Welcome to Gaia! ::

Title: Better Than A Bobble Hat
Author: Sam Storyteller
Site: Sam the Storyteller on LJ
Pairing: Remus/Sirius


Remus didn't really start to worry until the blindfold went on.

Birthday pranks were de rigeur amongst the Gryffindor boys, particularly when the older boys played them on the younger ones. No one dared play a prank on Sirius, because Sirius had a temper, but Peter had been fair game for the boys a year above them since they'd started school. Even James occasionally got conned, though the only year he really fell for the prank it had been Remus' idea.

So, Remus had been expecting a prank from James and Sirius, since it was an unspoken law that Remus -- underfed, sickly, scholarly Remus who was always a year older than everyone because he'd had to start late -- Remus was off limits, the pet of Gryffindor, the single person that anyone in the House would rally round if necessary. Remus had no enemies in the House. Oh, he had competitors: Evans hated when he beat her at Charms and the Quidditch jocks always made fun of his complete fumble-handedness with a broom. But let a Hufflepuff join in the laughter or a Slytherin make a remark and a stony Gryffindor wall was raised.

Remus was easy to love. He worked hard at making this so.

James and Sirius and Peter saw through that, though. Remus was always amazed that they were still his friends even after not only crushing his careful facade but discovering his secret as well. On the other hand, since they did see through it, they had no trouble pranking him and did so more or less constantly, in the spirit of older brothers. Remus loved them dearly, the pranks, because they made him feel normal.

But blindfolds weren't on. Who knew what someone could do to you if you were blindfolded?

Sirius' fingers -- it had to be his, since he could hear James off to his left and Peter wasn't tall enough -- Sirius' fingers gripped his shoulders and spun him around a few times. He laughed over the anxious pound of his heart, the nerves he tried to tell himself he didn't feel. Finally he was stopped and dizzily led forward.

"Stairs," James said, but neglected to tell him whether they were up or down; he put his foot out to test and a flashbulb popped.

"Oi! No cameras!" Remus cried.

"Scrapbook," Peter called. Remus descended at least one flight, probably two, then ascended one and went round a corner -- they were in the, what, the north wing now? No -- paving stones! The courtyard!

"Stop," Sirius said in his ear, wrapping an arm around his chest from behind to physically halt him. Remus breathed in the smell of Sirius' soap and sweat. His face burned, a reaction that he used to get with James but lately had found dominated by Sirius. James was untouchable and perfect, after all, and why even try?

Why try for Sirius, either? And yet while he'd been able to stifle some kind of misguided crush on James, his odd reaction to Sirius hadn't been so easily eradicated. Sirius got under his skin. He was reckless and could be cruel if he wasn't thinking, but he was kind, too, and honest and a stand-up bloke.

A cloak was settled around his shoulders and he walked forward again. Dirt and grass under his feet now, he could smell them. The night air was crisp and cool.

The light filtering through his blindfold was a shade darker now, and he guessed that they must be in the Forest or on the high road through the Forest to Hogsmeade. Any minute now he expected to put one foot forward and fall into the lake, except James and Sirius would never be that unsubtle.

Without eyes, his other senses sharpened; he could hear Peter breathing on the right, James tossing something up and down in his hand on the left. Sirius was still behind him, fingers on his shoulders, breath warm on his neck.

"What is this, a bloody snipe hunt?" he asked.

"Birthday present!" James sang out.

"Pneumonia is not a birthday present! It's an infectious disease!"

"It'll be worth it."

"Oh Christ, you're not taking me to Madam Monique's, are you? Syphilis is an infectious disease too!"

"Swearing like a Muggle is an affectation the world can live without," Sirius intonted, in a precise imitation of Professor Slughorn.

"Tell me, what is swearing like a sailor?" Remus asked sweetly.

"We're almost there, Moony; keep it down or we'll be caught," James warned. "A year's detention is definitely not a birthday present."

They stopped abruptly; Remus heard James and Peter's feet cease to crunch on the leaf-strewn ground, and he was stopping even before Sirius grabbed him again. There was a sort of soft whooshing noise, and then Sirius had released him.

"Stand still; I'm going to take your blindfold off," he said. Remus obediently stood still and waited for the cream-pie-inna-face that he fully expected.

Instead he stood blinking in the half-moon light, in a clearing somewhere deep in the forest. His whole body stiffened.

Sirius was standing off to one side, holding the blindfold. In front of him, almost close enough to touch, was a tall yearling buck, not quite fully grown but with a respectable start on a set of antlers, still covered in velvety skin.

Remus tried not to breathe. It was a beautiful creature, perfectly formed, with deepset intelligent eyes -- not at all like the inbred city-adapted berserker deer that used to menace his father's property. The only flaw that he could see was an odd tumour on top of the animal's head, just to the side of his ear --

He watched in amazement as the tumour moved and unfolded itself, stretching out into a mass of fur and tiny claws and bright, keen eyes. A rat was seated on the deer's head, clinging with one paw to the stalk of an antler.

"Sirius," he breathed without moving, "Where did James and Peter go? What is this?"

He turned to look when Sirius didn't reply, but Sirius was gone too. Instead there was a young bear a few feet off, an enormous gloomy shape in the shadows.

It had been a snipe hunt. They'd led him out here and gotten him lost, and Sirius must have done a runner when he saw the bear (which was unlikely but Remus would have too, so who was to say) and now he was stuck between what probably was a berserker deer and a bear.

He began to back away, slowly. Bears had a chase instinct, didn't they? If he moved very slowly...

The rat leapt from the deer's head, landing claws-tight in his shoulder as he turned to avoid it. He yelped and tried to brush it off but it clung on grimly, and suddenly thank god Peter was back because those were Peter's hands on his cloak right where the rat....had...

Remus looked up. Even as his head turned he saw the deer and then he saw the deer start to shift and twist and melt and after a second James was standing there, cracking his shoulders and shaking his head as if to shift an unpleasant thought. The bear lumbered forward and knocked James over, but it wasn't a bear at all, it was a big black slobbering dog, an impossibly enormous dog --

Remus dropped to the dirt with a soft whump as the dog went through the same awkward shifting process until Sirius stared at him from where he was seated on James' chest.

"Geroff me!" James said, shoving Sirius. He leapt up from the dirt and pounced on Remus, ruffling his hair.

"Happy birthday, Moony!" he cried, and Sirius crawled forward to sit in front of him, looking terribly pleased with himself.

"Humh?" Remus asked, looking bewilderedly around at them.

"Aren't you pleased?" Peter inquired.

"Um?"

"He's pleased," Sirius proclaimed.

"What in the bloody hell is going on?" Remus managed.

"Maybe he's gone mad," Peter said doubtfully.

"We're animagi!" James said. "Like Professor McGonagall. We reasoned, well, Sirius reasoned that if werewolves only attack people, what you want are best pals who aren't people at all."

