After Tonight

Chapter 1: Dead Wrong

"They say he's dead, you know."

Hermione wasn't sure who said that, someone sitting behind her, she could hear the rustling of the newspaper page being flipped as the person continued, "but it doesn't mean he'll stay that way." "I don't believe it." replied another voice, and Hermione held her breath as she eavesdropped on the low-tones. "The last time I believed he-who-should-not-be-named was dead, he wasn't, and Potter was the one on the floor."

Harry. Hermione's chest swelled as she thought of the boy she had met on the train with the broken glasses. He had laughed when she first fixed his glasses, his eyes full of that new-magic type of wonder. He was the closest thing she'd had to a brother, and now he was gone. She tried not to think about it, or about him, but she saw him nearly every night as she slept, heard his screams as he dropped the wand that had been thrown to him and the spell that hit him right in the chest. She knew the moment he hit the floor that he was dead, but she'd ran to him anyway.

She hadn't made it to him. Neville had caught her before she committed likely suicide by running into the on going battle.

"But what does this mean?" the voice said, and Hermione blinked as she brought herself back to the current. A few drops of water fell against her back, and she peered up to see a leaky pipe sitting above her, water dropping every few moments from the seal that was less than sturdy. A hand grasped her shoulder lightly, and she turned to meet the wide, silvery eyes of Luna Lovegood. Her long dirty hair was loose, billowing around her like a thin cape. "Luna," Hermione breathed, and pulled her into a hug, tucking her chin into the small girl's shoulder.

"How are you?" Luna patted her on the back, but her other arm stayed limp at her side. Hermione didn't mind, Luna had never been much of a hugger, but Hermione needed to hug her; needed to hold her. Feel that she was real.

"Hello, Hermione." Luna cooed. "Are you hungry?" Hermione shrugged as she released her. "I'm doing alright. I had a few apples slices that Neville brought this morning." At the mention of his name, Luna smiled slowly. "Apples were always a favorite of his. Must be the color."

Hermione took her hand and pulled her to sit down next to her. "Luna, how are you here? Were you followed? I thought you were staying with Narcissa." Hermione said as she watched her friend remove several items from a bag she hadn't noticed until that point. "I am." Luna replied, and handed Hermione a bag of licorice. "I'm helping with food this week though. They took Cho, so I'm stepping in."

Hermione blinked. Cho had been discovered? "Who? Who took her?" Hermione squeaked, her voice too high-pitched for her liking. Luna shook her head slowly, and took the bag of licorice back from Hermione, opened it, then placed it back into her lap.

"We aren't sure. She was supposed to meet Narcissa and Neville at the station, but she never showed." Hermione took a piece of the licorice, placing it in her mouth, but as she chewed, she found she tasted nothing. She watched as Luna peered up at the leaky pipe. "I had always told dad to fix that." She murmured, her hands dangling loosely by her side. "Should've reminded him."

There were a total of 23 half-bloods and muggle-born people now living in the basement beneath the Lovegoods house, or what was left of it. Amycus Carrow had burned down the house after he had killed Luna's father. It had taken them several days, but Luna, Neville, and Hermione had found Xenophilius under the bricks from the collapsed chimney, his face was burned, and his entire chest crushed in with bricks. That had been nearly a year ago, or maybe more than that, Hermione found it hard tell. She had tried to keep track of time, but staying in a basement for hours on end tended to screw that up for a person.

"Luna, what day is it?" Hermione asked, clasping her arms in a feeble attempt to warm herself. It was always cold in the basement. "April. April 17th, 2001." Luna replied, her eyes still locked on the leaky pipe.

It had been almost three years since the war. Almost three years since Harry Potter, the boy who should have lived, was killed. Almost three years since Voldemort had taken power. Almost three years since he had figured out that- "It's almost been three years since the battle at Hogwarts." Luna said as if reading Hermione's mind. Hermione nodded, a lump in her throat as she said, "Three years since he created that potion."

The potion had been nicknamed Spawning, by those who feared it, sold it and used it. While the majority of the ingredients were uncertain, one specific ingredient was needed to make the potion as special as it was. When taken, it slowed down the aging process, and if the user was young enough, it could slowly reverse the visible signs of aging. It also could cause rapid healing, and kept the user young and healthy. Voldemort had been seriously injured during the battle, most of the damage caused by Harry, and in the months following, Voldemort had found himself ill. With what, no one really knew, but his Death Eaters had worked tirelessly to find a cure. Thus, Spawning was born. By the time they had the potion working exactly as intended, it had already been too late for Voldemort. He died guzzling the potion, although news of his death had been lightly whispered amongst the Death Eaters, who were now taking the potion themselves.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. She knew some of the ingredients. Doxy eggs, flexseed, and a few other odds and ends. But her mind always raced when she thought of the main ingredient; the ingredient that made her now a hunted and wanted girl.

Her blood.