Harry and Ron laughed as George jinxed a sad Slytherin third-year who had been too slow to buy a ‘stairway pass’ when Fred offered it to him. The Slytherin slunk off, his hair having been removed by the slickly performed Depilatory Jinx. Harry felt a tug on the sleeve of his robe and turned to see who it was.
He caught sight of Luna’s silvery eyes first and didn’t notice anything different, but when his gaze travelled down her body, he found his eyes seeking out curves that hadn’t existed before. He slowly raised his face back to hers.
He was just about to speak when Ron turned around as well.
“Bloody hell, Luna! What did you do?” Ron mumbled around a mouthful of Honeyduke’s chocolate.
Luna giggled and spun, showing off her new curves; they were all definitely in the right places. “Do you like it, Ronald?” She batted her eyelashes at him flirtatiously.
“I love it!” he shouted, again talking over Harry’s attempts to speak. He started to grab Luna, but Harry barred his way.
“What did you do?” Harry asked. “And why?”
Luna stared off into space for a moment before responding. “I just gave myself a little makeover.” She pouted prettily. “I was tired of all the other girls laughing at me. Besides, since Hermione snagged Draco that way, who knew who I could catch?”
Ron turned away as Fred and George immobilized a fifth-year Hufflepuff prefect and gave the boy an atomic wedgie. Ron began laughing, having forgotten about Luna.
Harry leaned over to be closer to Luna and he got a whiff of her perfume. It smelled of wisteria, lavender, and roses. He began to lose himself in the thoughts of kissing her perfectly puffed lips. He had just started to bend over to kiss her when she stopped him.
“Harry, I’ve got a problem; I’m sick.” She took his hand and led him away into a secluded alcove.
“A secluded alcove? Brilliant!” He lowered his lips to hers. She drank his kiss greedily, like a camel just arriving at an oasis. Harry’s hands started to move from her back down lower onto her body.
She pushed him away again, her carnation-pink lipstick smeared across his lips and down his neck. “I really do have a problem.”
In the close quarters, her scent had overwhelmed him and his eyes glazed. “What?” he murmured. “What did you say?”
She shoved him back. “I said that I really do have a problem.”
Harry fell to his knees and wrung his hands. A glistening tear caught on the corner of his bright green eyes. “What can I do to help?”
“Do you still have Sirius’s knife?” she asked.
Harry stood. “It’s in my dormitory.” He started to run toward the Gryffindor tower. “I’ll be right back.”
Luna shouted at him, “Meet me by Snape’s classroom.”
Still unsure if Harry had heard her, she made her way to the dungeons, pausing only once to puke in a corner. Her stomach churned and she staggered. She Vanished the vomit and vamoosed.
She had just arrived at the Potions classroom when Harry came running down the corridor.
“I-I’ve got the knife,” he stammered breathlessly. He bent over and clutched the stitch in his side.
Luna inserted the knife into the doorframe and opened the door.
Harry stood. “A secluded classroom! Brilliant!” He took her hand and dragged her into the classroom. When they had both cleared the door, he slammed it shut and pulled her to him. The knife fell from her hands and clattered on the floor noisily. He kissed her, but pulled back almost immediately. “You taste strange.”
“I just puked,” she said, matter-of-factly.
Harry started sputtering. He went to the basin in the corner where fresh water poured from a gargoyle’s mouth and stuck his mouth under it.
Luna grabbed the knife off the floor and went to the storeroom door. She tried opening it with the knife. It didn’t budge.
Harry had finished rinsing his mouth and put his wand away. He crossed to Luna as she tried vainly to pry the door open with the knife. He took the knife from her, trailing his hand over her wrist as he did. He tried to open the door as well.
“What do you need in here?” he asked.
“A bezoar would be nice,” she replied stonily.
He turned from his ministrations at the door and looked at her. She had a serious face, which made her pouty new lips even more attractive. “What do you need a bezoar for?”
She leaned heavily on a table and almost fell. “I’m sick. I think I accidently poisoned myself when I gave myself the makeover.” She pulled a stool over and sat on it. “I used some wyvern venom to get my new lips and I think I over-did it. I also don’t think it reacted well with the veela hormones.” She sat up straighter on the stool.
