Hello everybody. it has been so many years since I've updated my story. rest assured that I am back and plan on finishing what I began nearly a decade ago. Life has been a journey. Cancer hit twice. sucked. but I am still here. I have also written a completely original story that I am working on getting published. it is a long road. but your support would be great in that endeavor. It is called Even Half-Moons Smile and it's currently on WattPad. so if you'reseeing this and you enjoy my writing, go on and give my book a read. thank you all so much in advance for your support and your patience.
Reviews, messages and critiques are all welcome. I have also updated and edited all of my previous chapters. enjoy!
Save a dance for me
Chapter 9
The hospital wing was still and quiet as Harry stepped out into the corridor, the soft click of the door behind him the only sound. His morning routine had become second nature now taking the calming potion and senses suppression draught Snape prepared for him every day, followed by collecting a small supply of vials to carry with him. It was something he'd accepted, a reality he had to live with since becoming a werewolf.
The decision to go public with his condition hadn't been an easy one. But he, along with Dumbledore, had decided it was the right thing to do. The response had been mixed. Some feared him, others pitied him, but the fact that he was returning to Hogwarts under Dumbledore's direct protection seemed to settle the worst of the rumors. Still, Harry could feel the shift in how people saw him. He wasn't just the Boy Who Lived anymore. He wasn't even just Harry Potter. Now, he was the boy who was cursed. The one who would transform every full moon.
Madame Pomfrey had been nothing but understanding, monitoring his condition without a word of complaint. Today's dose was stronger than normal, as the stress of returning to classes loomed large. "Take one after lunch if you feel overwhelmed," she had said that morning, her concern clear. "You know where to find me if you need more." Harry nodded, but the familiar weight of the vials in his pocket brought him a small amount of comfort.
He pulled his robes tighter around himself, adjusting the strap of his bag, and made his way down the quiet corridor. The halls were mostly empty at this early hour, with only a few students making their way to breakfast.
The whispers followed Harry everywhere.
It was as though the walls of Hogwarts had suddenly developed ears, tuned to every word and movement he made. From the moment he stepped into the Great Hall that morning, the stares had started, their intensity simmering beneath the surface like an ever-present hum. He had grown used to people looking at him throughout his years at Hogwarts—whispering about his scar, his connection to Voldemort.
But this was different.
He had expected the looks, of course. The article detailing Voldemort's return, complete with the unmasking of several prominent Death Eaters, had exploded in theDaily Prophetover the summer. The memory Harry had provided—of the Dark Lord's rebirth and his minions' pledges—had been used as evidence, throwing the wizarding world into chaos. Among the unmasked were the fathers, uncles, and family friends of more than a few Slytherins sitting across from him at breakfast.
But it wasn't just that. It wasn't just because he had exposed Voldemort.
Harry knew the real reason why so many of them were staring. They weren't just seeingHarry Potter, the Boy Who Livedanymore. They were seeingHarry Potter, the werewolf.
Harry sighed and pushed his half-eaten toast aside. His appetite had vanished.
Across the table, Hermione was reading herAdvanced Potion-Makingtext for the fifth time, and Neville, sitting beside him, was quietly going over his own ingredients for the day. Ron, on the other hand, sat in the very end of the table, near Dean and Seamus. He hadn't said a word to Harry since the party.
Things between them had fallen apart. After Ron's outburst something had snapped, and Harry knew that their friendship—once unbreakable—was now nothing more than a brittle, broken thing. Ron's envy had gotten the best of him, and Harry had had enough. He didn't want to be around someone who so easily believed the worst in him. He didn't need the added weight of a toxic friendship, not now.
Neville caught Harry's eye and gave him a small, reassuring smile. "We've got this," he said softly, referring to their upcoming Potions class.
Harry nodded, grateful for Neville's quiet presence. His friendship with Neville had only grown stronger over the summer, and despite the added strain of everything going on, Neville had been nothing but supportive.
As they made their way to the dungeons for their first Potions class, Harry felt the weight of even more stares on his back. He had managed to ignore most of them throughout breakfast, but there was no escaping what was coming next: Potions with Snape. The one class where Harry had always expected torment.
