A/N: This is Chaser 1 of the Chudley Cannons checking in for Season 9 Round 6 of QLFC.
Prompt: Link 'Em Up. I had to link my selected character with my previous teammate's chosen character.
Pair: LunaHarry
Optional prompts: 2. (action) tripping over something; 5. (color) lemon; and 15. (emotion) guilt
Word count (before A/N): 1,992 words
And as always, thank you to Ashleigh for beta-ing for me.
It was eerie how quiet the world could be after so much fear and uncertainty. If Harry had wondered at any point before, he knew now just how high the stakes were. At least, that's what the grave beside him kept reminding him.
He sighed, the ocean air ruffling the shaggy hair framing his face. Maybe Fleur had better skills with cutting hair than Hermione.
Hermione.
Harry felt a pang in his chest, the memory of her screams caught in his ears even now, hours later. He knew she was safe inside Shell Cottage with Ron, the two of them rightfully taking this time to be with each other. Harry felt grateful his friends seemed to be working something out between them, finally, after all these years. But the thought of anything truly starting now also made him feel unbearably lonely.
But he couldn't dwell on that. He knew he couldn't. He took one look at Dobby's headstone and pushed the loneliness down. So many people needed him. So many creatures. He had to keep fighting and pressing on.
He let his legs stretch out in front of him, his bloodied jeans caked with grass and sand. Maybe he should have gone inside with everyone else, but he just couldn't face it all yet—the stares and the questions from Bill and Fleur, the pain in poor old Ollivander's face.
Besides, Dobby deserved a friend.
Another breeze pushed back Harry's hair, the salty air falling like mist against his skin. He pulled off his glasses and wiped the lenses on his shirt. There was something so familiar about the action that Harry barely realized his blurry vision wasn't from lack of spectacles; a single tear hit the glass, splattering across the front of the lens. He wiped it again.
The sun was starting to poke its bald head over the water, a tangy lemon color so jarring in comparison to the events of last night, Harry almost resented it. He watched it crest over the horizon, interrupted only by a single fluffy grey cloud.
Rain, he thought, would be wonderful.
He glanced back at the cottage. Still silent, inhabitants old and new sleeping snuggly in their beds. Or, more likely, pretending to sleep. Harry knew Ron was still with Hermione, likely sitting watch. Dean had passed out on the couch, exhausted after digging all night. Fleur and Bill were likely up, quietly discussing what they'd say to them. Deciding the questions they'd ask.
Harry didn't envy them. Playing host to five teenagers on the run, a kidnapped wand maker, a goblin. A dead elf. He'd have questions, too, and Harry doubted he'd've been as kind about waiting as Bill and Fleur had been so far.
Just as he was about to turn away again, Harry spotted the front door opening ever so slowly. A pale face appeared, serene in the early morning light.
Luna.
Harry watched her take a few tentative steps away from the cottage, her eyes locked on the waterfront. She held her hands out on either side of her like wings, delicate fingers spread wide as she let the invisible breeze trickle through her fingertips. She tilted her head back, her long blonde hair waving in the wind.
She looked angelic, Harry thought.
She hadn't seemed to have spotted him, though, or possibly, she knew he needed his space. Harry smiled, grateful for a friend like Luna. She always knew, somehow, exactly what he needed. Her intuition and perception of his emotions was admirable, too, because half the time Harry didn't even know what he wanted. But Luna always did.
The thought made him smile wider, and for a moment, he actually felt an inkling of peace creep over him.
Luna began walking toward the ocean. Curious to see what she was up to, Harry kept an eye on her, though he turned his head back to the shore as well. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her move slowly, her steps deliberate. At first, he thought she was taking in the feel of the sand between her toes—she did like being barefoot—but then, suddenly, she stumbled, her feet catching on some invisible knot beneath her.
Harry turned to look at her again in full, a sense of worry washing over him. Luna, however, pressed on. She moved decidedly now, her shoulders squared, her steps precise. A few steps forward and she stumbled again, tripping over something Harry couldn't see.
He started to readjust his own position, pulling his legs back underneath him.
Luna stumbled a third time, her legs buckling from under her, her body collapsing into the sand.
Harry was running before she hit the ground.
"Luna!" he called, shoes kicking up sand as he approached.
She turned to him, a kind smile already on her face, no hint of distress at all. "Hello, Harry," she said sweetly just as he stopped in front of her.
"You okay?"
"I believe so." She sat up, untangling her legs, her eyes seeking out Harry. The silver irises glowed in the sunlight, speckled by a far-off, dreamy look. Briefly Harry wondered if she had been sleep walking. Then, she smiled, her eyes locking on his, and he knew she was awake.
"I think last night's excitement kept me moving," she said in her sing-song voice. "But I'm afraid I'm a bit wobbly today."
