hp fic: she's curing soap box blues - harry, luna
Title: she’s curing soap box blues
Character(s)/Pairing(s): harry, luna
Rating/Word Count: PG-13 - 2,193
Summary: He doesn't bother asking how she knew what no one else had even considered. The answer is too painful to warrant repeating.
A/N: This is my first HP fic since I was fifteen and knew nothing of characterization. Seven years have passed so hopefully I’ve picked up some tips along the way. Thank you to lenina20 for looking over this.
Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye
She knows him better than anyone.
This will come back to haunt him.
---
Her house is filled with odd contraptions. They hiss and crackle, fly and spin and putter along. It's oddly busy. Luna lays in the center of her study, barefoot and staring out her glass dome ceiling.
"Don't bother getting up," he says wryly. Luna has made no move to actually get up and greet him since he announced his presence at the door.
After he's settled down next to her, it's only then that she turns her head toward him and smiles softly. "Hello, Harry."
---
In the beginning, he hated her house. He couldn't explain it when asked but it was something about the low ceilings and abundance of corridors. It was like Grimauld Place had mated with the Department of Mysteries.
"You'll warm up to it eventually," Luna had said.
Ginny squeezed his hand which meant he wasn't allowed to say otherwise.
---
Sometimes she reminds him of Dumbledore. The omniscient force always two steps ahead of everyone else.
---
Life moves slower now. This is a fact he'll never quite get used to. Hermione calls him a chaos junkie.
There's a pulse to the magical world. It beats slowly now - drums around him. He curls his fingers into fists willing it to move forward. Days no longer blend into years. They stand out and drag along, digging their toes into the wet cement of a new world.
This new world is happy and free. They call it peace.
He doesn't have a word for it.
---
His wedding day was not the happiest day of his life. That was not Ginny's fault. All the parts that mattered - the very moment he saw her at the end of the aisle, the vows, and the little laugh she emitted every time he complimented her - those made him happy. But, happiness is a relative term. There was a lot about that day which he would never register as pleasing.
There were photographers for every magazine available and ministry officials bumping elbows with him, attempting to get into his good graces. There were the empty spaces in the crowd where Fred and Lupin and Sirius and Dumbledore should have been. Most of all, it was every person he crossed telling him if anyone deserved to be this happy it was him.
It somehow made the fact that he could barely muster a carefree expression all the more depressing. He wondered if someone could be happy and not know how to show it.
Ginny spent most of her time dancing with her brothers who are all so proud of her having made Harry officially part of the family. This left Harry vulnerable to the people who don't know any better.
Harry managed to convince Luna to share a dance. She would always be his shield. Harry stumbled through the number, eyes darting around the room for people watching too closely. As the song reached its crescendo, Luna let out a laugh which shook his revere.
"You're terrible at this," she giggled.
He looked down at her and grimaced, which only made her laugh harder.
He knew she wasn't talking about dancing.
---
She was still Luna. She still wore radish earrings and talked about nargle infestations and troll uprisings. She still called conspiracy theories "reality."
But she had toned it all down. As Ron put it, 'her head was only in the clouds half the time.'
"Parenting sobers us all," Hermione had say when Harry had mentioned it in passing. She grins, and Harry knows she thinks she won an imaginary battle.
Idly, Harry wonders how parenting could have possibly sobered someone like him. Then he realizes he's pouting.
---
Most nights are spent watching Ginny and the kids smile in their sleep.
There are days spent walking the shores where dark magic once touched, and hours spent locked in a room with a now motionless veil. There's a cemetery where the spare was killed. The Great Hall and broken walls, shrieking shack and tall towers in Hogwarts. There's a monument in Godric's Hollow and a house elf buried in Bill's backyard. A magic eye in the forest. Bones of a bird scattered over London.
These are all reminders of what it cost to put a smile on their faces. Reminders of why he'll never be able to call it peace.
---
It reaches its peak.
He's watching the outline of a yew tree dance across the ceiling when it happens - a faint echo of movement from downstairs. The shifting and creaking of boards, the rustling of papers. He closes his eyes and when he reopens them the shadows above him have rearranged themselves into the Dark Mark.
