August 2004

Harry jerked awake and as soon as his vision came into focus, he turned his eyes towards the house in the distance. In seven weeks, nothing had much changed from this view. Harry imagined the impenetrable bubble that separated the outside from Luna's small world and try as he may, no amount of strain could force his eyes to detect hints of Luna from within her fortress. Seven weeks and all Harry could account for the passage of time was the steadily growing weeds and grasses that separated him from her home.

From beside him came the smallest of coughs and, turning his head, Harry was mildly surprised to see Ron Weasley leaning against the tree next to the one that he currently occupied. Had Harry spent any amount of time other than staking out the perimeter of Luna's home for nearly fifty days, he may have been actively surprised at his new company. His one-time best friend narrowed his eyes, but kept his gaze fixed on Luna's house. Ron's lips pursed and Harry could sense Ron's frustration, even after all their time spent apart.

"Ron," Harry said in greeting. Ron nodded his head in acknowledgement but didn't bring his gaze to Harry. The two men sat in silence for an awkward stretch of time. Harry couldn't think of anything that would cause Ron to seek him out – for the past year of rocky friendship, Hermione had acted as their go-between. Harry's heart lurched suddenly as his mind jumped to the darkest conclusions and he quickly began to assume that someone must have died.

"It wasn't easy for me to come here," Ron muttered and cleared his throat. Harry turned to look at Ron and willed his wildly hammering heart to slow down.

"What's happened?" Harry asked. Ron shook his head shortly.

"Nothing's happened. Not an emergency, anyway. But I'm just so damn tired of being angry all the time," Ron said.

Harry peered questioningly at his friend. "What?"

Ron sighed. "I've been so pissed at you for so long. I was furious when you broke off things off with Gin and when it threw my entire family up into the air. I was pissed when you decided that you didn't need any of us anymore, even Hermione and me-"

"Ron, I-" Harry began but Ron lifted his hand to cut him off.

"Just let me talk. I was angry when I found out about Luna." Harry winced at the mention of her name. "I was mad because I thought you had been cheating on my sister and I was even madder because I wasn't good enough to talk to about what was going on." At this, Ron turned to Harry. "You've been a really shitty friend. And I get that you've had your own stuff going on but with everything that we've been through…" Ron paused and studied Harry's face for a moment. Harry felt the tips of his ears go red. "You've just been a really shit friend. I've been going through shit too, you know? You're not the only one who's fucked up after the War. I needed you and you let me down."

Harry watched Ron's expression and struggled to formulate an adequate response. What could he possibly say to make the past year okay between him and Ron? And, if he were honest, did he even care to make it okay? Harry allowed that thought to stew in his mind and after a mere second, he realized how suddenly vital it was to repair his friendship with Ron. Harry had spent so much time absorbed by his own life that he'd let Ron slip through the cracks and their friendship had festered with all of the ugliness that had transpired.

As Harry became wrapped up in his own retrospection, Ron pulled out a folded newspaper and handed it to Harry. Harry frowned, reflection interrupted, and glanced down at the paper.

"What's this?" he asked, looking back to Ron.

"Have you really done nothing but sit out here since the night of the party?" Harry shrugged and Ron rolled his eyes in response. "Honestly, mate. How you ever became The Chosen One is beyond me."

Harry let out a bark of laughter at the unexpected glimpse of his old best friend. But he still didn't understand. Looking at the folded paper in his hands, Harry unrolled the publication. The Quibbler smiled happily up at him and Harry swallowed at the sudden wave of bile that rose up the back of his throat.

"Is this a joke? It isn't funny," Harry snapped and Ron rolled his eyes once more.

"Use your brain, Harry. Luna's been gone for two weeks now on some sort of… I don't know… research trip with that Scamander guy. She's been writing about her journey," Ron said, standing. He began to hit at the leaves that clung to his worn out corduroy pants. "I came here to let you know that sitting out here like this is madness. She isn't home. I'd thought for sure that you'd have checked The Quibbler but apparently Hermione was right."

Harry began feverishly ripping through the paper, looking for any picture that contained even the smallest glimpse of Luna. When that hope was disappointed, he began searching for the mention of a location that he may be able to find her. His eyes narrowed in and he shouted, "Serbia! She's in Serbia!" Harry jumped up and clutched at the paper excitedly. Ron frowned.

"No. She's not," he said. "You need to slow down. If you'd taken the time to read her article, you'd see that she only publishes her whereabouts after she's already left. Luna's smarter than I gave her credit for… I think she realized you'd eventually start reading her stuff and attempt to hunt her down." Harry shot a dark look at Ron, who merely shrugged. "Hey, I'm not the one who's been staking out her house like some stalker. But anyway. I also came to let you know that a box arrived at my place addressed to you. You're welcome to come collect it but there are a few conditions… You can't be drunk and you have to stay for dinner. Those are Hermione's words, not mine." Ron shoved his fists deep into his pockets and spared another glance towards Harry, who was staring at him like a lost little animal with The Quibbler clutched pathetically in his hands.

"I'll be seeing you," Ron said and with a pop, was gone.