Welcome to my first piece of jointly-written fanfiction! If you are here, then hopefully you have read my friend AloraMora's companion piece, Opening the Box. This piece can stand alone, but I'd definitely reading them together.
This was actually a project for my fanfiction class, so this was a funny little experiment.
-XXX-
Another day, another DA meeting.
Luna was more than pleased to join Hermione at the Hog's Head upon her vague request. She was even happier to be recruited to Harry's cause and align herself with those not appreciative of Doloras Umbridge's reign upon their school. The extracurricular lessons were quite informative, and while she hoped to never used the new skills she was gaining, the pragmatic side of the young witch reasoned that it was more than likely that she would. Her father and his newspaper forecast war, or at least great conflict. It was, she reflected to herself, a pity more people didn't read the thing. Perhaps if they could see past the Blibbering Humdinger sightings, people might take heed...
The meetings are, if anything, a small comfort. Dumbledore's Army meetings often left her feeling at little more empowered, better able to take on the nightmare that was a Umbridge-esque Hogwarts. It also reassured her that she was not alone – sometimes, in the corridors, when she came across a fellow DA member, they might smile. She is surrounded twice a week by people who were, if not nice to her, then overall descent witches and wizards. Most of her classmates in DA ignored her or were politely uninterested in her "ramblings." They tolerate her well enough, and for the first time in her life, Luna felt like part of something. It is nearly like having friends.
-XXX-
It is easy for one to assume based on her ever-tranquil expression that she is not focused, not pushing all of her mental force into summoning the spell. But she is focused – terribly so. Her mind flickers through happy thought after happy thought, briefly settling on those revolving around her family, her childhood. They are all tinged with bittersweetness and sorrow, so she pulls away, searching again. The first time she managed the riddle to Ravenclaw Tower, successfully opening the door by herself. A spring day when she found a cluster of daisies by the lake. Bella''s warmth in her arms. The rainy afternoon when her mother let her hold her wand, the slight tingling feeling in her hand, the smooth grain of wood against her fingertips...
She opens her eyes when she feels the surge of energy exiting her wand. The silvery emission, too fast to be defined by any kind of shape, bounds to all four corners of the room before settling before her, quivering slight. Luna can only stare as the rabbit wiggles its small nose, vacant white eyes gazing at her in patient expectation.
"Well done, Luna!" Harry roars from across the room, smiling widely. Beside her, Ginny grins, patting her arm. No one else gives much notice as they're all to focused on summoning their own patronuses.
Luna nods at the both of them before turning back to her magical companion. The rabbit has one foot up to scratch behind it's long ears. Hermione's otter wizzes by, teasing the bunny with a few chirps and clicks. Anxious, the rabbit readjusts itself as the other patronus chatters, quivering a little harder. It seemed to pale from a silvery to a more platinum color, if that was even possible.
"Sorry," Hermione calls from a few people down . She waves her wand, desperately trying to call back her otter. "Oh, do come back here!"
"It's no trouble," Luna reassures her. The rabbit hops closer to her mistress as the otter glides away. Once safely planted between Luna's legs, the rabbit shiveres, then evaporates into a glimmering mist.
-XXX-
When she is close to passing out following a session with the Carrows, Luna sometimes sees things. It's quite normal, really, especially for her. Half of the things she sees are that which others do not acknowledge.
But these visions are special – for they simply cannot be anywhere near reality. Her head is resting against the cold stone of the dungeon, she had been letting her unfocused gaze land upon the flickering flames of torches. A shadow moves from the corner, the darkness shifting, and Luna lifts her head a solitary inch. Even with that small motion pain shots down her spine. She curls her fingers against bloodied palms, wincing. But the pain is suddenly secondary. The shadow looms, bending, reaching out. If she felt better, Luna would shrink back, but oh, everything hurts...
Her mother strokes her tender skull. Crouching before her on the cold stone, Pandora looks just as Luna remembers – angelic blonde hair, dreamy violet eyes, a small up-turned nose. Even her scent – the light crisp floral mixed with honey and something else, something warm – is the same. Her expression is concerned, eyes flooded with compassion. Her hand continues to stroke Luna's crown calmly.
Luna knows she is hallucinating. Knows that this cannot, cannot, cannot be real. But that doesn't really matter. It just is.
"Am I dying?" she wonders absently. The pain is persisting, so she would suppose not.
