Chapter Eleven

She was mental, erratic, energetic and obliviously intelligent. She was always the fresh breath of air the world needed during the dark times she grew up in. Charming those who were willing to listen to her odd stories and just smile along. She had learned the meaning of friendship because of those dark times, and had finally felt the love of another when many risked their lives during battle.

She had prepared herself for loss during the war—after all, Luna Lovegood was no stranger to it. Her mother had passed away before she was old enough to go to Hogwarts. Leaving her alone with her father to conquer on life by herself. She loved her father dearly, but she had needed her mother more than anyone could know. She was mental, yes, but even the loony need their mother to guide them in things unknown.

But knowing and waiting for death, Luna never got it. She was showered with love, from every angle possible, survived the reign and imprisonment of the Dark Lord, and then she fell into the system of the Ministry of Magic. She was mixed in with their Marriage Law to help rebuild the destruction-toll death had left for others.

And then, like the power of all that is invisible to the eyes, Luna was married. Almost seventeen years-old and married to a boy that had challenged her heart to beat along with his. She fell in love and—although slightly scared— she never thought again about what she'd known before that emotion that tied her to her husband. She went on, skipping through life like she had grass to go on for miles; ground to cover as she went on with her days. The spirits from up above, guided by the spirit of her deceased mother, granted Luna three miracles that she'd never dreamt of having. She was sent three little angels of her own. Another tie to love that she felt more than blessed in receiving.

But one thing she had to have learned from life was this: Death is a shadow that always follows the body. She should've remembered that it existed. That there was a ripper— like those clever muggles like to believe—that awaited in the darkness, counting down the seconds when it choose it was time for a person to go. She had spent years thriving on her husband, children, work, friends and life that she never noticed that evil was still out there.

And it wasn't until her husband got a taste of it, did her senses come back to existence. The world was a much peaceful place in appearance, but Luna Lovegood lived in time of war and she could never let Luna Thomas forget that death still plays in the shadows at night. Waiting to ambush you in the most unexpected moment and take everything its opposite gave you.

"Mrs. Thomas, we're ready for you."

Looking away from the plants on the coffee table in front of her, Luna blinked her blue eyes towards the man in colored-robes peering down at her. "Of course," she replied, forgetting about the details of the plants Neville Longbottom had taught her in his training as a Herboligist years ago.

"We are sorry for this, Mrs. Thomas," the Healer mumbled to the woman, leading her down the tiled pathways of the hospital. "Healer Thomas is one of the most respectable Healers that St. Mungos has. We all send you and your family our deepest support. We're sure, however, that he will be just fine."

Luna smiled faintly, letting her expression be dim as the Healer didn't even dare to look at her. "Thank you," she responded curtly, her heart thumping against her chest as if she was skipping down the hallways singing a merry tune.

It wasn't a cheerful heartbeat, but what she felt as suspense, anxiety—those odd emotions she hadn't felt since Voldemort proclaimed Harry's death ages ago. It felt pressuring, gut-wrenching, that knot of feelings that were balling up inside of her. But alas, she still followed calmly.

"Luna—" And almost as if her past and present self were combining the unexplainable emotions, the blonde woman found a pair of emerald, bespectacled eyes staring at her as she entered a hospital room.

"I'll come back in a few moments to check the vitals," the Healer whispered again, closing the door behind Mrs. Thomas as he watched her just stare on at the person who called her.

"Angelina let us in," Harry Potter explained, smiling shyly at his old friend. "She was a bit crossed with us, but Ron promised to take care of her twins during the upcoming holidays so she and George could go on a second honeymoon."

Flicking his eyes uncomfortably, Ron cleared his throat. Making himself known. "We're here as friends, Luna," he said, but looked towards the dark figure laying perfectly still in white hospital-sheets. "No business matters."

"The Healers said he would wake soon," Luna spoke to her friends, turning away from them to look towards the hospital bed too. "He wasn't hurt badly. Just a few shocks and bruises. Nothing a few days of resting won't cure." She smiled sweetly, those knotted emotions still pressuring her to recall old memories as she turned back to the two-thirds of the Golden Trio. "I'm not sure if he will be up to discussing the situation, but you can try."