Instinct takes over, carries him down the stairs, towards the movement in the backyard at the edge of the barn. He fires three curses and hears a thud. The bright flashes have awoken most of the house. Ginny is first to join them, the end of her robe and her wand clutched tightly in each hand. The boys both follow and Lily Luna, ever the sound sleeper, hedges on in a better world.
Harry realizes he's standing in the barn with only the stars overhead and he doesn't know why he's there.
"What was it?" James asks boldly, and Harry can only look at him blankly.
Ginny frowns - too worried to show her shock. James stares at him with his jaw dropped - he's just old enough to remember the edges of what fear (dulled, but still present) was and what it did to some people.
And Albus giggles poking at the stunned object with his toe.
It was just a stray cat.
---
Rolf wanders in one day. He's immersed in his pamphlet on the Ministry's attempts to crossbreed vampires with werewolves. "Luna, dear, where are my-oh! I didn't know Harry was here."
"He's here every week."
"On our floor?"
"Yes."
"Hmm," Rolf says as he turns back around.
"Sweetie."
"Yes."
"Your glasses are on your head."
"Oh...Thank you!"
Harry wants to ask how she knew, but there are just some things she'll always see better than anyone else.
---
He remembers being fifteen because it was distinctly different than sixteen. Fifteen was uncertainty. Anger. Fear. Pain. Nauseous headaches. Confusing feelings. The closest he would ever get to normal.
With sixteen came answers. It bred acceptance.
Between fifteen and sixteen he grew up.
He realized normalcy was never an option.
---
"Do you remember when we first met?" Harry asks somewhere between the fourth and fifth floor session.
"Yes," Luna says firmly. She flicks her wand so the stars on the ceiling arrange themselves into a new pattern. "You were quite possibly the saddest boy I'd ever seen."
The blunt honesty she forever shows will never lose its bitter sting, but it's always worth it. She frowns, eyebrows knit in concentration. She looks as though she's recalling all the memories that prove her right, and Harry aches remembering them with her. His loneliness is not something he likes to dwell on.
"No one seemed to notice," she says. It's a surprise, but from Luna he expects nothing less anymore.
"You did," he says.
---
Sometimes he thinks blaming Voldemort for the dark thoughts he was in possession of is a copout.
After he-who-was-never-named was gone and the connection was forever severed, Harry still felt like he was surrounded by ungrateful and naive bastards.
---
Albus likes to sit with him while Harry polishes the awards in the fifth bedroom. (Ginny calls it the trophy room, but Harry would rather be dead again than admit that's all the room served for). There are plenty of awards, most of them given out in the name of bravery, honor and valor to Harry.
Harry doesn't understand the point. 'Hey you risked your life for a bunch of people who assumed you were batshit crazy and now you're lucky if you get two hours of sleep at night. Here - have a piece of silver to make you feel better about it.' It's rubbish really. Still, Ginny insists they all shine even if Harry won't let anyone see them.
"Do you ever miss it?" Albus stares at his feet when he asks it.
When Albus finally pulls his head from the ground, Harry raises an eyebrow and his son rushes to amend the statement. "I meant-"
"I know what you meant," Harry says, as he dusts off another Order of Merlin. It's not the honor or glory or violence or destruction. It's the purpose. No one should reach their peak at seventeen.
Harry sighs, "All the time."
This time it's Harry who stares at his feet.
---
When he first noticed there was something between Hermione and Ron, he was worried it would change things. This he remembers clearly. They would blow up eventually and stop speaking to each other.
What he didn't expect was for them to actually work. To become better together than they were apart. To grow and change and adapt. To survive and heal. Together.
They've forgotten and it's a double edge sword for Harry. Because he cannot forget what is, has been and will always be his life, but he cannot be angry with them for moving on without him.
There are brief moments where the past is too much to be erased. Hermione still balls her fingers when she sees a woman with heavy lids or a high pitched laugh and Ron still cringes whenever he sees a locket on display, and it reminds Harry that he had some help carrying his own cross.
But all the while, it still serves to remind him that no one's journey would ever quite be his.
---
When the children were little, Luna used to babysit them.
