Now:
(Harry)
In short clips and phrases, there are times in Harry's life when he thought he was happy. When Ginny has her hands on him and he clings to her so tightly he might break her, his life is perfect. He could be nibbling that tender skin along the pale column of her neck and bite down harder than intended, making her gasp with something other than pain in her voice, now husky and thick. Times of intense happiness when he and Ginny were alone in some dimly lit nook or dorm and Harry will be happy; but then something will happen and it will ruin everything. He loves Ginny. He loves her face, her body, everything about her. But there will be times when he will look at her and certain feelings, memories from the not too distant past will come flooding back.
Ginny was the one who introduced him to Luna Lovegood fifth year and he (as he imagined any normal person doing) had proceeded with caution. He knew Luna was not your average witch and, well, normally this did not bother Harry. He was not exactly your average wizard, was he? But he couldn't compare his quirks with hers, no, never. It was a while later before Harry realized that Luna's personal brand of 'not normal' wasn't quirky and it wasn't innocent eccentricity. Sure, Harry's had his share of problems. More than enough in fact, so much he wished he was never born. But as bad as he's had it, current events surrounding Luna Lovegood were the kind he never had to deal with or even think about until recently.
Months Before:
(Ginny)
Ginny Weasley poked at her eggs one dark, sullen November morning. She was gazing intently over at the Ravenclaw table at the small pale form of her friend Luna Lovegood. Luna was the one you could tell pretty much anything to because she seemed to only talk about the kind of things others weren't entirely interested in or didn't believe. Sure, Ginny and Luna weren't the best of friends but they used to talk allot and they didn't any more.
Ginny shook her head and stabbed at her plate of cold eggs, feeling rather cold herself. Usually looking at her animated happy-go-lucky friends made Ginny smile, but for a wile now, she was becoming more and more aware that something was very wrong. Luna was nothing like her past self, and it was a number of small things that came together to make a disturbing whole. It was a number of small things that other people didn't take into consideration as a bad thing; her hair was no longer stringy because she took the time to brush it. Luna was no longer busy reading, writing or looking for the illusive things other people took for granted. Her eyes didn't shine because they were no longer wide with excitement about life. Luna had nothing good, impossible or mystical or fanciful to say anymore. She didn't talk about her father. She didn't talk about the Quibbler, and if someone - anyone - had a snide comment towards her, Luna told them out right to go to Hell in a tone far more poisonous than Ginny though sweet Loony Luna capable of.
(Luna)
She writes when she's angry.
'Drowned the little pieces of nothing, I string these words together so I can break them apart like pearls. Every word that passes his lips in that sandpaper tone is another needle to the wrist that I control and am still disgusted by.'
She writes when she's sad.
'When did you stop being the core of my very faith? A piece of the puzzle cracks and burns into sand and magma forcing it's way through the fractured surface and distressed lines, bubbling over uncontrollably, over my hands and I can't pull them away no matter how much it hurts, no matter how burnt I become and no matter how hard I scream for it to stop burning me so....'
She writes when she thinks she's happy.
'Black bird dances on the snow, going where the winter goes;
Rainbow dances in the rain, through the water's glassy plain;
Butterfly has pearly wings, dancing o'er the fairy rings....'
She writes when she isn't feeling anything at all.
'I sold my soul for a box of fags. I'd sooner have a room mate die in my arms than always dieing in my head. Die, die again the phoenix calls in a steely voice. Mercury is the Hatter's poison.'
(Harry)
"I would understand if you'd just tell me!" Ginny cried, exasperated and angry, after Harry as he stormed out of the front doors of Hogwarts and into the freezing drizzle of early December. It was one of those days you thought the sun may never shine again; everything was just on of the many shades of dull bluish gray. The clouds hung dense and low, like a cement sheet and even out here, Harry was reminded of the dungeon ceilings.
He...
...just had to fucking get out, okay, was that so hard to fucking understand? Was he not entitled to his shitty days like every other self righteous prick out there?
