Epilogue – Hidden
Hidden
by Luna Lovegood
Isn’t it ironic – the day England rejoices during the Kiss of the most elusive Death Eater on Earth is the day my heart breaks. Draco Malfoy, son of the infamous Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, had been on the Ministry’s most wanted list for three years before being captured not a week ago. Just a day later, he appeared before the honored Wizengamot and was found guilty for assisting in the death of Albus Dumbledore, eluding capture, failing to turn himself in, and kidnapping me, Luna Lovegood, former sister-in-law to our beloved Percival Weasley, Minister of Magic.
From the moment he arrived at Azkaban, reporters from all over sought interviews with me, wanting every gruesome detail about my incarceration, the torture methods Malfoy had used, and how I fought back. At first, I refused to even entertain such ideas, but I had made a promise to a dear friend of mine to tell his story. I reluctantly decided to provide the exclusive interview to the only person I could trust with such a story of a lifetime – myself.
What had begun as an innocent journalism trip became the most important thing to ever happen to me. A simple wrong question to the wrong person landed me in the hiding place of the most terrifying Death Eater in history. For obvious reasons, I will not name the man who brought me before Malfoy, though he has my eternal gratitude for what he knew was right.
Who would’ve thought it was so simple to find Malfoy? Why hadn’t better-trained Aurors done this? Or could he be so powerful as to vanquish any who came near the truth? These questions raced through my head when I arrived, but Malfoy had sought me – not the other way around – to make a request of me. I was surprised and immediately told him I would have none of it.
However, though Malfoy had said he’d changed, I knew he would not let me go until I had at least pretended to agree with whatever he had in mind. Now as I look back on that first confrontation, I can see a part of me, one I had tried so hard to suppress and change, react with curiosity to the words of this disheveled Malfoy. I secretly hoped he could satisfy my desire to know his story. It was then that a small part of me began to feel pity for the once proud Malfoy, whose arrogance had drastically declined.
He divulged to me certain parts of his personal history; things that even his closest school friends never knew. His father had imprinted upon his mind at a very early age that Muggle-borns, half-bloods, Muggles, and Muggle-lovers were to be hated with a passion. Lucius Malfoy had led his son to believe he was worthless until he killed.
It was in his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, that Malfoy found sanctuary. The woman had at first been convinced that Malfoy was not entirely hers but her husband’s object to mold into the perfect Death Eater. But as time passed, Malfoy found at last one person who cared for his well-being.
It was because of this motherly concern that Narcissa had approached the traitor Severus Snape with the plea to save her son after he had been assigned, by Lord Voldemort, the seemingly impossible task of murdering Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. On that fateful night, Draco Malfoy approached Dumbledore with the intention of killing him but could not. Snape, bound by an Unbreakable Vow, finished the deed, and whisked Malfoy off to his home at Spinners End.
That is where our talented Aurors lose the trail. Snape, as many of you readers know, was captured in his attempt to infiltrate Order headquarters, but Malfoy had not accompanied him. After escaping Hogwarts, Malfoy had shown weakness at seeing the death of his headmaster, and Snape, in disgusted rage, had broken Malfoy’s wand and sent him away.
For the next few days, unable to perform any magic, Malfoy walked across England to his home. He had encountered Ginerva Weasley, only sister of Minister Weasley, on this journey only days before her untimely death. This no one had known before, and after I asked him why he would want to reveal this now, he replied that the young Miss Weasley had been the first person he’d ever encountered to believe him trustworthy. This, Malfoy said, encouraged him and convinced him that the path he had chosen was the right one. Draco Malfoy wishes to convey his sorrow and well-wishes to Ginerva Weasley’s survivors for her death and for any heartache he may have caused them by revealing his secret rendezvous with her.
Draco Malfoy spent three years in a self-imposed imprisonment in the mountains of England, cut off from any human contact, save for a regular visit from his eyes and ears in the village not far away. He watched from his mountaintop as the world he had left broke apart. He had felt Lord Voldemort’s death when his Mark burned him so horribly that fateful night. He had read about his parents’ deaths in the papers and regretted letting them die without the knowledge that he was safe and sound. He had heard about his uncle Rodolphus’ ambitious intentions and had celebrated his freedom before reading about Rodolphus Black’s conviction and execution just days afterwards.
