What Luna Said
By SilverCrystalArtemis
AN: So, the reason this chapter took a while to get out is because I was away, visiting some friends. But courtesy of the amazing notebook that never leaves my side (and I mean never), I was able to get home and type it all up, just for you! Not to mention that about half of chapter four is written already.
Now, I KNOW there are HUNDREDS of you reading this. You see, I cast a hominum revelio on the page (who'd of thought it would work on fanfics? Yea, I know. Totally blew my mind.) Now, I'm not trying to be needy, but WHY aren't you reviewing?! I want to hear what ALL of you are thinking; the good, the bad, the random, and the out-of-left-fields. It's a little disheartening to see over 300 hits, and....9 reviews. I can't tell if it's because you don't want to say anything, or it's so bad you can't say anything, or you have a personal vendetta against little blue links....
Also, I thought you might enjoy a switch in focus, here. A little fluff, a little angst, and a box of tissues. I hope.
What Luna Said
Chapter Three
Two hours later, the guests filed out of the room, promising to come back and visit later in the day. Everyone seemed to accept Hermione's excuse of "exhaustion" and "needing some rest after all the excitement". Everyone, that is, except her husband.
Soon as the room cleared, Draco shifted his attention fully to his wife. He turned his chair to face her more completely, he reached with his right hand to grab at her unheld one. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't meet her eyes, and the levels of accusations staring back at him. He turned his head away, looking down at their intertwined hands, now wrinkled and worn. He played with her engagement ring and wedding band, twirling them around her finger. He didn't like to think of how thin she had gotten; if it wasn't for the unlosable charm cast on both rings, they would have simply slipped off her emaciated fingers a while ago.
"Draco," she said softly, though still with an authoritative tone. Like when she used to reprimand Scorpius. He refused to look up, refused to put himself in a position where he would start crying again. It only made everything hurt worse, and it made him feel inadequate. "Love," she said, voice softer now, almost strained. Still he refused to look up, merely squeezed her hands, still toying with the rings.
She sighed, deciding this was the most of his attention she was going to get, and started to talk. "Love, when was the last time you even left that seat? You need to get up, go get something to eat, spend some time out of this room, go sleep at home-"
Draco's head shot up, at the last one, and Hermione, loath though she was to admit it, could see the almost tangible fear in his eyes. He stared at her, caught somewhere between dumbstruck and furious. How could she even think that he could so much as enter their home without her?
"Mya, I-"
She cut him off. "Draco, please. Just take care of yourself a little. That's all I'm asking. Seeing you like this, it hurts."
"And seeing you like this kills me, Mya." He knew she would drop it, then. He knew, she knew, that he needed to be there. That he couldn't leave. It wasn't physically possible. Not anymore. He'd tear his soul to cease the pain she was in; how, then, could he leave her for one moment?
They sat in silence a while. Neither of them wanted to argue, and neither of them knew they couldn't change the other's mind. She would try to force him out, so he wouldn't watch her suffer, and he would die before he left her side. Draco continued to play with her rings, watching the lights in the hospital room reflect off the gems.
Suddenly, Hermione started chuckling. Draco looked up at her, surprised and bemused. This is the first time he heard an honest to goodness laugh from her in three weeks. "Do you remember," she said between giggles, "The time when Scorpius was almost three, and we took him to my parents? He got so covered in mud that Mum had no idea what to do, and just stuck him in the washing machine. You remember the look on her face?" And Draco had to smile. He could see Scorpius now, with his toddler-fine hair dirtied to a darker brown than his mothers, and no visible skin under the caked on filth.
"Or the time we had your parents over for Christmas dinner, and Blunky almost gave your Mum a heart attack, popping up behind her?"
"Or that time I let you talk me into going to a Muggle concert?"
"Or our attempt to paint the nursery by hand?"
He laughed there, a big, strong laugh that made Hermione smile. It was the way her husband used to be. "Oh, I remember that one, Dearest. 'Oh, Draco, it'll be so much more personal if we do this the Muggle way. If we really put ourselves into it.' " he mimicked her, his trademark smirk on his face. "Though if I recall, you were perfectly happy to pull out the wands seven hours into it."
"That was because you poured blue paint down my shirt, you prat!" She smacked his arm playfully, and they both laughed hard. Just like they used to.
Suddenly, Hermione went quiet. Draco squeezed her hand, concerned. She started coughing, choking on her own breath, and the sound physically struck Draco. This had happened before, but no matter if it was the first, or as the case may be, twelfth time, it always caused him to panic, always caused that white-hot heat to wrap around his chest like a vicious constrictor. Tears were falling fervently down his cheeks as he watched her suffer, knowing he could do absolutely nothing to stop it. For the very first time in their life together, he couldn't be her hero.