Being a seventh year was supposed to be easier than a fifth or sixth. It was supposed to be easier now that it's been two years since Sirius's death, it was supposed to be easier now that Harry lived above the Leaky Cauldron and worked at the bar during the summer. He was graduating, becoming an Auror to work with Moody, and Snape the traitor was dead. Things should be pretty good, shouldn't they? They weren't. Ginny was beginning to come around, accepting some of Harry's advances now, but he thought he'd blown it just now. Hermione has succeeded in working herself sick and was up to taking two relaxation tonics per week; it was putting even more unresolved tension between she and Ron because he wants to help and doesn't know how. There was still Malfoy to contend with, who had exploded upward; he gained at least thirty pounds of weight in muscle mass over the past two years and didn't need his body guards anymore. Harry's advantage of being better at physical fighting suddenly became non-existent and the first time he and Malfoy had a row this year, Harry was made suddenly and very painfully aware of it; he got his arse kicked right there in the quad and no one had helped him. Harry started it. He told Malfoy when ever he felt the need to jump, jump. Well Malfoy jumped and Harry never saw it coming because he still believed himself a better fighter, a better dueler, all around better than Malfoy and the, now big, blond Draco Malfoy had completely turned Harry's beliefs and ideas about their relationship of hatred upside-down. Harry was always supposed to be the victor and now he wasn't. Harry was supposed to beat Malfoy at quidditch every time and now he wasn't. If Ron hadn't been in the hospital wing, Harry would have stood a chance, he knew it. It was the kind of public humiliation that Malfoy never let up on.
Thinking of it made Harry hiss through his teeth as he made his way down to the lake. Being busy trying not to slip on the grass sloping downward and shivering with cold, he didn't see her at first. She was a harsh blur of black and white against all that gray water. When he looked up Harry stopped short, considering Luna's profile; dark blond hair plastered to a pale head and around a pale face. Harry shivered slightly but still didn't want to go back to the castle and walked towards her. Luna was sitting on her heels on a rock staring out at the choppy water with her hands capped over her knees.
Harry frowned.
The rain was more like sleet - Harry was freezing his arse off and Luna wasn't even wearing a cloak to cover her clothes of faded jeans, a black long-sleeved V-neck and working boots. His frown deepened. That wasn't normal Luna attire, and as funny as it would be for Harry to notice something like that, he did and it wasn't. This concerned him. Five feet away now, he called to her.
"Luna?" Harry asked. She didn't stir. The closer he got, the more worried he became because now he could see that her lips were blush against a stark white face. The gaunt wrists and thin fingers that jutted out almost harshly from the ice water soaked sleeves of her V-neck were marble white. "Luna?" he asked again and she turned her head up to look him in the eyes.
"Do you think about death allot?" she asked in a voice anything but dreamy or vague. It was intense and zeroed in right on him and Harry was very taken back. At first, he couldn't answer: for a frightening second, Harry didn't know what he was looking at.
Hard faded blue eyes were boring into his from a sunken face made of dark circles, sharp features and hollow cheek bones. Sixteen year old Luna Lovegood had become a mere shadow of the fourteen year old girl Harry vividly remembered meeting on the train two years ago.
When had this happened?
"All the time." he said as casually as possible while edging closer. "....Luna aren't you freezing?" Harry asked tentatively, hearing the rumble of thunder almost directly above them. "Why don't you come inside?"
"I wonder what it's like allot. I think of different things, different ways...."
"Ways of what?" he asked, sharper than he intended to. Luna was silent for a moment.
"....Nothing." she said.
Luna looked up at the low hanging clouds and let the increasingly icy sleet splatter on her blue-white face and run down like icy tears to soak the already soaked collar of her shirt. This was crazy. Maybe she was numb from cold and couldn't feel it? The sudden flash of lightning cast her face in strobe light flickers of white then purple, making her face looked bruised. It was a scary thing to see on happy, sweet Luna. Where had she gone over the years? He didn't know, but the actual storm was coming closer and Luna would freeze to death out here if Harry didn't get her inside, maybe to Madam Pomfrey.