"No business matters, Luna, honestly," Ron tried to grin at her, his rigidness still playing loudly in his gaze as he attempted to play it off.

Harry nodded, trying to act the same coy way the redhead man was doing.

"You know Pansy doesn't buy your act of dieting, right, Ron?" The graduated Ravenclaw said with a dream-like tone; one that still hadn't faded even after years of her evolving. "And I surely don't believe your no-Auror-business act, either."

The redhead frowned, forgetting about playing the facade as Harry sighed in the background. "I am too in a diet. I've cut off sweets, haven't I? I'll be back to my teenage body in no time."

"We don't want to intervene, Luna," the Head Auror cut in before his best friend could embarrass himself further more. (Not like anyone couldn't see his belly taking shape of Slughorn's for the past two years.) "I know this is an...intimate moment for you and Dean, but Kingsley sent us down here."

"Mind you, we would still have come even if the Minister hadn't asked us," Ron interrupted. "But you know that, eh, Luna?"

Luna tugged her smile a few more centimeters wide, giving that as her only response. (After all, Gryffindors do stick together. And a Ravenclaw was not one to ever question that.)

"Kingsley just wanted us to speak to Dean before your children show up to the hospital. We don't want them to be uncomfortable with all the questioning while they are trying to be with their father. We don't need another Ariana and Hermione situation, do we?" Harry continued, explaining himself quickly.

"The children aren't coming, Harry," Luna said casually. "They've got classes to attend to and lessons that they can't miss. Dawn is a Second Year, but McGonagall thinks she can catch up to her brothers in no time. And that doesn't happen with skipping classes, Harry. They know their father is well."

Ron coughed in the background, rolling his eyes.

"Teddy mentioned Dawn was the most distraught about the news," the Head Auror said quietly, looking at the hospital bed from the corner of his eye. "She always has been more attached to Dean than Lorcan or Lysander." His expression twisted, imagining the little tanned girl that reminded him so much of his old house-mate; his goddaughter with tears down her face as she worried for her father. "...There's something you should know, Luna."

Listening intently, Ron coughed repeatedly as he recognized that look on Harry's face. "Oi, what are you doing, mate?" He hissed, brows furrowing as his best friend shrugged. "What happened to Ministry matters? Are we not biding by that rubbish Malfoy is making us obey? Or are we telling the world? Because I'm pretty sure that Healer is still nosing in outside the door."

"Luna has a right to know, Ron," Harry started, thinking back to the updated list of the dead; a list that could have had Dean's name on it if it wasn't for a divine miracle. "Besides, Malfoy said we weren't allow to tell Hermione. And Luna keeps things to herself."

Nodding to herself—mind you, she was never a gossiping witch—Luna cleared her throat to bring back the attention of the two that were having a silent conversation among each other. "This wasn't an accident, was it?"

Ron groaned. (For Merlin's bloody sake.) "No attack ever is, is it, Luna?"

"For the past few months, deaths have been happening globally within our community," the Chosen One began, his essence of Head Auror appearing as if he was discussing matters with his fellow Aurors. "Until now, they had all been carefully handled, perfectly committed. Not leaving a trail behind or any evidence of an attempt of murder. Kingsley discovered a pattern among the list of the dead—of those who passed away 'accidentally'."

Luna gritted her teeth, her pale face twisting like if she were in pain. "The Healers said there was an expulsion at the pub Dean and Seamus.." she paused, seeing the two men flinch at the name. "It was reported as an electrical mishap from the muggles in London."

"But strange, isn't it, Luna, that it only went for the wizards?" Ron continued on for Harry. "That the electrical currents only headed for them? For the only two members of the D.A. in that pub?"

