This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

a silly little flower

It was days like that which made her sad: cloudy days lacking rain, and the sun hiding mercilessly behind them. Sometimes I watch her as she sits alone at her table during dinner, and the way her eyes travel to every person in the room almost simultaneously. I feel sorry for her, because she is always watching, never missing those little details with those wondrous blue eyes. She looks like someone familiar, but I don't think I could ever begin to imagine who that person might be.

I like the way she smiles to herself when no one else is watching. But then again, no one but me is ever watching her. Those eyes that see everything and yet nothing at the same time continuously miss the fact that I'm curious and that I see her. I do. She is the only person who hasn't changed since that night in the Department of Mysteries. Still just as strange as ever, still just as different. Sill just as perfect the way she is.

Sometimes I'll be doing my work on the grounds and I'll see her peering up at the sky, her eyes wide open and her dishwater-blonde hair blowing slightly in the breeze. Maybe she's waiting for an alien spacecraft to come down to earth and take her someplace beautiful and free and unique, someplace more like her.

I had a conversation with her one day. Since I lost Sirius, I haven't been able to really lay anything out for anyone. It's just been the pity routine over and over again. Even with Ron and Hermione, as much as I love them, they couldn't possibly understand. They think it will go away with time. Time has passed, but the pain hasn't, so I've sort of given up on that theory.

I had been leaving dinner early to finish a Potion's essay when I heard muffled giggling somewhere in the corridor. Peering to my left, I saw her lying on her stomach on the stone floor, cupping her hand over her mouth and snorting. She was obviously very amused. I raised an eyebrow. It seemed as if her hand had just told her an extremely funny joke. Of course, knowing her, I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.

"What are you doing, Luna?" I asked her. She didn't even turn around; she must have known my voice.

"I'm conversing with my dear friend, Nicolas. Would you like to join us, Harry?" I sighed, having no idea what she was talking about, but I felt sorry for her, so I walked over to her side and kneeled.

"So...who's Nicolas?" I questioned. She looked up at me then, her big orbs glittering in wonder. She blinked a few times, and then held out her hands to reveal a simple orange flower. Its petals seemed to droop slightly as I looked down at it.

"A flower? Your dear friend Nicolas is a flower?" I asked her incredulously. I had known she was a bit off, but a flower?

"Yes, of course. Isn't he just gorgeous?" she asked me. I raised my eyebrows even higher. She couldn't possibly be serious.

"Luna...are you - feeling alright?" I said. She blinked again. "Of course I'm alright, Harry." She said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But it's only a silly little flower - " She gasped then, horrified, cutting off my speech. She looked mortally offended.

"Of course it's not just a silly little flower! Nicolas has emotions, Harry, just as many emotions as you or I. He makes his own food and eats it like we do. He breathes in oxygen like we do. He is completely in tune with nature and the universe! There are others who try to be like him, but none who are quite the same." She looked back down at Nicolas and gently ran her fingers over his petals. "If anything, you're sillier than Nicolas is," muttered Luna. For some reason I became completely entranced by the way she touched Nicolas, and the soft bending of his stem as she held him.

"He reminds me of you a bit, Harry," Luna began. "He does what he must to survive, but he doesn't hurt anybody. He has never hurt someone else, but takes pleasure in making other people smile. He's really quite funny if you take the time to talk to him. He makes me giggle anyway," she added as an afterthought. I took a moment to let those words sink in, but once again she interrupted my train of thought.

"Why don't you hold on to him for a while?" she offered. I didn't know what to say, but she sat up and handed Nicolas to me.

"He needs a few drinks of water before you go to sleep, but eventually he'll die." I was startled by this proclamation, and I looked from Luna to Nicolas, and then back to Luna.

"Everything and everyone must die at some point, Harry," she explained in that dreamy voice of hers. "You can't save them all, no matter how hard you try." Immediately my mind went to Sirius, and i tried to fight back any sadness or anger that was beginning to fill up my chest and stomach.

"Like I said before, there will be no one quite like Nicolas, but that's okay, because he made me happy for a little while. Goodnight, Harry," and she twirled around, her knee-length stockings running like a black and white photograph up her ankles, and her blue Ravenclaw tie on backwards, falling over her shoulder. I simply stood there, dumbfounded, holding that silly little orange flower in my hands. i looked down at Nicolas and observed him. There was nothing special about him, really, just a regular flower you could find in any meadow. I shook my head, smiled, and walked up the stairs to the common room.

I went to sleep early that night, and had dreams of naked girls with dull blonde hair and petals all around their bodies, of rainstorms and suffocatingly beautiful forests where scared voices were calling my name from every corner. Sure enough, when I woke up early the next morning, Nicolas lay on my bedside table, wilted and defeated. I picked him up and his petals had browned, and he felt limp in my hands. Suddenly I felt extreme sadness for this flower, something so little and simple that had meant so much to Luna. I felt connected to something I did not quite understand at the time. I brought Nicolas outside, still in my pajamas, and placed him on the black glassy surface of the lake. He floated above the water for just a moment, and then slipped under, slowly sinking out of my sight. I sat down on the grass as the sun came up above me, covered by clouds so that I couldn't see its brilliance. I then looked back at the spot where Nicolas had disappeared and wrapped my arms around my knees.

"Good bye, Sirius."

end