"I have allot of nightmares. Sometimes I can't tell the difference between the real stuff and the fake anymore." Luna looked Harry in the face and said, "You've been through allot of bad things, haven't you? Do you ever want to hurt yourself?"
Harry gulped....
"Have you ever just wanted to end it?"
His throat was suddenly very dry.
He, Harry, knew about loss, pain, anger and sadness. He lost his parents before he was even able to sit up. He witnessed the death of a peer and they weren't even close. He lost his God father in a split second, gone just like that...Harry had never lost someone to suicide. He couldn't even imagine...Luna was realy scaring him.
The cold forgotten Harry shook his head helplessly; he was feeling a kind of fear that he didn't understand, a slow rising rush of sheer dread that filled his lungs slowly and made his brain sharp-fuzzy with an entirely different set of warning bells. It was a very strange, dawning sickness that spiraled through his stomach, chest and head, making him feel slightly giddy. This ugly, utterly disturbing Something had never been a part of Harry's life before. He knew she was in trouble and he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help.
"I wish you would come back to the castle with me. We can talk about it if you want. We can talk about anything." Harry said. He meant it.
"Even death?" Luna's eyes were flat; blank, like a shark's.
Harry tried his hardest to smile warmly. Trying to smile at Luna now made him feel almost disgusted with himself, but he did it anyway. "Even death." he said.
"Well...all right then." She stood up with what looked like a bit of difficulty. Harry flinched inwardly as she stood. Not being hidden by billowing school robes, Harry could plainly see Luna's painfully emaciated body. The way her soaked clothes hugged her raw-boned frame, Harry could see the way Luna's hip bones jutted fourth, her sharp shoulders and the way the white skin was sunken around her collar bones. One particularly hard bit of sleet hitting her could surely shatter her into hundreds of pale pieces, too small for Harry to put back together.
"Here." Harry said, and she allowed him to put an arm around her sharp shoulders. Harry suppressed a shiver as they started up back to the castle. Luna felt like a block of ice under his arm.
When they got up to the castle, Harry convinced her to go to Madam Pomfrey with him. She didn't seem to care either way. The nurse had a fit over the both of them being out in the sleet and cold and a field day playing mother hen. She clucked and scolded Luna about catching pneumonia. She clucked and scolded Harry about not going an entire week without being in the hospital. She made Luna change into dry clothes behind a screen and gave Harry a tonic with mentholated vapors to drink. The two students parted ways. Harry felt like he was missing something important. He didn't see or hear about Luna until the news spread like wildfire a week later.
(Luna)
Shink...shink...shink...shhhhhink....
....Shhhhhink, went the small round whet stone spoke gently over the knife's blade. It was windy up in the roofless empty observatory. The full pale moon looked down on the small, hunched body. Her hand was shaking now, stone in the palm of her hand, curved knife in the other and the diamond frozen stars twinkled peacefully in the sky, like they didn't care. Her strokes were becoming jerky and she didn't stop when her wide, circular motions began slicing into her white palm.
Like her body, Luna's mind was breaking apart. The layers of cool, detached venire she wore on her face and in her movements were flaking off. The vague, peaceful facade crumbled and scattered behind her with every step she took. Like the chunks of cold white skin she sliced off her hand with the knife, dripping away with every spilt drop of blood that oozed from her hand, staining her robes and skin and Luna couldn't understand why the blade was red instead of silver like it should be. That made her angry and confused. Determined, she kept sharpening it, whetting it in her own blood and Luna closed her eyes.
What the devil are you doing?! a voice probed sternly in her ear.
Luna winced and her eyes snapped open, "I'm sharpening this knife Mummy."
And why are you doing that?? You put that down Luna and do something useful you pie in the sky, cloudy-headed girl! The bodiless voice was patronizing, mean, nothing like her mother's. Mummy must be mad at her; she felt a tear bulging over the rim of a lower eyelid, stand there and turn cold before splashing down her face.
