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She was lying on her side on a cold marble floor, facing an ornate marble fireplace. In the darkened room, she could see deep purple walls on either side of the hearth, lined with portraits of witches and wizards, none looking very pleasant. Her eyes stung with hot tears and her body felt nothing but excruciating pain. Her heart hammered in her chest as she lay there, unable to move. She could sense the other people in the room, but she dared not move her head to look around her.
Suddenly, to her right, a high, shrill voice shrieked, “CRUCIO!”
Her vision exploded into blinding red light as she squeezed her eyes shut, and a bloodcurdling scream reached her ears. In horror, she realised the screams belonged to HER.
In the distance, she could hear someone calling her name urgently. “Mione, MIONE!” Then her body was being shaken. Everything began to fade to black…
Her eyes flew open to find a pair of bright blue eyes staring with tender concern into her own. “Luna,” Hermione said breathlessly. “What happened, what—“
“It’s ok, Mione, you were having another one of your night terrors,” replied Luna.
“Oh, no… was I screaming again?” Hermione peered sheepishly up at her.
Luna smiled at her gently as she replied, “Yes, but not to worry. If you remember, I did place a strong Silencing Charm on the flat, so you’ve not bothered anyone.”
At this, Hermione flinched, and her face fell, as guilt flooded her. “Oh, but I’ve bothered you, Luna! I’ve woken you again!”
“Mione,” Luna squeezed her shoulder, “you have not bothered me. You never do. Most nights I am already awake, you know that I’m a night owl.” She smiled earnestly at her dear friend. She honestly did not mind; she cared deeply for Hermione and hated to see her continue to suffer after all that she had been through.
There were potions to help her relax and to help her sleep, but Hermione had also been seeing a therapist. There was no magic potion that could cure PTSD. No, that kind of pain had to be addressed head-on, and it took time. Having witnessed her own mother’s untimely demise whilst experimenting with magic, Luna understood that mental and emotional healing was no easy process.
“I’ll go and make us some tea and fetch a potion to help you get back to sleep.” Luna smiled and patted Hermione’s arm, then rose from the edge of the bed where she had been sitting.
Hermione sat upright in bed and sank back against her pillows. “Thank you, Luna.” She smiled. Luna always knew just what she needed.
Luna made her way to their tiny kitchen and filled the teakettle with water. She set the kettle on the range, pulled her wand from her bathrobe pocket, and ignited the burner with a simple wave. Satisfied, she returned her wand to her pocket. She could have easily made the tea instantly with a spell, but she preferred to prepare it this way, enjoying the process of it.
While waiting for the telltale whistle letting her know the water was boiling, Luna opened one cupboard to pull out mugs and the tea bags. She crossed the small kitchen to open another cabinet to grab a potion for Hermione, as well as some lavender to add to their chamomile tea. Hermione might still be hard on herself, but Luna did not mind caring for her one bit. Even at a young age, despite her own grieving, she had cared for her father after her mother died, so this was all very familiar for her.
She had also come to love Hermione like the sister she’d never had. They had much in common, and both of them being only children was just another thing they’d bonded over since meeting at Hogwarts. There were many things that Luna admired about Hermione; the witch was much stronger than she gave herself credit for. Some who suffered the effects of the Cruciatus curse resided in St. Mungo’s, unable to live a normal life.
The tea kettle whistled, interrupting Luna’s thoughts. She moved the kettle off of the hot burner, grabbed a small tray from the top of the refrigerator, and set it on the counter next to the range. She set the mugs on the tray and placed the tea bags inside before pouring the hot water over them. While it steeped, she added a few drops of lavender essential oil to each steaming mug of tea, then set the small bottle aside. Placing the potion next to the cups, she lifted the tray and made her way back to Hermione’s room.
“Here we are! I still believe that few problems in the world that cannot be remedied by a good cup of tea.” Luna set the tray on the nightstand and smiled as she handed a mug and the potion to Hermione. She picked up her own mug and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Hermione downed her potion and took a sip of her tea. Gripping her mug in one hand, she said, “Luna, I really don’t know what I would do without you. You’ve been so understanding, and I am beyond grateful.”
Seeing her friend’s eyes shining with tears, Luna set down her mug and took Hermione’s free hand in both of her own. “Mione,” she replied, “think nothing of it! You are like my sister, and that is what sisters do; they take care of each other.”
Luna stood and gathered up her mug. “Now, finish your tea and let that potion help you rest. I think I’ll make us some blueberry waffles in the morning.”
“Thank you, Luna,” said Hermione. “You always know just what I need, even if I don’t know it myself.” They smiled knowingly, each understanding the other perfectly. The kind of understanding that only comes from a real, deep friendship. After all, friends are the family we choose for ourselves.