"So that you're not alone," Sirius added. "Now, granted, that was back in second-year and I will be the first to admit that twelve year olds are not generally brilliant geniuses, but I think my theory has held up to study. Are you pleased? Say you're pleased."

Remus looked around him wildly. "Animagi? What? Doesn't that take years?"

"Took us years," James agreed. "We've been working on it since third year."

"But....look, all I wanted was a Puddlemere United jumper!"

"Oh, we got you that too!" Peter said, leaping to his feet and running off into the shadows.

"He'll get killed!" Remus cried.

"No he won't. Sirius scentmarked every inch of the clearing and what he missed I took care of. Sufficiently confuses just about anything that comes by," James assured him. Peter reappeared with an armful of squashed presents.

"I mean, it's not...well, like, Animagery is for life, not just for birthdays," Sirius continued. "But we thought you'd like it as a present, you know. Not every day our Moony turns sixteen!"

Remus stared at him. They had all gone mad.

"For me?" he whispered.

"Remus," James said. Remus turned around to look at him and took a cream pie flat in the face.

Nothing like James Potter for breaking the tension.

***

After they'd sat and talked about animagery and had several re-enactments of botched attempts, cleaned up the cream pie and eaten the remains, after Remus had opened his "proper" presents and put on the new jumper with matching gloves and the Gryffindor bobble hat, after he'd exclaimed over the set of quills and inks and two tins of loose-leaf tea, they'd reluctantly trekked back to the castle and promptly indulged in the tea to warm themselves up. Remus, in a sort of half-aware bliss, pressed some of his birthday tea on everyone who came into the common room and ignored the quizzical looks garnered by his muddy trousers.

He couldn't even fathom what they had done, as they climbed the stairs to their room and got dressed for bed. They had changed themselves, had altered the absolute shape of their bodies. According to some theories, they'd consciously rewritten their DNA.

All this from three boys who, collectively, could not have washed their own underthings if they had an instruction manual. It boggled the mind. And they'd done it for him.

Sirius, an enormous black dog who looked as though someone had taken a labrador and crossbred it with a bear, padded lightly across the room and rested his furry head on Remus' footboard. Remus smiled and leaned forward to scratch him behind his ears. He was rewarded with the sound of his tail thumping back and forth on the floor.

"Let me guess," he said. "You're a dog because you know you're not allowed on the furniture anyway?"

A huge doggy grin and a drooling tongue met his insult with cheerful optimism.

"All right, up you come," he said softly. Peter was already asleep; James was at least halfway there, to judge by the breathing which was more snore-like by the second. The bedsprings creaked alarmingly as the dog leapt up on the bed. Impulsively, Remus leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the dog's neck, pressing his face against the silky fur just below his ear.

"You're marvelous, Sirius," Remus said into his neck. Sirius whined, so Remus let him go and leaned backward, already embarrassed at his show of emotion. "Can you still see in colour?" he asked, to change the subject.

The dog sneezed, and in the process snapped back into a human shape.

"Nope," Sirius said, sitting up and crossing his legs. "Things smell in colour, though. You smell blue."

"I do not!"

"Sure you do. Peter's worse, he smells pink. I wonder about him."

Remus laughed softly. "What about James?"

"Bright orange. McGonagall smells black."

"I figured you would," Remus grinned. "Smell black, I mean."

"Dark green." Sirius' voice was soft, oddly regretful. Then he grinned suddenly, almost maniacally. "Hey, I have another present for you."

"Sirius, really -- "

"No, this is a good one. I made it myself. But you have to put the blindfold on again."

Remus half-sighed and accepted the scrap of cloth from Sirius, tying it tight against his head under shaggy brown hair.

He felt Sirius' hands first, squaring his own shoulders and then lifting his chin slightly. He thought he felt one finger drift over his cheek, but he could have imagined it; perhaps it was the blindfold rubbing there.

"Sirius, come on," he said playfully. "What are you up to? Not another pie, is it?"

"No," Sirius said, sounding oddly breathless. "Stay still, close your mouth."

"Close my -- "

"Close your mouth," Sirius repeated, so Remus did.

There was the barest of hesitations. Remus heard Sirius inhale and smelled him as he had earlier, the scent now intermingled with the deep earthy smell of tea -- and mud. An incomplete portrait, until...

Sirius' hands cupped his face, thumbs along his jawline, fingers warm on his cheeks. He almost started back at the sudden touch. Then he felt warmth as Sirius leaned forward, heard him draw another breath, and kept very still as warm pressure touched his lips.

Sirius was kissing him.

His hands lifted off the blanket where they'd been resting but he didn't know what to do with them so they hung there, fingers vaguely outstretched in Sirius' direction, as his head was tilted further forward and Sirius kissed him a second time on the upturned corner of his mouth.

"I've been waiting to do that for two full years," Sirius said against his cheek.

"Poofter," Remus replied. Sirius laughed, but it was a shuddering, fearful thing. Remus groped one hand along his arm and held him where he was, their heads bowed, cheeks pressed together. "It's fine, Sirius. It's fine. It'll be fine."

He reached up and pulled the blindfold off. Sirius was looking at him with impossibly dark eyes.

"Best birthday present ever," Remus said.

"Better than your bobble hat?"

Remus laughed. "Yeah. Better than the bobble hat." He leaned forward, speaking quietly. "Better than three underage animagi."

Sirius caught his breath.

"Better than tea and quills and a Puddlemere United jumper," Remus continued. "Best ever."

But that was a lie, really. Best ever was what happened right after that, when Sirius looked down at his hands and a brilliant smile spread over his face.

END

Note: this is not eligible for the contest.

A sweet story, preceded by a scene that I would love to have be canon: Hermione is able to save Severus.
I'd read it a few months ago and while looking for it , I found this second story, with tons of humor, that I posted in the Fan Fiction story: Ripped and Torn
(the spirit of Severus Snape survivies

However, I just now found the story of my memory on Ashwinder, and I
I wanted to honor it with some Valentine exposure.





“Yes, I dreamt of you too…the lips of an angel” ~ Hinder


Neither Harry nor Professor Snape noticed her peer into the Shrieking Shack as Harry entered it. One glance at the pool of blood Professor Snape lay in told her all she needed to know.

“Bloody hell,” she whispered as she climbed into the room. Ron was beginning to be a bad influence on her. She opened her bag of tricks and started rummaging until she found a small violet vial. Enlarging it to normal size, she walked over to the dying man.

As she dripped three drops onto the snakebite, he spoke to Harry, “Look… at… me.”

