Entry tags:

100quills, fanfiction, fic: far away as moonshine

FIC: Far Away as Moonshine 18/28
Title: Far Away as Moonshine, Part II: The Battle of Hogwarts
Author: zephre
Rating: PG-13 (R for whole fic)
Prompt: 100quills table 50.2: Justice
Word Count: 2,055
Summary: For Draco Malfoy, the war was one endless nightmare. Until Luna Lovegood gave him a reason to hope. Can he find his courage, make his luck, and become more than a pawn to those in power?
Warnings: (for whole fic, highlight to view) *mature themes, imprisonment, mention of rape, abuse, battlefield violence, various canon and other character deaths, sexual situations*
Notes: The title is from the song, "Street of Dreams" by Oysterband.
Concrit Wanted? Sure! Yet another one written quickly in breaks, so please alert me to typos or errors of continuity. It may, in fact, make no sense whatsoever.

Chapter Index:
Part I:   1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ||
Part II:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ||
Part III: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ||
Epilogue

Chapter 9: In which the battle ends for Luna at last.



The Infirmary was still standing.

Luna only accepted the depth of her fear for it when she got there and almost collapsed from relief. A green-clad young woman got Draco to a bed and called over a more senior Healer to look at him. Then the woman sat Luna down next to Draco's bed and began working on her broken foot and hand.

"How did you manage to get here like this, Lovegood?" the Healer muttered, probably more to herself than anything. Luna lifted her head and peer past the tangled hair in her face. How did the Healer know her name?

Then she realized that it was not a Healer, but a trainee, who knit her bones back together without benefit of a pain potion. Luna bit her lip and tasted blood. The trainee Healer looked up at her, holding Luna's hand by the wrist as she drew her wand down the lines of metacarpals one by one, each one an agony.

"I'm sorry, we're so low on potions, and it's faster this way. It will be over soon." It was the voice that gave the Healer away, at last, a voice Luna remembered from earlier years at Hogwarts.

"Clearwater," Luna gasped, as the last bone in her hand snapped into place.

"Yes?" Penelope replied, releasing Luna's hand and standing up.

"Will he be all right?" Luna asked, looking at Draco's head on the pillow. He was still bleeding.

"He'll be fine," Penelope assured her, but the tone of the young Healer's voice betrayed doubt as well as fatigue. "Why don't you sit with him until he wakes up?"

Left alone, Luna stared at the fine line of blood across Draco's cheek without really processing it. He looked incredibly like his mother, when he slept. Luna blinked at the thought of Narcissa Malfoy, snapping herself out of her daze. She wiped Draco's face with her sleeve and lifted her wand.

Luna was not certain now that she would be able to do it. Helping Harry, the Patronus had come willingly, naturally, with only the barest sense of true memory. Part of it had been the energy of the battle, part the exhultation of her triumph over an enemy. Sitting here now she felt no triumph, only horror.

Her wand spit white smoke and sparks on her first three tries, and Luna fought back tears. "Something happy," she whispered. It was impossible to think of anything that had once brought her joy. All of it was now tainted with terror, or grief, or anger. She reached out with her free hand and laced her fingers through Draco's pale ones. If she could only find one small thing, one spark of hope to drive her spell through her exhaustion and pain, then she could rest. She had to do this.

She remembered the feeling of snow falling on her hair, and moonlight through the clouds. The hare that formed at the end of her wand looked back at her, as if uncertain. It was a thin, whispy thing, but it was fully corporeal, and Luna smiled at it. "Go on," she told it. "You can do it." The hare loped off through the doors, very likely through walls, intent now on its task.

Luna slipped her wand into the remains of her sleeve and leaned forward until her elbows rested on the mattress. She held Draco's hand in both of hers now, and wondered if it would be safe to just fall asleep, right here.

When next Luna was aware, a gentle hand was smoothing her hair back from her face. She realized that she had, in fact, dozed for a few minutes, her cheek pillowed on the mattress beside Draco's elbow. The Malfoys were in the middle of a quiet conversation over Draco's bed.

"And if he doesn't?" asked Narcissa, who must be sitting on the side opposite Luna. 

"Potter is an honorable enemy; you heard what he said. And Shacklebolt will be Minister. That much is clear." That was Lucius. Luna realized quite suddenly, with a disconcerting blend of terror and tenderness, that it was his hand in her hair, moving in long, comforting strokes through the tangles.

She shuddered, and felt the hand withdraw.

"Awake, Miss Lovegood?" Lucius drawled, every bit as arrogant and superior as he had ever been.

Luna lifted her head and looked up at him, bracing herself to deal with his presence.

He looked terrible. He had a black eye and cuts across his face, and his beautiful nose was swollen and possibly broken. His bottom lip had split, and oozed a little when he spoke. His hair was lank and covered in a fine layer of dust, and he wore only thin summer under-robes. Pale skin was visible through a tear in the shoulder seam.

He looked vulnerable, and humiliated, and beaten. He raised an imperious eyebrow at her staring, and the motion made him wince. Some men might have been able to maintain more of their dignity in such a situation, but in Luna's eyes Lucius failed to do so. Here was no monster, no threat, no horror to hide from in the night.     

He looked ridiculous.

Luna fell forward, burying her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter that bordered on hysteria. She could not control it; she could barely breathe through it.

"Miss Lovegood?  Luna?" Now Lucius had lost his attempts at arrogance and simply sounded bewildered.

"Sor-Sorry," Luna gasped, looking up through her fingers. "Sorry."

