Luna(tic) (Marauders Era)

37. Secrets like Stuffing

By the time Luna finally left the room she'd tucked herself into - a strange little sort-of broom closet on the seventh floor - the sun was creeping perilously close to the tops of the castle's towers and she knew she had lingered long enough. So long, in fact, that she thought those tricky questions she'd be facing must have only made themselves worse. Of course, those tricky questions were half the reason she'd lingered so long.

But only half.

Becausing sitting in that room, with Sam beside her and the only light coming from that single odd window in the back of an empty closet, it had been easy to pretend she could still see the sunrise, still see the last trailing edges of night. Still hold on to the girl the darkness let her be.

Leaving now, Luna felt herself stuffing that girl into a box, closing the lid and locking it down. She felt herself blinking away the shadow of Sam she could see at the edge of her vision, pretending the brush of cold on her elbow from his touch was nothing but a cool breeze. She felt herself putting on layers of a girl who didn't exist. A girl who was normal. A girl who was perfect. A girl who, she had decided, had spent the night in the hospital wing. Because even if they'd gone looking for her, they surely wouldn't have checked there. And even if they had, she could say she'd gone there later. She could play at having been sick, at her discomfort having driven her to sensitivity. And if she went there now, then if they kept looking, they might find her there. And if they asked the matron, she could say Luna had been there and it wouldn't be a lie.

It was as good of a plan as Luna had been able to come up with and the way she saw it, the biggest hurdle would be getting herself to go into the Hospital Wing in the first place. Because the last thing she wanted right now, when she was a patchwork of attempted perfect stuffed full of secrets and shadowed by a boy who only halfway existed, was to stand face to face with a doctor. With someone looking for things wrong with her. Looking to fix the madness she couldn't afford to lose.

But she had to. And really, all she had to do, she told herself, was go in, ask the matron if she had a cure for a headache, and leave. She wouldn't say anything more. She wouldn't look at Sam. She wouldn't give away anything that would make the woman think she needed fixing. Needed solving. She would be perfect. The stitches would not come out. The stuffing would not show and the shadows would stay behind her.

She nearly managed it too. She managed to walk in. She managed to step away from the door, managed to release the white-knuckled grip she'd kept on the handle, desperate to hold onto something, desperate to keep the exit open. She managed to walk forward. Managed to catch the attention of the matron and managed to ask if there was anything that could be done about a headache.

Her voice when she spoke was high and sounded terrified even to her own ears, but the matron just nodded and smiled and told her to sit down on a bed, any bed, and she'd be right there with a cure.

And she was. She came back with a tiny little bottle of pale blue liquid and a glass of water and held them both out to Luna. Who took neither.

"What is it?" she asked, and again her voice was shrill, terrified, untrusting. Because she was terrified. And she didn't trust it. And she knew that wasn't normal, wasn't perfect, but she couldn't shake the fear. Too many overheard conversations were blocking up her ears, discussions about medications. About delusions. About hallucinations and about fixing them. Fixing her. Fixing Sam. Who was not broken.

"It's a headache cure, my dear," the matron said with a patient, kindly smile. "Mostly just a solution of willow bark and lavender, a touch of ginger and some mandrake. A few less savory things too," she added with the barest grimace, "The billywig slime leaves a terrible aftertaste, but that's what the water's for. I promise it's better than the headache if it was bad enough to come here for."