for sahiya
Authors: significantowl, hiddenhibiscus, & _lore
Artists: gojira65 (Under the Trees), karasu_hime (In the Meadow)
Pairing: Harry/Luna
Rating: PG
Note: Happy, um, February, sahiya! We very much hope that you enjoy the words and pictures we have for you!
Something for you to read:
1. ice
Harry blinked.
Shivered.
Blinked again.
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, that was the last place he'd been, at a Midnight Madness re-opening party that was big and loud and truly, truly mad. Over by the Reusable Hangmen, talking to Luna, who had pulled something out of a gigantic muff and handed it to him, and he'd taken it, even though he was supposed to have much, much better instincts than that....
"Er, Luna," he said, "what were we talking about, again?"
"The Sunset Firglid," Luna said. "You'd never seen one."
"Ah. And now we're in Antarctica?"
"No, silly. We couldn't possibly have Portkey'd to Antarctica that quickly!" Luna slipped the bit of sponge out of his fingers and back into her muff. "We're in Greenland, of course."
Quickly was a matter up for debate; it had certainly taken long enough for Harry to feel like his insides had spun completely out. Greenland, of course. Harry would have sighed, but what was left of him had drawn up tight and cold and he didn't have the breath for that sort of thing. He slid his wand out of his pocket with stiffening fingers and set to modifying his clothes into something more appropriate.
Luna's muff, boots, and Eskimo girl dress were making more and more sense by the minute.
"I don't think we have time to dawdle, Harry," Luna said, tucking herself into a massive furry hood. "It'll be dark soon."
Harry threw up the hood on the parka he'd managed, and followed where Luna led.
They didn't speak as they crunched across the snow. It was a shock to the system, this silent, stark place, and not just because of the cold. It was quiet and openness after the talk and noise and crowd of the shop, and of the day before he'd got to the party, and of the day before that, and the day before that. Victory was not a particularly peaceful thing, he was learning that.
Luna started humming after a while. Not a tune Harry recognized, but that was certainly not a surprise. Whatever it was, it somehow fit the rhythm of their steps and the size of the sky all at once. Behind them, the sun was setting; in front of them were shadowed blues and greys, water and sky and ice. They were walking toward what Harry would've called a fjord if Luna had said Norway, blue-black water scattered with blocks and towers of ice, edged and bordered by mountains capped with blue-white snow. It was beautiful. Everything was beautiful.
Seeing a place like this with Luna was, Harry thought, everything that was good about seeing it alone, plus the best of seeing it with someone. Room for every private thought, no walls, no doors... but a floor, a grounding. And, too, a mirror.
They stopped walking when the snow beneath them turned to ice, well before they got to the water, and stood close together against the wind. Harry looked at the lake, and the icebergs, and then he saw it. He sucked in a breath, and a heartbeat later, Luna did the same.
The Firglid was a dragon, a freezing blue gleaming against the sky. If it had skin, if it had blood, if it breathed, Harry couldn't tell; it might simply be ice, through and through, slipping through the fjord, through the space between day and night.
"Oh," Harry said softly.
"Yes," said Luna, "yes, I agree. You can read about it next month, but isn't it wonderful to see it now?"
It was.
Its ridges and spikes were crystal-clear, fragile and unreal and glittering, and for an instant Harry found himself wishing that Hagrid were here to see this, and then, a second later, found himself glad that he wasn't. They'd be swimming across the lake by now, Hagrid after the dragon, Harry and Luna after him.
Harry remembered Luna's words now, the way her hair had fallen in her face as she spoke, the hugeness of her eyes. The Firglid kept things safe, the things that lived in the sea and the things that needed the sea; all alone it kept them safe against the spirits of the dark.
When it was gone, silently into the sunset, Harry looked down at Luna, and she was looking - staring - up at him. He didn't flinch or blink, didn't look away, because there was no reason to. If she looked at him, she wanted to; and if he wanted, he was free to do the same. It was easy to see Luna.
And what Harry saw was that he had given her something, and he knew that she had given him something.
"I'm ready to go back," he told her.
"Yes," she said, "yes, I think that you are."
He slid an arm through hers as they went back. He knew that she liked that, because she said so.
2. water
*CRACK* Still holding the parchment that led him there, Harry tried to focus through the bright sunshine, and saw Hermione looking sheepish.
“Please, Harry. I’m so sorry to have disturbed you, there’s-well,” she waved her arms in the air around her as if to show him some impossible situation that he should be able to see. Then she laughed and gave Harry an exasperated look. “Oh you know, I’m just no good at this sort of thing with Luna….”
“Ah….” Harry paused, trying to simultaneously think of what possible thing Hermione might not be good at, while wondering what Luna might require of him here at the Scarborough Harbour. He smiled, “Sure, Hermione. It’s no problem.”
“Thank you, Harry!” Hermione rushed him, smothered him in hair and then Apparated away.
The sunshine was warm on his back and he unzipped his sweater, sticking the note in his back pocket. Obliviators were already on the scene and he could see Luna speaking to someone who seemed extremely irritated. Harry picked up his pace and gently took Luna’s elbow, leading her away from the angry wizard.
“Obliviation was unnecessary here. Poor Muggles…” she turned and faced him, shielding her eyes from the sunshine. “Hello Harry. Did Hermione send for you?”
She looked around a moment and it was Harry’s turn to look sheepish. “Er, yeah. She got called back to the Burrow.”
Luna smiled brightly, “That’s okay, I’m glad it’s you.” The intensity of her smile matched that of the sun. He suddenly felt very warm and let go of her arm to remove his sweater.
“Luna, what are we doing here?”
She started walking, and he followed, the sun warming their backs. “Oh, you know they don’t really exist, the shrakes, that is. I don’t know why they bother sending Obliviators out when there is no such thing.”
Harry put a finger in his ear and wiggled it around hoping to clear it. “Hold on,” he stuck one in the other ear just to make sure. “So you’re saying you don’t believe in…shrakes?” Harry searched his brain for any memory of a shrake in Professor Lupin’s aquariums but came up empty. However, he did remember studying them in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He ran his hand through his hair, “Huh.”
“The fisherman caught spiny dogfish, you see; squalus acanthias. It’s a type of small shark, not at all like what a shrake is supposedly like. Muggles think the dogfish are near extinction, because they’re supposed to be swimming over near America.” She turned and looked distantly towards the water. “I think they prefer it over here. Come look.” She took his hand and it felt small and cool and fragile. He held it carefully, not wanting to let go for some reason.
Luna led him to the rocky beach just north of the marina and they climbed down towards the waters edge, still holding onto each other for balance. She took several steps into the water and pulled an odd-looking patchwork pillow from her bag. Squatting down over the pillow she pulled out her wand and said, “Accio squalus acanthias!” before Harry could even think spiny…shark…no!
With a swoosh and a splash, a spined fish appeared against her pillow as if attracted magnetically, it’s spines piercing the old cloth. Luna smiled at Harry and then looked down at it. “An interesting visitor to our waters…but not magical.” She shook the pillow gently, coaxing the fish away.
It occurred to Harry that Luna proved very little by calling the fish. Spiny dogfish could’ve been present at the same time as shrake, but he decided not to say anything to Luna. For some reason, he really didn’t want Luna to be proven wrong today.
Harry looked back up toward the marina. “I think the Obliviators have left. I suppose they only saw what they wanted to see.”
Luna stood, wrung out her pillow and shoved it dripping into her bag. “No. I’m not very good at convincing people of things.” Hermione’s face flashed in Harry’s mind. “But,” she looked up at him. “I’m glad you believe me.” She held her hand out to Harry and he took it, following her back up the rocks.
Halfway up, Luna looked back at Harry. Her hair shone from the sunlight and her eyes were bright. “Things wouldn’t be very interesting if we only found what we were looking for.”
3. air
It was stupid, really, getting pecked by a Needle-Nosed Grapnel like that. But once Luna mentioned how beautiful its feathers were, Harry had felt compelled to find her one. She had stood by him through every difficulty and hadn't let an over-zealous, adoring public keep her away when others had decided to give him "space" to save their own privacy. In her own spaced-out way, Luna was as true a friend to him as Ron and Hermione, and a colourful feather seemed the least he could do.
How was he supposed to know the particular feather he thought was laying on the ground under that bush was still attached to a Grapnel?
Now his hand was nearly pierced through and he was still bleeding, blood smeared on his denims like it used to be during the worst days. Guilt gnawed at him, the sound of the Grapnel's pained squawk when, in a fit of pique, he'd summoned its tail-feathers still sounding in his ears. Apparating without thinking, he had landed in Luna's garden on his knees, hand throbbing from being squeezed through the nothingness.
Head reeling, he blinked rapidly when the blinding sunlight was replaced by a shadow. Harry looked up and it was Luna, golden hair become pure white, back-lit by the sun. He held the feathers up to her, the ends smudged red, and she knocked them away to fall at his feet. Spells flowed over him faster than he could track, but the magic was warm and soothing, and soon he felt clean, his wounds closed, his nose filled with the spice of the ginger-root earrings she wore that day.
"Grapnels pierce for a reason, Harry. They can become a part of you."
She went on to describe the symbiotic relationship the birds created with the creatures that preyed on them but he wasn't listening, he was thinking. Hard. About someone becoming a part of him, without him even realising it.
Harry stood, pulling Luna up with him, and even though she continued talking, he bent and pressed his lips to hers, catching her open mouth with his. There was instant fullness and the touch of a wet tongue, and Harry gathered her close. The small of her back was made for the palm of his hand, so warm and smooth, he couldn't help letting it slip away only so he could return to cup that perfect curve again and again.
They became passionate in moments, the usual awkwardness replaced by years of living in someone else's rhythm. Luna's softness clashed with Harry's spare frame and their arms kept moving, re-gripping one another and holding each other tighter as if they couldn't believe what they held was real. Then Luna gasped sharply and Harry tried to pull back, worried he'd hurt her. She wouldn't let him, but the kissing gentled until there was room for thought again, and Harry touched his forehead to hers, not embarrassed at all for them to be breathing so heavily in each other's faces.
It was stupid, really, needing to get bit by a bird to make a discovery like this: that the part of himself that he'd always thought missing had been attached to him all along.
And for you to see:
under the trees
in the meadow
Artists: gojira65 (Under the Trees), karasu_hime (In the Meadow)
Pairing: Harry/Luna
Rating: PG
Note: Happy, um, February, sahiya! We very much hope that you enjoy the words and pictures we have for you!
Something for you to read:
1. ice
Harry blinked.
Shivered.
Blinked again.
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, that was the last place he'd been, at a Midnight Madness re-opening party that was big and loud and truly, truly mad. Over by the Reusable Hangmen, talking to Luna, who had pulled something out of a gigantic muff and handed it to him, and he'd taken it, even though he was supposed to have much, much better instincts than that....
"Er, Luna," he said, "what were we talking about, again?"
"The Sunset Firglid," Luna said. "You'd never seen one."
"Ah. And now we're in Antarctica?"
"No, silly. We couldn't possibly have Portkey'd to Antarctica that quickly!" Luna slipped the bit of sponge out of his fingers and back into her muff. "We're in Greenland, of course."
Quickly was a matter up for debate; it had certainly taken long enough for Harry to feel like his insides had spun completely out. Greenland, of course. Harry would have sighed, but what was left of him had drawn up tight and cold and he didn't have the breath for that sort of thing. He slid his wand out of his pocket with stiffening fingers and set to modifying his clothes into something more appropriate.
Luna's muff, boots, and Eskimo girl dress were making more and more sense by the minute.
"I don't think we have time to dawdle, Harry," Luna said, tucking herself into a massive furry hood. "It'll be dark soon."
Harry threw up the hood on the parka he'd managed, and followed where Luna led.
They didn't speak as they crunched across the snow. It was a shock to the system, this silent, stark place, and not just because of the cold. It was quiet and openness after the talk and noise and crowd of the shop, and of the day before he'd got to the party, and of the day before that, and the day before that. Victory was not a particularly peaceful thing, he was learning that.
Luna started humming after a while. Not a tune Harry recognized, but that was certainly not a surprise. Whatever it was, it somehow fit the rhythm of their steps and the size of the sky all at once. Behind them, the sun was setting; in front of them were shadowed blues and greys, water and sky and ice. They were walking toward what Harry would've called a fjord if Luna had said Norway, blue-black water scattered with blocks and towers of ice, edged and bordered by mountains capped with blue-white snow. It was beautiful. Everything was beautiful.
Seeing a place like this with Luna was, Harry thought, everything that was good about seeing it alone, plus the best of seeing it with someone. Room for every private thought, no walls, no doors... but a floor, a grounding. And, too, a mirror.
They stopped walking when the snow beneath them turned to ice, well before they got to the water, and stood close together against the wind. Harry looked at the lake, and the icebergs, and then he saw it. He sucked in a breath, and a heartbeat later, Luna did the same.
The Firglid was a dragon, a freezing blue gleaming against the sky. If it had skin, if it had blood, if it breathed, Harry couldn't tell; it might simply be ice, through and through, slipping through the fjord, through the space between day and night.
"Oh," Harry said softly.
"Yes," said Luna, "yes, I agree. You can read about it next month, but isn't it wonderful to see it now?"
It was.
Its ridges and spikes were crystal-clear, fragile and unreal and glittering, and for an instant Harry found himself wishing that Hagrid were here to see this, and then, a second later, found himself glad that he wasn't. They'd be swimming across the lake by now, Hagrid after the dragon, Harry and Luna after him.
Harry remembered Luna's words now, the way her hair had fallen in her face as she spoke, the hugeness of her eyes. The Firglid kept things safe, the things that lived in the sea and the things that needed the sea; all alone it kept them safe against the spirits of the dark.
When it was gone, silently into the sunset, Harry looked down at Luna, and she was looking - staring - up at him. He didn't flinch or blink, didn't look away, because there was no reason to. If she looked at him, she wanted to; and if he wanted, he was free to do the same. It was easy to see Luna.
And what Harry saw was that he had given her something, and he knew that she had given him something.
"I'm ready to go back," he told her.
"Yes," she said, "yes, I think that you are."
He slid an arm through hers as they went back. He knew that she liked that, because she said so.
2. water
*CRACK* Still holding the parchment that led him there, Harry tried to focus through the bright sunshine, and saw Hermione looking sheepish.
“Please, Harry. I’m so sorry to have disturbed you, there’s-well,” she waved her arms in the air around her as if to show him some impossible situation that he should be able to see. Then she laughed and gave Harry an exasperated look. “Oh you know, I’m just no good at this sort of thing with Luna….”
“Ah….” Harry paused, trying to simultaneously think of what possible thing Hermione might not be good at, while wondering what Luna might require of him here at the Scarborough Harbour. He smiled, “Sure, Hermione. It’s no problem.”
“Thank you, Harry!” Hermione rushed him, smothered him in hair and then Apparated away.
The sunshine was warm on his back and he unzipped his sweater, sticking the note in his back pocket. Obliviators were already on the scene and he could see Luna speaking to someone who seemed extremely irritated. Harry picked up his pace and gently took Luna’s elbow, leading her away from the angry wizard.
“Obliviation was unnecessary here. Poor Muggles…” she turned and faced him, shielding her eyes from the sunshine. “Hello Harry. Did Hermione send for you?”
She looked around a moment and it was Harry’s turn to look sheepish. “Er, yeah. She got called back to the Burrow.”
Luna smiled brightly, “That’s okay, I’m glad it’s you.” The intensity of her smile matched that of the sun. He suddenly felt very warm and let go of her arm to remove his sweater.
“Luna, what are we doing here?”
She started walking, and he followed, the sun warming their backs. “Oh, you know they don’t really exist, the shrakes, that is. I don’t know why they bother sending Obliviators out when there is no such thing.”
Harry put a finger in his ear and wiggled it around hoping to clear it. “Hold on,” he stuck one in the other ear just to make sure. “So you’re saying you don’t believe in…shrakes?” Harry searched his brain for any memory of a shrake in Professor Lupin’s aquariums but came up empty. However, he did remember studying them in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He ran his hand through his hair, “Huh.”