Luna began shaking hard, rocking harder. She dropped the stone and began taking large slices into her hand.
"I can't Mummy." she whispered harshly, pale eyes wide, swollen and dry.
No nine year old little girl of mine just sits and rocks and sits and cries Luna, are you my daughter? Are you, are you?
Luna looked up into the face of the moon. His mouth was a jagged and irregular, stretched wide in a silent scream; like her mothers after taking that potion gone bad so long ago.
(Susan Lovegood began to shriek and writhe, flopping helplessly on the floor when the potion hit the acids in her stomach and ate through it's lining. Those shrieks moved in shock waves through little Luna's body as they hit her ears. She clamped her small hands over her ears and screamed as she watched her mother's mouth turn into a ragged, meaty red hole in her face as it frothed red and white dripping and spurting out....)
Luna ground her teeth together and grunted deep in her throat as she stared widely into that screaming, insane face looking down at the earth with socket hole eyes. It was the screaming face of her mother and before Luna died, she didn't even realize that the insane, animal screams that echoed in her head were her own.
(Harry)
He had seen it coming! Damn it, he'd seen it coming, so why didn't he do anything about it?
(Ginny)
She had seen it coming! Damn it, she'd seen it coming, so why didn't she do anything about it?
Luna
I can breathe....
"Mummy?"
"I'm here baby. Look at you! So tall and beautiful now!"
"Oh Mum, what did I do to myself? What will happen to Daddy?"
"He has a rough piece of road ahead of him yet, but he will get through."
"I know this. For some reason I know it. I feel like...like I know everything about everyone I ever knew."
"You do. That's what happens when you reach this place."
"None of them were anything like I thought they were!"
"No one ever is. This is the Truth Luna."
"So much pain going on inside everyone...and happiness and everyone is so sad...."
"We all suffer on the inside Luna, but everyone handles their insides a different way."
"Mummy...is it realy you?"
"It is me dear. You're safe now."
(Harry)
In short clips and phrases, there are times in Harry's life when he thought he was happy. When Ginny has her hands on him and he clings to her so tightly he might break her, his life is perfect. He could be nibbling that tender skin along the pale column of her neck and bite down harder than intended, making her gasp with something other than pain in her voice, now husky and thick. Times of intense happiness when he and Ginny were alone in some dimly lit nook or dorm and Harry will be happy; but then something will happen and it will ruin everything. He loves Ginny. He loves her face, her body, everything about her. But there will be times when he will look at her and certain feelings, memories from the not too distant past will come flooding back.
Ginny was the one who introduced him to Luna Lovegood fifth year and he (as he imagined any normal person doing) had proceeded with caution. He knew Luna was not your average witch and, well, normally this did not bother Harry. He was not exactly your average wizard, was he? But he couldn't compare his quirks with hers, no, never. It was a while later before Harry realized that Luna's personal brand of 'not normal' wasn't quirky and it wasn't innocent eccentricity. Sure, Harry's had his share of problems. More than enough in fact, so much he wished he was never born. But as bad as he's had it, current events surrounding Luna Lovegood were the kind he never had to deal with or even think about until recently.
Months Before:
(Ginny)
Ginny Weasley poked at her eggs one dark, sullen November morning. She was gazing intently over at the Ravenclaw table at the small pale form of her friend Luna Lovegood. Luna was the one you could tell pretty much anything to because she seemed to only talk about the kind of things others weren't entirely interested in or didn't believe. Sure, Ginny and Luna weren't the best of friends but they used to talk allot and they didn't any more.