Luna watched Narcissa tilt her head, exchanging some kind of silent communication with Lucius in the way that married couples had. Luna was astonished when the result was Lucius's hand returned to her hair.
 
She had witnessed his affection for his family before; it was not a surprise to her that Lucius Malfoy could have such emotions. It was a surprise that he offered them to her.

"The battle is over now," Narcissa said softly. "The Dark Lord is dead." 

So very much of Luna's tension and fear was still knotted up in her ignorance of the battle's outcome. Voldemort was dead. It was all over.

She laughed again, but this laughter had a wild edge, a painful edge. It was tilting quickly into keening grief. Quite suddenly she did not care that it was Lucius who offered her succor. Her own father was imprisoned far away - and best not to think of that, not yet, not yet. Here was comfort freely offered and Luna could not sit here another moment without the balm of human touch. She turned her face into Lucius's robes and allowed herself to cry.

She must have surprised him, because for a moment he stood rigid as she fisted her hands in the front of his robes to stop them from shaking.

"Lucius," Narcissa said, sharp and firm. 

Then Lucius moved. He sat down at the foot of Draco's bed, and Luna curled into his arms, closing her eyes. She knew who held her, of course, but she could still pretend, for just a moment, that the fingers combing through her hair were her own father's.

She did not hear the door to the Infirmary open, but she heard the sound of voices as the newcomers came down the aisle between beds. Someone stopped nearby.

"Get your hands off her!" That was Bill. What was Bill doing here?

Luna let her eyelids lift just a tiny bit, just enough to make out the angry redhead holding his wand aimed at Lucius's heart. Since Luna was currently occupying space against Lucius's chest, that meant the wand was also aimed at her head. She tightened her fingers in Lucius's robes. No more killing.

"Bill, please." That was Fleur. "Be calm. She is not hurt."

Other voices entered the fray. "What in Merlin's name is going on here?" "Bill, what - oh. Oh, no." "Luna?! What - you let her go or I'll - !"

Luna ignored Professor McGonagall and Mrs Weasley, but when Harry called her name, and made his threat, she found she had to open her eyes.

Lucius lifted his hands away from her. Luna knew that he must be showing them to Bill and Harry, letting them see his open, empty palms. "I have let go, Mister Potter," Lucius said in a tired, empty voice. "I assure you she is under no spell." Luna turned her face back into his shoulder and sobbed, letting go of his robes and clutching a different handful.

"Luna?" Harry's voice was softer now, and he sounded less like he would fire a curse.  Fleur was still talking very fast and low to Bill.

Bill's voice cut across Fleur's. "No. You don't know what they did to her."

"They didn't do it," Luna said, lifting her head enough to speak, but not enough to give anyone a clear shot.

"Luna?" questioned Harry. 

"Don't hurt him," Luna whispered. "Any of them. Please."

Bill turned angrily, whipping his wand through the air.

"Luna, the Aurors are coming for them," Harry said quietly. "They must stand trial."

Luna nodded, but still made no move away from Lucius. "They didn't do it, Bill," she said again. "It wasn't them."

Bill scowled at the Malfoys. "They let it happen."

Mrs. Weasley clutched Bill's sleeve. "Bill, what's going on? What do you mean?"

Bill shook his head, glancing at Luna's face. She hoped that she did not look as sick and frightened as she felt. She did not want Bill to explain for her; she did not want to explain. She wondered if the Aurors would care who had killed Antonin Dolohov out on the lawn. She wondered if Rabastan would say anything.  

Before Bill could speak, Kingsley Shacklebolt and three other robed Aurors entered the Infirmary. Lucius gently moved Luna back to her chair and stood up. Luna blindly reached for Draco's hand and laced their fingers together. She was startled to feel him squeeze her hand, and turned away from the confrontation between the adults.

Draco's eyes were open. Narcissa brushed his hair back and smiled at him, then he turned to Luna.

She could not make herself smile. She was not certain what she looked like, but she held tight to his hand. He would live. He would be fine. It was important to tell herself this, since no sooner had he met her eyes than she felt Professor McGonagall's hand on her shoulder and heard the woman's voice saying, "Let go now, Miss Lovegood."

Luna held on until an Auror repeated Professor McGonagall's instruction, and only then did she let her hand fall open.

They had a stretcher, and bindings for the Malfoys' hands, and Luna thought she heard someone saying that everything would be straightened out at the trial. She did not really pay attention once Draco had been levitated away.

She was really quite tired, and his pillow was warm and reminded her of times when she did not wake up alone.

"Luna? Luna?"
 
She ignored the voices as she curled forward around Draco's pillow and closed her eyes. She knew those voices, and knew they would be back. If she could only rest for a little while, before facing the dead. She did not want to know yet.

Dawn lit the windows of the Infirmary when Luna felt her bed dip as someone sat on it. Two someones, she realized as she opened her eyes.

Neville and Ginny had somehow gotten themselves cleaned up, but they still looked rather hollow around the eyes. Luna stared at them. She had not really seen them, not been alone in the same room, since before the Christmas hols. Before the cellar, before the curses, before the sword, before the battle. She had feared that even if they lived they would be strangers to her now, or she to them.

Luna reached out both hands and Neville took them, pulling her up into his arms. Luna held tight to his shoulder with one hand, the other reaching blindly to the side. Ginny was there, and took Luna's hand, and pressed her cheek to Luna's back. No one spoke. It took Luna a long time to realize that the other two were weeping, and longer still to shed any tears herself.

They were alive.

They had a future.



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