I Can Make It Better

Disclaimer: I don't own HP, sad to say, JKR does, and of course, I make nothing off this.
A/N: This will start off kind of slow, I want it to have some semblance of plot, so...here you go! And in this fic, Voldemort has already been defeated after Harry's fifth year. Luna is a sixth year, and Hermione is a seventh year. Enjoy!


Luna's mouth dropped open in disbelief as she froze behind one of the Great Hall's mammoth pillars. She'd been walking to Potions class when she'd heard Harry and Ron talking. Then Harry started talking about her, calling her "Loony Lovegood," saying how "utterly barmy" she was, and that really, he was just her friend so he could laugh at her.

She ran out of the room, careful to remain out of sight. Hot tears blinded her as she made her way to the Room of Requirement, the only place she knew that she'd have privacy. Thoughtfully, the room provided her with a large, fluffy day bed, covered with pillows, stuffed animals, and boxes of Kleenex. She flung herself onto it, sobbing.

How dare he? She thought Harry was her friend, but friends don't call each other barmy or Loony. Friends don't say they're only friends for the cruel laughs they can get out of someone. And Ron had agreed. She scrubbed roughly at her eyes with a tissue, the tears refusing to stop flowing. At least Hermione hadn't been there. Luna couldn't bear it if Hermione thought the same way. The two had become close friends after Voldemort was vanquished at the end of the Boy-Who-Lived's fifth year, and had remained close ever since. Luna even found herself starting to admit that she had a crush on the bushy-haired Gryffindor. But what if it was all a sham, too? Fresh tears poured down her raw cheeks as she curled into a desolate ball.

She should have known better, she thought bleakly, holding a stuffed rabbit to her chest. Why would the Golden Boy want to be her friend? Why would any of the Golden Trio want to be her friend? Everyone thought she was nuts. Loony Lovegood. And her father was nuts, as well.

Luna rolled up her sleeve and stared at her marked arm consideringly. Pale scars lined her wrist, along with some redder marks. She had started cutting herself soon after You-Know-Who was defeated. It was her way of dealing with the memories, the horror that had been the war. She hadn't told anyone--too afraid of their reaction, she supposed.

The emotions kept building inside her. Crying wasn't enough. Luna sighed and reached into her pocket, pulling out the slim razor blade and drawing it quickly across her wrist two times. Blood welled up in thin red lines. She looked up in time to see a box of gauze and a roll of medical tape appear on the bedside table.

It really did anticipate all needs.



Hermione looked around the Great Hall, her mouth twisting in puzzlement. Luna wasn't there. Her customary place at the Ravenclaw table was empty.

"Harry?" she nudged the boy sitting next to her. "Have you seen Luna? It's not like her to miss lunch." Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His eyes looked pained.

"Um..." he trailed off.

"Harry! What is it?" Hermione demanded. "Is she okay? Is she sick?"

Ron cleared his throat.

"We were erm making fun of her earlier," Ron admitted, blushing to the roots of his hair. "She might have heard us."

"What?" Hermione's mouth dropped open. Anger started to suffuse her body. "How could you do that, you know how she feels about teasing!" Hermione slammed her fork down on the table and stood up. "I'm going to find her," she informed the two miscreants. "You two should be ashamed of yourselves!"

Hermione stormed off, uncaring of the distraught boys she left behind her. How could they, she fumed. Knowing how delicate Luna is after the war. Of course, Hermione was hiding a bit of a secret herself, but Luna knew about that, at least. Hermione had more than one reason to want to leave during a meal. It was harder to pretend that she was eating normally if she had to stay the whole time. She preferred to control what she ate, and it wasn't nearly enough to maintain her body weight. She used a few discreet glamor charms, and they did the trick. Nobody noticed the way her bones were starting to protrude, except her and on the rare occasion, Luna. She quite liked her appearance, and Luna appreciated it, as well.

Hermione knew that Luna would never choose so pedestrian a place as the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory or a bathroom to express her emotions in. It had to be the Room of Requirement. She ran up there, pacing in front of it three times while concentrating on Luna and her sanctuary. The door appeared and she opened it, fleeing inside.

"Luna?" she asked. Her friend looked up from the mammoth bed in the center of the room, her face tear-streaked, eyes red and swollen. The poor girl looked terrible.

"Hermione," Luna acknowledged hoarsely. She sat up, still clutching a stuffed teddy. "I take it you know then."

"That Harry and Ron said stupid, hurtful, awful things? Yes, I know," Hermione answered, crawling up on the bed next to the Ravenclaw sixth-year. "I don't know exactly what they said, though, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, if, you know, it's too painful."

Luna rested her head on Hermione's shoulder, a shiver going through her body.

"Harry called me Loony," she said in a low, hurt voice. Of all the people in Hogwarts, Hermione knew just how much the cruel nickname hurt Luna. "And said that the only reason he was friends with me was so he could laugh at me behind my back. And Ron agreed. Hermione? You don't feel that way, do you?"

"Definitely not," Hermione said fiercely, stroking the younger girl's pale blonde hair and wishing that she could eviscerate her two friends. "I would never laugh at you, Luna, you know that. You're my friend. I care too much about you." As she talked, she looked around the room. Her eyes stopped on the box of gauze on the bedside table.

"Luna?" she asked in confusion. "Why is there gauze and tape on the table? Did you fall or something?"

A painful blush colored Luna's cheeks. She twisted her head away.

"Um...not exactly," she admitted. "But...promise you won't tell anyone else? Please, Hermione, you have to promise!"

"I promise," Hermione said instantly, still confused but wanting to help Luna. "Please, what is it?"

For answer, Luna turned her arm up. A square of gauze covered her wrist. Thin dots of red printed the white material.

"Oh, Luna," Hermione frowned, her eyes sad. She hugged the slender girl tightly to her. "You're cutting yourself? How long have you been doing it?"

"Since right after the war," Luna confessed, still looking down. "It makes me feel better."

"I don't want to tell you to just not do it 'cause I know how much that would suck if you told me to do the same with my eating," Hermione said. "But promise you'll tell me when you do? And try not to?"

"I can promise that," Luna said hesitantly. She traced the outline of the square of gauze with one fingertip. "Although I wish you would eat more as well, 'Mione, you don't eat hardly at all, and I don't want you to end up with Pomfrey just because you went too far."

Hermione nodded solemnly and hugged Luna again. The two girls sat there in silence for a while, each with her own problems.