Luna was at his house again, this time with new gloves for him.
After Astoria's death, she had adopted him like one of the half dozen stray animals that lived with her. He never knew when to expect her, so it made it much harder to hide from her. He wouldn't see her for two weeks, and then she would show up three days in a row. She brought him meals, carefully wrapped in silver paper. He had a freezer full of them. She made sure he brought his winter clothes out when the whether turned cold, and checked his summer wardrobe for any mending that needed done before the days became too hot for wool robes. She dragged him out to get a haircut when he needed one and on a few occasions, she brought others over to visit him so he wouldn't seem like such a social outcast.
He didn't fight her too much. He didn't have the energy, and some days, couldn't bring himself to care. He had to admit, he did need looking after, and she did a fair job of it. He owed her to let her do what she pleased, after his family had held her hostage and tortured her.
And most importantly, she had been Astoria's friend, her dorm mate in Ravenclaw, and on nights he wanted to talk about his dead wife, Luna was a good listener.
Draco lost himself in his work. He spent long hours at the office, and went straight home, so he didn't have to hear the two old ladies in the next booth at the pub titter about that poor man whose wife killed herself. His mother had come around quite a bit the first six months, but when a year went by and Draco showed no signs of snapping out of it, she decided to do the things she had always wanted. Travel and spend his father's money, while his father cooled his heels in Azkaban. She still called and sent owls from exotic locations, and still fretted from time to time that he had no interest in going out and meeting a nice woman. But for the most part, she finally left him alone.
Astoria's family sent him cards on holidays, but that was about it. Daphne was married to Theo now, with one healthy child and another on the way. Robert was cordial to Draco when they ran into each other, but Astoria's mother still didn't seem certain whether she blamed Draco or not.
She might as well. Draco certainly blamed himself.
It would have been a dismally lonely existence if not for Luna's presence. Actually, it was a dismally lonely existence even with Luna's presence.
On April 4, Draco didn't go to work. He didn't even get out of bed until after noon, and then only because he couldn't hold the contents of his bladder another moment.
It was Astoria's twenty fifth birthday. Except that she had been gone a little over two years. She would never be older than twenty two.
Their first child had been due on her twentieth birthday. They probably would have had a double party for mother and son.
They never knew the gender of the first baby. The other three had all been boys, and Draco believed the first one had too. He wondered, again, if any of them would have survived if they had been girls. The healers hadn't really thought so, but then again, the healers had also told them that surely the next child would be healthy, and they had been wrong three times. He wondered, again, how many children they would have had if having babies had been as easy for Astoria as it obviously had been for Molly Weasley.
He sat on his bed, staring into nothing until the shadows lengthened and darkness began to creep into the room. Then lights came on and Luna came in. She carried a cake with a huge slice out of it and a six pack of butterbeer.
"Got hungry on the way over?" he asked, all snark gone from his tone, as it had been for two years.
"It's Astoria's birthday cake. I took a piece to the cemetery before I came here." she shrugged.
He nodded, not surprised, because that was just such a Luna Lovegood thing to do.
She set the cake on the cedar chest at the end of his bed, summoning plates and silverware from the kitchen. She opened a bottle of butterbeer and handed it to him, pocketing the cork. He dutifully took a sip, and realized he hadn't eaten or drank anything all day. She cut a generous slice of cake for him, and he forced himself to take a bite. It was delicious. Everything Luna brought him was delicious. She just had never realized that he had no appetite or interest in food.
She drank her butterbeer and ate her cake in silence. He managed to get down half the cake and two butterbeers.
She finished eating, collected their dishes, and took them downstairs. He heard the faint noises that told him she had washed the dishes and put them away.
She came back to find him in the same place she had left him, sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed, holding an empty bottle, and staring at nothing.
"Draco," she said softly. "This is it. I'm not coming back."
His head jerked up. "What?"
She had tears in her eyes, but she seemed angry. Both shocked him. All the times she had come over, all the coddling she had done, all of her fussing over him, had always been with her serene smile on her face. She had held his hand while he cried, she had stroked his back while he raged, but she had never displayed those emotions herself.
"I can't do this any more." she choked back a sob. "I stood at Astoria's grave and promised her I would watch over you. It's been two years and two months, and I still wonder nearly every time if I'm going to come in here and find you dead by your own hand. There's no spark in you any more. You don't care about anything or anyone, including yourself. It's come to the point I believe maybe it would be less cruel to walk away and let you kill yourself, because there's no more left of what makes you Draco. You died inside when Astoria died, and all that's left is a shell of a body that doesn't want to be here. I've tried so hard to bring you out of it, to get you to call me Loony and tell me that was the stupidest thing you've ever heard or laugh at me or just react, period. I've brought you every known cure for wrackspurts and nothing has helped. I want you to look around and realize that yes, Astoria is gone and you lost four children and it hurts, but there is still a world out there that's worth living in. You can't or you won't and I just can't do this any more."
She sank down in the chair, put her hands over her face and began to cry.
"Luna, please don't cry." he begged her, tears streaming down his own face. He stumbled off the bed, falling onto his knees by her feet, lifting her head to look at him, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "Please don't leave me. You're the only one who cares. You're the only want who wants to fix me. Please don't give up on me."
"Draco ... " she shook her head.
"Luna, please." he begged. "It's like I don't know how to feel any more. I've shut it off for so long. But I'll try. I promise I'll try if you don't leave me."
She looked into his eyes uncertainly. And in that moment, he leaned in and did what he had always done when Astoria looked uncertain.
He kissed her.
His lips touched hers and electricity shot through him, and for the first time since the morning he found his wife's body, he felt alive. He eased her lips apart and slipped his tongue inside and slid his hands back into her hair. Luna moaned deep in her throat and he kissed her even more.
He finally broke for air, leaning his forehead against hers. "I feel alive right this minute." he whispered. "For the first time in twenty six months, I feel alive."
"That's a good start." she murmured, and leaned in to kiss him again. Her palms wrapped around his cheeks, and then slid down his back to make their way underneath his shirt, to graze her nails over his bare skin.
"Luna," he gasped. He pulled back, leaned back on his heels, reached back to take her hands and hold them, looking her in the face.
"Let me make you feel." she pleaded.
"This ... no." He shook his head. "This goes far beyond taking care of your friend's husband."
"Draco." she brought her hands to his face again. "I haven't taken care of you for twenty six months because I loved Astoria. I did it because I love you."
"Luna." he frowned, not sure what to do with that information.
"I'm a big girl." she promised him. "No regrets."