Secrets To Keep

epilogue part 1

Background Information:::
It is twenty-six years into the future, and the 8th of August, 2028. Harry and Luna have seven kids, five of which are theirs biologically. They have many nieces and nephews, and seven "real" grandkids — although all the Weasley grandchildren call them Grammie and Grampie too.
If you'd like to know an in-depth summary of the children and their names, I'm planning on publishing a chapter later on.
Maybe.
—-

Harry looked out the window of the house Luna and he had moved to when Niko had finally moved out, just a year and a half ago. Harry sighed happily when the breeze hit his face, giving him a minute reprieve from the August heat. He checked his watch -- Luna should be home in an hour.

Turning to their fridge, he lifted their cat, Moe, from the top of it, and took out a carton of milk -- before dropping the whole carton on the floor. He cursed as milk spilled over half the floor. "Watch out Moe, don't get your paws wet."

As he crossed the kitchen to get a towel, he slipped on the milk-puddle and slammed onto his back, hitting his head on the cement floor. His vision blurred for a minute, and he swore, feeling the back of his head. It felt like it was splitting, and he hoped there wasn't any blood. He knew from experience how much Luna hated when he bled and didn't do anything right away.

He tried to stand up, but swayed almost instantly. He sat back down in the puddle of spilled milk and wondered if he should -- or even could in this state -- call someone. If he made it to the Floo he could call Delilah, she would probably be home.

But Luna would be home soon, and he didn't want to worry Delilah. He tried keeping his eyes open, but he felt really weak. It felt like an eternity had passed, and Moe had started meowing very loud, as though he was hurt.

"What's wrong Moe, buddy? C'mere," Harry let the black cat settle on his lap, and started petting him.

Soon, Harry started worrying. He was getting more lethargic by the minute, and it felt like his skull had exploded. Maybe he needed to eat.

He was able to crawl towards a cupboard and pulled out a bag of crisps. It wasn't the healthiest, but he needed to eat. He ate a few, before throwing it up. He closed his eyes, and hoped he'd be okay. He was too young to die -- again.

He suddenly realized how close he'd been to death, he knew, but it felt more prominent. He was only forty-seven after all, he hadn't even retired yet.

It occurred to him that he was dying. He felt saddened, he'd only just met his granddaughter a week ago. What a shame.

---

"Harry, I'm back from that art thing!" Luna called, closing the door. What was that horribly noise? "Moe, is that you?"

Moe jumped on her legs, clawing at her.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

The cat let out an almost ear-piercing meow before trotting off.

Luna carried the bag of groceries she had picked up as she followed.

What she saw wasn't exactly what she'd expected.

She quickly sat the bag down on the counter and bent down slowly to where her husband was...sleeping?

"Har?" she whispered.

She couldn't see him move a muscle, and she touched his head. "Harry, c'mon!" She begged.

Nothing.

She stood up and gently kicked his foot. His head dropped to the side and she screamed.