Harry was still too stunned to notice her presence as he quickly pooled the memories into a goblet and turned to leave. Hermione leaned in closer to examine the wound. As she had expected, it was completely closed now. With a quick cleansing spell, she collected Professor Snape’s blood into a vial. He needed a Blood-Replenishing Potion, but she did not have much of a supply. What if Ron or Harry needed it? She looked at the bottle in her hand. She spoke a purifying charm to clean the blood and added five drops of the Blood-Replenishing Potion to it. She pulled out her knife and poked a small hole in the vein where Muggles gave blood. Pouring the blood back into his system, she knew there was little else she could do.

The battle would begin soon and she had to be there. She was out of time, but a small worry nagged her. She had never doubted that Professor Snape was truly a member of the Order, a triple agent perhaps. Still, from what Ginny and Neville had said about the school year when Professor Snape was Headmaster… no sense in taking a chance. Lupin had already told her she put down her defenses too easily. That conversation seemed forever ago.

She stepped back from the barely breathing body and performed Numerus Tutela. It was one of the spells she had studied over the summer. It would keep whatever was enclosed protected until the one who cast the spell lifted it. No one else could break through the bubble, and if someone was enclosed inside, they could not escape. Hermione shook her bushy mane; she doubted that the professor would wake anytime soon. Looking at her handiwork, she thought the effect was almost surreal: her former Potions Master clad in black and enclosed in a glowing white tube of light. She wished she could stay. But there was no time left; she ran through the tunnel to catch up with the boys.

* * * * * *

The continuing shouts and the cheering were almost too much for the trio that had been through so much together. They were basking in the glow of victory hours after Voldemort’s defeat. Ron refused to release Hermione’s hand, not that she would have protested. She was continually planting kisses on his cheek when she thought no one was looking. She nuzzled her head on his shoulder. It felt like home.

But then she remembered: the losses. Dear God! Hermione couldn’t imagine what life would be like for poor Teddy. Despite being the godfather, Harry was too young to take care of him. Would Teddy be raised by Mrs. Tonks? It would be so much better than the Dursleys, but… And George! What would life be like without his twin? At least they had opened the joke shop and fought in the war together. Still, Fred had been so young. And then Colin… He had been so foolish to stay, so brave…

And then Hermione remembered Professor Snape. She had left him in the Shrieking Shack. From what Harry had said to Voldemort during the battle, it was clear that Professor Snape had never betrayed the Order. She leaned over and gave Ron another kiss before saying that she needed to leave. He protested, but she smiled and left.

It took some time to levitate Professor Snape to the hospital wing from Hogsmeade. She used the tunnel because she was wary of going through Hogmeade with a “Death Eater” and hated Headmaster. After everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure how she still had the energy to use magic. All she knew was that she had to do this.

Once she entered Hogwarts, she had to find a place to put him. Most of the tables were housing the dead and so many of the beds were already occupied by the injured. Eventually, she found a spare bed in one of the temporary wards erected in the corridors. Carefully, she lowered his body onto the mattress. She severed the Numerus Tutela charm. Hermione took his left wrist in her hand and checked for a pulse. It took a moment before she could detect a feeble beating. Suddenly, she felt a little odd as if she were suddenly shimmering. But that was silly. It had been a long day, the longest of her life. She was about to release him when she felt him grasp her hand.

“I… always… loved… you,” he whispered.

For a second, Hermione’s heart stopped. Surely, that could not be right. Professor Snape had never given her a second glance. And then she remembered, what he had seen before losing consciousness were Harry’s eyes, Lily’s eyes.

Swallowing hard, she smiled, “Yes.”

He tried to open his eyes but the effort was too much for him. He simply smiled. Then, Hermione felt something else strange happening to her. She was speaking, but the voice did not sound like her. She was not entirely sure what she was saying.

“Severus, why did you join them? You were my best friend; I could have loved you, but then, I told you I didn’t trust them…”

“I wanted to impress you.” He could not speak above a whisper and every word cost him immense effort.

“You hated me like ‘Tunia did. I felt so alone.”

Tunia? Hermione thought, confused.

“I was bitter. Lily, I tried… I tried to save you.”

“You saved my son. That is all that matters to me. You redeemed yourself, Severus. All I ask is that you allow yourself some peace.”

Well, that seems like sound advice.

“Lily…” he pleaded.

Later, Hermione would never know what prompted her to lean towards her former professor. And had she been in control of her body, she very much doubted that such an indiscretion would ever have happened. Still, she would always recall with remarkable clarity how she gently leaned forward until her lips were centimeters from his. The contact was subtle at first, like a warm summer breeze. Then, the kiss deepened. It was full of hope and promise. As she pulled away, she looked down at the tresses of hair that had fallen over her shoulder. That wasn’t her hair; it was smooth and flat. She closed her eyes for a moment. Suddenly, she felt the shimmering feeling stopped. Hermione dared to reopen her eyes. The hair lying on her shoulder was now the unruly frizz that she knew so well. But then, what… Lily? Was such a thing possible?

Before she could ponder the mystery further, Ron and Harry appeared. She felt a surge of relief. If they had come any sooner… She and Ron had just found each other. No, that was something she would not have been able to explain. But then, if she hadn’t looked like herself… Utterly confused, she pushed the incident out of her mind. Maybe later… But in her heart, Hermione knew that this was one mystery she had no desire to solve.

“Hermione? Is that Snape?” Ron did a double take. “You saved Snape? Back at the Shrieking Shack? What the hell?”

“Wait. Where’s the bite from Nagini?” Harry asked simultaneously. “He had lost too much blood…”

“Honestly,” Hermione scoffed. “Did you really think that after all my preparations I was going to forget about healing spells? Ron, when your dad…was attacked, I got nervous. Remember how no one at St. Mungo’s could heal it quickly? I knew we’d have to face that snake again. And what if the same thing happened? What if one of us was bitten?

“We wouldn’t be able to get to St. Mungo’s. Voldemort would have made certain we were... So I did some research after the holidays. I came up with a potion that I thought might help… it was purely theoretical, of course. And there were some rare ingredients. Really rare. I wasn’t even sure that Professor Snape would have them. So I decided to ask him. Maybe I could buy them from him. I wanted a second opinion on the potion, anyway.”

“You went to Snape?” Harry was incredulous. “But, he—”

“Had only started giving you Occulmency lessons. I figured…I had no reason to suppose that he would be...well, he had to be around Nagini. It would be useful to everyone in the Order. He actually seemed… impressed almost by my research. Well, impressed is probably a bit strong, but he gave me the ingredients freely-even after I offered to pay him. Then, he let me set up the experiment in his private lab. I came by about once a week to work on it.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” Ron spoke with the air of a hurt dog.

“Right, because I knew how thrilled you’d be about my working with Professor Snape. I’m sure you would have loved that. Anyway,” Hermione waved away further interruptions, “the potion wasn’t ready until a few weeks before OWLs; I never did have a chance to test it out. I wasn’t about to volunteer to get bitten by Nagini just to see if the potion closed up the wound. But I thought that if the situation arose, we’d at least have a chance…and then tonight… He’d helped me prepare it. How could I not try and use it to save him?”