Pandora stays with her until Luna's eyes drift close. Though she is nearly passed out, Luna thinks she can feel the gust of wind when her mother leaves. When she peeks her eyes open a little, she can see the torches flickering madly. With her bloodied, busted lips, Luna Lovegood smiles.
-XXX-
Tugging at her lilac robs nervously, she breathes deeply, inhaling the early summer air. With June's lazy arrival came graduation. There had been a time during the War when Luna had been certain that she would never leave Hogwart's halls as a successful graduate. She thought that she would only leave dead, or at least gravely injured.
Thankfully, the broken ankle and wrist she'd sustained during the final battle was the worst of her wounds. And now, she is walking lightly across the threshold of the massive oak doors towards the lawn. Ginny squeezes her hand, grinning broadly as she adjusts Luna's wide-brim hat. "Ready?"
Luna nods, smiling back. "Very. Let's go."
They pass Harry, Ron and Hermione, all bright. Neville is beside them with Hannah Abbot, holding hands. In front of them, the Weasleys take up an entire row. Mrs. Weasley is tearful, but she isn't the only one. She and Hagrid have matching handkerchiefs that they are sniffing into loudly. Mr. Lovegood beams, flapping a hand when Luna passes. Close to the front sits proud Kingsley, Mr. Weasley, and a few other Ministry officials. They reach the dais where McGonagall stands with the Sorting Hat.
The withered hat seems to be snoozing on its stool. It straightens when the Headmistress steps up to announce the start of the ceremony. When she finishes, the hat begins its graduation song of hope and sorrow. This is the first graduation since the war.
As their names are called, Luna reflects upon the smallness of their class. They are missing many. Collin, Stacy, Fredrick...Her class has shrunk, but not nearly as much as Harry's. The elder students had been allowed to fight, yet everyone her age was supposed to have been shepherded to Hogmead. Yet still many of them stayed, knowingly risking their lives. They, along with others who had perished, were to be recognized following the graduation portion of the ceremony.
With this in mind, Luna inhales deeply and steps when Minerva loudly pronounced her name. When she returns to her seat, her eyes catch sight of a small movement near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
A pure white rabbit rests against the emerald grass. It is far away, but she can still make out its soft oval shape against the dark shadows of the forest.
-XXX-
He is a full ten years her elder, Rolf Scamander. A journalist, he had been in the Americas when Voldemort rose a second time. He did not participate much therefore, and did not know what to say to those who did.
The first time they meet was at a conference held by the Minister. Luna is writing for her father's paper. She enjoys throwing difficult questions at Kingsley, those including related to non-Ministerial things – such as the current price of wombat claws or the latest gossip on Celica Warbeck. He seems to enjoy replying, even when she throws a curveball at him with a serious question. Those that consider themselves "serious journalists" are quite annoyed with her by the end.
Rolf sits just behind her. He irritated young Luna by asking a question she had been planning on asking. Half-glancing at him Luna lets her lips turn downwards but says nothing, never wishing to be rude. He catches her eyes with his own friendly brown orbs.
Later, at the table of coffee and biscuits, he finds her.
"Hello," he starts, extending a hand. "Brilliant stuff about Floo taxation back there. Gave old Shacklebolt a real run for his money."
"You as well." She automatically squeezes his hand and is pleased to find to warm and dry. "I was just about to ask him how the Ministry was planning to hold dragon owners accountable...that was a good question. Much better phrased than anything I had planned -"
"Rolf," Rolf says quickly. Running his spare hand through his sandy hair, he looks almost sheepish. "I'm terribly sorry to take such a question from you. I'm just an avid naturalist, you see, only part-time, as a hobby. It is a of keen interest to me."
Tilting her head, Luna smiles. "I'm quite fond of nature myself."
His eyes grow bright at this. "Are you? Would you perhaps care to discuss dragons and doxies and other such subjects over...over dinner?"
She says yes without hesitation and he beams.
-XXX-
Somehow they convince one another to abandon promising careers in journalism to pursue their true passion. The life of a naturalist is not for those who prefer a settled life, so they travel often and sometimes spend weeks apart. But they can handle this – distance doesn't trouble either of them. They know it is inevitable that they will end up together.
They are both published in Magic of Nature within the next four years. Upon the academic publication of Luna's research from Chile, Rolf makes his proposal. It is simple, to the point, and utterly "Rolf." They both might be fanciful at times, but they are overwhelmingly practical within that fancy.