Except this year was different.
Snape knew Harry losing his temper could prove disastrous for all involved. Harry had seen the brief flicker of understanding in Snape's eyes when they crossed paths on the first night back. The Potions Master was well aware of his condition, as he was the one making Harry's potions, and though Snape hadn't said anything directly, Harry could sense a shift. The usual biting insults weren't there. Snape hadn't sought to provoke him. He hadn't goaded Harry the way he usually did, and, surprisingly, he hadn't allowed the Slytherins to antagonize him either.
The dungeon was cold and foreboding as ever when they entered. Harry took his seat beside Hermione, with Neville settling in next to them. The absence of Ron at their table was jarring, but it was something Harry was slowly getting used to. He hadn't realized how much space Ron had once taken up in his life until it was gone.
At the back of the room, Ron slumped into a chair beside Dean and Seamus, his face hard. He didn't look up, and Harry didn't bother glancing in his direction.
"Turn to page sixty-three," Snape's voice sliced through the air as the students settled into their seats. "Today we will begin brewing the Draught of Peace. I expect most of you will fail spectacularly, but by the end of the lesson, I want at least one vial from each of you that does not resemble dirty water."
Harry flipped open his book, focusing on the instructions. But as he reached for his ingredients, he felt the cold weight of Draco Malfoy's stare. From across the room, Malfoy was watching him with that familiar smirk, his eyes glinting with malice. Crabbe and Goyle sat beside him, chuckling quietly to themselves.
"How's the wolf life treating you, Potter?" Draco drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "Bite anyone yet?"
Crabbe and Goyle snickered, but the rest of the class went unnervingly silent. Harry felt his jaw clench, but he forced himself to stay calm. He wasn't going to give Draco the satisfaction of a reaction.
Snape, however, reacted instantly.
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape's voice was like ice, "stay after class."
Draco's smirk faltered, surprise flickering across his face. Harry caught the look of disbelief on Ron's face as well, though he quickly averted his eyes. Snape's defense of Harry in this instance was unexpected, but the Professor's sharp gaze left no room for argument. The rest of the class proceeded in tense silence, broken only by the soft bubbling of cauldrons.
By the end of the lesson, Harry had managed a passable Draught of Peace, though Hermione's was flawless as usual. Neville, too, had done well, though his potion was slightly off-color. As they packed up their things, Snape's voice cut through the air again.
"Malfoy, stay behind."
Harry, Hermione, and Neville exchanged quick glances before leaving the dungeon. Harry could feel the tension still hanging in the air, and the eyes of the Slytherins lingering on him as he walked out. But no one said a word.
Once the door had closed behind the last student, Draco remained standing by his desk, his smirk long gone. He fidgeted as Snape approached, the usual arrogance wiped from his face.
"Are youtryingto make things worse for yourself, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape's voice was low and deadly, his tone leaving no room for excuses.
Draco stiffened. "I didn't do anything wrong, I just—"
"You justwhat?" Snape's voice grew colder. "Thought it would be amusing to provoke Potter in front of the entire class? Do you have any idea how idiotic that is?"
Draco's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but no words came out.
Snape's dark eyes narrowed. "Your father is in serious trouble, Draco. Not only with the Ministry but with the Dark Lord himself. Andyou—you think now is the time to be drawing attention to yourself, antagonizing Potter of all people?"
Draco paled, his bravado crumbling.
"Let me remind you," Snape said quietly, his voice dripping with malice, "that your father allowed Potter to escape. Allowed him to expose the Dark Lord's return. Both the Ministryandthe Dark Lord are not exactly pleased with your family right now."
Draco swallowed hard, the fear evident in his eyes.
"You should belaying low," Snape continued, each word deliberate. "Do you think provoking Potter will help? It only confirms to the public what they already suspect about your family's loyalties. You're walking a dangerous line, Draco. Don't be a fool."
Draco's face was now ashen, the weight of Snape's words finally sinking in. "Yes, Professor," he muttered, looking thoroughly shaken.
