Title: Lose to Gain
Author: Tonya (tigerlily1998@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: No own. No sue. Borrowing from the much more talented JK Rowling.
Rating: PG I guess
Spoilers: up to and including OotP
Pairing: Harry/Luna friendship
Feedback: I live for the stuff!
Summary: Sometimes you must lose in order to gain. (future fic)
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at HP fic so hopefully I do it justice.
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Harry trudged through the hallways of Hogwarts, his footsteps echoing eerily in the empty castle. Over the sound of his heavy footfalls, he could hear his own breathing-- harsh and ragged. He couldn't be quite sure at the moment, but he feared he had a broken rib or two.
He stopped, inhaling sharply, and leaned against the wall, letting himself slowly slide to the floor. His seat on the floor helped some of the pain in his chest subside, and he exhaled carefully as he leaned his head back against the hard wall. Out of habit, he made a move to adjust his glasses on his face but stopped short as his hands touched nothing but his own sticky skin. He frowned slightly, remembering that they had been lost and destroyed during the battle in the Forbidden Forest.
He had found it ironic as he and his loyal classmates and faculty had stumbled out of the Forest-- the very forest that for the past seven years the students had been forbidden to enter for any reason. How appropriate of Voldemort to make it the place of his final stand, the place where he had hoped to rid the world of the boy who lived permanently.
But the boy who lived had lived again.
As Harry had strolled across the open field back up towards the castle, he had heard people calling his name. Asking him if he was okay, but he had said nothing in response--just continued to walk. Even as much as his insides had screamed at him to stop, take a head count, and make sure everyone was okay, he just couldn't do it. If there had been any moment in Harry's life where he sought solitude more than anything, it was then.
He knew what was expected of him. He had led them into battle, and it was his job to lead them out. To tend to them. To assure them that everything was done, that their courage and pain had paid off in the end. He was, after all, their fearless leader.
But he was also a 17-year-old kid, aged beyond his years. A 17-year-old who had seen too much blood spilt in the past seven years of his life. A 17-year-old who had lost so many people close to him that he was beginning to lose count.
His parents.
Cedric.
Sirius.
Hermione.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry knew that a day would come when one or even both of his best friends would be added to that list. But he had ignored that nagging voice that whispered in his ear relentlessly every time Ron and Hermione helped him in battle. He had pushed it back into the darkness of his mind, hoping that if he kept it locked away, it would never come to pass.
But apparently, he had not locked it away tightly enough.
Her death hit him much harder than he could have ever imagined. To feel his lungs stop functioning in that moment Professor McGonagall laid her heartrending eyes upon them. To see the look of devastation on the face of a woman who had always been so talented at hiding any and all emotion. To hear the words slip by her lips as she stepped out of the hospital ward.
"Harry, Ron, I'm so sorry…."
There were no words in the English language, any language, to describe the feeling he had felt at that moment. The world just went silent around him, and he had been vaguely aware of the sound of Ron crying. He remembered standing there and thinking how odd it was to hear his best friend cry before finally breaking down himself.
Those days following had been filled with silence. Neither he nor Ron went to class, which Dumbledore understood and allowed. They had remained in their room for the most part, lying in bed and neither really speaking. There was no need to speak because they understood.
It was just them now. Harry and Ron. The trio cut down to two.
With Hermione gone, Ron was all Harry had left.
And from that moment on, that nagging voice of impending doom seemed to get louder with each passing day. And today it had been that same voice that had urged him to take a head count, that same voice he had ignored yet again.
Harry did not look up, his gaze locked down onto the floor, as he heard footsteps cautiously making their way towards him. The feet stopped within a foot of him, and he expected to hear his best friend ask him if he was alright.
But it was not the voice of a Weasley that filled the air.
"Harry?" came the ethereal voice.
Caught off guard by his assumption being wrong, it took a moment for the voice to register familiarity inside him. He looked up to see Luna standing over him, a perplexed expression on her face. He stared at her for a moment, studying her, and wondered if all the others resembled her present condition.
