Fic: Flowers (Harry, Luna, Mild Trio)
Title: Flowers
Characters:Harry, Luna, mild Trio
Rating: Any age
Word Count: 1545
A/N: This fic contains spoilers for DH.
Summary: The evening after the war ends, Harry has a random meeting with Luna.
Harry opened his eyes, blinking, and squinted at the canopy above where he lay for a disoriented moment before he sank against the pillows in his four-poster bed. This would always be his bed, would always feel like home to him. Closing his eyes again, he could almost hear his mates snoring in the beds beyond his drawn curtains. Slowly, he realised that it wasn't his imagination; they were actually here, though he'd not seen or heard them come up.
He reached out with his free arm and parted the curtains slightly before he let them close again. It was close to sunset and for now, the events of this morning felt far away, distant -- like waking from a protracted bad dream.
It felt like he'd slept for days, and could sleep for many more. He stretched, arching his back slightly; as he did he felt Hermione's arm on his stomach, her warm weight against his side. She was light and soft and her breathing was even as she curled toward him. He looked down at her face: her brow was furrowed as she slept, but apart from that she looked peaceful enough for now. Ron lay at Hermione's back, curved toward her as much as he could manage in this bed that wasn't built to accommodate all three of them. He was full-on snoring and Harry was no longer surprised that the sound had not woken any of them. When he looked down and saw Ron's long arm circling her waist, he felt a brief, complicated tug in his chest that made him glance back up quickly.
After a moment, he lifted his head and shifted, gently pulling his arm from where Hermione's head rested on it and moving her arm from across his stomach. One of her denim-clad ankles was between his and he extricated himself as gently as he could, not wanting to wake either of them, then sat on the side of his bed and opened the curtains. The motion was met with a grunt from Ron, and a corner of his mouth lifted as he pulled his shirt away from his chest.
Their clothes were grimy, but as much as they'd needed a shower this morning after leaving Dumbledore's office, the need to eat and rest had been far more acute and they'd gone with a few cleaning charms before they'd tucked in. He glanced at the trio of plates on the bedside table, nothing but crumbs and toothpicks or a rogue olive left on any of them. Kreacher had brought them all sandwiches after all, he thought with a small smile as he remembered sitting cross-legged on the bed with Ron and Hermione and polishing off three of them himself before they'd dropped off to sleep.
Glancing back at them, he couldn't help the sadness that crept in at the realisation that this moment couldn't last. He expected Ron would be leaving soon after he woke to be with his family, who'd be waking up about now too, probably. Ron should be with them, Harry thought with a pang for his best mate, and Hermione -- well, he supposed Hermione would want to be there for him, as did he. Maybe Ron wouldn't mind if he went with them. If they went together. Harry very much wanted to see Mrs. Weasley, to tell her that he was sorry. It wasn't like Harry felt as if she blamed him, not anymore, but it was just -- Harry closed his eyes. It felt like Fred had been his family, too, and ... it hurt.
He got to his feet, not exactly sure why he was even getting up or where he meant to go from here. He lifted his hands and laced them behind his head as he looked around the room. Neville had flung himself into bed, filthy clothes and all, without drawing the curtains. In sleep, he looked younger than when Harry had seen him leaning against the wall in the Great Hall. All he could see of Seamus was a grimy sock and leg, hanging off the side of the mattress, and in the last bed, Dean's long arm dangling, dark fingers trailing the rug. He felt such a rush of affection for them it was difficult to describe, and it was a moment before he could turn from them and walk down the stairs, through the common room, and out of Gryffindor Tower.
The Great Hall was empty of bodies now, and so quiet. As he stood at the door, Harry found the silence oppressive, and without going in, he moved out onto the grounds.
The sun was low in the sky and cast an orange glow over the grounds. Where was everyone else? Perhaps they'd not been able to stay here after everything. Harry had needed to; home was more of an abstract concept to him, but Hogwarts had always been as close to it as he'd ever had, apart from the Burrow. And he was extremely grateful that Hermione and Ron had stayed with him this first night.
"Did you get your peace and quiet?"
Harry lifted his head and turned to find Luna walking dreamily towards him, arms laden with flowers of varying size, most of them with roots and soil dangling from their stems. "Er. Yeah, I -- I did. Hi, Luna."
"Oh, good," she said with an absent nod. "I looked over and noticed you'd vanished, and assumed my plan had worked well."
"Thank you, for doing that. And did you? -- er. Find your peace and quiet?"
She smiled. "I did, though it was rather easier for me, wasn't it?"
She kept walking past him, and Harry fell into step with her. They walked silently for a while, and Harry felt lighter. "What did you -- have you been here all day?"