“Not to mention if it didn’t work, it’s not like we’d have lost anything,” Ron smirked.

“I hadn’t thought of that. That’s what I love about you, Ron, your sensitive and caring nature,” Hermione chuckled.

“Well, you saved the b*****d. Now he’ll have to be nice to you.” Harry patted Hermione’s arm. “You are brilliant.”

“No, Harry.” Hermione shook her head. “I don’t want him to know it was me. Promise me neither of you will tell anyone?”

With looks of astonishment, the boys reluctantly nodded their heads. Then, Ron ventured, “Why not?”

“Professor Snape doesn’t like to be in anyone’s debt. And think of the times he’s saved us. We really owed it to him. Not the other way around.”

“So what now?” Harry looked very uncomfortable and clearly wished to change the subject.

“I’m going to ‘rescue’ my parents from Australia,” Hermione smiled.

“Not tonight,” Harry said firmly. “Give it a night to let the news reach the rest of the wizarding world. The last thing we need is you captured by some Death Eaters in Australia who don’t know they lost.”

“Besides, you need some sleep,” Ron said protectively.

“Alright, alright. But first thing in the morning, I’m Apparating.” Hermione slung one arm around each boy, and they turned to leave the ward. She paused to erect protection wards around Professor Snape’s bed. Fat lot of good all her work would have done if someone murdered him in his sleep. Now only those wanting to help him would be able to touch him.

“Hermione, you think of everything.” Ron shook his head in amazement.

“Well, I try.” She couldn’t hide her pleasure from the compliment. They sauntered off to find the rest of the Weasleys.



-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Erm, I'm guessing that it ends on the 21st (today) but when does the fanfic contest end?

"Conquering Love"
By: JJ Rust (John J. Rust)
URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3666484/1/CONQUERING_LOVE

Even in the largest of crowds, you can feel so alone.

Harry Potter heard that from someone, somewhere. He couldn’t remember exactly the person or the time, not that it mattered. Despite the hundreds of witches and wizards walking to and fro around him, the people gathered at lavishly decorated booths playing games or buying all manner of souvenirs, the cheers from nearby Quidditch pitches, Harry felt completely alone.

He leaned against a pole, ignoring the rapidly appearing and disappearing large fingers directing each passerby to where he or she needed to go. He folded his arms and stared at the grass. Once again Harry wondered if coming here was the right thing.

He scowled. Just a year before such a thought wouldn’t have crept into his head. He’d jump at any chance to get away from his vile aunt and uncle and their bullying son.

Right now, he doubted it would matter. Either here or back on Privet Drive, the same thoughts would still smother his brain.

Sirius was dead.

He thought back to the joy he felt two years ago when he learned Sirius Black, falsely accused of mass murder, was actually his godfather. Finally he had a real connection to his parents, not some mental image in a mirror he saw his first year at Hogwarts. Finally he had someone in his life he could truly think of as family.

But Sirius suffered the same fate as his mother and father.

Harry looked up and noticed some of the people walking by stare at him. A few children even pointed. He prayed none of them came over to ask if he was indeed The Harry Potter. Or worse, ask him for an autograph.

He pushed himself off the pole and walked in no particular direction.

A wailing child made Harry snap his head to the left. A pudgy-faced boy who couldn’t be more than four cried louder than a Banshee, his hands over his left knee.

“Come now, Charles. Let’s have a look.” The boy’s father examined a bright red welt on his son’s knee.

“That’s not so bad. Here.” With a wave of his wand, the abrasion vanished. “There, you see. All’s well.”

Harry stopped when he saw the father’s face. The dark hair was a bit longer, and the glasses thicker. But the man did look a little like his own father.

Harry quickened his pace, almost bowling over a gaudily-dressed witch. Images bombarded his mind. The faces of his mother and father, of Sirius.

This was a bad idea.

He remembered the owl he received from Mr. Weasley, inviting him to the European Festival of Quidditch outside Glasgow. After everything that had happened over the past year, it seemed like a perfect respite. A chance, for a little while, to get their minds off all the darkness they’d recently faced, and all that lay ahead.

For Harry, it only served to remind him of all he lost.

He thought back to dinner last night in their huge tent, looking at the Weasleys, at Hermione and her Muggle parents. All sorts of emotions twisted inside him. Sorrow, anger, jealousy. It surprised him to feel such a way in this company. The Weasleys and Hermione were like family to him.

“Like” family, not are family.

Family was something Harry doubted he’d ever know.

“You must be proud of yourself, you raving lunatic!”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunched in response to the angry shrieking. He took a few steps back and peered around a green and yellow tent.

“You make me sick!”

Harry’s eyes lit up in recognition when he saw the girl with short dark hair and a face so red he thought it would explode.

“Is there some reason you’re so upset with me?”

The dreamy voice carried across the air and into Harry’s ears. The breath stuck in his throat as he stared at the other girl. Her dirty blond hair fell to her waist. Earrings in the shape of radishes dangled from her lobes. Then he saw the girl’s most recognizable features . . . the necklace of butterbeer caps and the protuberant eyes. She also had something tucked under her arm. The latest copy of The Quibbler no doubt.

“You want to know why I’m upset?” Pansy Parkinson screamed at Luna Lovegood. “You’re not only daft, you’re thick as a stone wall! You and those blood traitor friends of yours; Potter, Granger, those lower than dirt Weasleys. Because of you Draco’s father was arrested!”

The anger suddenly vanished from Pansy’s face. She let out a loud sob, then continued her rant. “You’ve know idea how upset he’s been. Lucius Malfoy is a great man. And you and you’re damn D.A. . . .” Pansy sobbed again. “Poor Draco.”

Harry snorted. Poor Draco. A smile crossed his lips as he imagined Draco Malfoy sitting on his bed bawling loud enough to give Moaning Myrtle a run for her money. He took another look at Pansy, tears staining her cheeks. He’d heard rumors that Draco and Pansy were together. Harry winced at the thought of those two snogging.

“I’m sure he’ll get over it.” Luna spoke as though she was having a pleasant conversation with the Slytherin girl. “I’ve managed well with just one parent.”

“Shut up!” The rage suddenly returned to Pansy’s face. “You’re father is a worm compared to Draco’s father! All those lies he spreads in that damn rag about Mister Malfoy, and praising that scum Harry Potter. Mark my words, one day your father will get what he deserves.”

Luna’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. Much of the light, dreamy quality of her voice vanished. “My father does not print lies. He told the truth about Harry Potter long before the Ministry of Magic ever admitted to it. And as far as whose father deserves what, your boyfriend’s father deserved what he got . . . a cell, after me and my friends defeated him at the Ministry.”

Pansy shook violently, teeth bared.

Harry’s smile grew wider. Good one, Luna.

