Out of Luck
Summary: After Luna Lovegood's death in Harry's sixth year, Harry is again forced into depression, while he's mourning over what he's lost, he doesn't realise what he does have is slowly fading away…
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter Ron and Hermione would've snogged by now, and by the way, they haven't so I can't own Harry Potter.
Chapter 1
**Flashback**
A girl with long, straggly blonde hair and a permanently surprised expression on her face looked up from what was soon to be her deathbed. The grass and flowers around her had long since shrivelled and died, the clouds were murky and dark. She fixed her eyes on the horror above her.
"Harry! Run!" she cried to a boy with furiously messy black hair and bright green eyes that shone out from underneath his glasses. But the boy couldn't do anything but stop and stare in devastation, he looked at his legs but they wouldn't move even a fraction. A rat that had been running around like Christmas had come early by Harry's feet was growing larger by the second, until it had turned into a rather short man.
"I don't think Harry's going anywhere," smirked a cold voice from above the girl, who still had her eyes stuck to him.
"The girl certainly won't be - Crucio!" said the same cold voice, he shot the spell right at the girl. Eyes wide, the girl struggled against the pain upon her. She gave a desperate look at Harry before falling nimbly on the ground.
"She won't last any longer, master, are you planning on doing the honours?" spoke a voice hidden behind a long cloak, female and excited. Harry looked from where the short man who he knew as Peter Pettigrew was holding his arms behind his back.
"Yes, I believe I am - unless Harry wants to tell us exactly what the prophecy includes?" the owner of the cold voice turned towards Harry, ignoring the girl at his feet. She was rising up; a weak but determined expression on his face.
"Don't tell him, Harry, I'll see my Mum again," she said, even in the worse situations, she still sounded rather dreamy.
It wouldn't have mattered if Harry had wanted to tell Lord Voldemort, his mouth was so dry he couldn't speak a word.
"Very well, then," the cold voice sneered, "Avada Kedavra." The words he spoke were deadly, a surge of green light was flying furiously towards the girl, though Harry could see it all in slow motion, and he was incapable of a thing. The girl smiled weakly.
"Don't," croaked Harry, but it was far too late. The girl, whose name was Luna Lovegood, was lying on the ground in an awkward position she normally never would've been capable of. Dirt was in her blonde hair, her robes were torn. Luna was surely dead.
"It'll be you next," said the same female voice that had spoken before, Harry knew it only too well, a surge of hate boiled in his heart.
"Crucio!" cried Harry pointing his wand at the woman who'd just spoken. It didn't hurt her badly; it never did, as he wanted it to. Harry felt dreadfully sick; he tried not to look at the ground Luna was lying dead on, although this was hard as looking up involved looking directly at Voldemort.
"Foolish boy - This is how it should be done, Crucio…"
**End of Flashback**
Harry couldn't remember anything else, and good thing too, he didn't need anymore flashbacks of Lord Voldemort to continue haunting him. It had all happened barely a month ago, it seemed still like yesterday. After Harry's recollection of events, Harry had been told Dumbledore had once again rescued him, though it had been too late to rescue Luna. Still Harry had already known that.
"Harry!" Hermione Granger was waving a book in Harry's face in an attempt to bring him back to reality. Harry looked at the book in mild interest, he wished he hadn't, he never wanted to look at a book about Death Omens.
"What, Hermione?" asked Harry, without looking at her.
"If this is about Luna and what happened a month ago then don't go blaming yourself again," Hermione said strictly, Harry sighed, she knew him only too well.
"If Luna had never come with me in the first place then she wouldn't be dead, she'd still be reading The Quibbler every morning at breakfast and -"
"She wanted to come."
"But what if I had the sense to leave her at Hogwarts?"
"Oh, stop it Harry, you know being horrible to yourself isn't going to solve any-"
"Well what do you suggest doing?" Harry snapped, "I suppose you're researching magical creature rights for spew?" Hermione went slightly pink.
"Why don't you go down to Quidditch practise? I'm sure Ginny will be relieved she can just play chaser instead of chaser and seeker." Hermione suggested hopefully. Harry glanced out of a window; Hermione did too, at that very second the murky clouds decided to pour.
"It's raining," Harry said simply.
"It's good practise for if it rains in a match -" Hermione defended.
"I'm not going," Harry said flatly. Hermione didn't say a word, but gathered her quill, ink, parchment and books and piled them neatly in her bag.
"Well I'm going to watch, so unless you want to stay here on your own -" Hermione began hopefully.
"I'm going to bed."
~*~
"He won't do anything," muttered Seamus' voice from somewhere in their dormitory early the next morning. Seamus didn't think Harry was awake, and Harry was prepared to stay pretending to sleep. He could hear a loud bang, ("Shhh, Neville!")
"I suppose that's a good thing though, he's got an excuse not to go to lessons after what happened, I got some skiving snackboxes from Fred and George at christmas, but Mum confiscated them," said Ron gloomily.
"Aw, tough luck, we could've all used them," said Dean.
"Well, Ginny nicked them, she probably gave them to Mum, either that or she's using them herself, you're not still going out with her, are you, Dean?" Ron continued.
"Er, listen mate, I've got to go and do McGonagall a favour this morning," said Dean hurriedly, before Harry heard the door opening and closing behind him.
"Neville's still in love with his Mimbulus Mim-whatever," Harry heard Seamus say. There was then a series of shouts and yells.
"DON'T DO-"
"I wouldn't do-"
Harry had to pull up his covers to avoid getting hit by stinksap.
"What's that spell Ginny used to get rid of stinksap?" asked Neville a few minutes later.
"Where's Hermione when you need her?" moaned Ron.
And soon the three teenage boys left the dormitory, still covered in stinksap. ("We'll sort it out when we get back.")
Dumbledore had told Harry not to bother with lessons if he was feeling too bad; he wouldn't have bothered showing up anyway. His parents, then Cedric, then Sirius and now Luna, the last three deaths he could've prevented if he hadn't been so foolhardy.
Harry was hungry, for a minute he considered dining with the rest of the school, but then decided otherwise. He found he would rather Hermione would continue bringing food to the common room than facing the school, he didn't feel like having half the school whispering as he passed.
But Harry wasn't about to stay in a dormitory covered in stinksap, which really did stink, so he climbed out of his bed to try and find the spell Ginny had used to get rid of it in one of his spellbooks.
~*~
Author's note: Did you like it? Should I continue? Should I never write again? Review!