Her clothes were covered in grime, and if he wasn't mistaken, blood as well. They had been ripped and snagged at the places they had gotten hooked onto the trees of the forest during the battle. Her dirty blonde hair (which she had cut to just below her shoulders the previous year) looked even darker than usual. Streaks of dirt and bits of debris still clung to her tresses. She had a nasty-looking gash above her left eye that continued to slowly ooze blood, but she either didn't care or chose to ignore it.
"The others were worried about you," she replied conversationally.
Harry chuckled darkly under his breath, shaking his head slightly before leaning it back against the wall again. "I'm fine," he grumbled, pulling his knees up and draping his arms over them. "Never better."
Luna continued to hover, and for a moment, Harry wished she'd just leave him be. He just wanted to be alone, and as easy as it had been to talk to her about things of this magnitude in the past, this wasn't seeing thestrals or hearing voices beyond the veil. This wasn't even losing Sirius or losing Hermione.
This was on a new level.
But not so surprisingly, she didn't seem to take the hint.
She sat down next to him, gingerly crossing her legs underneath her body. He watched her, an irritated eyebrow raised, as she pulled a small leaf from her hair. He caught a hint of a frown on her lips as it tangled a bit more before she could finally yank it free. His expression softened only as he noticed the bruise forming in the pale skin of her cheek, a small line of dried blood peeking from the corner of her mouth.
He wasn't the only one who had suffered today. All these people who didn't have to help him had come to his aid, had stood behind him and fought alongside him. He owed them all more than running off to mull over things and brood in dark.
"How are the others?" he finally said.
A hint of an emotion he wasn't quite used to seeing in her flashed through Luna's silver eyes. Before he could even attempt to decipher it, it was already gone as she spoke in her soft voice. "The ones who survived are well. Madam Pomfey and Headmaster Dumbledore are attending to the wounded."
The ones who survived.
Harry swallowed hard, not really wanting the answer to the question that lingered in his mind. "Luna, did-- did you see Ron?"
Her lips turned to a frown, and Harry didn't need to hear the words to understand the look that washed over her face. He turned his gaze from her, focusing on an empty portrait frame across the hall.
"I'm afraid Ronald didn't make it," she finally said.
Harry gave a slight nod, dropping his head. He heard laughter, and it took him a second before he realized it was coming from him. He buried his face into his arms as the shocked laughter of realization turned to sobs of pain.
He couldn't hold it in any longer as he cried for everything and everyone. His parents. Sirius. The Weasleys. Hermione, and now Ron. The first best friend he had ever had, who had stood beside Harry 'til the very end.
He cried all the tears he had kept bottled up for so long because he couldn't afford to let his emotions rule. Cried for every lost moment. Cried for each and every person who had ever been in his life.
And he cried for himself.
Only when his sobs finally subsided a bit did he feel the soft touch of someone rubbing his back. Harry sniffled but didn't raise his head. He had been so overtaken by the realization that his best friend was now gone that he had forgotten that Luna had been sitting beside him. A part of him was embarrassed that she had seen such a personal display, but another part didn't care either way.
"It helps no one to keep things bottled up," she said, her hand still gently rubbing his back.
Harry finally raised his head, hastily wiping at his face. "Sorry," he mumbled under his breath.
"For what?" she asked, curious.
Harry frowned. He wasn't quite sure why he had apologized. It just felt like the thing to do at the time. "I don't know," he answered truthfully, finally meeting her eyes.
She blinked at him, her hand finally stopping over his spine. "You never cry, do you?"
"I cry," he admitted after a moment of thought.
It wasn't a lie. He had cried many times before, mainly for the people he had lost. He had never cried so relentlessly before, but he had cried.
"Yes, but you've never cried," she stated airily. "You've only cried as much as you thought was allowed of you, but you've never cried like you really wanted."
Harry stared at her, taken aback by her apparent astuteness. After these past few years of getting to know and become friends with her, he still found himself bewildered when Loony Lovegood said things that connected with something hidden inside him.
"No, I guess-- I guess I haven't."
She nodded, a small leaf twirling on the ends of her hair as she did so. "You can cry more if you like. I don't mind."
"No, that's alright. I'm fine now," he lied.
She watched him for a moment, and he was almost certain she had seen right through his lie. But if she had, she chose to ignore it. Her hand finally left his back and gingerly touched her forehead where the gash above her eye had finally stopped bleeding.
