Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling and I'm making no money off of this

Warnings: minor swearing

Sorry this chapter is so short! They won't all be like but I wanted to end it a certain way.

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The transition from November into December was marked by many things- firstly, it seemed that the moment the first rolled around, every single student was hit by some wayward spell that had them chattering nonstop about Winter Break. Secondly, everyone had finally eased into their respective rolls, the seventh years had finally gotten over the shock that this was their "last year" and the professors had become acquainted with the incoming first years. Thirdly, and perhaps the most welcome change, was the increasing snowfall which made December feel, well, more "Decembery."

Everyone loved carols and wreathes and that damned Christmas music by Celestina Warbeck. It was only the first week of December and Harry knew he could probably recite "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love" backwards and in his sleep, much to his chagrin.

The last and most stressful change of all was how Harry now avoided Snape like an outbreak of Dragon Pox. He didn't think he could bear to even glance at the man, let alone sit in the same room with him, which made Potions especially dreadful. Every lesson he'd sit in the back, head bowed low to the desk when he was note taking, but even then he was still drenched in regret.

That man had found the most embarrassing, most well kept secret, of his entire life all because he slipped up. All because he said the word "cupboard"; not even the full word. That was all that it had taken, and the mere memory of that detention made him shudder visibly. Harry could only pray to whatever merciful god existed in the sky that the professor had refrained from telling anyone else.

So, with that in mind, Harry stopped attending any of his assigned detentions and the few times that professor Snape had told him to "stay after class", the boy had slipped into the crowd and disappeared right as class was dismissed. He didn't think he was even capable of ever looking the man in the eye again.

Spending yet another block of hours in the library, when he was supposed to be serving the time with Snape, Harry perused unseeingly into a large book about the 713 most committed Quidditch fowls.

He stopped, bowing his head into the crooks of his elbows and having his hands run through his hair. Try as he might, he couldn't focus at all. His mind kept replaying That Memory over and over again as if it were intentionally trying to taunt him.

"I got up and I ran to my cupboa-", Cupboard. Cupboard. Cupboard. Why, why, did he say that? Idiot.

His head plopped onto the wooden table, pushing the book aside, and he meticulously studied the large, blurry grains underneath his eyes. This is exactly the sort of thing that happened whenever he confided in people.

He was going to have to confront the professor sometime, he knew, there was absolutely no way to avoid it, but with a little bit of a luck he could push it past the winter break. He turned in all his work, he did all the assigned essays, so there would be no pressing reason the man would have to speak with him soon, right?

A small voice interrupted his thoughts, making his head perk up from the table, "Harry?"

The boy smiled at Luna, giving a lackluster wave, "Hey."

She didn't smile back, and blinked. "Did you hear about what happened to the President of the Mermish Society? It's in the latest Quibbler."

Harry suppressed his lip twitching in vague amusement, "No, I'm sorry, tell me all about it."

Luna didn't say anything for a moment and stared at him unabashedly, "You are unhappy."

The boy straightened back up against the chair he was in, crossing his arms coolly, "I don't see what that has to do with..."

"Why?"

Harry frowned at the question, "What gives you the idea that I'm unhappy?"

"Your magic- She's feeling lonely, yes? She wishes you were happy, Mother Earth does too," Luna replied vaguely, eyes glistening, "so why aren't you?"

The boy quieted, eyes shifting to look over at the expanse of shelves to his left. He wouldn't say he was unhappy, just unsettled. Or disquieted. "That's a loaded question."

She plopped into a chair parallel to his, still staring oddly at him. She was waiting for something, he realized.

Looking back towards the girl, he sighed, "I'm okay."

She didn't reply.

"I'm fine."

She continued to stare.

"I'm not that bad..."

Luna tilted her head slightly.

"What is that you want me to say?"

"Why it is that you are unhappy," she answered.

"But I'm not."

"But you are."

Harry shifted in his seat slightly as if he was trying to shake of the girl's gaze, "A lot of things have been happening lately."

The girl nodded, accepting the answer in its vague entirety. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

That was really all she wanted to know? Really? "That's it?"

"Yes."

The boy felt a tidal wave of relief in his gut, and it was refreshing to have someone who didn't breathe down his neck. She was so unlike the other students in that she didn't wonder as to his intentions. She was so unlike his friends in that she accepted his answers. And, most of all, she was so unlike Snape in that she didn't try to pry away at him, layer by layer, to find his deepest inner secrets.

And this, Harry supposed, was the very reason why he found himself opening his mouth, starting to say something more even though it was not asked for. "My summer was very... very..." he paused, wondering just what he was doing, "bad."

She leaned forward, "I see."

"And I just had detention with Snape recently." He blinked, thinking about how nonsensical he sounded right now.

She didn't say anything and just listened.

"When I was in detention, I... I broke some of his stuff and I freaked out about it 'cause I remembered something." What in the hell did he think he was doing? "From when I was younger."

Luna frowned slightly, "Yes."

Harry's eyes zigzagged over the shelves, and his voice dropped to a whisper, "There were these plates that I broke when I was seven and my uncle got really mad."

She nodded, frown deepening.

Stop it. Before it's too late, stop it. You'll regret this later.

The boy halted abruptly, remembering what he was doing. "He grounded me and then he forgave me," his voice went raspy. "And then he gave me a big hug and told me to be careful because the glass could've cut me."

She didn't say anything, and seemed confused.

"And then nothing happened."

The girl was quiet and calculating for a long time. "He hit you, didn't he?"

You can fix this, Harry, just say the right thing and she'll forget about it.

"No. He wouldn't do that," Harry denied, but his voice was so weak it was practically an admission.

Luna grasped at his arm, trying to comfort him, "How bad was it, Harry?"

"Very," he choked.

It felt like his brain was expanding and bashing against his skull in an attempt to escape.

Her lips thinned, "He shouldn't of hurt you like that."

"Okay."

She gave him a diminished, sad sort of smile, "Okay."