A Beautiful Friendship

Harry Potter sat in his cupboard, petrified. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to do this, to confront his demons. If he could let something like the cupboard defeat him, then he did not stand a chance against Voldemort. He opened his eyes slowly, aware of the darkness and the musty smell of his former abode. He saw the place where he used to live through new eyes. There were still a few spiders scurrying about, clinging to the webs in the darkened corner. He let himself remember the fear, the pain of their bites, knowing that he had only himself for comfort for so long. He had been afraid of spiders as a child, but when relief did not come, he had grown accustomed to their presence. That did not mean he liked spiders, only that until Hogwarts, he had no one to chase them away from him. It was highly ironic, therefore, that his best friend was deathly afraid of spiders.

Having removed all of his belongings from the cupboard, Harry sat on the creaky floorboards, looking at the opposite corner. There it was... the marks he had carved into the wall. Nine marks were etched into the surface, for the nine birthdays he had spent alone in his cage. The first birthday he had must have been grand. He imagined his parents helping him to blow out the candle on a carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. A large man hugged him and threw him into the air, catching him each time, cradling him against his enormous chest. No worries, Lily! See, he likes ter be tossed up an' down. Isn't that right, Harry? Baby Harry had giggled with glee at the sensation of being so high in the air...

With a start, Harry realized that it had been Hagrid who played with him, that this was not a fantasy, that this was a real memory. It seemed like he'd known Hagrid forever, and perhaps he had. Hagrid was there for another birthday, the one that started it all. No more living in a cupboard under the stairs... His attention was suddenly drawn inexplicably to the tiny star on the ceiling, where the stairs came down. He had taken it from Dudley, he was never quite sure why, when he had thrown the set of glow-in-the-dark stars on the ground in a tantrum. This is a stupid gift! He was not interested in learning about the constellations, saying that Harry could have them for all he cared. Yet, when Harry expressed interest in the stars, Dudley had snatched it to his chest in a fit of possessiveness. For the first time in Harry's life with the Dursleys, he had wanted something so badly that he did not care about being punished for taking it. This one little star had seemed important. Harry reached out to touch it, noticed the funny name of the star with a twinge in his chest. Sirius...

A hand suddenly squeezed his shoulder. "Harry," she whispered. He turned to Luna with a weak smile. He didn't know how she had gotten there, but it didn't matter. He needed to be with someone. She reached out a tentative finger to trace the path of the tear upon his cheek, inquisitively, as if she had never seen tears before. Or perhaps she had never seen a boy cry before. Wordlessly, she squeezed into the tight space with him, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Harry blushed at the intimate contact. It felt good and it felt right, and so he decided to trust the feeling. He let his hand snake its way around her waist, leaning back slightly with her to look at the ceiling. "That star kept me company all those years ago. I'd be scared, but I always had one light in my darkness. It was Sirius...and now I'm alone again."

Luna spoke softly, lifting an arm to point towards a circle drawn in chalk on the inside of the door. "What about the moon?" Harry looked, and thought of Moony. Somehow he had kept something of his parents and their friends alive, somewhere in his subconscious. He hugged her one-armed, thankful for her presence, if embarrassed that someone had seen into his unhappy childhood. She sighed, "You are not alone anymore, Harry."

"It feels that way sometimes, even when I'm surrounded by the ones I care about. They will never know what I feel, and I cannot tell them all of my secrets," he mused aloud, feeling as if he could tell her anything. He had missed that about her. Suddenly, he knew that he would tell her about the prophecy. If there was anyone who would accept it at face value and not get overly dramatic about it like Ron or Hermione, Luna could. Looking into her silvery eyes, he cleared his throat, "Luna, there is something I have to tell you."

She stood up so fast that she knocked her head against the back of the stairs, unable to keep from crying out. Luna backed away from him quickly, as if he were about to harm her in some way. "No, no, no..." she shook her head, "I thought you were different, Harry Potter!" Her tone accused him of something which he was certain was not a good thing, but of which he had no idea. Her arms were crossed protectively around her chest.

"What's wrong, Luna?" he asked, noting that her face grew pale and she began to tremble. He wracked his brain for a clue to what he could have done to upset her so. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she wore the look of someone who has been betrayed. "What did I do?"

Luna sniffled, not addressing him at all when she muttered, "Daddy told me that boys only want one thing, and that they will tell you anything you want to hear to get it. But I didn't listen. I should have known." Suddenly, she turned on him. "Don't you think I know what boys do in broom closets and cupboards with girls? I'm not stupid, you know! And I'm not CRAZY!" she shouted.