A growl bubbled up from Pansy’s throat. Within seconds it turned into a blood-curdling shriek. She reached behind her back. Harry noticed a thin rod of wood sticking out of her pants. That sow was going for her wand!

Pansy’s arm snapped out in front of her. Luna reached for her wand, stuck behind her right ear, but dropped it.

“Stop it, Parkinson!” Harry darted forward, wand in hand.

Pansy’s head swung around. Her eyes blazed with hatred. “Potter,” she hissed his name.

“Hello, Harry.” Luna turned to him, acting like all was normal. “I didn’t know you’d be at the festival. How are you?”

“Fine.” Harry kept his wand aimed at Pansy Parkinson. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, I’m quite all right. I was trying to track down a Nargill that stole my socks when I ran into Pansy. Strange, one minute she’s mad, the next she’s crying. She might be under the influence of a Befuddling Fiddlarxus. They like to play with people’s emotions, you know.”

Harry tuned out Luna’s ramblings, concentrating instead the furious Slytherin girl. “Put the wand away, Parkinson.”

“Or what? Would the noble Harry Potter actually use a stunning spell on a girl?”

“For you, you’d be lucky if all I give you is a stunning spell.”

With the nastiest scowl he’d ever seen, Pansy relented and slipped the wand back in her pants.

“You just wait, Potter. Wait till we’re back at Hogwarts. I know Draco will have something in store for you. You won’t get away with what you did to his father. He’ll have his revenge. He’ll become a greater wizard than you ever will! One day, you’ll be licking his boots!”

Harry scoffed. “Yeah. Sure.”

Pansy’s face tightened and turned a brighter shade of red. Harry braced himself for another eruption.

“Pansy!” Another voice blurted, also female, but much older. “Pansy, what the devil’s going on? I could here you screaming from across the way.”

A slender woman with a tight face and jet black hair appeared from behind the tent. Her mouth froze before she could utter her next word. She stared in shock at Harry for several seconds. The shock soon gave way to rage.

“So, Harry Potter. Threatening my poor niece, are you?”

Harry glanced at his wand, then lowered it, but only halfway. “She was threatening my friend.”

“Friend?” The woman shot a nasty glare in Luna’s direction. She hacked out a humorless laugh. “This one, your friend? After being so friendly with the Weasleys I didn’t think you could lower yourself any further.”

“I don’t think we met. I’m Luna Lovegood.”

To Harry’s amazement, Luna stuck out her hand. He blinked and shook his head. No, such a thing shouldn’t surprise him. Luna had to be the most unique individual he ever met. A comment he overheard from Parvati Patil after a D.A. class summed it up best. “There’s the Wizarding World, there’s the Muggle World, and then there’s Loony Lovegood’s World.”

“I know who you are, you loony wench.”

“Stop calling her that!” Harry clenched his wand tighter.

“Don’t you dare shout at my Aunt Delia!”

Again Pansy quaked with anger. Delia put both hands on her niece’s shoulders. “Come, my dear. Forget about Potter.” She snorted. “The Chosen One, indeed. It’s madness to think someone who associates with the dregs of the Wizarding World could be given such a title.” She scowled at Luna. “You just wait, Potter. People like that will be your undoing.”

“She’s better than anyone you might associate with.”

The corners of Delia’s mouth twitched.

“Oh let’s just go.” Pansy turned and buried herself against her aunt’s cloak. “Every time I see Harry Potter it reminds me of what he did to poor Draco’s father. Oh, Draco.”

She sobbed uncontrollably. Harry rolled his eyes and muttered. “Hey, Parkinson. If you’d like I could send a box of tissues to your boyfriend. Maybe a whole crate if he’s as big a crier as you.”

Harry winced at the deafening cry Pansy unleashed. Even Luna covered her ears.

“Go ahead and make jokes, Potter.” Delia walked the wailing Pansy away from them. “One day you won’t have anything to joke about. One day you’ll be the one crying.”

Harry just snorted and shook his head. He didn’t put away his wand until Delia and Pansy were out of sight.

“That was certainly the most interesting thing that’s happened to me today.”

Harry turned to Luna, who stared at him with those big never-blinking eyes. A twinge of nervousness rippled through him. “It’s good to see you again, Luna.”

“You too, Harry. Thank you for coming by when you did. I don’t know anyone from Hogwarts who would have done that for me.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m sure anyone from the D.A. would have done the same.”

Luna canted her head. “I doubt it. A lot of them ignored me outside of our classes. Except Ginny. And Neville talked to me. And one time Lee Jordan held a door open for me.”

“Uh-huh.” Harry sucked on his lower lip, unsure what to say next.

“How have you been this summer?” asked Luna.

“Oh . . . um, fine. You know, as well as . . .”

Luna’s large eyes seemed to take hold of him. “I’m sure you’re still upset over your godfather’s death.”

A cold shadow fell over Harry’s soul. The image replayed in his mind of Sirius being struck by Bellatrix’s spell and falling into the veil.

“It’ll take time.” Luna’s dreamy voice pierced the memory of his godfather’s murder. “But you’ll heal . . . inside, I mean. And as I said before, you’ll see him again, just like one day I’ll see my mum again.”

Harry stood there silently, his eyes locked with Luna’s ever present orbs. He remembered having a similar conversation with her the night before the end of term. Just like then, for some reason he didn’t feel uncomfortable talking to her about Sirius’ death. He couldn’t figure out why. At first he chalked it up to Luna being with him during the battle with the Death Eaters at the Ministry. But Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville had also been there, and he rarely brought up how much he missed Sirius to them.

“I know you know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” The words seemed to leave Harry’s mouth before he could decide whether or not he really wanted to share them with Luna. “But at least you still have your Dad. I have no one. I didn’t even know my mum and dad before Voldemort killed them. The Dursleys don’t count. I’ve been treated better by Professor Snape than them. Sirius . . . maybe he wasn’t a blood relative, but he was my dad’s best friend. He was like a brother to him. It seemed . . . it felt like through Sirius there was this connection to my dad. Like every time I saw him, I saw part of my dad. But now he’s dead and . . .”

Moisture flooded Harry’s eyes. He turned away from Luna and looked up at the sky. He drew a deep, ragged breath, barely fighting off the urge to cry. “Why is it I lose everyone in my life I care about?”

“Not everyone. The Weasleys treat you like family. And even though Hermione is rude and rather close-minded, I know she cares about you. Maybe one day I can convince her that the dragons in China are plotting an invasion of the whole of Europe.”

Harry twitched, a laugh bursting from his mouth. He hugged himself, still laughing, and looked at Luna.

“It’s not very funny,” she said with all seriousness. “It’s downright scary when you think about it.”

“Um, yeah.” Harry coughed, trying to squelch his laughter. “I’m sure it is.” He found it hard to believe less than a minute ago he was ready to cry. Then here came Luna with one of her off-the-wall theories, and his depression, his sorrow, all seemed to wash away. How could she do that?