It was something Ginny insisted upon. Luna's boys were only a year younger than Albus, and they spent most of their time travelling around the world. They had very few friends to play with when they got home. Harry had little objection as the children often returned from playtime with bright grins and mischievous looks and Harry often wonders if it's worth asking what Luna's told them.
One day he got home early for work and decided to pick the kids up himself instead of waiting for them to floo home like usual.
When he arrived, Lily was down for a nap on the corner couch. The rest of the room had been transformed into a foam castle complete with dungeon. James had been taken prisoner by what Harry assumed were the Lovegood boys, but upon closer inspection they looked to be in "jail" as well. Meanwhile, Albus stood tall and proud on top of the table, extending his foam sword over the pillow fort.
"I am the mighty Albus Severus Potter! Fear my wrath!" And then he jumped.
Harry felt his heart leap into his throat. "Al!" Harry hissed, "What are you playing at?"
Albus's head whipped around and a look of confusion and shame passed over his face, but it passed as soon as it came. It was then that he heard a distinctive squawking sound coming from behind him. There was Luna, covered in scales, a long pointed tail and large wings. It was complete with a strange set of googily eyes attached to a headband. He couldn't decide if she was supposed to be a bumblebee or a dragon - but guessing from the squawks he assumed it was the latter.
Harry watched as Luna chased Albus around the living room, shooting fake fire (he prayed it was fake) as she went. Finally she allowed herself to be impaled by the foam sword and died a very dramatic and loud death.
As Albus celebrated his victory by releasing the captives, Luna patted Harry on the shoulder, her large dragon wings flapping and the extended googly eyes on her headband brushing against the top of his head. "Oh hello, Harry! Would you like a turn as the dragon?"
To this day, Harry still has no answer to that.
---
Sometimes she reminds him of Sirius. Barking mad.
---
Ginny calls a meeting behind his back. He happens to be wandering the house when it happens. He breaks their silencing spells without detection. Hermione has lost her touch and his smile isn't all amused at that.
"Muggle books call it post-traumatic stress disorder," she says.
"It's been more than a year," Ron argues, "I think we're plenty past the trauma."
"It doesn't matter how long it's been. Some scars don't heal."
"He seems happy," Ginny says quietly.
"Most of the time he probably is," Hermione says, and he can hear the pity in her tone, "The point is. He's probably repressing what he's feeling so that it only shows itself in random occurrences."
"What do you think Harry's experiences could possibly have in common with the muggles you're basing this whole theory on?" Ginny asks and there's a bite to her tone.
"We're all human," Luna says serenely.
Harry smiles. That was always the point.
---
It should be noted - he had other options. He had talked with Hermione and Ron, but as he already realized, the war had only been part of their life. He couldn't risk going to a magical shrink - God knows what could happen if it leaked. And he would have to lie to a muggle one.
When he went to Luna, he wasn't expecting much, even less when she took him to her study and made him lay on the floor. The first time they just stayed in silence while all those gadgets whirled around and across the enchanted ceiling.
"It reminds me of Hogwarts," he finally whispered.
"That's the point."
---
"He's getting better," Hermione whispers. Ginny frowns in a way that no one but him could ever notice.
He shouldn't feel guilty for achieving sanity.
---
"Do you think this is a midlife crisis?"
"I sure hope you live longer than seventy-two. Most wizards live well into the hundreds," Luna says plainly.
Harry sighs. "That's refreshing."
"Let's just hope you don't fall victim to an attack of killer toads. I hear they're running rampant in Godric's Hollow."
"I'll keep that in mind."
---
At some point in time, she'll remind him of everyone he's lost. She's stuck on a plane of existence he'll only catch glimpses of.
That's what he calls peace.
---
Ginny accused him once of having an affair.
Well, she hadn't said it aloud, but Harry knew it was coming. She was working her way towards it, building confidence for a fight like she always did. She knew he left work early on Thursdays and his hours were unaccounted for. (And he meant to tell her about Luna...It's just...complicated)
Before they ever got there, he managed to diffuse the situation with an unexpected night of passion. That was how they got Albus. The product of emotional manipulation.
Now, he wonders if this is why Albus turned out the way he did.