Harry scooted backwards against the door frame. He had never heard her yell before, and he was frankly alarmed. Hurriedly, he tried to assure her, "I know you're not crazy or stupid, Luna." Suddenly the meaning of what she was implying sunk in. Harry gasped, "Oh, no! You've got it all wrong! I don't want to shag you or anything like that!"

Luna pouted, "Why not? Is there something wrong with me? Am I ugly?"

"No, you're beautiful!" he blurted out, unaware that he thought so until the words tumbled out of his mouth. "I meant to say, I would not take advantage of our friendship like that. You're special to me, Luna." His voice cracked on the last, hurt that she would think something so terrible of him. Hiding his eyes beneath his fringe, he muttered, "Not that I haven't thought about, you know, doing it..."

"Just not with me?" she asked in a strange voice. He was unsure how to answer her. "What about with Cho Chang?" she ventured. "She's beautiful, and athletic and popular... unlike me."

Harry found his voice. "No, not like you at all; that's why I'm here with you and not her. She would not be able to handle what I was going to tell you. She would have seen this cupboard and pitied me, but you just gave me your support and understanding. That means more to me than you'll ever know."

Luna looked surprised, but much calmer, if a bit confused. Harry reflected that she looked pretty cute when she was perplexed... "Then, what were you trying to tell me, Harry, if not that you loved me?" she asked with a slight tremble on the last part. She offered him her hand as a peace offering.

He gladly took it, pulling himself onto his feet. "Not here," he whispered. "Uncle Vernon will be awake soon, and I had wanted to leave for the Burrow before he could start in on me again." They grabbed his belongings and brought them outside to flag down the Knight Bus. Sitting on his trunk with Luna, watching the sunrise, he explained, "The reason that Voldemort wants to kill me is because I'm the only one who can stop him, according to the prophecy that was destroyed. In the end, one of us must die."

Luna did not look at him right away, focusing on the Knight Bus as it braked to a stop in front of them. When she did, she replied, "That must be a difficult burden to bear. How did you find out?"

"Dumbledore knew." Somehow his heart felt lighter, knowing that she wasn't judging him, or shying away from the unpleasantness. Feeling bolder, he volunteered, "I was so angry that I trashed his office."

She began to laugh hysterically, causing Stan Shunpike to inquire, "Neville is she taking the mickey?" Harry soon joined in, much to the annoyance of their conductor. "Really, Longbottom, wrecking the Headmaster's office is no laughing matter. You could get expelled for that."

Harry had to choke back tears to answer, "That would be the least of my problems, mate!" He left them alone for the remainder of the journey. Harry turned toward Luna. He had been too preoccupied to notice what she had been wearing when she had appeared in the middle of his cupboard in the middle of the night. He was pleasantly surprised to see that she was wearing a crinkly blue skirt and a lavender tunic. She resembled one of those new age flower children that his aunt complained about lately. Harry did not care. She looked good to him. She still wore the butterbeer cap necklace and kept her wand handy. Currently it held her hair up in some sort of hairstyle using the wand like a chopstick. He didn't know how she managed to keep her mane of hair off of her neck in the sticky heat, but it looked nice and cool to him.

Before he knew it, they were at the Burrow, and the time came to say goodbye. Luna's father would be taking her to Sweden for the summer to find one of her elusive creatures. Part of him wanted to come along for the adventure. It would not be fair to the Weasleys, though. Harry knew that they were worried about him. Suddenly, he grew self-conscious. Shuffling his foot, he mumbled to the ground, "Have a good time in Sweden, then. I'll miss you, Luna..."

Luna lifted his chin up, and kissed him on the forehead, right on his scar. Harry stood there dazed. "If you need me, send me an owl. I don't want you going through your grief alone. Promise me that you will not tough it out on your own, okay?" She pulled a small bag out of her satchel, and placed it in his hand. "For when you feel sad; think of me, and use this." She walked away, and turned at the edge of the road to say merrily, "Now that I know your intentions are pure, I must confess that I've thought about the broom cupboard at Hogwarts a lot."

Harry's eyebrow quirked upward. "Oh?"

"I do not think either of us are ready for that yet. Besides," she winked, "I much prefer the Astronomy Tower anyway." With that, she gaily ran home across the field, leaving a very much flustered Harry in her wake. His eyes finally focused on the velvet bag that he held in his hand. Turning it over, he began to chuckle. There, sewn in bright green letters, were the words, "Pixie dust."

The End