(A/N): Look! An update! Yey me! It's my longest one yet and it only took me 3 days to write! I so totally rock. Anyway, thanks goes to:
Chin Yen: Thank you for your complement
absolutleyfabulous: and you said poor Luna then...
And thats really it, I didn't give you all all that much time to review, though I am hoping for more soon.
Harry left the hospital wing in a hurry. He wanted to get away from Madam Pomfrey's patronizing stares. He knew where he was headed; to where he always goes to relieve his stress: the quidditch pitch. The rush from flying could calm him like nothing else. When he was on his broom, the wind rushing past him, he was able to forget, to put behind him the pain, the deaths, the stress of being the one the entire wizarding world looked to.
Harry let his feet carry him; they knew where to go. He looked around at the paintings, portraits, and statues as he went. It was likely his last time seeing them. He wasn't coming back, not next year. He had Voldemort to face; he had a war to conquer.
The halls were quiet, students were required to stay within the confines of their common rooms, save for meals. There was too much fear, too much pain. Parents were dying; sisters were being raped, brothers torn apart. And now with Dumbledore dead, all hope had plummeted into the depths of hell.
Harry felt dizzy. The rice had done nothing more than expand in his stomach, he needed protein. He decided to stop in the great hall before going out; he had to pass it to get outside anyway.
Harry walked through the charms corridor and down the marble stairs just in time to see Ginny, Hermione, and Ron walk out of the great hall.
"Fuck" Harry muttered under his breath, as his feet hit the floor of the entrance hall. Ginny turned and saw him, standing there.
"C'mon Ginny," Hermione mumbled, taking her elbow and leading her in another direction. Ginny pulled her arm away.
"No, no I want to see him; I have some things to say to him." Ginny walked away from Hermione and Ron, and up to Harry. For a second they stood there, staring at each other. Then Ginny slapped him across the face. Harry staggered, and looked at her surprised.
"Fuck you, asshole" She said, than walked past him, up the marble stairs. Ron and Hermione followed, Hermione Glaring at Harry, Ron avoiding his gaze.
Harry let out his breath; he hadn't realized he'd been holding it. Sighing, he turned and walked into the great hall. After swallowing down a cheese sandwich, and grabbing another for the walk, he left the castle in favor of the quidditch pitch.
Harry ignored the rain, allowing himself to be soaked to the bone. He walked to the broom closet and grabbed his Firebolt. Straddling it, he kicked off on the ground and felt the rush of flying. He let himself forget what happened, forget himself. He flew in circles, did loops, dived to the ground and rolled over.
He didn't know how long he was out there, only that at some point Professor McGonagall came out and got his attention, signaling that it was time for him to come down. The carriages were here, ready for what students remained.
She told him she had someone pack his things, and they were already put away. Harry nodded, and let her lead him away. He sat in a carriage alone, and watched from the window as he rode away from the one place he could ever truly call home.
---
Luna sat on the train as it rode south. She had a compartment to herself; so many kids had left Hogwarts already most of the compartments were empty. She had seen Harry get on the train. He had headed toward the back. She found a compartment in the front. She now stared out the window, into the storm. How is it possible, she thought, that everything got messed up so fast?
The rain was raging against the train in a war of its own creation. Branches of lightning forked throughout the sky, illuminating the night. The thunder calmed her; it reminded her of her mother.
Her mother had loved stormy nights. Sometimes she would sit outside on the porch, watching the rain fall. Luna had loved those nights. She would sit on the porch swing between her parents for hours, eventually falling asleep in their arms. Things had been so less complicated then.
It had rained during her mother's funeral, when she was nine. It was just a drizzle, a last tribute to the woman. That was the last time she had seen him, she remembered, before he went away, before everything became sad.
He had come back of course, four years later. He was visiting from France over the summer. His mother still refused to come back, she hadn't since the funeral.