---
"Albus is in Slytherin."
"I know. It's surprising."
"Why? Because he's not a total prat?"
"As ambitious as he is, I never thought he'd let the hat put him there." Luna flicks her wand and the ceiling changes from cloudy to sunny. "Ginny's probably furious. I should write her a letter with some form of encouragement."
Harry stifles a laugh to go with his grin at the thought of what Luna's encouragement could be and the look on Ginny's face when she read it. "She'd appreciate that."
"I'd write you too, but-"
"You'd be wasting parchment," Harry supplies.
---
He didn't write. Ginny was worried, and James and Teddy were telling them very little. Of course, they knew why this was happening, and even their letters filled with acceptance couldn't reach him.
Al comes home at Christmas, green and silver wrapped around his neck. He doesn't want to talk about it.
"We're hypocrites, aren't we?" Ginny whispers as she and Harry watch him laughing with James in the living room.
He doesn't answer.
---
"I'm just afraid that my inability to find my bearings in this world has made its presence known to my son and somehow damaged him beyond repair."
"Plenty of people have expressed their concern over the way Rolf and I raised our boys. They still say I'm loony-"
"You're not-"
"I am. I may have grown older and realized that my ways somehow offend people, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop believing in nargles and goblin conspiracies. Just because they don't see it doesn't mean I can't believe it." She turns and looks at him, cheek pressed against the floor, "Just because they don't feel what you're feeling, it doesn't mean it's wrong. You can still be angry and lost and confused. You can still hate people and wish you were fifteen again. Because your son will feel the same way too someday."
"Sometimes I think it will swallow me whole."
Luna grabs his hand. "Good. It means you're more normal than you think."
Harry smiles, "I'm just as sane as you are, right?"
"Always."
---
The next day a dark brown owl delivers a scrap of parchment - something akin to a corner torn off someone else's letter. He can already tell who it's from.
Albus went left where you went right. But eventually they all meet back at the center.
- Luna
He doesn't bother asking how she knew what no one else had even considered.
The answer is too painful to warrant repeating.
-
Footnote: Quote at the beginning was taken from Emily Dickinson.
Character(s)/Pairing(s): harry, luna
Rating/Word Count: PG-13 - 2,193
Summary: He doesn't bother asking how she knew what no one else had even considered. The answer is too painful to warrant repeating.
A/N: This is my first HP fic since I was fifteen and knew nothing of characterization. Seven years have passed so hopefully I’ve picked up some tips along the way. Thank you to lenina20 for looking over this.
Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye
She knows him better than anyone.
This will come back to haunt him.
---
Her house is filled with odd contraptions. They hiss and crackle, fly and spin and putter along. It's oddly busy. Luna lays in the center of her study, barefoot and staring out her glass dome ceiling.
"Don't bother getting up," he says wryly. Luna has made no move to actually get up and greet him since he announced his presence at the door.
After he's settled down next to her, it's only then that she turns her head toward him and smiles softly. "Hello, Harry."
---
In the beginning, he hated her house. He couldn't explain it when asked but it was something about the low ceilings and abundance of corridors. It was like Grimauld Place had mated with the Department of Mysteries.
"You'll warm up to it eventually," Luna had said.
Ginny squeezed his hand which meant he wasn't allowed to say otherwise.
---
Sometimes she reminds him of Dumbledore. The omniscient force always two steps ahead of everyone else.
---
Life moves slower now. This is a fact he'll never quite get used to. Hermione calls him a chaos junkie.
There's a pulse to the magical world. It beats slowly now - drums around him. He curls his fingers into fists willing it to move forward. Days no longer blend into years. They stand out and drag along, digging their toes into the wet cement of a new world.
This new world is happy and free. They call it peace.
He doesn't have a word for it.
---
His wedding day was not the happiest day of his life. That was not Ginny's fault. All the parts that mattered - the very moment he saw her at the end of the aisle, the vows, and the little laugh she emitted every time he complimented her - those made him happy. But, happiness is a relative term. There was a lot about that day which he would never register as pleasing.