“The fisherman caught spiny dogfish, you see; squalus acanthias. It’s a type of small shark, not at all like what a shrake is supposedly like. Muggles think the dogfish are near extinction, because they’re supposed to be swimming over near America.” She turned and looked distantly towards the water. “I think they prefer it over here. Come look.” She took his hand and it felt small and cool and fragile. He held it carefully, not wanting to let go for some reason.
Luna led him to the rocky beach just north of the marina and they climbed down towards the waters edge, still holding onto each other for balance. She took several steps into the water and pulled an odd-looking patchwork pillow from her bag. Squatting down over the pillow she pulled out her wand and said, “Accio squalus acanthias!” before Harry could even think spiny…shark…no!
With a swoosh and a splash, a spined fish appeared against her pillow as if attracted magnetically, it’s spines piercing the old cloth. Luna smiled at Harry and then looked down at it. “An interesting visitor to our waters…but not magical.” She shook the pillow gently, coaxing the fish away.
It occurred to Harry that Luna proved very little by calling the fish. Spiny dogfish could’ve been present at the same time as shrake, but he decided not to say anything to Luna. For some reason, he really didn’t want Luna to be proven wrong today.
Harry looked back up toward the marina. “I think the Obliviators have left. I suppose they only saw what they wanted to see.”
Luna stood, wrung out her pillow and shoved it dripping into her bag. “No. I’m not very good at convincing people of things.” Hermione’s face flashed in Harry’s mind. “But,” she looked up at him. “I’m glad you believe me.” She held her hand out to Harry and he took it, following her back up the rocks.
Halfway up, Luna looked back at Harry. Her hair shone from the sunlight and her eyes were bright. “Things wouldn’t be very interesting if we only found what we were looking for.”
3. air
It was stupid, really, getting pecked by a Needle-Nosed Grapnel like that. But once Luna mentioned how beautiful its feathers were, Harry had felt compelled to find her one. She had stood by him through every difficulty and hadn't let an over-zealous, adoring public keep her away when others had decided to give him "space" to save their own privacy. In her own spaced-out way, Luna was as true a friend to him as Ron and Hermione, and a colourful feather seemed the least he could do.
How was he supposed to know the particular feather he thought was laying on the ground under that bush was still attached to a Grapnel?
Now his hand was nearly pierced through and he was still bleeding, blood smeared on his denims like it used to be during the worst days. Guilt gnawed at him, the sound of the Grapnel's pained squawk when, in a fit of pique, he'd summoned its tail-feathers still sounding in his ears. Apparating without thinking, he had landed in Luna's garden on his knees, hand throbbing from being squeezed through the nothingness.
Head reeling, he blinked rapidly when the blinding sunlight was replaced by a shadow. Harry looked up and it was Luna, golden hair become pure white, back-lit by the sun. He held the feathers up to her, the ends smudged red, and she knocked them away to fall at his feet. Spells flowed over him faster than he could track, but the magic was warm and soothing, and soon he felt clean, his wounds closed, his nose filled with the spice of the ginger-root earrings she wore that day.
"Grapnels pierce for a reason, Harry. They can become a part of you."
She went on to describe the symbiotic relationship the birds created with the creatures that preyed on them but he wasn't listening, he was thinking. Hard. About someone becoming a part of him, without him even realising it.
Harry stood, pulling Luna up with him, and even though she continued talking, he bent and pressed his lips to hers, catching her open mouth with his. There was instant fullness and the touch of a wet tongue, and Harry gathered her close. The small of her back was made for the palm of his hand, so warm and smooth, he couldn't help letting it slip away only so he could return to cup that perfect curve again and again.
They became passionate in moments, the usual awkwardness replaced by years of living in someone else's rhythm. Luna's softness clashed with Harry's spare frame and their arms kept moving, re-gripping one another and holding each other tighter as if they couldn't believe what they held was real. Then Luna gasped sharply and Harry tried to pull back, worried he'd hurt her. She wouldn't let him, but the kissing gentled until there was room for thought again, and Harry touched his forehead to hers, not embarrassed at all for them to be breathing so heavily in each other's faces.
It was stupid, really, needing to get bit by a bird to make a discovery like this: that the part of himself that he'd always thought missing had been attached to him all along.
And for you to see:
under the trees
in the meadow
