She looks around the compartment in which she's sitting, watching the other occupants interact happily with one another. The sight both warms her soul and pierces her heart. These are friends. Real friends.

Too bad she can never be one of them.

She scolds herself severely for this last thought; she should be thankful they even let her sit with them. And besides, she has her Quibbler for company.

Duly chastised, she returns to her reading, flipping determinedly to page thirty-three, turning the magazine upside-down, and placing on her nose the oddly shaped glasses that will allow her to see the five nargles hidden in the picture.

But she cannot concentrate on finding those well-hidden nargles. The only thing she can concentrate on is their laughter. Laughter she cannot join.

She needs air.

She quietly exits the compartment, leaving her things behind. No one notices. No one ever notices Loony Lovegood unless they're teasing her, she thinks bitterly. No one wants to know the real her.

She stands motionless in the corridor wallowing in self-pity for a moment, before forcing those thoughts out of her head. This bout of sadness is rather uncharacteristic of her; she is usually able to ignore the petty pranks of the other students. She reasons that there must be bumbledingers in the air. They are known to cause melancholy thoughts, you know. Having a reason for her sadness helps cheer her up, and she turns back toward the compartment, determined to put down the Quibbler and participate in the others' discussion, for once. Maybe she'll be able to laugh along with them.

She fairly skips down the corridor, excited to put her plan into action, but stops short at the door to the compartment. The other girls have taken her seat, and are bending her special glasses back and forth, eventually snapping it in two with a sickening crunch. Their annoyingly high-pitched giggles make it even worse.

Luna steps into the compartment with a dignity she never knew she possessed. "You know, it doesn't work if you do that to it." The burning anger coursing through her keeps her voice perfectly steady, and devoid of emotion.

She sweeps out of the room with a flourish that would make any Slytherin proud, but collapses against the wall of the train the moment she is out of sight of the other girls.

How could she have thought anything would ever be different?


The urge to add romance to this was almost overwhelming, but I resisted. ^^ Also, I feel like the sadness is...well, un-Luna-ish. Thoughts?