There were photographers for every magazine available and ministry officials bumping elbows with him, attempting to get into his good graces. There were the empty spaces in the crowd where Fred and Lupin and Sirius and Dumbledore should have been. Most of all, it was every person he crossed telling him if anyone deserved to be this happy it was him.
It somehow made the fact that he could barely muster a carefree expression all the more depressing. He wondered if someone could be happy and not know how to show it.
Ginny spent most of her time dancing with her brothers who are all so proud of her having made Harry officially part of the family. This left Harry vulnerable to the people who don't know any better.
Harry managed to convince Luna to share a dance. She would always be his shield. Harry stumbled through the number, eyes darting around the room for people watching too closely. As the song reached its crescendo, Luna let out a laugh which shook his revere.
"You're terrible at this," she giggled.
He looked down at her and grimaced, which only made her laugh harder.
He knew she wasn't talking about dancing.
---
She was still Luna. She still wore radish earrings and talked about nargle infestations and troll uprisings. She still called conspiracy theories "reality."
But she had toned it all down. As Ron put it, 'her head was only in the clouds half the time.'
"Parenting sobers us all," Hermione had say when Harry had mentioned it in passing. She grins, and Harry knows she thinks she won an imaginary battle.
Idly, Harry wonders how parenting could have possibly sobered someone like him. Then he realizes he's pouting.
---
Most nights are spent watching Ginny and the kids smile in their sleep.
There are days spent walking the shores where dark magic once touched, and hours spent locked in a room with a now motionless veil. There's a cemetery where the spare was killed. The Great Hall and broken walls, shrieking shack and tall towers in Hogwarts. There's a monument in Godric's Hollow and a house elf buried in Bill's backyard. A magic eye in the forest. Bones of a bird scattered over London.
These are all reminders of what it cost to put a smile on their faces. Reminders of why he'll never be able to call it peace.
---
It reaches its peak.
He's watching the outline of a yew tree dance across the ceiling when it happens - a faint echo of movement from downstairs. The shifting and creaking of boards, the rustling of papers. He closes his eyes and when he reopens them the shadows above him have rearranged themselves into the Dark Mark.
Instinct takes over, carries him down the stairs, towards the movement in the backyard at the edge of the barn. He fires three curses and hears a thud. The bright flashes have awoken most of the house. Ginny is first to join them, the end of her robe and her wand clutched tightly in each hand. The boys both follow and Lily Luna, ever the sound sleeper, hedges on in a better world.
Harry realizes he's standing in the barn with only the stars overhead and he doesn't know why he's there.
"What was it?" James asks boldly, and Harry can only look at him blankly.
Ginny frowns - too worried to show her shock. James stares at him with his jaw dropped - he's just old enough to remember the edges of what fear (dulled, but still present) was and what it did to some people.
And Albus giggles poking at the stunned object with his toe.
It was just a stray cat.
---
Rolf wanders in one day. He's immersed in his pamphlet on the Ministry's attempts to crossbreed vampires with werewolves. "Luna, dear, where are my-oh! I didn't know Harry was here."
"He's here every week."
"On our floor?"
"Yes."
"Hmm," Rolf says as he turns back around.
"Sweetie."
"Yes."
"Your glasses are on your head."
"Oh...Thank you!"
Harry wants to ask how she knew, but there are just some things she'll always see better than anyone else.
---
He remembers being fifteen because it was distinctly different than sixteen. Fifteen was uncertainty. Anger. Fear. Pain. Nauseous headaches. Confusing feelings. The closest he would ever get to normal.
With sixteen came answers. It bred acceptance.
Between fifteen and sixteen he grew up.
He realized normalcy was never an option.
---
"Do you remember when we first met?" Harry asks somewhere between the fourth and fifth floor session.
"Yes," Luna says firmly. She flicks her wand so the stars on the ceiling arrange themselves into a new pattern. "You were quite possibly the saddest boy I'd ever seen."
The blunt honesty she forever shows will never lose its bitter sting, but it's always worth it. She frowns, eyebrows knit in concentration. She looks as though she's recalling all the memories that prove her right, and Harry aches remembering them with her. His loneliness is not something he likes to dwell on.
"No one seemed to notice," she says. It's a surprise, but from Luna he expects nothing less anymore.