"Get out of my sight," Snape snapped. Draco didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed his bag and all but fled the dungeon, leaving Snape standing alone, his expression unreadable.
…
The mood in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was different from any other class they'd had before. The air was heavy with anticipation, excitement buzzing under the surface. It wasn't just because of the reputation of their new teacher, Kingsley Shacklebolt, though that certainly added to the tension. It was because everyone knew—reallyknew—why they were here. Rumors had spread like wildfire since his first lesson. This wasn't going to be a class of theoretical defenses or reading from textbooks. They were about to learn how to fight.
Kingsley Shacklebolt stood at the front of the classroom, arms crossed, his deep, steady gaze sweeping across the students. He was tall, imposing, and there was something about him that demanded respect, even from the Slytherins sitting at the back.
"Everyone settle in," Shacklebolt's voice was calm but commanding. The murmurs around the room quieted instantly. He waited until the last student had taken their seat before continuing.
"I'm not going to waste your time with pleasantries," he said, his eyes locking onto each student as if daring them to look away. "Voldemort has returned."
The statement dropped like a stone in the room, echoing through the silence. There was no pause for effect, no hesitation. Just the truth.
"And whether you like it or not," Shacklebolt continued, "you are all potential targets. Every single one of you."
Harry felt the weight of those words settle over the class. He glanced at Hermione, who was sitting next to him, her expression serious but focused. Neville sat on his other side, his hand gripping his wand tightly in his lap. The entire class was leaning forward, hanging onto every word.
"I'm not here to sugarcoat anything. I'm here to teach you how to defend yourselves. Not in theory, not in abstract terms—in reality."
Shacklebolt's voice was firm but not unkind. There was no panic, just a calm determination that made Harry sit up straighter in his seat. This was the kind of teaching they had been missing for far too long.
"So," Kingsley said, his eyes narrowing slightly, "let's see where you stand."
He moved to the center of the room, his robes swishing slightly as he reached for his wand. "Everyone pair off. Today, we're going to start with the basics. Disarming, Stunning, and Shield Charms. You should already know these spells going into your fifth year. So, we're going to see if you can actually use them."
Harry glanced at Hermione, but before he could ask, Neville quickly said, "Want to partner with me?"
"Of course," Harry said with a nod, giving him a small smile. He had seen how much Neville had grown over the summer, his confidence slowly building, but he still appreciated the fact that Neville wanted to train with him.
The students began shifting their desks to the sides of the room, clearing space for dueling. Ron was paired up with Dean at the back, while Hermione had joined Seamus nearby. There was an excited hum in the room now, a nervous energy that hadn't been there before. They all knew this was more than just another lesson. This was real.
"On my mark," Shacklebolt called out, standing near the front with his wand ready. "I want to see disarming and stunning spells only. No hexes, no jinxes.You're learning defense."
Harry raised his wand, Neville mirroring him. His heart was racing, but it wasn't out of fear. This was the first time in a long while he felt like he was learning something useful in Defense Against the Dark Arts—something that could actually help them survive.
"Go!"
Neville moved first, casting "Expelliarmus!" with a sharp flick of his wand. Harry's shield charm came up instinctively, blocking the disarming spell. A moment later, Harry shot back, "Stupefy!" but Neville dodged, surprisingly quick on his feet.
"Nice one!" Harry called, impressed by Neville's reflexes.
Neville grinned, though his face was flushed with concentration. "Thanks!"
Around the room, spells flew in bursts of light, students dodging and casting as Shacklebolt moved between them, watching intently. His gaze was sharp, and he had an innate sense of how each student was performing, pausing by some to offer advice or demonstrate corrections.
When he reached Seamus and Hermione, he stopped, eyes narrowing at Seamus's slightly sloppy stance.
"Seamus, square your feet more. You'll get knocked off balance otherwise," Shacklebolt said, nudging Seamus's foot into position. He glanced at Hermione and added, "Good form on the shield charm, but aim to disarm faster in real situations—hesitation could cost you."
Hermione nodded, biting her lip as she readjusted her stance.
"Oi, Daphne," Tracey muttered with a teasing smirk. "You've been staring at Potter since the lesson started."
Daphne flushed slightly, her wand slipping in her grip. "I havenot."
Tracey grinned, clearly enjoying herself. "Come on, I've seen that look before. You still fancy him, don't you?"
"I—" Daphne started, her face now a deeper shade of pink, but she was interrupted by Shacklebolt stepping up beside them.
"Focus, ladies," Kingsley said, though not unkindly. "Tracey, lower your wand when casting the shield charm—it'll strengthen your block. And Daphne—keep your eyes on your opponent, not elsewhere."
Daphne's blush deepened as she quickly nodded, her eyes firmly on Tracey now. But Tracey's grin widened, and she whispered as Kingsley moved on, "Didn't deny it, did you?"
Daphne shot her a sharp look, but didn't answer.
Kingsley made his way back toward Harry and Neville. "Harry, that shield charm was strong, but it leaves you a little open on your left side," he noted, demonstrating with his own wand the correct positioning. "If your opponent is fast, they can slip past that opening."
Harry nodded, making the necessary adjustments as Neville launched another disarming spell. Harry blocked it easily, but he felt a deeper sense of focus now, each movement becoming sharper.
Neville, too, had improved, moving more confidently and managing to cast several well-aimed spells that forced Harry to stay on his toes.
After an hour of fast-paced practice, Shacklebolt raised his hand, signaling for everyone to stop. Students lowered their wands, breathing heavily but buzzing with excitement.
"Well done," Kingsley said, his deep voice cutting through the panting breaths of the students. "Most of you seem to have the basics down. Some of you"—his eyes flicked to a few pairs, —"need more practice. But overall, you've shown you're not completely hopeless."
A ripple of laughter swept through the class, though it was tinged with relief.
"As long as you're in this classroom, we're going to focus onrealdefense," Shacklebolt continued, his voice returning to its usual seriousness. "No nonsense. No games. We don't have time for anything else."
Harry felt the weight of Kingsley's words settle in. There was no more pretending that everything was fine. This wasn't about school anymore—this was about survival.
"You'll be tested regularly," Kingsley added, his eyes scanning the room. "And I will not tolerate complacency. Voldemort is back, and if you're not prepared—if you're not ready when the time comes—you'll pay the price."
The class remained silent, the gravity of his words hanging in the air. Harry could feel his heart racing, but not from fear. This was what they had been missing: real preparation.
"Class dismissed, practice tonight." Shacklebolt finally said, nodding toward the door. "We'll continue tomorrow."
As the students began filing out, the room was buzzing with excitement and a little fear. Harry caught snatches of conversation as they left—voices filled with nervous energy but tinged with a new determination.
"Blimey, he's amazing," Seamus was saying to Dean, clearly impressed. "Finally, someone who actually knows what they're talking about!"
Hermione, walking beside Harry and Neville, nodded in agreement. "He didn't waste any time, did he?"
"No, and that's exactly what we need," Harry said, his mind already racing with thoughts of what Kingsley had said. They couldn't afford to waste time. Not now.
"He's the best we've had in years," Neville added, his voice full of awe. "I actually feel like we're going tolearnsomething this year."
As they made their way to their next class, Harry's mind was buzzing with thoughts of the future, of the battles to come. For the first time in a long time, he felt like they might stand a chance.
…
Wednesday, September 6th.
The day had passed in a blur, but now the sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard where Harry and Cho sat on a stone bench, their hands entwined. They had barely had any time together since the start of term. With the chaos of the first week of classes, finding a moment alone had been nearly impossible. But today was different.
Today was the day of the full moon.
Cho knew it too. Her face was calm, but her fingers kept tracing small circles on the back of Harry's hand, her way of keeping him grounded, of reminding him that she was here. And she wasn't going anywhere.
"I hate that you have to leave tonight," she said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
Harry glanced at her, his heart tugging painfully at the sight of the worry in her eyes. "I'll be back tomorrow morning," he said, trying to keep his voice light. "It's just one night. I'll be fine."
Cho smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I know. It's just… hard."
They had made plans to spend the weekend together, away from the noise of the castle, away from everything. But tonight—tonight was something else entirely. The first full moon of the school year had arrived, and with it came the unavoidable reminder that Harry was no longer like everyone else.
He had to leave Hogwarts, to join Remus and Sirius at Grimmauld Place where they would transform together in the enchanted cage—a routine that had become painfully familiar over the summer. But that didn't make it any easier.
Cho leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. "At least we'll have the weekend," she murmured, her breath warm against his neck.
"Yeah," Harry agreed, his arm tightening around her. "Just the two of us."
They sat like that for a few more minutes, the quiet settling over them like a blanket. The sun was edging closer to the horizon now, the sky streaked with shades of orange and pink. Harry knew he didn't have much time left, but he wasn't ready to say goodbye yet.
Cho must have sensed it too because she lifted her head, her dark eyes meeting his with a fierce intensity. Without a word, she pulled him closer, her lips finding his in a kiss that was deeper, more urgent than any they had shared before. Harry responded instantly, his hand tangling in her hair as the world around them faded away. For a moment, it was just them—just Harry and Cho, no full moons, no transformations, no danger lurking in the shadows.
But reality came crashing back far too soon.
The sun was dipping lower now, the warmth of the day fading into the coolness of evening. Reluctantly, Harry pulled away, his forehead resting against hers.
"I have to go," he whispered, his voice thick.
Cho nodded, blinking back tears as she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Be safe, Harry."
"I will," he promised, though the weight of the night ahead settled heavily on his shoulders. He stood up, his hand lingering in hers for just a moment longer before he turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the stillness.
…
An hour later, Harry stood at the edge of the castle grounds, waiting. The wind had picked up, rustling the leaves of the trees nearby. It wasn't long before he saw Remus Lupin approaching, his robes billowing slightly in the breeze. Beside him padded a large black dog, its bright eyes gleaming in the twilight.
"Ready, Harry?" Remus asked, his voice gentle but firm.
"Yeah," Harry replied, though he wasn't sure he ever would be.
Sirius, in his Animagus form, padded up to Harry's side and nuzzled his hand in greeting. Harry scratched him behind the ears, feeling a bit of the tension leave his body at the comforting presence of his godfather.
"Let's go," Remus said, holding out a small, worn shoe—this evening's Portkey.
Harry grabbed hold, and a second later, the familiar sensation of being yanked by the navel pulled him away from Hogwarts. The world blurred around him, and when he landed, slightly off-balance, he found himself in the entrance hall of Grimmauld Place.
The last time he had been here was over the summer, but already the house felt different. It wasn't as dark, as suffocating as it had been before.
"Looks different, doesn't it?" Sirius said, transforming back into his human form with a grin. "Met a curious little house-elf not long after we got to Hogwarts. Hired him on the spot. Best decision I've made in years."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "House-elf? You don't mean—"
Before he could finish, Sirius called out, "Dobby! Come here!"
There was a crack, and Dobby appeared in the hallway, his large, tennis-ball eyes lighting up the moment he saw Harry.
"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby squeaked, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. "Dobby is so happy to see you again!"
Harry couldn't help but smile as the excitable house-elf launched himself at him, hugging his legs tightly. "Hey, Dobby," Harry said, patting the elf's shoulder. "It's good to see you too."
"Dobby is honored to be serving Harry Potter and Sirius Black, sir!" Dobby beamed up at him. "Dobby will make Grimmauld Place shine again! You will see, by next full moon, it will be perfect!"
Sirius chuckled, clapping Harry on the back. "The little guy's been a godsend. You wouldn't believe the work he's already done."
Harry glanced around the hall, and sure enough, the place had undergone a transformation. The walls were cleaner, the oppressive darkness that once choked the house had lifted somewhat, and there was a strange feeling of renewal in the air.
Not everything had changed, though.
Kreacher slunk by in the corner of the hall, muttering to himself as he clutched a bundle of items in his gnarled hands. He was still as sour and sullen as ever, his eyes darting toward Dobby with barely contained contempt.
