September

Harry sat in the compartment with Luna, Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the usual assortment, and felt like something was wrong. Not the normal kind of wrong, this wrong was heart stopping, because it was a murderous wrong.

Of all the things that he has sensed from people, this is the worst.

Hatred, such a strong feeling. Hate, such a strong word.

Someone hates someone, but maybe he can love Luna enough to even it all out?

If only his brain wasn't stretched thin from all the things he thinks he knows….

Luna is placid, dreamy…calculating. She sees confusion on Hermione's face, and she wants to laugh. Draco touched the mudblood's face today.

She feels like she's being torn in two, because Harry keeps looking at her, like he knows something.

Maybe he does, but what does Just Harry know, anyway?

He can't even save himself, he expects her to do it.

Fuck that.

So, Luna makes plans to do just that. It's been seven months; it's time to explore what's under his clothes. Maybe he'll stop whining about his so-called sucky life.

He has no idea what it's like to have life suck.