"You did," he says.
---
Sometimes he thinks blaming Voldemort for the dark thoughts he was in possession of is a copout.
After he-who-was-never-named was gone and the connection was forever severed, Harry still felt like he was surrounded by ungrateful and naive bastards.
---
Albus likes to sit with him while Harry polishes the awards in the fifth bedroom. (Ginny calls it the trophy room, but Harry would rather be dead again than admit that's all the room served for). There are plenty of awards, most of them given out in the name of bravery, honor and valor to Harry.
Harry doesn't understand the point. 'Hey you risked your life for a bunch of people who assumed you were batshit crazy and now you're lucky if you get two hours of sleep at night. Here - have a piece of silver to make you feel better about it.' It's rubbish really. Still, Ginny insists they all shine even if Harry won't let anyone see them.
"Do you ever miss it?" Albus stares at his feet when he asks it.
When Albus finally pulls his head from the ground, Harry raises an eyebrow and his son rushes to amend the statement. "I meant-"
"I know what you meant," Harry says, as he dusts off another Order of Merlin. It's not the honor or glory or violence or destruction. It's the purpose. No one should reach their peak at seventeen.
Harry sighs, "All the time."
This time it's Harry who stares at his feet.
---
When he first noticed there was something between Hermione and Ron, he was worried it would change things. This he remembers clearly. They would blow up eventually and stop speaking to each other.
What he didn't expect was for them to actually work. To become better together than they were apart. To grow and change and adapt. To survive and heal. Together.
They've forgotten and it's a double edge sword for Harry. Because he cannot forget what is, has been and will always be his life, but he cannot be angry with them for moving on without him.
There are brief moments where the past is too much to be erased. Hermione still balls her fingers when she sees a woman with heavy lids or a high pitched laugh and Ron still cringes whenever he sees a locket on display, and it reminds Harry that he had some help carrying his own cross.
But all the while, it still serves to remind him that no one's journey would ever quite be his.
---
When the children were little, Luna used to babysit them.
It was something Ginny insisted upon. Luna's boys were only a year younger than Albus, and they spent most of their time travelling around the world. They had very few friends to play with when they got home. Harry had little objection as the children often returned from playtime with bright grins and mischievous looks and Harry often wonders if it's worth asking what Luna's told them.
One day he got home early for work and decided to pick the kids up himself instead of waiting for them to floo home like usual.
When he arrived, Lily was down for a nap on the corner couch. The rest of the room had been transformed into a foam castle complete with dungeon. James had been taken prisoner by what Harry assumed were the Lovegood boys, but upon closer inspection they looked to be in "jail" as well. Meanwhile, Albus stood tall and proud on top of the table, extending his foam sword over the pillow fort.
"I am the mighty Albus Severus Potter! Fear my wrath!" And then he jumped.
Harry felt his heart leap into his throat. "Al!" Harry hissed, "What are you playing at?"
Albus's head whipped around and a look of confusion and shame passed over his face, but it passed as soon as it came. It was then that he heard a distinctive squawking sound coming from behind him. There was Luna, covered in scales, a long pointed tail and large wings. It was complete with a strange set of googily eyes attached to a headband. He couldn't decide if she was supposed to be a bumblebee or a dragon - but guessing from the squawks he assumed it was the latter.
Harry watched as Luna chased Albus around the living room, shooting fake fire (he prayed it was fake) as she went. Finally she allowed herself to be impaled by the foam sword and died a very dramatic and loud death.
As Albus celebrated his victory by releasing the captives, Luna patted Harry on the shoulder, her large dragon wings flapping and the extended googly eyes on her headband brushing against the top of his head. "Oh hello, Harry! Would you like a turn as the dragon?"
To this day, Harry still has no answer to that.
---
Sometimes she reminds him of Sirius. Barking mad.
---
Ginny calls a meeting behind his back. He happens to be wandering the house when it happens. He breaks their silencing spells without detection. Hermione has lost her touch and his smile isn't all amused at that.
"Muggle books call it post-traumatic stress disorder," she says.
"It's been more than a year," Ron argues, "I think we're plenty past the trauma."
