it was her mystery that drew him in. she was small and light and sometimes he could swear he saw her fade away. more often than not, however, she was standing silently as more news trickled in from bill, from fleur, from occasional patronus's from charlie and arthur. but they were careful; no one could find them, not in the small house perched above the waves, where he locked himself away beneath cliffs while she danced in the sand. she seemed to glow with the sun, hair illuminated as her round eyes turned to his in the dark of the night, bright and beautiful and looking all the world like the moon as it fades. but he could never get the phrases out, could never tell his fellow artist what he could finally see because he knew not of her reactions though he craved to say
do you remember when we used to harmonize like- but the words die on his lips because they are not his but from a woman that he would have worshipped, in another lifetime at least. he wants to ease her pain away but his has swallowed him and he's struggling for air. the war is over but her bruises still stand out on her skin and he tries to kiss them away but she pulls back, eyes searching his for truths he can't give, mouth shaping the word, o on herlipsherlips and he must resist the temptation but she is everywhere yet no where and he can see her but can't find her and they touch he does not feel and his hands may be too rough on hers but either way she ducks her head beneath his and for a moment they are still innocent as
she watched him struggle with her aura as he glowed dank and gray but she stayed away from the mark of a man who payed her no attention. there is a time for everything, for death and for love and for the things that she wanted to be hers but will never be. when she wanted to be honest, she conceded that mars wasn't so alone and that if it could, the moon would probably follow him along (the earth has children, and they are beautiful, says her father). but she was just luna, and he was (and is) tall and dark and everything she had never been (nor wanted to be) the person that all look up to (or would if it wasn't for harry, whom she loved either way because he has always made ginny happy, don't you know that's all she'd ever wanted?) and perhaps there was a happy ending for everyone yet
the light is like a halo around everyone, she tells him one day and he just blinks at her so she turns, hair cloaking her from the judgement of others. he pulls her back, though, and asks, is everyone good? and she has to answer, of course, no, but there is balance, and just like that all is alright for at least one moment because he is flush against her and she notices that his heels are cracked and scarred (from walking, he will tell her later). his skin is warm and she is so very cold, hair damp and stringy but he holds on tight, even as his shirt is ruined with salt water as he tries to say everything she'll never let him. don't you worry, she wants to tell him even though he will be gone in the morning with the one he loves and would rather see alive than with her and alone even if he says
"you are as beautiful as the moon."
"if only that were true, dean. things could be so different."
"why would i lie?"
"you aren't lying; you just don't know the truth."
"what is truth?…i – i love you."
"no you don't, dean. it's not you speaking."
"i could learn."
"you are gryffindor."