Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.
Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please exercise understanding of personal boundaries before and during reading.
Author's Note (Generic Note for the Houses Competition): All my works should be considered to be Not Epilogue Compliant and I treat everything that is not the HP books and the Hogwarts Library Collection as apocrypha (supplementary to canon but still outside of it) and treat it as such (including ignoring it unless it suits me). I also make a policy of not ignoring abusive and distasteful actions/decisions of characters and not handwaving the effects of trauma experienced by characters. If you feel that a character isn't acting like their "canon self" chances are good that it's because of one of these two things and they are merely displaying a more realistic response than they did in canon.
Author's Note(s): My oldest daughter has autism. Many mistakenly believe that this means that she has a learning disorder. I blame blatantly false representation for this ignorant lie, which is the politest way I can express that. Autism actually is a neurological divergence that cripples an individual's ability to filter sensory input, including the instinctive sense of emotional context that is found within most of humanity. Without the ability to process or recognize the nonlinguistic communication that makes up 87% of human communication, individuals find themselves adrift in a world that is screaming gibberish at them. Understandably, this interferes with their ability to participate in many social, work, and family activities as people without this disorder would. I apologize if you find my tone overly harsh. Maybe someday you will understand why.
Challenge/Competition Block:
Stacked with: Houses Competition (Term 3); MC4A
House: Hufflepuff
Year: 6th
Category: Additional (600 – 1200 words)
Prompt: Platonic Love (emotion)
Representation: Hogwarts; Harry Potter; Licking for Friendship; QPR (Lunar Lion - Harry/Luna); Teaching Friends; Luna Lovegood
Bonus Challenge(s): Mermaid; Second Verse (Wabi Sabi); Second Verse (Not a Lamp); Second Verse (Ladylike - Social Inappropriateness); Second Verse (Mouth of Babes); Second Verse (Nightingale); Second Verse (Tomorrow's Shade); Second Verse (Zucchini Bread)
Word Count: 1107
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Nobody's Freak
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I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you Nobody, too?
– Emily Dickinson
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"You're Harry Potter."
"So they tell me," he replied to the speaker. He didn't immediately recognize the voice, but there were one thousand and five students at Hogwarts, so statistically, he was more likely to not recognize someone than he was to recognize them. Not that anyone seemed to care about statistics or logic or, you know, facts. He threw a rock into the water, putting his frustration behind it. He was going to need a new place to hide from people now, especially with Lockhart wandering the castle waiting for opportunities to advise Harry about his fame and blaming him for people thinking Harry was the Heir of Slytherin.
"You don't sound certain about that."
Harry turned then. Ron and Hermione had never noticed how awkward he felt about being Harry Potter, even though it had been years since he had learned that his name wasn't boy or freak like he had thought before starting primary school. Neville had noticed, but then it was Neville who often kept Harry company in the middle of the night when neither of them could sleep. He didn't want to think about what it might mean that a stranger had noticed within a minute of meeting him.
The girl was staring at him, making it impossible to not meet her eyes. Harry's stomach gave the familiar uncomfortable lurch that it always did when he was forced to meet someone's eyes. He wanted to tear his gaze away, but like always, he was trapped. Her eyes widened despite already being impossibly wide. She raised one hand, reaching for him, and he couldn't help it, couldn't have stop the flinch even if it had crossed his mind to try. His eyes slid shut in shame.
"You're like me," she said as she touched his cheek with her fingertips. Her voice was flat and distant like his sometimes got when he wasn't paying attention to it. Aunt Petunia always said he was 'putting on airs' even if he didn't fully understand how anyone could put on something that isn't solid. The fingers moved to stroke his ear and like the flinch earlier, Harry couldn't help tilting his head into the touch. Being touched without it hurting or being hurt first was too rare for him not to treasure the moment, even if he still had no clue who the girl was, even if he would die rather than acknowledge how her words echoed through his mind the same way Aunt Petunia's lectures about acting normal always did. "I've never met another like me."
"I don't—I'm not—" Harry swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. That was just what he needed: to lose the ability to form words like a normal person. Wouldn't Aunt Petunia be thrilled to know that Harry was proving just as much a failure in the wizarding world as in the Muggle one? He was just a horrid, stupid, little freak like she had always said. He swallowed again, struggling to find the script for these moments. "I'm just Harry."
"Yes," the girl agreed as if everything was just that simple. Harry blinked open his eyes, feeling a little drugged by her fingers which were still stroking the shell of his ear. Her face was close to his, once more forcing him to meet her silvery-heather eyes. Then her head tilted back as she licked the tip of his nose in the same way the friendlier of Mrs. Figg's cats did when they were happy with him. "I'm just Luna. I like you, just Harry."
"You licked me," he said, trying to look at the spot. The effort only made his forehead ache. "Licking people isn't normal."
"No," Luna agreed before giving his nose another flick with her tongue. "It's not normal. It's better because it's what all manners of creature do to claim something as theirs. I've licked you, Harry. That means you are mine now."
"But I'm a freak," Harry said dazedly. Everything was moving so fast. He had just come to the dock under the school for a bit of peace from all the noise and whispers that had followed him since he had stopped the snake from attacking that Hufflepuff in the only meeting of the Dueling Club. "Nobody wants me."
"Then I'm Nobody," Luna countered as if everything was just that simple. She lifted her other hand to cup his opposite cheek. He closed his eyes, losing himself again in the touch of another person, one that wasn't born in any kind of pain, not even the playful kind that the Weasley boys used. As he felt her lick him again, Harry had only one thought.
Maybe she was right.
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The first thing that Harry learned about Luna was that she was good at noticing things. She noticed things about people that would have made it easier to pass as normal if she didn't also have the habit of commenting on it all. She also noticed the details that most people missed around the castle. Like him, she couldn't always find the words to describe what she had noticed. Unlike him, however, she had a few other ways of communicating still.
Which explained why he was looking at a highly detailed sketch of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, even if it didn't explain why Luna was shaking like a leaf as she thrust it at him. Harry let his gaze drift from her to where Ron was sitting next to Hermione's petrified form. Maybe she was just as upset about that? Even if the two girls often clashed, they had spent much of the term in each other's company now.
The feeling of the ground dropping out beneath him that he had felt when McGonagall had led him and Ron into the Hospital Ward after announcing that there had been another attack returned with a swooping vengeance that made him sway. Harry didn't understand the instinct that made him reach blindly for Luna. He had never felt the urge with Hermione or Ron; he had never felt like they would disappear if he didn't touch them right then.
Luna curled against him easily, her trembling slowly dissipating. The sketchbook crinkled between them, its message forgotten as he rubbed his cheek against hers. The delicate scent of her camellia shampoo blocked out the sharper scent of the Hospital Ward. It was nice, for a moment, to not worry about what everything looked like to outsiders and let himself float in Luna's explicit affection.
Nobody loved him, and it was the best thing ever.
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The End
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