“Where did you get veela hormones?” Harry asked.
Luna shrugged. “I got them from Fred and George. I didn’t ask where they’d gotten them.”
Harry pulled a stool up next to her. “You bought something from Fred and George and didn’t make sure of where it came from?”
She shook her head. “It didn’t seem important at the time.” She stood suddenly and pulled her wand from behind her ear, which caused her new spun-gold tresses to cascade over newly shaped body.
Harry reached out to grab her and pull her closer, but stopped when she pointed her wand back at the classroom door. She shot a silencing hex at it, and then she blasted the door to the storeroom. Her spell rebounded and broke a flask that had been left sitting on a table.
“Try the doorframe instead of the door,” Harry suggested. He grabbed her wrist and pointed her wand at the doorframe. “Try ‘Defodio.’”
She shook her hand to release Harry’s grasp, and he pulled away reluctantly. “Defodio!” The stone around the doorframe started to gouge away. They both kept enlarging the doorframe until the door stood loose and wobbling, precariously balanced. Harry grabbed the handle and pulled the door to him. He staggered under its weight and just barely dragged it far enough to lean on a table. Wan moonlight lit the storeroom from the small window.
Luna had already entered the storeroom by the time Harry had regained his breath. He wandered in and looked at her standing on a stepladder to reach the top shelf.
“A secluded storeroom! Brilliant!” He watched her backside as she stretched to reach the top shelf. She over-balanced and fell. His finely honed reflexes from playing Quidditch saved her from a nasty spill as she fell into his toned arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and started to kiss him deeply. He pulled back and put her on the ground.
She looked hurt until he reached into his pocket and handed her a foil-wrapped candy.
“Breath mint?” he offered.
“Thank you.” She took the mint, unwrapped it and crunched it rapidly.
Harry climbed the stepladder and reached down the box of bezoars. He shook it and was gratified to hear the rattle. He came back down the ladder and handed her the box.
Luna smiled and took the box from Harry. She ran her hand over his arm and up his sleeve to the elbow. She pulled back reluctantly and opened the box. A petrified hair-ball fell out into her waiting hand.
“The faster you put that in your mouth, the faster we can get on to other things.” Harry closed her hand around the bezoar and lifted it to her mouth.
Luna smiled, lifted her hand the rest of the way to her mouth and swallowed the bezoar.
“I didn’t think you needed to swallow it,” Harry said.
“You don’t, but it works quicker and more efficaciously.” Her smile lit up the dark storeroom.
Harry wrapped his hands around her lower back and pulled her toward him.
“Where were we?” He lowered his head. “Oh, yes, I remember.”
Her quivering mouth lifted to his and they kissed. The rest of the night passed in giggles and butterfly kisses. Luna’s face shone in the moonlight from the window.
Harry awakened in the morning with Luna convulsing in his arms on the floor of the storeroom. He found his wand under her robes and touched it to her, calming her convulsions. He was just about to run for help when she called to him weakly.
He lifted her head to his lap and stroked her hair.
“I’m here, Luna,” he whispered back to her.
“I…I’m glad we had the one night together.”
“I’m glad, too.” He gripped her hand tightly.
Luna coughed, and blood spattered Harry’s face. “I’m dying.”
“Don’t say that, Luna. I’ll get help.” He squeezed her hand and then rose.
“It’s okay, Harry.” She coughed again. “I’ll see my mum soon.” Her feet began to twitch and the tremors passed up her legs. Slowly, her body started to reform to what it had been before her makeover.
“Harry?” she asked weakly, her breath coming shallower.
“I know what I want on my tombstone.” Her arms began to spasm.
“Don’t talk like that,” Harry wailed.
She regained control enough to pull his ear down to her mouth. “I want it to say ‘I told you I was sick.’”
Her breath rattled one last time and with a wracking cough she died.
The bezoar shot out and hit Harry on the forehead, giving him a red welt to go with his scar.
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