Harry held out a hand, the solid feel of her grip in his granting some relief. He pulled her up, placing his free arm around her waist as she stumbled to her feet, her steps still misguided. Harry had to suck in his breath as he felt the outline of her ribcage. Bone thin. She was paper and glass beneath his fingertips, the familiar curve of her body wasted away beneath baggy clothes.
It was only then that the weight of her capture hit him. All those months she must have been locked up in Malfoy Manor, trapped in the dungeon with an ailing Ollivander, all because of the things her father wrote. About him. Harry.
He swallowed hard. A lump lodged in his throat, and try as he might, he couldn't quite get rid of it. Every step he and Luna took toward the shore only made it stick more tightly.
How had it come to this? First Cedric, then Sirius. Mad-Eye and Dobby. What would he have done if it had been Luna, still trapped in that dungeon, wasting away, likely being tortured into an early grave?
He gripped her hand tightly, letting Luna fall into his body as he guided them to the ocean. His other hand curled protectively around her waist, unwilling to let her go. Her hair tickled his chin, the scent of sweat and something so Luna greeting him, that he almost stopped. Even after months in a dungeon, she was still there, underneath it all, wasn't she?
He glanced down at Luna. "What're you doing out here?" he asked. He didn't know what else to say.
"I couldn't really sleep. Dean was snoring most of the night, and it all felt a little too bright. Malfoy Manor didn't have much light, you see, at least not where I was. I must have grown used to sleeping in total darkness."
They stopped. They were finally there, at the space where ocean met earth, the waves lapping slowly against the shore.
"Hmm," Luna sighed beside him, resting her head against his shoulder. He hugged her even close, not entirely sure if that's what she wanted, but it felt like the right thing to do. Besides, he was quickly realizing, he needed it, too.
Then, he felt her arm reach up behind him, her hand warm against his waist even through his shirt. She hugged him back.
They stood for a while like that, the sun's ascent the only indication time was passing. Harry wished it would slow down. He liked whatever this was, a quiet morning in the middle of nowhere, standing at the world's edge with Luna. He wanted this to be his every day.
Not Death Eaters and prophecies and Horcruxes.
This. The push and pull of the waves lulling them into a quiet trance. The tangy lemon glow from before now bouncing off the water, it's sunshiny color more welcome now that he had a friend to share it with.
Harry could feel the breeze on his skin. Could taste the salt on his tongue.
A soft hand brushed his cheek.
Startled, Harry turned to Luna, noticing her kind but blurry smile, the edges of her face blending into the soft strands of her hair.
Embarrassed, Harry pulled away, wiping at his tears. He had no idea when he'd started crying again, but he was keen on stopping quickly regardless. However, Luna gently pulled his hands from his face.
"Follow me," she said. And again, she took a tentative step toward the water's edge, the tips of her toes making contact in just a few small strides. She turned back, her look expectant yet patient. She reached out a hand.
Not sure what he was doing, Harry kicked off his own shoes, his socks, then took her still extended hand.
Without a word, she led him into the water, at first just up to their ankles. Then their knees. Harry followed at Luna's pace, her legs still jelly-like as she led him up to his waist, his chest, his shoulders. He let his feet dangle in the water, weightless. The water was cold, seeping into his clothes and tickling his skin with gooseflesh, reminding him that it was still very early spring. But a simple drying and heating charm later could fix all that. He wanted to see what Luna was thinking. What she was planning.
"Water has a unique healing property," she finally said, tilting her head back and letting her hair soak up the salty sea. Again, Harry was reminded of angels, the soft sweetness of her face framed by the lapping water, the way her hair floated around her in a halo of sweet straw and dancing gold tendrils. She closed her eyes.
What he would give to be as carefree. But his mind was still on the shore, back at Dobby's grave. The weight of his destiny still caught in his mind like a virus he'd never fully shake.
"Stop that."
He looked back at Luna, her body upright once again, her eyes boring into him. She didn't sound angry, just determined.
"When they took me from the train, I thought that was it," she continued, eyes unblinking. "I thought I'd never see daylight again. I thought I'd never see my father again." She took in a shaky breath. "Now I'm here, in the ocean. Isn't that something beautiful? Isn't that worth dwelling on, just for a little while?"
Below the water's surface, he felt her hand find his, fingers interlacing with his own. His heart pounded against his chest like bludger trying to escape a beater's bat. He felt hot tears pressing against his eyes again as Luna's words sunk in. He couldn't stand thinking she'd felt so hopeless; not Luna. She was easily one of the strongest, most resilient people he knew. The lump in his throat grew tighter.
"Yes," he croaked. Because it was beautiful. Despite everything she'd faced, she was right about this moment. What a relief it must be to be out of that place, to taste freedom again, feel the cool water against her skin. To see the sun rise.
Harry tilted his head back, the water lapping up against the sides of his face, his shaggy hair caught in the current. Luna gripped his hand, still laced under the water. She leaned back, floating beside him, their eyes watching the sun make its final crawl across the cerulean blue sky.
Harry finally let himself cry, grateful for another day.