"No, I was home. I saw my father, and then I slept for quite a few hours. It was rather tiring, all that, wasn't it?"
He glanced askance at her. "Yeah. Just a bit. You were amazing," he added. "I want to thank you, for that. Yesterday, and ... before. All along. And I couldn't have made that Patronus without you."
"You're my friend," she said simply, and Harry thought of the painting he'd seen on her ceiling. "And it was rather important. I don't think I'd require thanks anymore than you'd wish for me to thank you for saving the world." He watched her stop and place a handful of flowers onto a seemingly random spot of grass.
He didn't know what to say to that. He'd not have wanted that, if she'd tried. "Well. All the same. So, er, you've been picking flowers?" He gestured to the bunch she carried.
She nodded. "I got these from a lovely patch on the outskirts of the forest that always has the prettiest wildflowers," she said serenely. "I used to pick them sometimes, before."
Harry nodded, not sure why they were talking about flowers when he wanted to talk about other things, important things. To ask her to tell him things, like she had after he'd lost Sirius, things that had made him feel inexplicably better but that he couldn't remember right now for the life of him. Instead, he reached out and fingered one of the petals that was torn and crumpled. "It's broken," he said.
"Yes, well, half the patch was trampled, you know," she said mildly, as she bent to lay down another clump of blooms before she kept walking. "I'm not sure if it was the spiders or the centaurs, though."
"Right," he mumbled, and fell silent as they walked further.
"How's Ron?" She asked as she stopped to place a few flowers by a wand -- someone's wand -- that had been broken into three pieces and lay in the grass. "It must be hard for him and his family right now."
"Yeah," he said quietly. "It is. He's asleep, I think. I think it will be okay. He'll be okay."
"I liked Fred," she said solemnly. "He was funny and so brave, and never rude to me at school. I think Daddy and I will bring them some tea, when the time is right."
He nodded and had an unbidden thought of the tea her father had served them that day at his house. "I think they'll appreciate that."
Before he knew it, they'd circled back around to the entrance to the school. Luna's load of flowers was appreciably lighter, and she handed half of them to him. "I'm going to do the inside now," was all she said before she walked up the stairs and into the entrance hall. She didn't ask him if he wanted to come with her, seemed to understand that maybe he couldn't just yet.
Harry blinked, looking down at the flowers in his hands, before he lowered himself to the cold stone steps to wait. Ron and Hermione would be along shortly.
Characters:Harry, Luna, mild Trio
Rating: Any age
Word Count: 1545
A/N: This fic contains spoilers for DH.
Summary: The evening after the war ends, Harry has a random meeting with Luna.
Harry opened his eyes, blinking, and squinted at the canopy above where he lay for a disoriented moment before he sank against the pillows in his four-poster bed. This would always be his bed, would always feel like home to him. Closing his eyes again, he could almost hear his mates snoring in the beds beyond his drawn curtains. Slowly, he realised that it wasn't his imagination; they were actually here, though he'd not seen or heard them come up.
He reached out with his free arm and parted the curtains slightly before he let them close again. It was close to sunset and for now, the events of this morning felt far away, distant -- like waking from a protracted bad dream.
It felt like he'd slept for days, and could sleep for many more. He stretched, arching his back slightly; as he did he felt Hermione's arm on his stomach, her warm weight against his side. She was light and soft and her breathing was even as she curled toward him. He looked down at her face: her brow was furrowed as she slept, but apart from that she looked peaceful enough for now. Ron lay at Hermione's back, curved toward her as much as he could manage in this bed that wasn't built to accommodate all three of them. He was full-on snoring and Harry was no longer surprised that the sound had not woken any of them. When he looked down and saw Ron's long arm circling her waist, he felt a brief, complicated tug in his chest that made him glance back up quickly.
After a moment, he lifted his head and shifted, gently pulling his arm from where Hermione's head rested on it and moving her arm from across his stomach. One of her denim-clad ankles was between his and he extricated himself as gently as he could, not wanting to wake either of them, then sat on the side of his bed and opened the curtains. The motion was met with a grunt from Ron, and a corner of his mouth lifted as he pulled his shirt away from his chest.
Their clothes were grimy, but as much as they'd needed a shower this morning after leaving Dumbledore's office, the need to eat and rest had been far more acute and they'd gone with a few cleaning charms before they'd tucked in. He glanced at the trio of plates on the bedside table, nothing but crumbs and toothpicks or a rogue olive left on any of them. Kreacher had brought them all sandwiches after all, he thought with a small smile as he remembered sitting cross-legged on the bed with Ron and Hermione and polishing off three of them himself before they'd dropped off to sleep.
