Friends
Luna stood back and surveyed her handiwork. The portraits were rather good, she felt, although she suspected that she hadn't quite captured Harry's intensity of expression. She absent-mindedly chewed on the end of her paintbrush and tried to rub the gold paint off the tip of her nose, only succeeding in smudging it. Perhaps the writing around the pictures was a bit much, but it expressed how important these people were to her. Content, she skipped downstairs to take the apple pie she was baking out of the oven.
It is good to have friends, she said to herself.