“Anyway, there are a lot of people who care about you. I should show you some of the fan mail Dad gets for you at The Quibbler.”

Luna gently grasped Harry’s arm. A bolt of lighting shot through his body, paralyzing him. With eyes probably as wide as Luna’s, he looked down at her thin fingers wrapped around his arm. Suddenly his body relaxed. “Thanks, Luna.”

She gave him a warm smile. “You’re welcome, Harry.”

Luna let go. Harry continued to stare at her for several seconds before taking a step away. Luna also stepped with him.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve been sort of wandering around all morning.”

“Mm, so have I.”

They continued walking together. Harry didn’t mind one bit. And they talked . . . a lot. About everything. Harry told her about Fred and George Weasley’s brand new joke shop in Diagon Alley, how he ran into his old Gryffindor Quidditch captain Oliver Wood, who was here giving instruction to young Quidditch players. Luna, naturally, went on about every weird conspiracy and imaginary creature in the Wizarding World. Then she brought up something that really piqued his interest.

“Father has it on good authority that next year you’re going to be named a prefect, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, and they’ll make you a teaching assistant for Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Well, um, it sounds like I’ll be busy.” Harry tried to sound convincing. He’d never heard of current Hogwarts students becoming teaching assistants. He seriously doubted he’d get a prefect’s badge. Quidditch captain? Maybe. The only other person who’d been on the team as long as him was Katie Bell. Well, he’d believe it when he saw it.

Before he knew it they had walked clear out of the festival area. He and Luna climbed a small grassy hill and decided to sit down. Luna slipped off her shoes while Harry eyed a patch of dark clouds on the horizon. A cool breeze washed over him.

“Looks like we’re going to get rain.”

Luna nodded. “It’s probably the Portsmouth Contrails. They like to create storms during their matches. They feel it gives them an advantage over their opponents.”

Harry forced himself not to laugh.

“You don’t believe the things I say, do you?”

“No, I mean . . .” Harry’s mouth moved silently for a moment. “I mean, it sounds . . . interesting. But . . .”

He sighed. What the hell? Luna had always been brutally honest. “No, Luna. I don’t believe it. Most of it, anyway.”

She just shrugged. “That’s okay. Most people find these things hard to believe. At least you’re kind to me. No one I’ve ever met at Hogwarts treats me the way you do.”

“I just don’t think people should make fun of you and nick your things.”

“That’s all right. It’s all just fun.”

“No it’s not.” Harry swiveled around to face Luna. “You don’t deserve any of that, especially after what you did at the Ministry. How many others at school would have the guts to take on a whole group of Death Eaters?”

A smile spread across Luna’s face. “I’ve never had a friend like you, Harry. We are friends, right?”

“Of course we are. Maybe more . . .”

Harry tightened his lips. What the hell was he thinking?

He took a good look at Luna. Once he got past the always wide eyes and the starry expression, she seemed . . . well, pretty.

His heart beat faster. Funny, he didn’t feel nervous, like he used to around Cho Chang. In truth he felt rather comfortable around Luna, despite all her mad theories. He never felt he had to put on airs around her the way he had with Cho. The usual pity he felt for her gave way to something else. He genuinely liked her. She was a decent person. She didn’t hide her true feelings, or walk around confused at how she really felt like Cho. And, besides Hermione and the Weasleys, she had been one of the few people who believed him about Voldemort’s return at the beginning of last school year.

“Do you like me, Harry?”

His heart slammed against his chest. “Yes I do, Luna. Very much.”

With hardly any hesitation, Harry leaned over and kissed Luna.

Later in the day, Harry bounded into the Weasleys’ tent, hand-in-hand with Luna.

“There you are, Harry. Just in time for . . .” Mr. Weasley stopped when he saw them. “Oh. Um, Luna. Nice to see you. What have . . .” Mr. Weasley scratched the back of his neck.

“Hello, everyone.” Luna waved her arm in a circle and surveyed the tent’s spacious interior with its living room, dining room and upstairs bedrooms.

Harry also looked around. Ron’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets. Hermione’s forehead crinkled. Fred and George slapped one another on the shoulder and smiled. Ginny’s jaw dropped open in surprise, then formed a huge smile. Mrs. Weasley clasped her hands together and sighed with delight. “Oh Luna, dear. Good to see you. Harry, you never told me . . . oh, how wonderful. Oh please join us for dinner, Luna dear. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Will you be serving pudding for dessert?”

Harry thoroughly enjoyed this evening’s dinner. The main topic of conversation, no surprise, revolved around how he and Luna wound up together. Harry related the tale to others, occasionally interspersed with comments from Luna that usually had nothing to do with their surprise meeting.

When he got to his retort about sending Draco Malfoy tissues, Fred and George whooped it up.

“Brilliant, Harry!” Fred slapped the table, nearly tipping over Hermione’s glass.

“You should send him some tissues,” said George. “Really. We have just the right kind.”

With an elaborate motion, Fred whipped out a packet of tissues from his trouser pocket. “Keep ‘em Crying Tissues. The more you rub your eyes with them, the more you cry.”

Harry laughed. Maybe George had a point. He should seriously think about sending them to Malfoy.

Dinner went on well into the night, though eating and drinking soon gave way to talking. Harry couldn’t remember the last time everyone here had been so happy. He couldn’t remember the last time he himself had been so happy. Every time he looked at Luna, or held her hand under the table, he knew that while the world may be filled with horrible things and people, there was at least one thing he knew to be good.

“You be home at a reasonable hour, young man,” Fred joked as Harry went to walk Luna back to her tent. A light mist fell as they navigated through the festival grounds. Despite it they took their time. Harry didn’t care how wet he might get. He didn’t want this night to end.

“Thank you for everything, Harry. Today was wonderful.”

“Best day ever. I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

They shared a long kiss before Luna went inside her tent. With a big smile, Harry turned and headed back to the Weasleys’ tent. He felt like his feet never touched the ground.

The next morning Luna came by the Weasleys’ tent for breakfast, after which she and Harry took off for one of the dozens of Quidditch pitches spread throughout the festival grounds. Portsmouth was taking on Madrid for a shot at the tournament semi-finals. Harry pointed out various aspects of the match, breaking down tactics, explaining how he would position the players. Luna, as usual, went on about things that had nothing to do with the match, except how Portsmouth seemed to fair better than Madrid playing in the light drizzle. To his astonishment, he had to admit Luna had a good point.

Around noon they headed to the food court to meet the Weasleys, Hermione and her parents for lunch. As they walked Luna held out the earrings Harry had bought for her, each one depicting a Quidditch player on his broom. At her request, the vendor transformed the player into the likeness of Harry in his Gryffindor robes.

“I can’t wait to put these on.” She beamed at him.

Harry smiled and gave Luna’s hand a gentle squeeze.

