Everybody’s waiting,
Everybody’s watching

The hour is up. Everyone waits anxiously, most mourning, and I look around the hall from where I sit with Neville. You’re there with your family; I can see the red hair shining like a beacon. Everyone is staring down at the body, and everyone is crying. Except for you. You’re stone-faced; I can tell because of how much taller you are than the rest of them.

Neville’s babbling something in my ear; I think the nargles have finally gotten to him. Just then, an eerie silence falls in the room. Everyone’s faces change, from an expression of grief to pure worry. Did our hero survive?

Harry Potter is dead!*

Everyone looks at you as they hear those four words. Everyone wants to see how you react, what they should do. He was your best friend. Your eyes are so dark; I can see your pain. I can feel it from over here. You close your eyes, and I see a tear stream down your dirty face.

Yesterday we were just children,
Playing soldiers just pretending,
Dreaming dreams with happy endings

It was the summer everything was changing when I last saw you cry. Voldemort was back; even Cornelius Fudge admitted it. I was surprised he did; I thought he was going to be as stubborn on this evident truth as he was with the fact he had an army of Heliopaths.

You would see me walking as I went to the village every Tuesday and Thursday, always racing around on that broom of yours. You were quite rude, always staring at me as if I were a creature in a zoo.

I remember the wildflowers. I would always stop and pluck one, sticking it behind my ear. Daddy never went into the village, so it was up to me to get what we needed. It was only a few miles, and I had charmed my bag during school so it could hold much more things without weighing more.

I was quite lonely, ever since my mum died, and I always wished you would stop and talk to me. You knew me; I thought you were one of my friends. Ginny usually stopped to talk if she was outside, but she usually wasn’t.

But then one day, you did. I had been humming my favorite song, a Christmas song, excited because Daddy and I were going to go hunt for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks for three weeks in Sweden. We weren’t leaving until August, though, and we would return the week before school.

You had asked why I was humming, and I explained. You gave this odd look, as if I was acting weird. Then he asked why I loved the wildflowers so much. So I told him; they were pretty, and they weren’t as tamed or business-like as, say, roses. They were free. Something I told him we would all need if Voldemort got stronger.

The look you gave me when I said that, as if you had never seen me before, it shook me. Your eyes were illuminated, and I saw you smile. Then you told me there was more to me than it seemed, before you walked away. I didn’t understand, so I just kept walking, humming merrily as I wandered into town.

So here you are, two steps ahead and staying on guard
Every lesson forms a new scar

Every time after that, you would always stop and talk to me. You were quite funny, but I could still tell when you were making fun of me. I ignored it, though, because I enjoyed our conversations. I explained about the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, and you would try to convince me to try to ride a broom. I had never been fond of them; I preferred Thestrals.

You were always on guard, always watching what you were saying. But each time, before I left, you would choose which wildflower I would wear. You would pick it, too, and hand it to me as if it was as precious as a wand.

I wonder what you were playing at; it had always been Hermione. I saw you pining for her; it was blatantly obvious to anyone who looked close enough. Sadly, almost no one does look close enough to see anything.

Then, one day, the day before Daddy and I left, I was talking to you about how beautiful the stars were last night. How I could see all the constellations, something I would miss in the forests where we would be looking for the Snorkacks. I named all of my favorites, and you looked confused.

I told you that, if you wanted, I would show you tonight. You looked genuinely mystified, and it was my last chance to gaze at the stars for the summer. The meadow by the Burrow was the best place for stargazing, too.

So we made plans. When I met you in the meadow, just as the last traces of light were fading from the sky, you and I just sat and talked. You asked me more about Voldemort, and I told you what I thought. You laughed to yourself sometimes, probably when you thought I was being weird. I asked you what you thought, and you talked about Harry. I knew there was something that made Harry the chosen one, something probably only he, Hermione, and you knew, but I decided not to tell you.

When the sky was dark enough, and all the stars were out, I pointed out the constellations to you. I loved Astronomy and knew the origins behind each one. Which is why I loved reading The Prophet’s Astrology section; the lady who wrote it was quite amusing. She really had no idea what she was saying.

Anyway, you were quite bad at seeing constellations, but you tried. And you laughed when I frowned, trying to see whatever it was that you were. Eventually, I gave up and stood to go home.

“Are you sure that isn’t Cassio-what’s it?� you asked, pointing to Orion.

“I’m positive. Cassiopeia is on right there, and that’s Orion,� I explained, and you laughed.
“I give up. So how are you going to hunt for Snorkacks tomorrow?� he asked, and I beamed.

“There’s been reports that they’re in Sweden. We know they live in forested areas, so I assume we’ll be in the forests. Daddy’s really excited,� I replied, trying to think it over. We didn’t really have a plan, per say, but that was normal. It made it more adventurous.

“It’ll be a welcome break after the Ministry, eh?� you asked, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“I assume so. It’ll be a welcome break before what will happen this year,� I told you, and you grinned.