"That one's been more trouble than he's worth," Sirius muttered, narrowing his eyes at the old elf. "Still hoarding his 'treasures,' as if we don't know he's got half the house's cursed objects stashed away."
Harry was about to nod in agreement when something cold and dark seemed to prickle at the edges of his awareness. His instincts, heightened as they had been since becoming a werewolf, flared in warning. He turned sharply, his gaze locking onto Kreacher.
The bundle of items in Kreacher's hands… there was something wrong.
Harry's senses screamed at him, a primal, unexplainable recognition that whatever Kreacher was carrying was dangerous. Dark.
"Sirius," Harry said, his voice low and tense, "Kreacher's carrying something—something dark."
Sirius's eyes flicked to Kreacher, who had stopped, glaring back at them with undisguised malice. "Kreacher," Sirius barked, "give it here."
Kreacher's face twisted into a sneer, but under Sirius's command, he slowly shuffled forward, his hands trembling as he held out the bundle. Sirius snatched it from him, peeling back the cloth to reveal… a locket. A heavy, ornate locket with a serpentine "S" engraved on its surface.
Harry's gut twisted at the sight of it. He didn't know why, but every fiber of his being screamed that this object was evil.
"We need to show this to Dumbledore," Harry said, his voice cold.
Sirius nodded, his face grim as he wrapped the locket back up. "We'll talk to him tomorrow. For now, we lock it away."
Kreacher slunk off, muttering angrily under his breath as Dobby watched with wide, disapproving eyes.
Harry couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to him as they made their way toward the basement, where the enchanted cage awaited. Tonight, they would transform. But tomorrow… tomorrow, they would confront whatever darkness Kreacher had unearthed.
…
Cho stood at the entrance of the castle, watching as Harry's figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Her eyes followed him as he crossed the grounds, heading toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest where she knew Remus and Sirius were waiting. The sun had almost completely set now, and the sky was tinged with the deep purples and oranges of twilight.
Harry had promised her he'd be fine. She knew he would. He always came back. But that didn't make the knot of dread in her chest any easier to ignore.
The full moon was rising, and Cho hated it. She hated that Harry had to go through this—this curse that he hadn't asked for, that he couldn't escape. The pain, the fear, the isolation of it all. It wasn't fair. And as much as she tried to be strong for him, a part of her wanted to scream at the injustice of it.
She blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over. Crying wouldn't help. Harry needed her to be strong, and that was exactly what she would be.
Still, as she turned and made her way back inside the castle, her heart felt heavy. The corridors were quiet at this hour, most students already gathered in their common rooms. She walked slowly, her footsteps echoing faintly against the stone floor as she tried to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside her. She needed to pull herself together before she reached Ravenclaw Tower. She didn't want the others to see how upset she was.
By the time she reached the bronze knocker of the Ravenclaw entrance, Cho had managed to steady her breathing, but the weight in her chest remained. The knocker posed its usual riddle, and she answered without thinking, the words flowing automatically from her lips. The door swung open, revealing the warm glow of the Ravenclaw common room.
Marietta was waiting for her, sitting on one of the soft, cushioned chairs near the fireplace. She glanced up as Cho entered, her expression softening as she took in the look on her friend's face.
"How are you holding up?" Marietta asked quietly, motioning for Cho to sit beside her.
Cho sighed as she dropped into the chair opposite Marietta, curling her legs up beneath her. "I'm okay," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "I just— I hate that he has to go through this."
"I know," Marietta said, her voice filled with sympathy. "But he'll be alright, Cho. He's strong. You've said it yourself—he's done this before. He'll make it through."
Cho nodded, though the reassurance didn't quite reach her heart. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stave off the chill that always seemed to settle in her bones when she thought of Harry transforming. "I just wish I could do something more for him."
"You're doing everything you can," Marietta said gently. "And besides, you'll see him tomorrow. Then you'll have the whole weekend to spend together."
That thought brought a small smile to Cho's lips. They had been talking about their plans for the weekend for days now, eagerly anticipating some much-needed alone time. It had been a chaotic first week back, and they hadn't had a moment to truly be together.
