May 2004
Luna lost track of time.
What had begun as a roaring fire had consumed itself until all that was left were glowing embers, and she had no idea how much time had elapsed for that to occur. She was aware of the dull ticking from the grandfather clock that counted the seconds, minutes, and eventually hours away but all that Luna could focus on was a the freckle on the cheek of her mother in the painting above the mantle and the feeling of Ginny's letter to Harry between her fingertips. In the hours since Harry departed for London, Luna had barely moved – her eyes stayed trained on that spot and her thumb was keenly aware of the weight of the parchment upon which it rested.
If asked, Luna would tell the inquirer that she was not waiting for Harry. No, in fact, she would much prefer that he not return to her home at all so that she could carry on in this suspended state of anguish for an indeterminate amount of time. For the minute that he stepped through the threshold, the spell would be broken and Luna would be forced to face what had happened. No, Luna thought idly. What Harry had done to her.
The very moments following her discovery of Ginny Weasley's note had been filled with a blinding panic. Luna swore that she felt every single and individual red blood cell swim from her head and leave her swaying on her feet. Her center of gravity seemed to float away from her and if she had not been leaning against the counter top at the moment of her discovery, she would have slid to the floor as though her bones had been hexed away. Her steady, strong heart betrayed her and begun thrashing violently about in her chest. Each pump sent agony through her body and through the haze of her instant misery, Luna had a brief second of intense clarity in which she pondered if she was having a heart attack.
But too soon, the adrenaline high subsided and Luna was left with the gut-wrenching reality that Harry had betrayed her. There was no proof that he had gone so far as to cheat on her and Luna was vaguely aware that the logical side of her mind (and heart?) believed that Harry hadn't gone that far. But Luna thought that a betrayal involving sex or even emotions would have been easier to bear than what Harry had done to her. If it was sex or another woman, Luna could have pinned the blame on an overly active sex drive or the lack of sexual chemistry in her and Harry's shared bedroom – oh, well – nothing can be done when two are simply not compatible. The blame could be attributed to Harry's own weakness and shortcomings and Luna would walk away free and pure from the rubble.
Unfortunately, Ginny's letter was proof and currently, the only anchor that Luna had in the storm swirling about her. Ginny was not at fault here – that much was abundantly clear and perhaps, like Luna, she too was a victim. (Luna thought to herself, Is victim too strong of a word?) Ginny was confused as to why Harry had not announced to their extended social network that their relationship had broken up. That had been part of their agreement upon the dissolution of their union and Harry had not followed through. In fact, he willfully allowed prominent figures in his life – and Luna's life for that matter – continue to believe that he and Ginny were destined to be married.
When that factoid burrowed itself into Luna's brain, she felt its presence as swiftly as a punch to the gut.
Ginny's letter then went on to discuss arrangements for meeting and attending the Order of the Phoenix party that coming Saturday together. Together. Because McGonagall had assumed that they were still engaged and that it would make perfect sense and be completely satisfactory to assume that their attendance would be together… for a one Mr. Harry James Potter had failed to tell apparently anyone that he had discontinued their relationship months ago. As Luna digested this particular piece of Ginny's missive, the reality dawned on her that Harry had lied once more. The event that had sparked their earlier argument (Was it even that? Luna pondered) was none other than the party that Luna mistakenly assumed that she would be attending with Harry. And, like a fool, Luna had traipsed off to London with the silly notion of adorning herself with a new gown with the sole intention of delighting Harry.
Luna's cheeks burned with shame as she remembered staring at herself, in her new gown, in the shop's mirror and admiring the reflection as though Harry were staring at her, and not herself. Luna had felt beautiful and sexy, and she hurriedly wiped away the errant tear that escaped her lids.
And as her humiliation seemingly had no end, Luna realized that Harry had not considered that Luna Lovegood would even warrant her own invitation to McGonagall's prestigious gala. At that thought, the keen lack of adrenaline was replaced by burning rage. Luna could feel the electricity and magic mingle with one another in her blood, and burn out from the tips of her fingers, like constant static electricity being deposited despite no contact with another object. Luna struck a path through her house and paced – kitchen to living room and living room to kitchen – and began the excruciating process of dissecting every single moment that she had shared with Harry. To figure out exactly where she had gone wrong, why she viewed their relationship differently than he, and how she could have possibly convinced him that she was undeserving of his love and respect.
Luna only stopped her vigorous march when her calf muscles screamed for her to give rest and that's when she sank to her current position - onto her father's old couch, in the middle of her familiar family room, in the heart of her beloved childhood home. The home that you invited him into and fell in love with him in, Luna said and sucked in a shuddering gasp as another solitary tear ran down her cheek. She swatted at the moisture as though it was burning through her skin like acid. "You've had two tears and that'll be it," Luna reasoned with herself.
Now, hours later, Luna only moved to draw in a breath and to close her eyes when she began to replay the afternoon in her mind. She was angry with herself over wasting so much time in self-misery and for the fact that she had no plan to show for her time spent alone. Luna spared a glance to the grandfather clock and found a numb shock of surprise that it was already nearing three in the morning. Luna blinked at the feeling of numbness and drew its familiarity back to her. She imagined wrapping her old friend, this old feeling, around her like a well-loved cape and took comfort in its protection around her shoulders. Luna had allowed herself to step away from the numbing distance since her time at Hogwarts and felt a bit sad to realize that she had been a fool for it.
Numbness had been how she had survived Hogwarts.
And survived the War.
And survived losing her father to the madness.
And survived Harry's engagement to Ginny.
And this will be how she survives this new chapter of her life…
…without Harry.
Luna's pulse fluttered under her skin as she heard the tell-tale signs of Harry's return in garden to the south of her house. As if she were an automaton, Luna crumpled Ginny's note until it was a tiny, tight ball protected by the bone crushing hold of her fist. Harry stepped through the threshold of the small room and jumped ever so slightly as he noticed Luna's form in the dark.
"Luna," he whispered. "It's late, love. Come to bed with me."
Luna swore she felt another crack under her chest but squared her shoulders anyway, forcing herself to keep her eyes away from Harry's face and centered on her mother's portrait. "I've a headache. I'll come up after you," she said mechanically. Harry nodded his head once and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, studying Luna's face for a moment before moving to the staircase.
"I'll be waiting for you," he said quietly before moving up the staircase.