A Flicker of Hope
Luna sat in the hospital wing long after Madam Pomfrey had finished her examination. The curtains around her bed had been drawn, giving her the illusion of solitude, but she could still hear Hermione and Ginny whispering nearby. Their voices were low, edged with concern, and though she couldn’t make out every word, she didn’t need to. She knew what they were talking about.
She was the topic of conversation now.
It made her stomach twist. She didn’t like this attention, this feeling of being watched, analyzed, worried over. It felt like losing control, like being backed into a corner with nowhere to run.
She had convinced herself for so long that she was fine. That she didn’t need help.
But fainting in class had changed things.
And now, she wasn’t sure what to do next.
--
Madam Pomfrey had been firm but kind.
“You need to eat, Miss Lovegood,” she had said, handing Luna a potion meant to restore her strength. “Your body can’t keep up with the way you’ve been treating it. If you continue down this path, the consequences will be severe.”
Luna had nodded, had even taken a few sips of the nutrient potion to appease her. But the words had sat heavy in her chest.
She knew Madam Pomfrey was right.
She just didn’t know how to change.
Eating more, resting, accepting help—it all felt too much like giving up.
Like admitting she had lost control.
And she wasn’t ready for that.
--
Hermione and Ginny refused to leave her alone.
Not in a suffocating way, but in the way that made Luna’s heart ache with something she couldn’t quite name.
Ginny had smuggled in a plate of pastries from the Great Hall, setting them down on Luna’s bedside table with a stubborn look.
“You don’t have to eat all of it,” she said. “But you need to eat something.”
Luna had forced a small smile. “Thank you, Ginny.”
She had meant it, even if the sight of the food made her chest tighten.
Hermione had been quieter, more calculated in her approach. She asked gentle questions—never pushing, never demanding, but giving Luna space to talk if she wanted to.
Luna wasn’t ready to talk.
But she noticed.
She noticed the way Hermione pretended to read while keeping an eye on her.
She noticed the way Ginny kept finding excuses to visit, even if it was just to complain about her brothers.
She noticed Neville dropping off a small potted plant, saying nothing except, “I thought you might like this.”
They weren’t forcing her to do anything.
They were just there.
And that scared her just as much as it comforted her.
--
Late that night, long after everyone had left, Luna sat up in bed and stared at the untouched plate of food beside her.
She knew she should eat.
But the moment she reached for it, a familiar voice crept into her mind.
You don’t need it.
You’ll feel worse if you eat.
You’re stronger than this.
Luna pulled her hand back.
Tears burned at the edges of her vision.
She had spent so long convincing herself that this was about control. That she was choosing this.
But now, she wasn’t sure who was really in control anymore.
And that realization terrified her.
--
The next morning, Ginny returned with a plate of toast and pumpkin juice.
She didn’t say anything, just set it down and sat on the edge of Luna’s bed, talking about Quidditch, about classes, about anything except the food in front of them.
Luna listened, fingers twisting in her sheets.
She wasn’t hungry.
At least, she didn’t think she was.
But she was tired.
So, so tired.
And something inside her whispered that maybe, just maybe, she couldn’t do this alone anymore.
Her hand shook as she reached for a piece of toast.
It wasn’t much.
It wasn’t a grand breakthrough.
But as she took a bite, Ginny smiled, and for the first time in a long while, Luna felt something close to hope.