The smile faded when he noticed someone out the corner of his eye.

Pansy’s hag of an aunt, Delia, stood next to a vendor’s tent, arms crossed, shooting them both a death stare.

“Oh look.” Luna pointed. “It’s Pansy Parkinson’s aunt. Do you think she’s still upset with me?”

“Upset’s probably an understatement. Anyway, forget about her.”

Harry gazed at Delia as they passed her. He made sure to grin as wide as he could. Delia looked as though her head would explode.

The Weasleys and Hermione waved to him from their table.

“Have a nice time, did you?” George gave him a sly grin.

“Yes,” Luna replied. “The match was very enjoyable.”

Both Fred and George chuckled, with Fred saying. “The match. Right. I’m sure it was enjoyable.”

The twins laughed more.

“Will you two leave them be.” Mrs. Weasley’s face scrunched in anger.

Harry went up to the stand and ordered their food.

“. . . and two butterbeers, please.”

He paid for both their meals. Two separate trays floated beside them and landed softly on their table.

“So, what do you want to do this afternoon?” asked Harry.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we could -”

Dozens of screams filled the air. Every head at his table whipped around.

“Merlin’s beard!” Mr. Weasley shot out of his seat, pulling out his wand. His wife gasped, as did Ron.

From out of nowhere a huge black beetle appeared, the biggest one Harry had ever seen. It had to be three meters long at least. And the thing had four arms growing out its back, arms that ended in long curved swords.

One of the swords whipped through the air and sliced a nearby table in half.

People scattered and screamed. Everyone at his table jumped to their feet. Harry pulled Luna behind him. The Grangers grabbed Hermione and tried to run. She struggled with them every step of the way.

“Stop it! I can handle this!”

A blue light flew from Mr. Weasley’s wand. The beetle looked stunned for a second, then resumed its charge, chopping up any table and chair in its path.

Fred and George joined in. Blue flashes leaped off the beetle, slowing it but not stopping it.

“Oh, it’s a Scimitar Beetle.” Luna spoke without a hint of fear in her voice. “They’re set loose every night in the halls of the Ministry as guard animals. They can take a lot of punishment.”

Harry whipped around to her. “Get your wand out. Let’s try a levitation spell.”

Luna obeyed. They shouted the spell at the same time. The beetle lifted about five meters off the ground, its legs kicking furiously.

“Now what?” Luna asked.

“We do this!” Ginny raised her wand. The blue light took on the form of a giant hand, which wrapped around the beetle. Ginny grunted and snapped her wand down.

The Scimitar Beetle slammed into the ground. Ginny repeated the movement over and over again until the bug was practically crushed, yellowish ooze flowing from its broken body.

“Everyone all right?” Mr. Weasley checked around. When everyone nodded he looked back at the dead insect. “Where the hell did that thing come from?”

“Some Quidditch teams use them to intimidate players into doing better.” Luna pocketed her wand. “Maybe it escaped from one of them.”

Harry ignored the comment. Icy needles pierced the back of his neck. This bug suddenly appearing near him and his friends couldn’t be a coincidence.

He strode over to the remains of the Scimitar Beetle, his head swiveling back and forth. All around him people looked on with astonishment and fear.

All but one. Harry noticed her standing beside a nearby booth, arms folded, surveying the scene with an evil grin.

It was Delia.

His muscles tightened in anger. A harsh breath shot from his nostrils. Wand clenched tight, he charged toward her.

Delia, stilling smiling, turned and ran.
“Come back here!” Harry’s feet pounded on the dirt. He nearly knocked down a pair of elderly wizards and kept after Delia. The woman took a quick peek behind her before ducking around a tent. Harry followed.

“CONSTRICTUS!”

Tentacles shot out of the ground and wrapped around Harry’s legs. He pitched forward and slammed into the ground. The breath exploded from his lungs. His wand bounced from his grip. Harry drew a ragged breath and reached out for his wand.

More tentacles burst through the dirt and wrapped around his wrists.

Delia cackled with laughter. “And you actually went toe-to-toe with an entire group of Death Eaters at the Ministry. Did you drink a bottle of luck potion beforehand?”

Harry groaned and tried to break free of the tentacles. Their grip grew tighter.

Delia waved good-bye to him and turned to go. She took just a couple steps before stopping and turning around. “I must be stupid. Here I have the great Harry Potter, helpless. How can I walk away from this?”

She slowly walked toward him, stroking her wand. “Stupid careless boy. You were so determined to get me after I turned that Scimitar Beetle loose on those worthless scum you call friends. Now look what it’s gotten you. I told you they’d be your undoing.”

“Go to Hell,” Harry growled, struggling against the tentacles.

“Struggle all you want. You want be able to free yourself.” Delia knelt down and ran a hand through Harry’s thick black hair. He tried to jerk away.

“What shall I do with you? Have the tentacles crush your hands? Hard to play seeker without hands. Tormented memory curse. I can make you relive the worst moment of your life day and night. Of course, I suspect your doing that now. Thinking about your poor godfather Sirius.”

“Don’t dare speak his name.” Harry thrashed about, trying to break free of the tentacles.

Delia leaned closer. “Sirius . . . Sirius . . . Sirius.” She emitted a malicious laugh, still massaging her wand. “Oh, how else shall I torture you before I go? So many things I can do. And I can just imagine the look on my darling Pansy’s face when I tell her -”

She never noticed two stringy boys with red hair appear behind her. Both Fred and George slapped their hands over Delia’s face. She gave off a muffled shriek and clawed at the twins’ hands. Harry noticed something clutched in Fred and George’s hands. He could swear they were tissues.

The twins pulled their hands away. Delia dropped her wand and crumpled to the ground in a fetal position. She convulsed with high pitched sobs.

“You okay, Harry?” George severed the tentacles with a spell.

“Yeah, fine.” Harry let George help him to his feet. “What did you do to her?”

“Keep ‘em Crying tissues.” Fred proudly held up the rumpled wad of paper. “Who knew they could be such a handy weapon.” He looked down at the fiercely sobbing Delia. “She should be like that for a good hour.”

Harry rubbed his wrists. “She said she was responsible for the Scimitar Beetle. How could she get something that big in here?”

“Easy,” said George. “Scimitar Beetles are the size of a button.”

“But with the right spell . . .” Fred snapped his fingers. “They can grow to the size of a lion.”

“Well, thanks for showing up when you did.”

Fred gave him a dismissive wave. “When we saw you running after this hag, we figured you might need a hand.”

George stood over the wailing Delia. “Guess we should wait until some Aurors show up. Shouldn’t be too long, what with all the commotion this one caused.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Delia. A sense of satisfaction grew within him. He remembered the other day when she said he’d be the one crying. Now she sounded as bad as Pansy Parkinson.

“Harry!”