"It doesn't matter how long it's been. Some scars don't heal."
"He seems happy," Ginny says quietly.
"Most of the time he probably is," Hermione says, and he can hear the pity in her tone, "The point is. He's probably repressing what he's feeling so that it only shows itself in random occurrences."
"What do you think Harry's experiences could possibly have in common with the muggles you're basing this whole theory on?" Ginny asks and there's a bite to her tone.
"We're all human," Luna says serenely.
Harry smiles. That was always the point.
---
It should be noted - he had other options. He had talked with Hermione and Ron, but as he already realized, the war had only been part of their life. He couldn't risk going to a magical shrink - God knows what could happen if it leaked. And he would have to lie to a muggle one.
When he went to Luna, he wasn't expecting much, even less when she took him to her study and made him lay on the floor. The first time they just stayed in silence while all those gadgets whirled around and across the enchanted ceiling.
"It reminds me of Hogwarts," he finally whispered.
"That's the point."
---
"He's getting better," Hermione whispers. Ginny frowns in a way that no one but him could ever notice.
He shouldn't feel guilty for achieving sanity.
---
"Do you think this is a midlife crisis?"
"I sure hope you live longer than seventy-two. Most wizards live well into the hundreds," Luna says plainly.
Harry sighs. "That's refreshing."
"Let's just hope you don't fall victim to an attack of killer toads. I hear they're running rampant in Godric's Hollow."
"I'll keep that in mind."
---
At some point in time, she'll remind him of everyone he's lost. She's stuck on a plane of existence he'll only catch glimpses of.
That's what he calls peace.
---
Ginny accused him once of having an affair.
Well, she hadn't said it aloud, but Harry knew it was coming. She was working her way towards it, building confidence for a fight like she always did. She knew he left work early on Thursdays and his hours were unaccounted for. (And he meant to tell her about Luna...It's just...complicated)
Before they ever got there, he managed to diffuse the situation with an unexpected night of passion. That was how they got Albus. The product of emotional manipulation.
Now, he wonders if this is why Albus turned out the way he did.
---
"Albus is in Slytherin."
"I know. It's surprising."
"Why? Because he's not a total prat?"
"As ambitious as he is, I never thought he'd let the hat put him there." Luna flicks her wand and the ceiling changes from cloudy to sunny. "Ginny's probably furious. I should write her a letter with some form of encouragement."
Harry stifles a laugh to go with his grin at the thought of what Luna's encouragement could be and the look on Ginny's face when she read it. "She'd appreciate that."
"I'd write you too, but-"
"You'd be wasting parchment," Harry supplies.
---
He didn't write. Ginny was worried, and James and Teddy were telling them very little. Of course, they knew why this was happening, and even their letters filled with acceptance couldn't reach him.
Al comes home at Christmas, green and silver wrapped around his neck. He doesn't want to talk about it.
"We're hypocrites, aren't we?" Ginny whispers as she and Harry watch him laughing with James in the living room.
He doesn't answer.
---
"I'm just afraid that my inability to find my bearings in this world has made its presence known to my son and somehow damaged him beyond repair."
"Plenty of people have expressed their concern over the way Rolf and I raised our boys. They still say I'm loony-"
"You're not-"
"I am. I may have grown older and realized that my ways somehow offend people, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop believing in nargles and goblin conspiracies. Just because they don't see it doesn't mean I can't believe it." She turns and looks at him, cheek pressed against the floor, "Just because they don't feel what you're feeling, it doesn't mean it's wrong. You can still be angry and lost and confused. You can still hate people and wish you were fifteen again. Because your son will feel the same way too someday."
"Sometimes I think it will swallow me whole."
Luna grabs his hand. "Good. It means you're more normal than you think."
Harry smiles, "I'm just as sane as you are, right?"
"Always."
---
The next day a dark brown owl delivers a scrap of parchment - something akin to a corner torn off someone else's letter. He can already tell who it's from.
Albus went left where you went right. But eventually they all meet back at the center.
- Luna
He doesn't bother asking how she knew what no one else had even considered.
The answer is too painful to warrant repeating.
-
Footnote: Quote at the beginning was taken from Emily Dickinson.