Ginny shook her head and stabbed at her plate of cold eggs, feeling rather cold herself. Usually looking at her animated happy-go-lucky friends made Ginny smile, but for a wile now, she was becoming more and more aware that something was very wrong. Luna was nothing like her past self, and it was a number of small things that came together to make a disturbing whole. It was a number of small things that other people didn't take into consideration as a bad thing; her hair was no longer stringy because she took the time to brush it. Luna was no longer busy reading, writing or looking for the illusive things other people took for granted. Her eyes didn't shine because they were no longer wide with excitement about life. Luna had nothing good, impossible or mystical or fanciful to say anymore. She didn't talk about her father. She didn't talk about the Quibbler, and if someone - anyone - had a snide comment towards her, Luna told them out right to go to Hell in a tone far more poisonous than Ginny though sweet Loony Luna capable of.
(Luna)
She writes when she's angry.
'Drowned the little pieces of nothing, I string these words together so I can break them apart like pearls. Every word that passes his lips in that sandpaper tone is another needle to the wrist that I control and am still disgusted by.'
She writes when she's sad.
'When did you stop being the core of my very faith? A piece of the puzzle cracks and burns into sand and magma forcing it's way through the fractured surface and distressed lines, bubbling over uncontrollably, over my hands and I can't pull them away no matter how much it hurts, no matter how burnt I become and no matter how hard I scream for it to stop burning me so....'
She writes when she thinks she's happy.
'Black bird dances on the snow, going where the winter goes;
Rainbow dances in the rain, through the water's glassy plain;
Butterfly has pearly wings, dancing o'er the fairy rings....'
She writes when she isn't feeling anything at all.
'I sold my soul for a box of fags. I'd sooner have a room mate die in my arms than always dieing in my head. Die, die again the phoenix calls in a steely voice. Mercury is the Hatter's poison.'
(Harry)
"I would understand if you'd just tell me!" Ginny cried, exasperated and angry, after Harry as he stormed out of the front doors of Hogwarts and into the freezing drizzle of early December. It was one of those days you thought the sun may never shine again; everything was just on of the many shades of dull bluish gray. The clouds hung dense and low, like a cement sheet and even out here, Harry was reminded of the dungeon ceilings.
He...
...just had to fucking get out, okay, was that so hard to fucking understand? Was he not entitled to his shitty days like every other self righteous prick out there?
Being a seventh year was supposed to be easier than a fifth or sixth. It was supposed to be easier now that it's been two years since Sirius's death, it was supposed to be easier now that Harry lived above the Leaky Cauldron and worked at the bar during the summer. He was graduating, becoming an Auror to work with Moody, and Snape the traitor was dead. Things should be pretty good, shouldn't they? They weren't. Ginny was beginning to come around, accepting some of Harry's advances now, but he thought he'd blown it just now. Hermione has succeeded in working herself sick and was up to taking two relaxation tonics per week; it was putting even more unresolved tension between she and Ron because he wants to help and doesn't know how. There was still Malfoy to contend with, who had exploded upward; he gained at least thirty pounds of weight in muscle mass over the past two years and didn't need his body guards anymore. Harry's advantage of being better at physical fighting suddenly became non-existent and the first time he and Malfoy had a row this year, Harry was made suddenly and very painfully aware of it; he got his arse kicked right there in the quad and no one had helped him. Harry started it. He told Malfoy when ever he felt the need to jump, jump. Well Malfoy jumped and Harry never saw it coming because he still believed himself a better fighter, a better dueler, all around better than Malfoy and the, now big, blond Draco Malfoy had completely turned Harry's beliefs and ideas about their relationship of hatred upside-down. Harry was always supposed to be the victor and now he wasn't. Harry was supposed to beat Malfoy at quidditch every time and now he wasn't. If Ron hadn't been in the hospital wing, Harry would have stood a chance, he knew it. It was the kind of public humiliation that Malfoy never let up on.
Thinking of it made Harry hiss through his teeth as he made his way down to the lake. Being busy trying not to slip on the grass sloping downward and shivering with cold, he didn't see her at first. She was a harsh blur of black and white against all that gray water. When he looked up Harry stopped short, considering Luna's profile; dark blond hair plastered to a pale head and around a pale face. Harry shivered slightly but still didn't want to go back to the castle and walked towards her. Luna was sitting on her heels on a rock staring out at the choppy water with her hands capped over her knees.