“You never think the same way as anyone else, do you?� you asked bemusedly. I wasn’t sure if you were being mean or not. I never was. But there was something about that grin that made my heart speed up a bit. “I mean, it’s always different. But it somehow makes sense. Something before whatever comes. He’s back; everything’s going to change,� you amended. I smiled.

“It is. But some great things come from change,� I reminded him. “We could fix things. Merlin knows the Ministry needs it. I think Scrimgeour has a very serious nargles infection.�

“Ever the Ravenclaw,� you had replied, chuckling. “But I don’t think this is going to be the type of change you want, Luna.�

“You think things will get darker?� I had asked. You nodded. “I know that. But after the darkness everything seems lighter. And we have something Voldemort doesn’t. A cause; friends to fight for. That will get us through the darkness and into the light.� You just nodded, smiling, and I knew you understood. Suddenly, your hands came out of your pockets, and a mass of wildflowers flew at me. My heart skipped a beat as you pulled one out of my hair before placing it behind my ear. I didn’t understand; it was a simple gesture. You’d done it before.

Then you leaned in, and our lips met. It was sweet, the air full of the scent of wildflowers, but somehow I knew it was wrong. You still fancied her; I knew it. Which is why I didn’t know why you were kissing me. I had never been kissed before, but it felt so good. I could feel the summer heat radiating off of you as you intertwined your fingers in my hair, as my heart pounded in my ears. Did I fancy you then? I never really noticed until now.

And though it was nothing like I experienced before, so invigorating, it was wrong. You didn’t really fancy me; I knew that. Maybe a part of you did, but it was just because you missed Hermione. But that kiss … it was what I imagined stars felt like. Burning bright, but floating high above anyone who wanted to pull them down. Until you pulled away, swearing under your breath. You apologized, before running off.

And I’d walked home. The walk had never seen so long, and I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting to see you. I should have known; I knew you fancied her. I guess I just hoped you hadn’t. You were almost the exact opposite of me, and I guess that was what I liked. You grounded my ideas.

The next day, Daddy and I had left. I felt the scar of that lesson.

---

When I got back from Sweden, you were still flying around, though Harry and Hermione were there now. You didn’t see me until the last day of summer holidays. I had been wandering into the village to pick up what I normally did: a list of things to send Daddy on a weekly basis, so he would have what he needed when I was gone.

It was just you outside, and you met me in the road, holding a wildflower like you always did. You’d held my hand, and gave it to me. We didn’t say a word, but we both knew that whatever had happened was long gone. You loved someone else, and my heart didn’t leap like it once did. The kiss would mean nothing; it wasn’t right. So we just stood there, and eventually I mumbled a thank you for the flower and started the walk home. I swear I saw a tear in your eye. I cast a spell on that flower, knowing the Ministry wouldn’t know, and set it by my bedside table. Then, I looked to the ceiling, realizing for the first time how blank it was. That couldn’t do. So I found my paintbrush.

I knew exactly what I wanted to paint. My friends. I drew them all; Ginny, Neville, Harry, and Hermione. And you. Because no matter what, you would still be my friend. And that was what I’d told you about Voldemort, just like I’d told Harry: if we had friends, Voldemort wouldn’t stand a chance. We needed people to fight for. And they were the people I would fight for.

Everyone’s waiting for you to break down.

Now, I see you as you close your eyes, trying to block everything out. But everyone looks at you and I see another tear leave a clean trail on your dirty face. But you just walk away, Hermione right next to you, holding your hand. I know you two were right for each other; it was in your eyes. Suddenly, I see your expression change. You don’t believe it; you don’t believe he’s dead.

And I follow, Neville next to me. He doesn’t believe it either. I do; it was Harry. He was always the hero. It was still sad, though. Harry was just so … brave. He’d saved my life in that cellar.

When we see Harry’s body, I notice that there’s a slight rise and fall to his chest. No one else does; they’re all crying and screaming. Why don’t they just look? It’s clearly obvious. How can they not notice these things?

It’s as if their eyes are closed. Yours, too.

Keep your eyes open.

Just look; he’s alive! It isn’t over! Come on, you must see it! Look; just look!

And in that moment, I realize what our problem was. You never saw what I was talking about. Even the constellations, you couldn’t see them. It was as if your eyes were shut.

But that’s long gone, and you need to see that he’s still alive. Your anger and last-ditch attempts are futile; Harry will end it. Just look at me; I’m practically screaming at you with my eyes. I can’t say anything, or Voldemort will know. Look at me.

You don’t. You just close your eyes again as Neville moves from beside me. No. Neville, you can’t do this. Ron, look at me. Look at me.

Keep your eyes open, Ron. You can do it.

Then, finally, you look at me. You see my plea, and then it dawns on you. You yell to try to stop it, but it’s no use. At least you finally saw. You smile at me before whispering to Hermione. She gasps. And then Harry disappears, and you know it’s not over.

It’s not over.

*Taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows