ch. 1

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"Hi, Luna," Harry said tiredly, as he entered the flat, missing the hook for his cloak once, and having to stoop down and try it again. The sun had vanished behind the curve of the horizon hours ago, and clouds were scudding across the indigo sky, as stars intermittently winked out behind them.

"Hi, Harry," Luna observed mildly, peering at him over the counter from the open kitchen, as she stirred something in a steaming cauldron. "How did the crime fighting go today?"

"Boring," he said, ducking beneath the strap of his satchel as he removed it from across his shoulders. He let it fall on the rickety coffee table with a flat-sounding thwack and stifled a yawn. "Except for when Kingsley chewed my arse about the lack of progress with the Dolohov case. If only we'd gotten to that informant sooner..." He shook his head, one hand going to bracket his forehead, as he leaned on the counter opposite her with one elbow.

"It'll work out," Luna said in a dreamy voice, looking at a Muggle stopwatch as she stirred her concoction. "The universe is out of balance, you know, but it will eventually right itself." Harry peered through his fingers at her warily. He had heard this before.

"Equilibrium," he supplied for her. "Right." She did not miss the slightly harsh tone that crept into his voice with his last word. "Where's Ron?"

A glint came into Luna's pale blue eyes that Harry did not miss. Lines around her mouth that he had seen appear and deepen over the last five years became more defined as she pressed her lips together tightly.

"He's gone. He came home after practice, but left at half three."

"Where?" Harry said, and Luna looked unhappily at him, putting down her spoon and her stopwatch.

"You know where he went." Harry scrubbed both hands over his face and swore under his breath.

"Damn him," he said. "When is this going to stop?"

"He's just had - " Luna tried to say, her voice cracking as she did so. The mixture in the cauldron began to bubble more enthusiastically, forgotten.

"Why are you defending him? You don't deserve this, Luna!" Harry cut her off, leaning towards her on the counter with entreating eyes. Her returned gaze rebuked him.

"I would think that you of all people would understand what he's going through." Harry smiled at her mirthlessly, clearly indicating that he could not believe that she had said that.

"I do understand what he's going through. But I also know that this is not the way to handle it. Drinking himself into a stupor most nights is not going to bring her back." He inhaled raggedly at the end of his speech, trying to diffuse the pain that had come with it.

"Neither will working oneself to death and pretending like it didn't even happen," Luna said evenly, spearing him with an all-seeing glance. Harry took in another harsh breath at her words. Rather than denying any truth in what she said, he dropped his gaze, appearing to study with great interest a circular coffee stain on the ivory countertop.

"It's the only way I can survive," he admitted slowly, "without her." They regarded each other blandly for a moment, neither gaze holding recrimination, but rather sympathy. A hissing noise diverted Luna's attention from him, and she grabbed her wand to turn down the heat, as the concoction bubbled over and hit the stovetop, frothing.

When she looked up again, he was gone.

"Harry?" she called out.

"I'm going to take a shower," she heard his voice echo back from down the short corridor that led to the bedrooms.

"Dinner will be ready when you're done," she hollered back, and heard him call out in acquiescence before the rushing sound of water running drowned it out. Alone in the kitchen, Luna cleaned up the mess, and continued to stir, shaking her head sadly, as she tucked one lock of dirty blond hair behind her ear, wondering how the three of them had gotten caught in this hollow, empty thing that passed for a life.

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