Prologue: Part 2
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling & BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.
Warnings/Spoilers: Somewhat graphic cannon character death.
A/N: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.Prologue: Part 2
It was three hours later that Xeno Lovegood walked through the door to his home from a normal day at his paper and into a very changed life.
“Death took her, Daddy,” Luna whispered when he just stared, frozen, at the macabre scene in front of the fire place and he jumps a bit at the sound. Before she had spoken he had been afraid both bodies lying on the floor where dead, that he had lost his whole world today. “Snatched her away. No, that’s not right,” she corrected herself, sitting up she looked at him but his eyes caught on the dried blood all across the right side of her face, all over her clothing as well – his wife’s blood
. “Mommy fought it, it hurt
her,” she continued, still whispering her voice sounding hoarse. “Mommy was fighting so hard, I couldn’t leave her alone with It…I couldn’t….” she trailed off. But he was enthralled by the blood. There was too much of it (it was all over Luna), surely it couldn’t be real. That wasn’t his wife on the ground, his lovely strong Selene. She couldn’t be, couldn’t be….
…...,” Luna said more a plea than a word and instantly his attention went to her – this was real, horrifyingly real, and his little girl needed him (and he needed her
). He walked over and picked her up off the floor, out of the puddle of congealed blood, and pulled her into his arms, turning his back to the body. He couldn’t be as brave as his daughter right now, couldn’t look at her (right behind them) and keep anywhere near sane, he just couldn’t.
“I know,” he petted her hair, swallowing hard as his fingers caught on the matted bits.
,” she cried again, this time it was caught in a sob. And he closed his eyes and just held her closer.
“I know,” he choked, and they held each other and they cried. Because even when Death is known, when it is prepared for and expected – it is still hard, still wrenching and painful. And Xeno had
expected this, perhaps not today and perhaps not like this
but he knew that every day since he met her (He, fresh out of Hogwarts, hunting down a lead on some group called “Watchers” for the Quibbler and she at the Council Headquarters with her current Watcher - the latest in a line that she had been handed off to since she was taken as a child - and wanting desperately to escape their grip, wanting a life.
She had told him everything, Selene knew she shouldn’t but she did anyway; she was just so tired. He had been horrified and to her surprise offered the chance to run and to her even greater surprise she had taken it. He had hidden her then, incredibly well. Even after she had seen him do his type of magic she hadn’t believed at first that this would ever work. But paranoia of authority was ingrained amongst the Lovegoods for generations and for her he bumped it up even higher; under Xeno’s wards she would never be found.
As months went by they figured out that with her magical core Selene could use a wand and with such a wand procured on the sly from a distant family member who just happened to be a renowned wand maker, his old textbooks, and infinite patience, he taught her how. Along with all of the other little things she would need to pass as a normal witch in the Wizarding World.
Friendship had come almost the moment an eccentrically dressed young man with slightly crossed eyes flopped down on a park bench next to a beautiful ash blonde young woman and smiled disarmingly. He asked to interview her and she bit her lip for a moment, looking at him through her lashes, before taking a deep breathe, pulling her shoulders back and saying ‘yes’.
Love – well, love, their awareness to it anyway, had come slowly. But by the time it did they were already best friends and so essential to each other, that it didn’t seem that new, that scary a step. It seemed more obvious than anything else; who else would have been so perfect for them?
) had been borrowed time.
Borrowed time that was now over it seemed.
He bit his lip and held his daughter tighter (and tried not to think - at least not in this moment - of his daughters similar future).