"Hmm, that might leave a scar," she said with the calmness of someone who had just pricked their finger.
"You should really get Madam Pomfey to look at that," Harry replied with a frown, more concerned about the nasty wound than Luna appeared to be.
"Yes maybe later," she said as she let her fingers trail away from her forehead. "Once she tends to everyone else. The others need her assistance more than I do." She studied him, her silver eyes unblinking. "And you?"
"And me what?"
"You should see Madam Pomfey," she said with a small nod. "You've probably received the worst of us all."
"I'm fine," he said, even as his bruised and bloody body screamed otherwise.
"You're not fine, Harry," she replied, and if it had come from anyone else, Harry would have bristled at those words. But with Luna, it came off dreamy, not accusatory.
"I'll see her soon," he sighed, turning his gaze from her again. "I just-- I don't want to face anyone right now, alright?"
Luna didn't say a word in response, and he was sure she was studying him in the quizzical manner she sometimes did, but he couldn't bear to face her again. Harry folded his arms over his knees, laying his head down with a deep exhale.
"We knew you could do it, Harry," Luna said after what felt like an eternity of silence to Harry.
"What? Get everyone I ever cared for hurt or killed?" he asked, raising his head a bit. "Yeah, I deserve a right pat on the back for that, don't I?"
"Your friends wouldn't think that," she replied with a soft frown. "They'd want you to get the thanks you deserve for bringing an end to what could have been a devastating turn of events for everyone."
Harry's throat tightened, and he fought himself to keep the tears in. "They're not here anymore, Luna."
"No," she replied gently, that sadness he had seen a quick glimpse of earlier in her eyes returning. "No, they aren't, but I believe that's what they would say. So I'll say it for them," she finished with a nod.
Harry smiled in appreciation, the first smile he had given in a long time. It faded away as he laid his head back down, the events of the past few days replaying over and over again in his mind like some macabre filmstrip. He closed his eyes tightly together, hoping to block the thoughts from his mind.
He just wanted to go back. A life rewind.
He wanted to be back in his first year. Standing outside the doors of the Great Hall with Ron by his side, telling horrifying stories of what his older brothers had told him to expect on the other side. He wanted to be back in the common room with Hermione, asking her for help with his History of Magic assignments. He wanted to be back in Hagrid's hut, warming himself by the fire with a large cup of tea.
He wanted to go back to when he didn't know he was the boy who lived.
He wanted it all back-- his simple name, his life, his parents, his friends.
"I just want to be me again and not this hero everyone wants," he mumbled to himself, his head still buried. "I just want it to all be over."
"And it is," Luna countered gently.
He finally looked up at her. "Yeah but at what cost?"
"Daddy says that you have to lose in order to gain in life," she stated casually.
Something about her casualness lit a sudden fire in Harry, and he sat fully upright, angry. He got to his feet quickly, ignoring the surge of pain that traveled up from the base of his spine. "I lost my parents!" he yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls. "I lost Sirius! I lost Hermione! I lost Ron! I lost them all and for what?!"
Luna looked up at him like she always did, unfazed by his outburst. "For their world to continue on the way it was supposed to," she said with a gentle shrug of her shoulders.
Harry looked down, somewhat ashamed at yelling at her like he had. He slowly took his seat next to her on the floor. "I just-- I wish they all hadn't died for me." He laid his head down again as he felt his body tense, preparing for the coming swell of tears.
Luna didn't say anything. She simply scooted closer to him and draped her arm around him, leaning her head against his shoulder. Harry appreciated the gesture but couldn't bring himself to speak as he was still trying to hold in the tears that wanted to come.
He didn't want to cry anymore. He'd cried enough for today.
You've only cried as much as you thought was allowed of you…
Harry squeezed his eyes tighter together as Luna's words echoed in his mind.
"You can cry, Harry," Luna said, breaking through his reverie. "I won't think any less of you."
He heard her sniffle as he felt her arm give him a squeeze, but he couldn't bring himself to lift his head. Especially to see Luna, a girl he had never seen upset in the past two years, crying. He simply took in a slow breath as the tears began to fall again.
They sat on the cold floor together, her arm clinging to him as Harry finally allowed himself to finish crying for the people he loved who he had lost and those who were still by his side.