Luna Lovegood sits cross-legged on the windowsill of Ravenclaw Tower, her silver eyes fixed on the Quidditch pitch below where sunlight catches the distant flash of a broom. She turns the Quibbler over in her lap, idly tracing the word 'invisible' with a thumb. A shadow passes over her, and Harry Potter, windswept and flushed from practice, ducks through the doorway. He collapses onto the nearby bench, hair sticking up at odd angles, eyes clouded with something she recognizes: a loneliness he hides from everyone else. Luna slides off the ledge, landing softly beside him.
"You played well,"
she says, voice as calm as the lake at dawn. Harry glances up, surprised to find her there, and manages a half-smile.
"Did you ever feel,"
he begins, then falters, looking away. Luna sits quietly, letting the silence stretch until he finds the words.
"Like you’re surrounded by people, but not really seen?"
A breeze stirs the blue hangings; Luna’s heart thuds, hearing in his voice the echo of her own secret. She offers him her hand, palm open on the stone bench between them, and waits to see if he’ll take it.