so crudely about Luna, who uttered curses with a smile. All the bravado gone without his throne.

Draco's eyes grew desperate and wild. "I thought we were friends, Zabini."

Blaise grinned coldly. He was a Slytherin. They didn't have friends.

Luna couldn't be there. She couldn't be on the side with the Death Eaters at this stalemate. Voldemort stood triumphantly, his back to them, as Harry's body lay broken in Hagrid's arms. She couldn't be there. She had to make her allegiance known- she surged forward-

Blaise's arms grabbed hers, pinning them behind her. She struggled wordlessly, needing to be safe but he kept her back. "Don't," he whispered. "Please. You'll die."

She didn't care-

She saw Seamus Finnigan, sweet Seamus, who she had met in Dumbledore's Army and who had treated her like a friend. Ginny, who looked like she was going to cry when she caught Luna's eyes. Dean, Neville- they were all whispering for her, angrily demanding that Blaise let her go.

She knew Blaise was trying to protect her, but she didn't care. She needed to go. She could die, and it would be for Harry. It would be for them, it would have been worth it. He brought his mouth to her ear. "You are eight months pregnant, Luna," Blaise said harshly. His jaw lingered near hers. "Your- our baby deserves a chance to live."

She stopped struggling when a Death Eater nearby spat at her. Blaise put a hand on her shoulder.

She was just so tired.

And then, they waited with bated breath as Harry circled Voldemort, two vipers hissing, waiting to strike.

And then, Voldemort stood.

And Harry fell.

And Luna felt her world unravel.