The coughs became more violent; sickening, wheezing gasps of breath between great, hacking barks. She was literally choking. Coughing with enough force to actually lift her off the bed. Draco shot up in his chair, still refusing to let go of her hand, but desperate to do something. His head twisted wildly from side to side, eyes searching the room for anything, anything at all that could help. Oh, please, he thought, Please, not like this. Draco did the only thing he could thing of; he screamed for help.
Mediwizards came dashing into the room, five of them, and gathered around the bed. Spells started spewing from wands, frantic muttering from lips. Draco was almost shoved away from Hermione when a particularly young healer tried to get closer to her lungs, her heart. Closer to the problem. He held steadfastly to her hand, but shifted a step toward the wall, giving the man the chance. A flash of yellow light erupted from his wand, and connected to Hermione, in the center of her chest. The light pulsed, once, twice, then disappated.
Hermione fell back onto the pillows, like some sick imitation of a rag doll. Her fit had stopped, but it left her too weak to do anything more than make weak, shallow attempts for the air her body craved, her eyes closed, face still screwed into a mask of pain. A mediwizard on the other side of the bed pulled out a small vial from a pocket of his robes, a faded lilac colored potion within. With the help of his associates, he lifted Hermione, and poured the liquid down her throat. Within seconds, the shuddering breaths gained some semblance of strength, of vitality, and the Mediwizards laid her back down, and quietly walked out of the room.
Draco fell back into the chair, limp, his heart pounding a brutal rhythm against his ribcage. This was almost it. This could have been the end. That thought, mingled with the image of his wife laid back, weakly, still gasping for breath against her pillows, broke Draco. He fell forward onto his wife's bed, and gasping sobs wracked his body, too overcome with sorrow to even make a noise.
After a few minutes, Hermione turned her head, and looked at her husband. "Darling," she murmered, running the fingers of her right hand through his hair as he wept over her left, "Darling, please, you can't blame her. It was an accident. She needs you, now, Draco." Draco let out a keening sob now, shaking brutally, bent over his wife's bed. Her deathbed.
Draco should have known she knew. She could always read him better than anybody. No matter how hard he tried to hide things from her, she always found out if she put her mind to it. He remembered the first few years, how she was so insistant that he not spoil her too much, that she determined to find out every surprise he had planned for her, and put a stop to the ostentatious ones (many a birthday getaway to Spain or Japan had been transfigured into a quiet weekend at home by the fire). Years later, she decided to let him have his fun and spoil her, so she just kept her nose out. But she could always tell when something was hurting him.
He couldn't think of anything to say to her. He couldn't convey to her, couldn't even fully explain to himself, how he could harbor this kind of hatred for something so sweet, so kind, so inherently innocent. But his mate had been harmed, tortured even. Killed, slowly. He was at war with his very instincts, surely she must know that. Hell, if it had even been Harry bloody Potter who did this, he'd have been dead by now. The Veela in him wanted blood for the loss of his mate; he thought he was doing a fair job of keeping it to a low hum of hatred.
He wished there were a way to explain it to her, but no matter how much he tried, she would never fully understand how it felt to be in his position. As his mate, she experienced a feeling of love so acute most thought it only existed in fairytales. That was nothing compared to his side of the bond. He could feel invisible strings, conduits from every one of her fibers to his own. They ran from her fingertips to his, her heart into his own, her very sould to his. She was his everything precious, and she was leaving. And it was ripping those fibers, and in turn, ripping him.
"Mya," he tried to hold back his tears. He tried to talk to her. He needed to talk to her. Any excuse to hear her voice, to know she could still respond, for as long as possible. They could talk about the sheet's thread count, for all he cared. So long as she talked to him. "Mya, I'm sorry. I can't help it. I wish I could do what you ask, I wish I could forgive her, but I-"
"Hush, Draco. Just come up here and hold me." So he did.
Holding her in his arms, cuddled up against her like they used to, every night in their own bed, Draco felt at once more comfortable than he had in weeks, and worse than he had in his entire life. Never had he hurt this horribly, down to his very soul. It ached. It burned. It ripped itself apart into little ribbons that fell into a black abyss. As he heard Hermione's breathing even out into sleep, he curled up tighter against her, burying his head in her curls, and let the tears fall.
Scorpius heard his father's scream, and saw a band of Mediwizards dashing down the hall. Terrified, he jumped up, and started following.
