In the Melancholy Moonlight

Chapter CLXXXVII: You'll Wish for Time to Turn Around

LUCY:

Life went on.

After I had officially talked to everyone who wanted to talk to me, I found myself suddenly not wanting to talk to anyone in any capacity. It was as if my body and mind and soul all knew that I needed to be functional long enough to do that much at least, then everything shut down. I shut down all at once, it seemed. I stayed with Hermione in the Hospital Wing until she fell asleep again, then I left the castle and didn't look back. My feet led me to a hill, our hill, where I found Harry already sitting and staring off into the distance with unseeing eyes.

I lowered myself down next to him on the grass wordlessly. I wanted to ask him how he was doing, but my mouth couldn't form the words. I didn't need to hear the answer to know it, anyway.

I inched closer to him, and he inched closer to me. Once our shoulders brushed, we each went still, except to lean just the smallest bit closer to each other. We remained there, utterly still, as the sun crossed the sky, as the sun dipped below the horizon, as the darkening sky allowed stars to pierce its heavy veil, as time and life went on.

In the days that followed, I went with Harry wherever he happened to go. When he visited Ron and Hermione in the Hospital Wing, I was there too. When he wandered the grounds with no destination in mind, I was at his side. We avoided the Great Hall, opting instead to sneak down to the kitchens at odd hours of the day. I slept in Ron's empty dormitory bed with Tuck, ready to chase away Harry's nightmares, knowing I had gotten quite good at keeping my own to myself. One night, we retrieved his confiscated broom from Umbridge's office while she wasn't there, and we tossed a Quaffle back and forth in perfect silence until the sun started to rise. Another night, when Harry was sound asleep, I noticed that there was smoke rising from the chimney of my favorite hut, so I headed down with Tuck and had a rather tearful reunion with Hagrid and Fang.

We didn't speak more than necessary. Neither of us really had anything that we wanted to say. Actions were enough.

I followed him without question to the Department of Mysteries, both of us wanting to save someone we loved. We had failed, but we had failed together. There wasn't much that could be said about that.

Voldemort had fired a Killing Curse at Harry. I had jumped on Harry, to tackle him out of the way, angling myself so it would hit me instead. Harry had twisted in midair, so it would hit him. There wasn't much that could be said about that.

Voldemort had possessed Harry. I had grabbed his face on instinct, which resulted in Voldemort possessing me. Harry had taken my hand, to take Voldemort away from me and back into him. We had clung to each other, though, as he went back and forth, until he was gone, neither willing to let go, neither willing to let the other bear the brunt of the suffering alone. There wasn't much that could be said about that, either.

Sunday morning, we found ourselves in the Hospital Wing. I was skimming the Prophet, and I huffed, rolled my eyes, and shoved the paper into Hermione's hands once Harry was mentioned.

June 23, 1996

HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS

In a brief statement Friday night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named has returned to this country and is active once more. "It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord — well, you know who I mean — is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe that the dementors are currently taking direction from Lord — Thingy.