Glancing back at them, he couldn't help the sadness that crept in at the realisation that this moment couldn't last. He expected Ron would be leaving soon after he woke to be with his family, who'd be waking up about now too, probably. Ron should be with them, Harry thought with a pang for his best mate, and Hermione -- well, he supposed Hermione would want to be there for him, as did he. Maybe Ron wouldn't mind if he went with them. If they went together. Harry very much wanted to see Mrs. Weasley, to tell her that he was sorry. It wasn't like Harry felt as if she blamed him, not anymore, but it was just -- Harry closed his eyes. It felt like Fred had been his family, too, and ... it hurt.
He got to his feet, not exactly sure why he was even getting up or where he meant to go from here. He lifted his hands and laced them behind his head as he looked around the room. Neville had flung himself into bed, filthy clothes and all, without drawing the curtains. In sleep, he looked younger than when Harry had seen him leaning against the wall in the Great Hall. All he could see of Seamus was a grimy sock and leg, hanging off the side of the mattress, and in the last bed, Dean's long arm dangling, dark fingers trailing the rug. He felt such a rush of affection for them it was difficult to describe, and it was a moment before he could turn from them and walk down the stairs, through the common room, and out of Gryffindor Tower.
The Great Hall was empty of bodies now, and so quiet. As he stood at the door, Harry found the silence oppressive, and without going in, he moved out onto the grounds.
The sun was low in the sky and cast an orange glow over the grounds. Where was everyone else? Perhaps they'd not been able to stay here after everything. Harry had needed to; home was more of an abstract concept to him, but Hogwarts had always been as close to it as he'd ever had, apart from the Burrow. And he was extremely grateful that Hermione and Ron had stayed with him this first night.
"Did you get your peace and quiet?"
Harry lifted his head and turned to find Luna walking dreamily towards him, arms laden with flowers of varying size, most of them with roots and soil dangling from their stems. "Er. Yeah, I -- I did. Hi, Luna."
"Oh, good," she said with an absent nod. "I looked over and noticed you'd vanished, and assumed my plan had worked well."
"Thank you, for doing that. And did you? -- er. Find your peace and quiet?"
She smiled. "I did, though it was rather easier for me, wasn't it?"
She kept walking past him, and Harry fell into step with her. They walked silently for a while, and Harry felt lighter. "What did you -- have you been here all day?"
"No, I was home. I saw my father, and then I slept for quite a few hours. It was rather tiring, all that, wasn't it?"
He glanced askance at her. "Yeah. Just a bit. You were amazing," he added. "I want to thank you, for that. Yesterday, and ... before. All along. And I couldn't have made that Patronus without you."
"You're my friend," she said simply, and Harry thought of the painting he'd seen on her ceiling. "And it was rather important. I don't think I'd require thanks anymore than you'd wish for me to thank you for saving the world." He watched her stop and place a handful of flowers onto a seemingly random spot of grass.
He didn't know what to say to that. He'd not have wanted that, if she'd tried. "Well. All the same. So, er, you've been picking flowers?" He gestured to the bunch she carried.
She nodded. "I got these from a lovely patch on the outskirts of the forest that always has the prettiest wildflowers," she said serenely. "I used to pick them sometimes, before."
Harry nodded, not sure why they were talking about flowers when he wanted to talk about other things, important things. To ask her to tell him things, like she had after he'd lost Sirius, things that had made him feel inexplicably better but that he couldn't remember right now for the life of him. Instead, he reached out and fingered one of the petals that was torn and crumpled. "It's broken," he said.
"Yes, well, half the patch was trampled, you know," she said mildly, as she bent to lay down another clump of blooms before she kept walking. "I'm not sure if it was the spiders or the centaurs, though."
"Right," he mumbled, and fell silent as they walked further.
"How's Ron?" She asked as she stopped to place a few flowers by a wand -- someone's wand -- that had been broken into three pieces and lay in the grass. "It must be hard for him and his family right now."
"Yeah," he said quietly. "It is. He's asleep, I think. I think it will be okay. He'll be okay."
"I liked Fred," she said solemnly. "He was funny and so brave, and never rude to me at school. I think Daddy and I will bring them some tea, when the time is right."
He nodded and had an unbidden thought of the tea her father had served them that day at his house. "I think they'll appreciate that."
Before he knew it, they'd circled back around to the entrance to the school. Luna's load of flowers was appreciably lighter, and she handed half of them to him. "I'm going to do the inside now," was all she said before she walked up the stairs and into the entrance hall. She didn't ask him if he wanted to come with her, seemed to understand that maybe he couldn't just yet.
Harry blinked, looking down at the flowers in his hands, before he lowered himself to the cold stone steps to wait. Ron and Hermione would be along shortly.