author's note: for lost in a musical daydream. sorry if it's shit, but i forgot how to write. i haven't written any FanFiction in over a year, and i wrote this in like three or for days. uhm, yeah. i've more dedications to make up. (ps. i dont even know if characterisation is right because no FanFics in more than a year). hope you like it though. if you read past this note, please review!
when all is said and done
harry&luna
The café is icy, but Luna manages to lick ice cream gleefully, tongue swiftly scoping the sides of the cone for melting.
"War changes people, Lun," he starts, "so I'm sorry for whatever I said. I love you."
"I first heard of Hogwarts when I was eight," she says, sadly, looking at him. Her face is covered in black soot.
He scrunches up his face, but nods. He is several inches taller than her, hair black, eyes emerald. "Er, okay." She's a bit on the odd side.
"Yeah, Mum usually told me that I'd end up in Ravenclaw."
Harry smiles. She must have been lonely locked up in Malfoy's cellar. "We'll get ice cream in a now, okay?" He can't leave her. Not after everything. Luna needs him.
"Okay." She wipes her nose.
They kiss, and neither can help thinking it tastes like the ashes of the relationship they're in, as it just blossoms more, deeper another level.
("Draco, bugger off." She bandages a bleeding gash, her ribs poking out of her waist.
"Lovegood. Kiss—"
"No," she tells him.
"—me and I will," he finishes.
"Over Crabbe's dead body. I love Harry. "Come on now…" she pleads the crimson body. Luna doesn't need to see him to know that burnt Draco crisp. "It's okay. I'm here. You'll be safe."
"Luna, please?"
Okay. "A hug, Malfoy."
A hug and she fails to object when it's slightly too long, and bruising her small, bony hips).
Harry watches Bill, Percy, Ginny, George, Ron, Arthur and Molly stare at a dead corpse in the Great Hall. (It's not Fred, so there's no use saying so). Hermione's eyes are stinging. He is hugging her; crooning quieting noises in her ear, and she trembles. Her mantra, ohRonaldohRonaldohRonald, unchanging. Guilt festers in him at the sight of shattered hearts, but he doesn't admit it aloud. Hermione's crying again; Ron truly did suffer through it worst of the three. All he does is walk away.
Luna is missing, or so he despises to think. He wants to find her. Can't leave her, not again.
Last time he abandoned her bad things happened. She was taken and his heart ached for her. The next he saw of her she was nearly anorexic, only eating three hundred calories a day, because of the Malfoys meal portions for captives, vomiting anything more than had been given. Her innocence was grotesquely shred to pieces, by constant nightmares and pressing fears, so no—he can't leave.
Hogwarts is on fire. Literally. There are ashes everywhere. They've won, despite everything they've lost.
She grins him, reads the Quibbler upside down giggling over a cough.
"Maybe we should take a break," he suggests, when the fit ends. "It's going to be harder, you know, now with me, Ron and Hermione…"
"Isn't that what we fought for, Harry?"
"Yeah, but…"
She gets up—"I have to go,"—and leaves him.
Written by: summer fucking sunsets