A/N: I'm baaaack! Welcome to Part 2, the follow-up to Faith in Broken Halos. If you haven't read FIBH you may feel a bit discombobulated by this story since although it will focus on Luna and Theo during their year at Hogwarts, there will be a healthy amount of Dramione weaved in. I hope you take a moment and read the Emily Dickinson poem that reminded me so much of Luna that I had to pull the title and essence of it for my story.

The Remotest Star

Inspired by Emily Dickinson's poem, 'The Moon was but a Chin of Gold'

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold

A Night or two ago—

And now she turns Her perfect Face

Upon the World below—

Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde—

Her Cheek—a Beryl hewn—

Her Eye unto the Summer Dew

The likest I have known—

Her Lips of Amber never part—

But what must be the smile

Upon Her Friend she could confer

Were such Her Silver Will—

And what a privilege to be

But the remotest Star—

For Certainty She take Her Way

Beside Your Palace Door—

Her Bonnet is the Firmament—

The Universe—Her Shoe—

The Stars—the Trinkets at Her Belt—

Her Dimities—of Blue—

Prologue

-10 weeks later, after 'Portus'

24 hours after Dumbledore's Death-

Hermione slowly placed the quill next to the open journal, aligning it perfectly parallel with the book's edge. She heard the frantic pacing of Draco behind her. His breaths escaped him on angry puffs of air and so she afforded him his space, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the emotion overflowed.

His feet halted and Hermione turned in the chair, stiff and resolute. The action was enough to darken Draco's eyes to granite. Two immovable forces colliding over the inevitable- her friend's need of her. She gently tried to explain it.

"Harry needs me. That man, no matter how you viewed him, was one of the only constant, nurturing adults in Harry's life. He's going to be devastated. And unstable...and likely prone to stupid decisions."

Draco scowled at her, unconvinced. "Is that a shared Gryffindor trait, then?" His arms twitched, the left's movement more pronounced, more agitated, and Hermione's eyes drifted to it briefly. Instead of rising to his bait, Hermione softened under it, finding his words a rough caress of worry.

He never was very good at the feelings.

She answered, "Not by me. It won't be a stupid decision because I will be prepared." Draco turned his head, his eyes studious on one of the walls in the very tiny room they shared, effectively shutting out Hermione's reassurances which would not bloody do. Shooting up from the chair, Hermione stomped over to him and took his face in her hands. A clammy sweat coated her fingers but she refused to let go, to let him dig in irrational heels over the smallest little hurdle of their relationship yet, when there were much bigger hurdles still to come.

She popped up on her toes and placed her lips to his, breathing the plea into his mouth, making him taste her desperation. "Draco, listen to me. Nothing is going to happen. I will stay safe. I will come back."

He shuddered against her. Hermione felt his arms wrap around her back, clenching tightly, yet even through Draco's fierce grip she could feel the start of tremors work through his left arm.

Futile anguish climbed her throat. She gripped him back to give herself a moment to swallow back the tears and they burned her throat, burned her clear through until Hermione felt a renewed sense of direction.

Beyond Harry's grief. Past Dumbledore's death, to absolute survival.

Above it all, she needed Draco to survive.

With her emotions reined in, Hermione pulled back from Draco. He was shaking, teeth clenched, and the exposed mark started to pulse like a beacon of death. She pushed him toward the lone bed in the room and he collapsed onto the mattress, eyes already starting to roll back into his head. Hermione fumbled for the iPod in the desk; she then gently placed the earbuds in his ears and cranked up the volume as the playlist began.

The music soothed Draco slightly as his breathing turned to shallow little exhales. By now, his lips would mouth the lyrics. Hermione slumped down on the bed and watched worryingly when his hands curled to fists, highlighting the rippling black tattoo and the angry red scar cutting through the skull.

10 weeks since they left, countless times Voldemort has tried to torture Draco back into visibility, and it never got any easier to watch him suffer.

Hermione placed her palms against his pulse points so that he would know she was there, know that she's on the other side of his pain.

"I will stay safe. I will come back," she repeated fervently, "And I'll have an answer."

A/N: Just another note- the posting schedule for this will be slow to start. I am currently drafting chapter 3 and prefer to have a cushion of at least 5 chapters before posting; this will be more realistic once school is out in June but I couldn't resist jumping in! Please be patient while I work with these two new perspectives!