Straight Talking

The library quiet was punctuated by a shrill giggle, and for once Madame Pince wasn't the only one glaring at the disturber of the peace. Zacharias' scowling dark eyes had swivelled around until he located a small girl with stringy blond hair chatting animatedly to a boy in the doorway, who was too far away for him to see the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Potter. And Luna. Lovegood - he corrected himself sharply. An odder pair you couldn't find, even in Hogwarts.

It was the wizarding school's worst-kept secret that Zacharias never had a lot of time for Harry. That there was a Gryffindor/Hufflepuff game tomorrow did nothing to help their mutual antagonism. Not that he disliked the Gryffindor Seeker. He just didn't entirely trust him - that was all. During the whole Dumbledore's Army fiasco last year he had made grand sweeping claims about how Voldemort had returned, how he and fought him single-handedly during the Tri-Wizard Tournament that he had sneaked into despite being underaged, yadda yadda. Yet when questioned, he had been unable to give any proof that Voldemort had returned. Zacharias didn't like that. Zacharias liked people who were straight talkers and gave straight answers.

And Luna was, and did, neither.

They were still talking. What does she see in him? Zacharias thought angrily to himself. He takes Remedial Potions, for Merlin's sake. I thought Ravenclaws were meant to be smart.

Luna was even less of a straight talker than Harry, but for some reason he could never bring himself to feel the same disdain for her as he did for the Boy Who Lived. He had even helped her find her stuff the evening before they'd left Hogwarts last term. Only because the people who hid it weren't straight talkers, he told himself at the time. Straight talkers didn't hide the possessions of those they disliked. They weren't sneaky about it. They told them straight out how they felt, then left them alone.

Fortunately, their conversation was coming to a standstill. Potter was coming in. Luna was leaving. And therefore, so was he. It was about time someone attempted to talk some sense into that girl. Dumping his books with uncustomary disorder into his bag, he got to his feet, acknowledging Potter with a curt nod as he sped out the door after Luna. He came from a prominent Pureblood family, and only the Slytherins forgot themselves to the point where they neglected their manners when it came to their enemies.

At this time of night the hall was deserted and his footsteps echoed heavily in the silence. Yet Luna was so caught up in her own world that she didn't notice him until he laid a hand on her arm. Most likely mooning about Potter, he thought to himself with an inward snarl. "Ah, hello Zacharias," she said in that dreamy tone that suggested only half of her was here talking to him. "Lovely evening, isn't it? The humperdinks come out on nights like this, you know."

"The humper-whats?" He blinked, then caught himself. "I saw you talking to Potter just now."

He was a sixth year, and tall even with that taken into account, and Luna was one of the smallest girls in her year. Yet she matched him scowl for scowl. "Good evening to you too," she said in the frosty etiquette at which she excelled when angry. He had noticed during the DA meetings last year that Luna never completely lost her temper, just became polite to the extent that the other person knew to tread carefully. If he was the type of person who believed in such things, he would have said that in an parallel universe, she would make a great Slytherin. But he dealt with the here-and-now, not abstracts, not alternative realities. Leave that to her. "With Umbridge in St Mungos, I would have thought that it was now fine to associate with Harry," she continued. "And as a prefect, I would have thought that I would have been notified if this had changed, actually."

"Yeah, well perhaps if you didn't space out so much during prefect meetings, you might actually notice what was going on," Zacharias snapped. Luna's eyebrows rose. He made an effort to control his temper. "You really shouldn't be so rude to me when I'm only watching out for your best interests. I just think you should choose your company better, that's all. So, what conspiracy theory are you two brewing now?"

Luna's button nose twitched. "Excuse me, I wouldn't actually classify something as a conspiracy theory simply because the majority of people don't believe it, you know," she said cuttingly.

"Right," Zacharias smirked. "Name me one conspiracy theory in recent years that was proven to be correct and I'll eat my words."

