A|N — A few patient souls kindly notified me that the site, which went live yesterday, wasn't allowing users to sign up. Thanks, all, for being awesome. It's live now, as are 49 chapters of Yours, Luna Lovegood. If you'd like to access the mature version of this story, and join a community of awesome people who like to imagine, engage, and collaborate, my site is — I've set up a payment gateway to filter out young readers, but you can always ping me if resources are thin and I'll add you to the community manually.
Thus far, the story remains untouched. You'll see a notable departure from the original by chapter five.
Shortly after Hedwig's departure, Harry tossed on a beaten pair of blue jeans, grabbed the latest copy of the Quibbler and settled into the far corner of his cluttered room. Shoving aside a few tattered volumes of last year's textbooks and a pile of dirty laundry, he sat leaning against the wall with his legs idly crossed.
He didn't expect another letter today. But he couldn't help but hope for one. And every few minutes he found himself second-guessing — dwelling obsessively on what he wrote, or what he could have written, and how it may have been perceived. He wondered what she might be thinking, how she might respond.
He was spiraling, and he needed a distraction.
The front page of the Quibbler featured an amateur sketch of a moon frog, blinking occasionally and wearing a sinister expression. Behind it, a divided Wizengamot was boiling nearly to an uproar. The headline: A DARK INFLUENCE DIVIDING THE WIZARDING WORLD. This was going to be great.
After finishing the headline editorial, a short piece on a troubling infestation of Wrackspurts plaguing the press affairs office of the Ministry, and a meandering exposé on the rapid decline in tenure length at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a midnight black raven literally tore through the paper with a short, and mildly frustrated, grunt.
Harry shouted, nearly wet himself, threw the paper haphazardly aside, and reached desperately for the wand laying (inconveniently) four feet to his right.
That's when he noticed the letter tied neatly just above to the raven's right talon.
"Oh! Geez. Um... Hi. I'm Harry."
The raven tottled, dipped his head respectfully twice, and uttered a polite, guttural croak.
"What's your name? I wasn't expecting you. Do you, uh, do you like owl treats?"
The raven hopped lightly, and gave a quick, measured squeak.
Harry invited the bird to his forearm and carried him carefully to Hedwig's perch.
It took every ounce of resolve not to rush the introductory formalities, because Harry was desperate to read that note.
Once the Raven had a few bites to eat and a bit of water, Harry carefully untied the letter and returned to his sitting corner.
He took a quick breath, paused a beat, and exhaled slowly. He was excited, and felt foolish for it. It hardly made sense that his pulse had quickened, that his heart was in his throat. A sage voice whispered in the rear stage of his mind, "Measure your expectations, boy, this sort of thing is nearly always a disappointment." He refused to listen.
Just before breaking the seal, he noticed the words, "To Harry" magically etched on the wax in Luna's delicate script. Suddenly all of his apprehension dissolved. What a wonderful way to begin.
An unconscious sigh escaped Harry's lips as he read the first lines. His face froze for a moment, breaking into wide eyes and a sharp intake of breath. A calm settled over his features as he felt, perhaps for the first time, truly understood. A moment later, his eyes blurred, and with one hand he lifted his disheveled glasses from the bridge of his nose while with the other he wiped a tear from his right eye.
"That was what I left the train with. I left knowing that I wanted to know you. Introduce yourself to me, Harry."
Harry Potter was overcome. He forced himself to lay the letter aside, overwhelmed with the notion that this — whatever this was — was precisely what he needed. He couldn't shake the sense that the vague distress which he'd carried for years was leading him to a moment of resolution in this letter, in those words.
He glanced at his parchment and quill. But he stopped himself, picked up the letter again. He read the note over and over.
Finally, he folded the note, regretting profoundly that he wasn't permitted a quick "reparo" on the lovely wax seal, and placed it carefully in his magical lockbox.
Dipping his quill into ink, he began writing immediately.
Luna,
You haven't made me uncomfortable. I don't know how to say it without sounding ridiculous, but your last letter may have been the best thing I've ever read.
Your words move me.
You say you want to know me, even the darkness that I've faced? I want that, too, Luna. I really want to share that with you. But I'm afraid of it. I'm haunted every day by these memories. I feel pain and loss every morning, I'm woken by my own screams every night. I don't want that, any of that, for you.
I've always hurt the people around me, just by being me. And, desperately, I don't want to hurt you. I'm cursed, Luna, maybe literally. I don't want you to carry that curse, too.
Yet even as I write this, I'm terrified that I'll push you away. I always push people away. I sincerely hope you won't let me.
I'm rereading what I've just written, and I sound like a fool. I hope you don't think less of me — I've been alone in my thoughts for weeks.
Maybe I should start over.
You asked me to introduce myself.
Hi, Luna Lovegood. I'm Harry Potter. I'm a mess. But if you're okay with this mess, I'd love to share it with you.
Harry P.
PS — Asher is brilliant. I've finished half of next week's Quibbler already. And no, it isn't too forward. When I read those words, my heart raced. Is that too forward?
Luna sat in the highest sturdy branch of the ancient ash nearly a stone's throw from her home. She was, at least sometimes, sketching vignettes illustrating the social patterns of a local wood fairy village. A naturally elusive creature, Luna had devoted the better part of last summer leaving peace offerings two branches below their community. They were especially fond of blueberries and bottle caps.
But every few minutes, she'd shift her gaze to the distant horizon, searching for a tiny black dot.
It was around 11 a.m, and the heat was quickly rising. She lifted the lower seam of her tee to wipe a bead of sweat trickling down her neck, and at that moment recognized the distant, echoing cry of a raven.
Her heart skipped a beat, in a burst of joy she whispered "Asher!", and she swung her weight from branch to branch, quickly descending. As soon as her bare feet touched the ground, she ran to the door and up the stairs, arriving just in time to unlatch her window.
She feared she had perhaps said too much in her last letter. Her fondness for Harry not withstanding, she knew that most people withheld thoughts like these, at least initially. But she couldn't bear the thought of Harry, alone — carrying the weight alone. Struck by that image, she had no regrets.
But the waiting was torture.
Asher arrived with a letter tied gently to his left leg, and with a bobbing dance of affection.
He approved. That was a good sign.
She leaned over to kiss her raven lightly above the eyes, untied the note, and dove into bed.
Almost immediately she gasped, overwhelmed by the sheer joy of it. She hadn't trusted herself to hope that he felt as she did. A moment later, brows lightly furrowed, Luna's lower lip trembled just slightly. Oh, how he was hurting.
She smiled as she read the words, "Hi, Luna Lovegood." And then she unconsciously, enthusiastically nodded. As the letter drew to a close, her eyes fell upon the words, "my heart raced."
And she knew, right then, that everything was going to be okay.
Harry,
Oh, Harry. You must know it isn't your fault. You must know that any curse you bear, you bear for all of us. If it hadn't been you, it would have been thousands of others. You saved us, Harry Potter. You saved me.
I won't. I won't let you push me away. If you're a mess, you're my mess.
And when I think about you, 'alone in your thoughts for weeks,' I want to be there. I want to ask you to start from the beginning and work through all of your thoughts, all your fears.
So tell me, as much as you're willing to tell.
Luna L.
PS - You're running out of Quibbler, so I've sent Asher with a handful of my favorite back-issues to occupy your time. Of course you'll also have my letters... And Harry — your words move me, too. Reply quickly?