That was how I found him – broken over his mother’s death, hurt by the world’s hatred toward him and his family, and frustrated that he was too cowardly to help change their views.
Most of us remember the Malfoys for their haughtiness, their pigheaded pride, and their lack of concern for others. But, I ask my readers to rid themselves of such prejudice before they read on and discover that hidden inside each Malfoy, particularly the condemned Draco Malfoy, is a raw human being who isn’t at all who he seems. (For those who do not wish to continue this article, ‘I Ate a Death Eater’ on page 54 may be better suited for you)
I found myself drawn to this man soon after I reluctantly began to converse with him. He had changed enormously. Though there were times when the bias drilled into his mind slipped out, he was genuinely charming and smiled easily. But more importantly, I saw him as my big story – the greatest opening article a journalist could hope for. Not only that, I believed that it would finally win me the approval I desperately wanted from the world and, dare I dream, the husband I needed back in my life.
Those of you who had known me in school may not recognize me anymore from the way I look and sound. Most are happy with this change; certainly Ronald Weasley stopped bothering me about it. I, too, was satisfied with the way I am. No one gave me second glances on the streets. No one called me Loony Lovegood anymore. No one laughed at me when I walked by. Life was normal – and boring.
I had my headline and outline complete. All I needed was the end to his tale. Yet, like Scheherazade, I cleverly put off his last lines, complaining of headaches or fatigue just minutes into a session, until I couldn’t any longer. I didn’t know why I feared his ending so much then. I attributed it to my hesitation to believe his goodness and his transformation, but I know better now.
I knew that when I finally finished, I would be sent back into the world I had been so abruptly snatched from, messenger for the man trapped inside his own home. I would leave the safe walls of the coveted home and into the society that had so scorned and forgotten me. More importantly, I would be away from the only person I felt comfortable being myself around.
He had convinced me that I was, quite frankly, a very boring person. Reluctantly, I had explained to him how hurt I had been after my very public divorce with the only man I ever thought I would love. Draco, who understood so well the inability of the public to see a man as multi-dimensional, reassured me that such an ordeal should not have affected me so much. His change had been for the better, he knew, but mine, he told me, was not.
At that moment, I fell in love with Malfoy, this former Death Eater, branded for eternity with the mark of the Dark Lord.
It takes great effort to pen that word – love – when its meaning had been lost to me just a year ago. I never told him how I felt, not during our last night together and not during our last meeting. I fear he will never know how much I love him, but I hope he goes with an inkling of my affections. I want him to know how grateful I am for everything he had given me: confidence to face the world, self-esteem that will never deflate, a home and place where I could unhide my emotions, a chance to redeem myself, his mortally wounded heart, and now, his soul.
But, dear readers, do not think he had forgotten you, for in facing the dementors, he has given an invaluable gift to you – one we can all use in a time like this: trust. By extracting a promise from me to tell the world his story, he had ensured that those of us willing to would finally get the second chance to see not just the bad side of individuals but the good that may lay hidden behind the façade you want to see.
I have not been to Azkaban to see him, much to the relief of my ex-husband and former brother-in-law, nor will I attend the ceremony of the Kiss. Draco wanted so desperately for me to see and remember our best memories that I could not bear to break his heart so utterly before he gave his soul.
Such a great gift he has given us, one that will last longer than we will. And Draco had asked so simply for one thing in return: redemption. So I ask that instead of attending the world-wide celebration planned by the Ministry, stay home with your loved ones and together, find the forgiveness that has been too long hidden.
This story is finally complete. I can't express enough thanks for all the readers who followed me on this journey. Thanks to my various betas and for Poultrygeist for providing such a plot bunny.
Hidden had provided many subsequent plot bunnies that make up my Hidden series. Please feel free to read them; the stories related to this story are listed on my author's page.