He got to the door to his mother's room as it closed. He could hear his mother; Merlin, this was horrible. He tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. Damn emergency charms. He struggled with the handle for a moment, until a nurse came up to him, and put her hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, looking at the woman, almost glaring, almost pleading.
"Sir, I'm sorry, but you can't go in there right now." She at least looked apologetic, but Scorpius didn't give a damn.
"To Hell with that! That's my mother! If-"
"Sir, I really am sorry, but I can't let you in there."
Dammit, he hated to do it, but he pulled the name card. "Do you know who I am? Do you know exactly how much money my family has donated to this institution? Do you even know the name Malfoy?"
If if was any other time, Scorpius would have been highly impressed by the woman's steadfastness. She reminded him of his mother. "Sir, I am aware. But, money or not, you're going to have to wait until they've done their job."
Scorpius sighed, resigned, and took the few steps to the other side of the hallway, directly across from the door. This wasn't right; if they... Merlin, if they weren't able to save her this time...
Scorpius hadn't realized it until just now, but Victoire had followed him. So caught up was he in th goings on that he hadn't sensed her, hadn't felt her nearby. She was standing against the wall, trying to convey as much comfort and support as she could through her eyes. He reached out to her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her tight into his arms. Neither could speak; there were no words that could comfort. They stood there, against the wall, holding each other, and waiting for something, anything, to happen.
The room got eerily quiet, and Scorpius sucked in a breath, holding it. Unable to let it go, lest he let go all hope alongside it. A moment or two later, the Mediwizards walked out, faces long. Scorpius's breath hitched. One of the men looked up, making eye contact, and Scorpius recognized him from Hogwarts; Trevor Boot, his name was. He gave Scorpius a smile, although forced, and walked off with his coleagues.
Scorpius felt himself relax, felt Victoire squeeze him, but didn't realize he had started to cry. She was alright. She was alive. This wasn't the end yet. He walked back to the door, Victoire still on his arm, but before he could turn the handle, he heard his father. The sound broke his heart. His father had always been a strong man, had never bowed so far down to something in his life. Yet here, he could very nearly hear the heartbreak, could almost hear the anguished thoughts running through his father's head. He heard the muffled sound of his mother's voice, and then his father's cries grow louder. He couldn't break this private moment. And he couldn't stay here, outside this door, any longer. He and his wife turned, and slowly made their way back to the waiting room, Victoire rubbing small circles on his back.
He looked at his wife while they walked, studying her. Again. He never got sick of it; she was the most wonderful woman in the world, and every day she managed to take his breath away. He remembered how their relationship had shocked everyone who knew them; two seperate Houses, and then the six year age difference, and beyond that, who had ever heard of two Veela bonding together? Yet here they were, with two children of their own. They had defied so many odds, so many prejudices and expectations, and they were happy. Bonded. It made him wonder how it must have been like for his parents; they went through so much of the same, and still had a war to contend with.
He thought of his father again. Losing his mate, so early. He couldn't imagine losing Victoire that soon. Not even a hundred years... He knew what it was to feel a mate in danger, yes, even to feel a mate in great amounts of pain. But to feel and watch your mate die a slow death... that could only be agony beyond words.
As they re-entered the waiting room, the entire group looked up anxiously, fearing the worst. Victoire, thankfully, saved him from having to speak as they walked back to their chairs. "She's okay for now," she said, taking her daughter into her arms. "But she's probably going to be resting for a long while."
They sat in silence again. Nobody could really say anything for comfort. They all knew the end was coming soon. Hours, perhaps.
Another person entered the room, and again, in a practised ritual, every head lifted up. Neville Longbottom stood in the doorway, folding his travelling cloak over his arm as he began walking to them. Ron rose up out of his chair, giving the other man his seat. Nods were given by way of greeting, or a small handshake here, kiss on the cheek there. As he sat down, he stretched his legs out in the space in front of him, rubbing his right knee. He didn't need to ask how things were; the looks on everyone's faces was enough of an answer.
"Scorpius, Hannah is coming by later, but she wanted me to tell you she sends her love." he started, turning to the man. Scorpius nodded; it was all he could do. He had so many thoughts rushing through his head, battling for dominance. Each one opening up a new stream of open ended and often unpleasant thoughts.
"Oh, and we've just heard from Luna. She's on her way."
AN: Yea, anyone who can catch the HP&Me reference, ten points to your House! Also, there is a David Bowie reference in this chapter. And, just maybe, those who can tell me either reference will get a special something....*wink wink*