Nightmares and Nocturnes

The Fellest Swoop

Chapter 15: The Fellest Swoop

The day boy, who had never known the truth of night, began to question himself; to wonder how it was that he, a creature of sun, could exist in the same space as she, a vessel raised in dark. If day and night were balanced on the razor-edge of horizon, was one to exist without the other? Or was day meant to devolve, reaching its golden arms into the mourning tendrils of night?

For as day must always die in the arms of night, he thought, so too must he only exist to perish in the depths of her brightness.

. . . . . . . .

1999

. . . . . . . .

"She's gone," Harry gasped, panicked. "I woke up early and I looked for her, and - she's just gone - "

Ron struggled to sit up. "Mate," he mumbled sleepily, "what?"

"Luna's gone?" Hermione asked, frowning. "I presume she went after her father, then," she determined grimly, shaking her head in disappointment. Foolish, she lamented, and brushed it aside.

Harry stared blankly at her. "You presume she went after her - " he cut off, blinking. "That's all you have to say? You presume?"

Hermione, who normally understood Harry quite well, gaped at him in confusion. "What am I supposed to say, Harry?" she demanded, a bit more tartly than she would have if she hadn't suspected she was being accused of something unsavory. "What on earth am I supposed to say in response to the news that Luna has done something" - she inhaled sharply - "loony, as per usual?"

"You're not supposed to say anything!" Harry barked, waving his arms in frustration. "You're supposed to get dressed" - he reached over, pulling the duvet from her grip - "and get out of bed, so that we can go after her!"

"What?" Hermione erupted, and Ron, recognizing trouble, came unsteadily to his feet, stepping between where Harry stood and the edge of Hermione's bed.

"Now hold on," Ron said gruffly, silencing Hermione's protests with a warning glance and then turning to Harry, "let's be reasonable here - you know I love Luna," he added carefully, hand outstretched like he meant to soothe Harry from afar, "but Xenophilius, on the other hand, I have" - he glanced again at Hermione, who shrugged, tight-lipped with anger - "mixed feelings about."

"Mixed feelings," Hermione scoffed under her breath, just as Harry burst out, "It doesn't matter what kind of feelings you have!"

Ron sighed. "Mate, listen - "

"No, you listen," Harry shouted back, his green eyes wild with a look of purpose that Hermione - unfortunately - was all too familiar with. "I don't care that he - "

"Nearly turned us over to You-Know-Who," Ron supplied gruffly. "Thus nearly killing us - "

" - he was willing to do something awful to save his daughter," Harry growled, ignoring him. "He was in a terrible position and maybe if we had been in his place - "

"No, Harry," Hermione interrupted quietly. "We would never have done what he did."

"Aren't you doing that now?" Harry countered, rounding on her. "Isn't that fact that you don't want to help him and Luna the same thing he did? Putting himself first at the expense of someone else?"

"This is different," Hermione said, finally launching herself out of bed and stalking towards him. "This is walking straight into a swarm of Death Eaters, Harry, and it means an incredible amount of danger, considering the whole world thinks you're dead - "