Harry frowned.
The rain was more like sleet - Harry was freezing his arse off and Luna wasn't even wearing a cloak to cover her clothes of faded jeans, a black long-sleeved V-neck and working boots. His frown deepened. That wasn't normal Luna attire, and as funny as it would be for Harry to notice something like that, he did and it wasn't. This concerned him. Five feet away now, he called to her.
"Luna?" Harry asked. She didn't stir. The closer he got, the more worried he became because now he could see that her lips were blush against a stark white face. The gaunt wrists and thin fingers that jutted out almost harshly from the ice water soaked sleeves of her V-neck were marble white. "Luna?" he asked again and she turned her head up to look him in the eyes.
"Do you think about death allot?" she asked in a voice anything but dreamy or vague. It was intense and zeroed in right on him and Harry was very taken back. At first, he couldn't answer: for a frightening second, Harry didn't know what he was looking at.
Hard faded blue eyes were boring into his from a sunken face made of dark circles, sharp features and hollow cheek bones. Sixteen year old Luna Lovegood had become a mere shadow of the fourteen year old girl Harry vividly remembered meeting on the train two years ago.
When had this happened?
"All the time." he said as casually as possible while edging closer. "....Luna aren't you freezing?" Harry asked tentatively, hearing the rumble of thunder almost directly above them. "Why don't you come inside?"
"I wonder what it's like allot. I think of different things, different ways...."
"Ways of what?" he asked, sharper than he intended to. Luna was silent for a moment.
"....Nothing." she said.
Luna looked up at the low hanging clouds and let the increasingly icy sleet splatter on her blue-white face and run down like icy tears to soak the already soaked collar of her shirt. This was crazy. Maybe she was numb from cold and couldn't feel it? The sudden flash of lightning cast her face in strobe light flickers of white then purple, making her face looked bruised. It was a scary thing to see on happy, sweet Luna. Where had she gone over the years? He didn't know, but the actual storm was coming closer and Luna would freeze to death out here if Harry didn't get her inside, maybe to Madam Pomfrey.
"I have allot of nightmares. Sometimes I can't tell the difference between the real stuff and the fake anymore." Luna looked Harry in the face and said, "You've been through allot of bad things, haven't you? Do you ever want to hurt yourself?"
Harry gulped....
"Have you ever just wanted to end it?"
His throat was suddenly very dry.
He, Harry, knew about loss, pain, anger and sadness. He lost his parents before he was even able to sit up. He witnessed the death of a peer and they weren't even close. He lost his God father in a split second, gone just like that...Harry had never lost someone to suicide. He couldn't even imagine...Luna was realy scaring him.
The cold forgotten Harry shook his head helplessly; he was feeling a kind of fear that he didn't understand, a slow rising rush of sheer dread that filled his lungs slowly and made his brain sharp-fuzzy with an entirely different set of warning bells. It was a very strange, dawning sickness that spiraled through his stomach, chest and head, making him feel slightly giddy. This ugly, utterly disturbing Something had never been a part of Harry's life before. He knew she was in trouble and he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to help.
"I wish you would come back to the castle with me. We can talk about it if you want. We can talk about anything." Harry said. He meant it.
"Even death?" Luna's eyes were flat; blank, like a shark's.
Harry tried his hardest to smile warmly. Trying to smile at Luna now made him feel almost disgusted with himself, but he did it anyway. "Even death." he said.
"Well...all right then." She stood up with what looked like a bit of difficulty. Harry flinched inwardly as she stood. Not being hidden by billowing school robes, Harry could plainly see Luna's painfully emaciated body. The way her soaked clothes hugged her raw-boned frame, Harry could see the way Luna's hip bones jutted fourth, her sharp shoulders and the way the white skin was sunken around her collar bones. One particularly hard bit of sleet hitting her could surely shatter her into hundreds of pale pieces, too small for Harry to put back together.