Marietta seemed to sense the shift in her mood because she leaned back in her chair and gave Cho a teasing smile. "You know, it could be worse. You could be like me—stuck with a boyfriend who's no longer even at Hogwarts."
Cho glanced at her friend, raising an eyebrow. "Cedric?"
Marietta shrugged, though her smile faltered a little. "We had a lovely summer together. But now that he's left Hogwarts, it's… complicated."
Cho frowned. "Complicated how?"
"Well," Marietta began, hesitating slightly as she fiddled with the sleeve of her robe, "he's off training with the Ministry, and we don't get to see each other much. Only Hogsmeade visits, really. And I don't know, Cho—I don't want to be tied down when I can't even spend time with him properly. I mean, I care about him, but I'm still here, and he's… not."
Cho nodded thoughtfully. She could understand that. Relationships were hard enough to maintain at Hogwarts, but when one person had already left… it added a whole new level of distance.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
Marietta shrugged again, though there was a wistful look in her eyes. "It's alright. I think we both knew it wouldn't last forever."
Before Cho could respond, the door to the common room opened, and Luna Lovegood drifted in, her gaze wandering around the room as if she were lost in thought. Marietta made a soft noise of discontent, clearly not thrilled about the interruption, but Cho was glad for the distraction.
"Luna!" Cho called, sitting up a little straighter. "How are you?"
Luna's pale, dreamy eyes found hers, and she smiled serenely as she walked over to join them. "Hello, Cho. I'm well, thank you. How's Harry?"
Marietta shot Luna a sideways glance, clearly not eager to engage in conversation, but Cho smiled at the younger girl. "He's… fine. He's gone to Grimmauld Place for the full moon."
Luna nodded as if she had expected this. "Ah. Yes, that makes sense. You know, I read somewhere that werewolves are particularly attuned to the gravitational pull of the moon. It affects their moods as much as it does their transformations."
Cho blinked. "Really?"
"Mm-hm," Luna said matter-of-factly. "It's why they often feel more emotional around this time of the month. Something about the way the moon tugs at their very souls."
Marietta gave Cho a look that clearly said,Why are you encouraging this?but Cho found herself smiling despite the oddness of Luna's comment.
"That's… interesting," Cho said, her smile widening.
Luna nodded, her expression as serious as ever. "Yes, and I wouldn't be surprised if Harry starts growing fond of celery soon. It's known to have calming properties, and werewolves naturally seek out calming things during the full moon."
Cho's mouth twitched, and before she could stop herself, a soft laugh escaped her. Luna's earnestness, combined with the sheer absurdity of her comment, was too much to resist. The laugh bubbled up inside her, surprising her with its intensity, and before long, she was giggling uncontrollably.
Marietta stared at her, utterly bewildered. "Cho… are you alright?"
But Cho couldn't stop laughing. It wasn't just the comment about celery—it was everything. The tension, the worry, the fear she'd been holding onto all day seemed to dissolve in that moment, replaced by a sense of lightness she hadn't realized she needed. Luna's innocent strangeness had given her an escape, a way to release all the emotions she'd been bottling up.
When her laughter finally subsided, Cho wiped at her eyes, still smiling. "I'm fine. Really."
Luna tilted her head, studying her with a faint smile of her own. "It's good to laugh, you know. It helps release the nargles from your ears."
Cho laughed again, though this time it was quieter, more controlled. "Thanks, Luna."
Luna nodded, satisfied, and sat down on the arm of Cho's chair. "You're welcome."
Marietta huffed but didn't protest, though Cho could see the flicker of annoyance in her friend's eyes. "I don't know how you put up with her," Marietta muttered under her breath.
Cho glanced at Marietta, then back at Luna, who was now gazing serenely at the fire. "I don't mind," she said quietly. "It's nice to have a distraction sometimes."
Marietta sighed but didn't argue, and after a few moments, the three of them fell into a comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.
As the night wore on, Cho felt the heaviness in her chest start to lift. Harry was out there, facing something difficult and painful, but he wasn't alone. And neither was she.