Struggling with herself, Luna's smile dropped a few inches, only looking like a failed attempt of a grin. "Oh," she murmured, everything clicking in before they decided to keep on explaining. She understood—the breaking of the law to tell her affairs of the Ministry. Of why they decided to tell her, the only friend not married to an Auror among them. "They're coming to get us."

"We're doing all that we can, Luna, believe us," Harry stepped forward, taking one of her pale hands into his. His eyes looking deep into hers as a brother trying to console a younger sister. "We will send Aurors to be stationed around your home once Dean's released. I'm afraid your work as a naturalist must come to a temporary end. We can't risk you exploring forests or locations unprotected."

"I have faith in you, Harry." Luna squeezed his hand, looking at him as if she knew more than he did. "I've always have. I know you're going to catch whoever is doing this...But you can't stop us from having our lives. When have we ever been the type to run? Dean's going to want to avenge this...to protect his children now more than ever."

And as a warming feeling pushed past the knot of emotions, Luna let Harry's hand go; turning around as the figure on the hospital bed began to come to life. Blinking dark eyes, fluttering around confusedly as the blonde woman approached her husband.

"...Seamus?" Dean Thomas asked huskily, his body feeling heavy as he tried to sit up on his mattress, his eyes never moving from the intense blue they had found.

And all she could do—because no one ever taught her how to explain death and loss to a person, Luna reached for her husband's hand. Taking it, clutching onto it strongly than she did Harry's. Passing down all of her strength to him, like if his pores could suck up all her force living underneath her skin.

"I'm alive," Dean murmured, understanding perfectly well the deep silence that took the room; his flashbacks of the accident coming back like the bolts his body had taken.

"You have twice as much Wrackspurts than ever before," Luna whispered, ignoring the two bodies in back of her, only being able to see Dean. "Floating all around your head."

"Don't you need special glasses to see that?" Dean asked with a fake chuckle, an emotional knot of his own preventing him from swallowing the agonizing thud he watched his best friend give before he passed out.

Luna held tighter to his hand, seeing the shadow of death around her husband slowly fade away from his hospital bed; almost as if it was warning her it would be back one day. And next time, for both of them. "Not really," she smiled. " I do love you after all, I can see everything that involves you."

X

"How is Percy doing, Gin?" Filling up the tea cups around the coffee table, Hermione paused to look up at the redhead in front of her. "Ron told me he wrote to the family yesterday evening."

"He's great, 'Mione. France is doing wonders for him and the girls. He sent pictures. Molly and Lucy are getting so big." Ginny Potter smiled, thinking back to the photograph of two redheads waving up at her. "Molly still says that Beauxbatons is indeed better than Hogwarts, no matter if Lucy keeps fussing about coming back. But, she says she does miss it just as much as her little sister."

"Of course she does," Pansy scoffed, taking her cup of tea from the table. "The girl was almost a Fifth Year when Percy and Audrey decided to relocate, breaking my mother-in-law's heart."

Sipping on her tea, Cho Zabini rolled her eyes before speaking. "Come off it, Pansy. You're just upset because Audrey didn't let you decorate their new house when you insisted you knew more about French decor than Fleur."

"It would have been fabulous!" Pansy retorted, downing her tea as if it were Firewhiskey. "The veela knows nothing of luxurious homes. She lives in a cottage for Salazar's sake!"

"Will you keep it down?" Hermione hissed, hushing the dark-haired witch before she started more commotion. "Narcissa's asleep."

Pansy huffed, glaring and pouring herself more tea.

"How is she settling in?" Ginny asked, frowning at her sister-in-law as she scowled in a childish behavior. "Merlin knows Andromeda is a bit annoyed at the Burrow, insisting that she was perfectly safe at Grimmauld Place and had no need to take up my old room and invade mum's privacy."

"Why exactly did Potter insist Andromeda left?" Pansy questioned, curiosity replacing her tantrum.

"I'm not sure, Pansy. All I know is that it caused a row between Teddy and Draco."

"Draco?" Hermione turned, furrowing her eyebrows at the redhead in her living room. "Why did Andromeda's decision of leaving Grimmauld Place cause Teddy and Draco to fight? Narcissa told me her sister was getting tired of living alone, and that she wanted to be with family."