"Here." Harry said, and she allowed him to put an arm around her sharp shoulders. Harry suppressed a shiver as they started up back to the castle. Luna felt like a block of ice under his arm.
When they got up to the castle, Harry convinced her to go to Madam Pomfrey with him. She didn't seem to care either way. The nurse had a fit over the both of them being out in the sleet and cold and a field day playing mother hen. She clucked and scolded Luna about catching pneumonia. She clucked and scolded Harry about not going an entire week without being in the hospital. She made Luna change into dry clothes behind a screen and gave Harry a tonic with mentholated vapors to drink. The two students parted ways. Harry felt like he was missing something important. He didn't see or hear about Luna until the news spread like wildfire a week later.
(Luna)
Shink...shink...shink...shhhhhink....
....Shhhhhink, went the small round whet stone spoke gently over the knife's blade. It was windy up in the roofless empty observatory. The full pale moon looked down on the small, hunched body. Her hand was shaking now, stone in the palm of her hand, curved knife in the other and the diamond frozen stars twinkled peacefully in the sky, like they didn't care. Her strokes were becoming jerky and she didn't stop when her wide, circular motions began slicing into her white palm.
Like her body, Luna's mind was breaking apart. The layers of cool, detached venire she wore on her face and in her movements were flaking off. The vague, peaceful facade crumbled and scattered behind her with every step she took. Like the chunks of cold white skin she sliced off her hand with the knife, dripping away with every spilt drop of blood that oozed from her hand, staining her robes and skin and Luna couldn't understand why the blade was red instead of silver like it should be. That made her angry and confused. Determined, she kept sharpening it, whetting it in her own blood and Luna closed her eyes.
What the devil are you doing?! a voice probed sternly in her ear.
Luna winced and her eyes snapped open, "I'm sharpening this knife Mummy."
And why are you doing that?? You put that down Luna and do something useful you pie in the sky, cloudy-headed girl! The bodiless voice was patronizing, mean, nothing like her mother's. Mummy must be mad at her; she felt a tear bulging over the rim of a lower eyelid, stand there and turn cold before splashing down her face.
Luna began shaking hard, rocking harder. She dropped the stone and began taking large slices into her hand.
"I can't Mummy." she whispered harshly, pale eyes wide, swollen and dry.
No nine year old little girl of mine just sits and rocks and sits and cries Luna, are you my daughter? Are you, are you?
Luna looked up into the face of the moon. His mouth was a jagged and irregular, stretched wide in a silent scream; like her mothers after taking that potion gone bad so long ago.
(Susan Lovegood began to shriek and writhe, flopping helplessly on the floor when the potion hit the acids in her stomach and ate through it's lining. Those shrieks moved in shock waves through little Luna's body as they hit her ears. She clamped her small hands over her ears and screamed as she watched her mother's mouth turn into a ragged, meaty red hole in her face as it frothed red and white dripping and spurting out....)
Luna ground her teeth together and grunted deep in her throat as she stared widely into that screaming, insane face looking down at the earth with socket hole eyes. It was the screaming face of her mother and before Luna died, she didn't even realize that the insane, animal screams that echoed in her head were her own.
(Harry)
He had seen it coming! Damn it, he'd seen it coming, so why didn't he do anything about it?
(Ginny)
She had seen it coming! Damn it, she'd seen it coming, so why didn't she do anything about it?
Luna
I can breathe....
"Mummy?"
"I'm here baby. Look at you! So tall and beautiful now!"
"Oh Mum, what did I do to myself? What will happen to Daddy?"
"He has a rough piece of road ahead of him yet, but he will get through."
"I know this. For some reason I know it. I feel like...like I know everything about everyone I ever knew."
"You do. That's what happens when you reach this place."
"None of them were anything like I thought they were!"
"No one ever is. This is the Truth Luna."
"So much pain going on inside everyone...and happiness and everyone is so sad...."
"We all suffer on the inside Luna, but everyone handles their insides a different way."
"Mummy...is it realy you?"
"It is me dear. You're safe now."