"Well, no one believed that You-Know-Who had returned last year, including you, you know, and this year the Ministry's putting out warnings about him." By this time her voice had retained a little of its dreamy quality, but she was still eyeing him challengingly. "And the point is that the Ministry knew he had returned for a year before they admitted it. Which is exactly what the Ministry is doing with the heliopaths now."

"Heliopaths don't exist," Zacharias snorted.

"This time last year you didn't think that Voldemort existed," Luna pointed out.

Zacharias leaned forward and grabbed her wrist. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed, glancing around quickly to make sure that no one was in earshot. Luna tugged at his grip. He realised he had been holding her wrist quite tightly and quickly let her go with a muttered apology. "Look, I know that Potter may be daft enough to mention You-Know-Who's name, but that doesn't mean you have to be too."

"Oh, but I'm quite used to people thinking I'm daft, really." Luna said this with the same detachment as if she was talking about what colour her eyes were. "But I can understand why you were so afraid when I named You-Know-Who. Harry isn't, but not everyone is as brave as Harry is, you know."

"I don't think you're daft," Zacharias blurted out. Luna gave him an assessing look that looked strangely out-of-place coming from her. He forced some of his earlier harshness back into his voice. "I suppose you want to have his babies then?"

"No," Luna declared loftily. "I wanted to have Stubby Boardman's. But then he got killed. He was Harry's godfather, you know." She blushed crimson. "Well, I didn't know that when I wanted to have his babies."

"A murderer and a compulsive liar," he drawled, staring down at her. "You do know how to pick them. What would your mother say?"

He expected a full-out attack, a denial in the least. But the spark seemed to go out of Luna's eyes. "I have no idea what my mother would say," she said softly. "She's dead, you know." Her chin came back up. "I think I'll return to my common room now, thank you." She ducked around him and strode off down the hall, leaving him gaping for words, for an apology. He thought he saw her hand come up to brush something off her face as she turned the corner.

* * * * *

The next morning Luna raised her head from her pillow and groaned as the sunlight hit her face. She could tell from the strained feeling of the skin around her eyes that they looked puffy. Not that it was a bad thing in itself, just what had caused it. Unlike most people, crying actually improved Luna's appearance. It made her too-large, too-protuberant eyes look closer to a normal size.

It was funny how grief always hit during the most trivial occasions. In a way her mother's first birthday after her departure, the family's first Christmas with just her and her father had both gone comparatively well, because that was when everyone had warned her it would hurt. That was when grief was expected. She had never thought she would miss her mother tut-tutting over her choice in boys. Had never realised it would, until Zacharias' words yesterday. But wallowing never did anyone any good, and today was the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff game - only Harry's second since his godfather had been killed. She was one of the few people who understood what it was like to have someone in the prime of their life so suddenly and cruelly snatched away, and he needed her. She gave the lionhead hat on her bedside table a regretful look, then kicked her blankets off.

Breakfast was when the owl delivery arrived. Luna was not the most popular Ravenclaw in the school, and it was a good two weeks until the next Quibbler hit the newsstands, which her father always posted out to her. So she was surprised when a letter fell into her bowl of cereal, splashing corn flakes down her front.

The script on the front of the envelope was in a strong, sure hand. Forgetting the napkin in front of her, Luna instead wiped her knife clean on her skirt and slid the letter open.

Dear Luna,

I'm really sorry about what I said to you yesterday. I didn't know about your mother. I hope you believe me when I say I would have never mentioned her if I did. As anyone knows Harry and I have never gotten along, but that's our problem, not yours, and I should have never spoken to you that way. I can be a bit overprotective, and you don't seem to have anyone else here to look after you. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings too much and that you're still planning on coming to the game today.

Yours sincerely,

Zacharias Smith

Luna smiled. She carefully folded the letter in half, then slid it in the pocket of her now jam-stained skirt for safe keeping. Today was Harry's day, but for the next game she would just have to make a hat with a Badger's head on top.

The End