He wheeled around and saw Ginny tearing toward him. She skidded to a halt, out of breath, her face paler than normal.

“Ginny? What’s the matter?”

“It’s Luna. She . . . she’s just collapsed.”

Dread twisted Harry’s insides as he raced through the grounds for the medical tent. His heart pounded, his sweat chilled when it leaked onto his exposed skin.

What happened to her? Please be all right. Please be all right.

He burst into the medical tent, breathing hard. His eyes darted about the place until he finally saw Luna in a bed. The tension that had squeezed his muscles loosened when he saw her sitting up, rubbing her head.

“Luna!” Harry hurried over, nearly pushing the frumpy-looking matron out of the way. He threw his arms around Luna. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Harry? What are you doing here?”

“Ginny told me you collapsed.”

“Collapsed? Are you sure?” She stared around the tent. “What am I doing in an infirmary?”

Harry’s head whipped toward the matron. “What’s wrong with her? How come she doesn’t remember?”

“Harry.” Someone laid a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Mr. Weasley behind him. “I . . . we have to talk.”

He steered Harry away from Luna’s bed. She stared after him with a confused look until they exited the tent.

“Mister Weasley, what’s wrong with Luna?”

Mister Weasley took a hesitant breath, a fist pressed against his mouth. “Harry . . . after you’d gone off to chase Delia, Luna took a drink from her butterbeer. That’s when she collapsed. I gave the bottle to Madam Rorvin, the matron. She determined . . . she determined that someone had slipped a Terminus Amor potion into Luna’s bottle.”

“A what?”

“You’ve heard of love potions, of course. Well, this would be considered the anti-love potion. I couldn’t believe it when Madam Rorvin told me. The Terminus Amor has been banned for over two hundred years.”

Nausea overwhelmed Harry. “What . . . what does it do?”

Again, Mr. Weasley hesitated. “Whoever drinks it, the person they’re in love with at the time, the feelings they have for them, the memories they have of that time together . . . it all vanishes.”

Harry took shortened breaths. His legs suddenly turned to jelly. “There has to be something you can do. An antidote.”

Mr. Weasley shook his head. “I’m sorry, Harry. This is one of the few potions that has no antidote. That’s one of the reasons it was banned.”

Harry rubbed his forehead. This couldn’t be happening. The last twenty-four hours had been some of the happiest of his life. It couldn’t end for him and Luna. Not like this.

“Then we’ll just start over again. After a while she’ll start to feel the same way for me again. I know it.”

“Harry, I wish . . .” Mr. Weasley sighed. “When you drink the Terminus Amor, you’ll never be able to fall in love with the person you were with again.”

Harry stumbled back. For a moment he thought he would be sick. “No. No! There has to be something we can do.”

He threw back the tent flap and looked inside. Luna sat on the edge of her bed. She spotted Harry and waved. He studied her face, looking past her ever-present starry expression. The light in her face, the beaming smile she had whenever they were together. He saw none of it. There was nothing special in the way she looked at him.

Harry’s insides collapsed. With tears welling up in his eyes, he ran out of the tent.

Harry had no idea how long or how far he’d run. When he finally stopped, he looked around and discovered that, of all places, he was on the hill where he and Luna shared their first kissed. He plopped down on the ground, resting his head on his knees. Tears slid down his cheeks. All the memories, all the feelings of the last day played out in his mind. More than anything he wished Luna was here.

That, however, would never happen.

“Harry?”

He looked up, wiping his cheeks. Mr. Weasley walked up and sat beside him. “I spoke with the Aurors who arrested Delia. She admitted to slipping the Terminus Amor into Luna’s drink. Said she used the Scimitar Beetle as a distraction.”

“Why? Why should she care who I’m together with?”

“Apparently she was trying to curry favor with You-Know-Who.”

Rage surged through Harry. Voldemort. Of course. Every ounce of misery he’d ever experienced in his life seemed to flow from the Dark Lord.

“From what Delia said, she began work on the Terminus Amor when her niece told her about your feelings for Cho Chang last year. When things went sour for you and Cho she shelved the potion, hoping one day you’d fall for another girl.”

“And how would that gain her favor with Voldemort?”

Mr. Weasley winced at the name, then continued. “It’s just another way to try and break you, Harry. You already have your parents’ murder and Sirius’ death to deal with. Now someone else you care about has been taken away from you. Only you’ll still be able to see her every day, and when you do, she’ll be a constant reminder of what you had, and what you lost. You still love Luna, but you’ll know that no matter what, she’ll never be able to return those feelings for you.”

Harry clenched a fist and thumped his knee. “Then maybe I should just stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop caring about people. Maybe I should just go at it alone.”

“Harry, you don’t mean that.”

“What if I do? Look at my life. Look at how the people I care about most end up. Mum and Dad, Sirius, now Luna. Who’s it going to be next? Ron, Hermione, Ginny, you and Mrs. Weasley? It just hurts too much!”

“I know it does, Harry.” Mr. Weasley put a hand on his shoulder. “But you can’t just stop caring about people. If you do that, then You-Know-Who wins.”

Harry stared silently at Mr. Weasley as he continued. “Love is perhaps one of the riskiest things in the world. It can bring joy into your life that you can’t even measure. And yes, when love is lost, it can crush your very soul. I love my family more than anything, and Harry I do consider you part of this family. If anything happened to any of you, I don’t know how I’d go on. In these dark times, the risk of that happening is great. But despite it, I think of the joy I feel being with Molly, seeing all my children grow and mature, be successful, turn into good, upstanding people, think how they are the future of the Wizarding World, and I know whatever risk we face is worth it.”

Mr. Weasley took a breath and went on. “Love is the key to winning this new war against You-Know-Who. Love for our family and our friends is what will get us through the darkest of times. Remember, it was love, your mother’s love for you, that defeated him the first time around. For that reason, we must never stop loving. If we do, if we turn our backs on those we love, if we stop caring because we don’t want to risk pain, then this war will be lost.”

Harry looked away from Mr. Weasley. He intertwined his fingers and stared at the distant hills. He wondered how long the pain of losing Luna’s love would last. Would it ever go away?

Maybe it shouldn’t go away. Mr. Weasley had a point about using love to fight Voldemort. Harry knew that day was coming, a final confrontation between him and the Dark Lord. When things looked grim, when it seemed Voldemort would ultimately triumph, he could remember his short wonderful time with Luna, the joy that filled his heart whenever they were together, and realize happy moments like that were worth fighting for.

At the other extreme, he could use those same memories to realize what Voldemort and his followers had stolen from him. Use it as motivation to finally defeat him.

Then Delia and all her ilk would understand what it was like to lose someone important to them.

- THE END -

OK - Great entries!!!!
Contest is now officially closed.
We have two outside judges: 1 point each
Now we open for Haven to judge; your favorite gets 2 points.
Top score determines the winnah!!!

Good luck to everyone!