"She should have went to Godrics Hallow in that case, don't you reckon?" Ginny responded, looking at the brunette as she settled herself in the armchair in front of her. "I questioned her choice, Teddy even asked her to come with us instead of the Burrow, but you know those Blacks. Completely hardheaded, the lot of them."

For the first time in a long time, Hermione was confused. "I still don't understand Draco's part in this."

"Teddy found out Draco was owling Andromeda, asking her to leave her home." The redhead explained further, wondering to herself why hadn't Hermione known any of this.

But before the two old friends could stir up a discussion about the subject, the door of the muggle home opened; allowing a burst of the moonlight and darkness from outside to enter the house.

"Speaking of the Slytherin Prince—"

"—Cho!"

Before Draco Malfoy could close the door of his home behind him, he was shoved out of the way, colliding against the left wall as a dark figure raced into the living room.

"Blaise?" The graduated Ravenclaw grunted, startled as her teacup went crashing to the floor as her husband jumped onto her lap. "Didn't you have a business meeting until late?"

"What is the world becoming, Cho? What?!" Blaise Zabini cried, clinging his arms around Cho's neck as the woman glared at the blonde male standing blankly by the door.

"What did you do, Malfoy?" Cho hissed, patting her husband's back as he cried deeper.

"I'm too young...too young!" Blaise continued, not letting Draco respond a devious remark to the witch. "My little men! What am I without them? I'm just a lonely, handsome, git without them, that's what!"

Cho rolled her eyes, but kept patting her husband soothingly.

"He's got testicular cancer, hasn't he?" Pansy smirked, sitting up taller on her seat so everyone could see her leer. (Oh, Slytherin bitches never change.) "About time. It was starting to get annoying, having him live a too happy life. I expected Dragon Pox, but this is much better."

Rolling his silvery eyes, Draco walked towards the living room of his home; his facial expression still as sharply blank as ever. "Thomas is in the hospital."

"What?!" The word echoed out, the women watching as the blonde man settled himself on the armrest next to his wife, not bothering to look at her as her gasp pierced his ears louder than the rest.

"Finnegan is dead," Malfoy continued, his exhaustion thicker than it had been in years. (Not since Demetria was three months-old and she had a fever that kept him sitting by her crib for a week.) "There was an electrical explosion in the muggle pub they were in earlier today." He said to the tearing witches, watching them unstirred from his lack of energy as the redhead stood up from her chair at the same time Pansy did. Both of them with their wands out at the ready. "There happened to be another wizard at the pub that recognized Thomas and Finnegan and reported it to the Ministry before a muggle-paramedic team was called."

"How?" Hermione whispered to her husband, turning her body in an angle and gripping on to his knee. "Seamus is...was...an Obliviator, Draco." A trail of tears raced down the brunette's cheeks. "He could have done a spell, protected himself and then deal with the muggles. How is he—"

"The electrical outburst was headed for Dean, 'Mione," tearing himself away from the crook of Cho's neck, Blaise stared distraught at the women, answering Hermione's question as his best friend kept his mouth shut. "Seamus had enough time to notice that, and, well...No one can question a Gryffindor's fierce loyalty, can they?"

"I'll take Lavender," Pansy gritted her teeth, not letting herself shed those tears in her eyes as her fellow Slytherin was doing. (She wasn't heartless, she was just less emotional than Zabini.) "I'm guessing her son will be arriving to their house soon."

Draco nodded. "Teddy went to collect him."

"I'll go with Luna, make sure everything is fine with her and Dean," Ginny looked at her sister-in-law. "I'll meet you at Lavender's after I'm done."

Pansy nodded.

"Come, Blaise," Cho sighed, taking her husband's hand as she cried silent tears. "How about some chamomile and a nice nap? We'll see Lavender and Luna tomorrow, yeah?"