She was thirteen when it happened. He had been older than her, almost seventeen. She had matured in the time since they were last together, they both had. She was no longer his baby cousin, playing tag in the yard or searching for razbungles in the garden. There had been an instant attraction, almost painful. She wanted to ignore it, tried to ignore it.
She had become closer to her father since her mother's death. They needed each other, pulled comfort from one another. He had begun taking her with him to interviews for his magazine, letting her ask questions when she wanted, and sometimes let her conduct the interview herself. She looked up to him, worshiped him almost. Her mother had been in Gryffindor, her father in Ravenclaw. They used to argue – jokingly of course- over whose house was better. Luna never could decide, but was happy to be placed in the same as her father.
When he had come back, her cousin, to visit, he had laughed at her. He thought she should not have been placed in Ravenclaw, her believing in Nargles and other imaginary creatures. She hit him with a strong Levicorpus- much higher magic than any student going into her third year should know. He of course stopped laughing, and looked at her in a different manner. Once he managed to right himself, he ran after her and asked her where she had learned the spell. She just shrugged and kept walking into the house. She became interesting that day, a new sort of enigma to solve.
They spent the whole summer together, the age gap negligible. Luna was mature, old. Maybe not physically, but mentally, spiritually. She already knew higher magic than many grown witches and wizards. She had explained that her parents had taught her most of it when she was growing up, home schooling her from a very young age. He became attracted to her, unconsciously watching her every minute he could.
The last week of summer Luna's father, her cousin, and she went to Majorca, an island off the coast of Spain. Her cousin's parents met up with them on the second day. They spent the holiday going to museums, restaurants, the beach, and to the markets. Luna was the happiest she had been in years, her childhood memories coming back to her. The two families used to always go there during the summer, before her mother had died.
The rain was still coming down heavy. Luna closed her eyes and curled up on the seat. She was tired, she wanted to sleep. She didn't want to remember. It hurt to remember.
The last night of holiday the three adults had gone out for a late dinner and after for drinks. He had tried to engage her in a game; wizarding chess. He was determined to beat her once in the game, before he left to go home to France. The game was abandoned before she had taken as much as a pawn.
The game pieces lay scattered across the floor, cursing as Luna was led into the bedroom. He kissed her face, neck, and palms. She trembled at his touch. He ran his fingers threw her waist length hair and she leaned back on the bed. He climbed on top of her and she cried out in pain.
A tear trickled down her cheek. Luna pulled her sweater tight around her and hid her face in her arms, rocking in harmony with the train.
It hadn't lasted long, and he fell asleep shortly afterwards. She crawled out from under him and walked to the bathroom. She looked away from the mirror and sat on the toilet. She looked into it when she was done. It was tinted with blood. She flushed and ran a shower. After scrubbing herself mercilessly she turned the water off, and wrapped a towel around herself. She scourgified the bed, levitating him as she did. Still he slept. She grabbed her clothes and left the room, shifting quietly into her own. She closed the door behind her and slipped under the covers. As soon as she lay in the bed, the tears came. She cried herself to sleep that night.
The next day she avoided her cousin, barely giving him a hug goodbye. She packed her things neatly into her trunk, and at five pm her father side-along apparated her to Hogsmeade, where she met the train from Kings Cross, joining her fellow students to Hogwarts. It was the first day of her third year. Two days later she was informed by owl that her cousin had committed suicide. He left a note for her:
Dear Luna,
It is wrong for me to write you this, for you to find out as you will what I have done to myself. It is, I believe, far less immoral than what I did to you. Despite what you may think, I did hear you cry that night, and felt shame for what I had done. Regardless of your tremendous intelligence and maturity, you are still a child, and I have defiled you. I cannot live, knowing what I did. If you are reading this, than I am walking another world now. I just want you to know that I love you, and am sorry.
(A/N): Review damn it! I need more reviews!
Sigh.
Loves to those who review
Glares at SilverFerret
Will Smith is hot.
Byes!
Emma