Blaise sniffled, looking towards his best friend as the other two women disappeared with loud cracks. "I'm glad Thomas is alive, mate. Luna would have thrown herself at me again. You know she wants me."

"Why is this happening?" Hermione whispered as Cho pulled on Blaise's ear, shouting at him as they disapparated. "...Why all the deaths?"

Waiting for a necessary two seconds to pass, Draco turned to his wife. Looking deep into her warm brown as he felt a small fragment inside of him turn cold. Something that went beyond his person, deeper than his skin, past his muscles and tissues, underneath his bones, lower than his blood and veins—a vital part of humanity freezing up as he stared at her; his faith.

He knew Hermione was suffering, knew that those around him—his mother, his children, Lavender, her son, and Thomas were all targeted and they all crumbled beneath the hand of the enemy. There was a part of him that no longer let him believe that those around were untouchable, unreachable. They were humans, magic or not. And that was hard to understand. To let his head wrap around that his father, a man who believed he was a God due to the magic running in his blood, died so easily. How Finnegan, being skilled in battle and spells stopped living in a second.

"...The world's a much dangerous place than we imagine," he said to her, taking her hand from his knee and grabbing it securely.

He looked at her, seeing the ghost of the brains of the Golden Trio reflected back at him. Being able to see the battle in her bright brown eyes, her strength in her beautiful features; he saw her completely, that girl who never stopped fighting for what she loved. But he feared, he lost faith that that wouldn't be enough. He couldn't trust that she still had it in her to fight for her life, what he most treasured. And he was not about to let her test it. He was not going to let a slip of information ignite the once flame of war in her veins.

"You know I'd never let anything harm you," he smiled falsely, remembering the fake emotions he had to show years ago when he was plotting a murder and his soul was slowly dying along with his humanity. "Ever."

"What's happening, Draco?" Hermione kept their gaze, even as her husband pulled her off her armchair and towards the couch across it. "Please...tell me. How can we keep losing people?"

Settling himself on his couch, his body feeling relaxed as the cushions provided the perfect leverage, Malfoy put an arm around Hermione's shoulder. His will just as strong, his believes just as intact; even as she shed tears of mourning for her recently deceased friend.

"Accidents, Hermione," he replied to her, his fingers pulling lightly on her curls.

She sighed, letting out a puff of air through her parted lips. "I keep trying to find an explanation for all of this, Malfoy. I'm trying to find a logical reason for the deaths...for our daughter being in a comatose state instead of demanding for a bottle of milk right now.."

Keeping his mouth shut, Draco felt a tug somewhere inside of him as he pictured his little girl in her glass crib in St. Mungos. Wires wrapped and attached to her body, trying to keep track of every signal her internal system gave.

"…But, perhaps, I think too much." Hermione spoke again, settling her head on her husband's shoulder. Finding some sort of peace and calmness in his embrace. "It kills me not to know...to know why these things happen."

And from the hall that led to the bedrooms of Draco and Hermione Malfoy's home, an elder blonde woman listened very carefully to the married couple. A few tears pushing past her eyelashes as her blue eyes stared broken-heartedly at them. A spiritual pressure next to her as she cried silently and undetected; almost as if her own deceased was there. Never leaving her alone and unprotected, signaling to her that the lack of his materialized presence was not in vain.

There was a reason why he was gone, why his time had come and left.

But taking a step back as the couple in the living room pressed their lips together, the woman turned back towards her room, an invisible dagger penetrating her thoughts like venom. Because Narcissa Malfoy knew that Draco was never going to tell her. He was never going to tell Hermione that they were coming after her, and her death was probably next.

AN: Well...*cough*

I bet some of you are wondering why I made Luna find out rather than Hermione, and that is because I HAVE NO IDEA. Lol. I honestly hadn't a clue what I was going to do with this chapter, so I just winged it. I hope you like my not=planned chapter though. I was like BLAH and then like BLEH. But in the end I decided to give you guys a bit of DRAMIONE fluff...even if it was a bit creepy and not really fluffy...*cough*

R&R?:)