Two years later they are married. Her father cries to see her dressed in yellow, just as he had wished. It is a small wedding with only a few about it in the Quibbler and no mention whatsoever in the Daily Prophet. But that suits them just fine.
A honeymoon in Indonesia returns them to England perfectly relaxed. They settle in a Dorsal cottage and happily, life begins.
-XXX-
Three years following their union, she started having some stomach issues. After the fifth morning of waking, then heading straight to the toilet to puke out her guts, they began to suspect something.
"It could be pregnancy," Rolf observes from the doorway. Luna glares at him, wiping her mouth. "When did you last have your cycle?"
They did the math and acknowledged that pregnancy is valid option. She casts the spell and her belly glows. The Lovegood-Scamanders exchange a heavy glance.
-XXX-
She could feel it inside of her. Moving. Shifting. Ginny had once compared pregnancy to having a goldfish swimming around in your belly. Luna felt more like she had a jellyfish or an eel moving about inside of her. Nothing as friendly as a goldfish.
Sometimes when Rolf is smoothing her taut skin with his calloused hands, the squirming inside of her calms, like the sea after a storm. The baby liked Rolf. It didn't seem to care much for Luna.
"It's probably just nerves," he explains. "You feel anxious so the baby is anxious."
Luna did not think it was that simple. She is fearful that it's not her anxiety that is making the baby wiggly, it is that the baby hates her. Already. It can sense that she will be a bad mother.
These thoughts keep her up at night. Sometimes in his sleep Rolf will reach for her, as though aware of her unsettling thoughts. She shudders in his arms.
After two months of this Ginny and Rolf insist that she see a mediwitch. The woman gives her light potions to ease her nerves. She advises Luna to breathe, find distractions. There are breathing exercises, gentle methods of calming herself with tea and short walks. It is easier said than done, but with time Luna relaxes within her pregnancy.
Still, it is not easy on her. The fear of motherhood lingers, though it begins to mingle with a happier excitement. Rolf's joy is infectious, and she cannot help but share at least part of his feelings. Rolf is all energy. He almost seems to absorb all that she has lost. With that he paints the nursery, shops for all of the necessary baby supplies and, sings happy silly songs as he cooks for them. Rolf has also taken it upon himself to monitor his wife's diet, something Luna can barely bring herself to do from sheer business. She is, after all, still working.
Work keeps her relatively sane in this time of fear. She does not travel as much, but she does the occasional lecture at Hogwart or works on her current book. It's not much, but far preferable to sitting around the house knitting all day long. Rolf teases her, saying that she ought to rest now while she can still find the time.
"Our lives will never be the same again," he reminds her.
"Yes," Luna agrees, holding back a cringe.
-XXX-
She starts her labor in the middle of a rainy afternoon. They were lazing in the parlor, Luna's head in Rolf's lap as she perused the paper. She feels suddenly uncomfortable. Pausing, the young witch identifies a wetness beneath her.
"Oh," she gasps quietly.
Rolf, in the middle of his own paper, glances down at her. The glasses on the end of his nose are reflective and flash. "Hm?"
"Dearest," she begins. "I think...I think it's starting."
He blinks at her, uncomprehending,for several seconds before his eyes widen owlishly. "Oh. That! Right!"
Helping her up, Rolf begins to get flustered. Rushing around, his hands are shaking. "Bag, bag -"
"In the closet, dear."
"Right!" he repeats. Once ladened with the bag and their coats, he laces her fingers with his.
"No apparation," she reminds him. His hands tighten along with his panicked expression. Rolf escorts her to the fireplace. A pinch of powder from the pot on the mantle and the flame bursts green, and they step into the fire.
Six hours later Luna is sprawled on the chair. Rolf still gripping her hand rather tightly. The pressure on her is unkind. The mediwitch between her legs is telling her to breathe, just breathe, Rolf is whispering sweetly in her ear. She wants it to stop, her head is spinning, everything is happening too slow and too fast and too – too –
She pushes a final time, then passes out.
-XXX-
They are terrifying creatures. She marvels at them in their shared bassinet, eyes roving over their perfect little limbs, tiny fingers, pearly eyes, and seashell ears. Their downy silver hair is soft and so light it is nearly transparent. Sometimes she traces their blue veins though their thin skin. They are lovely, in their own way. So delicate yet loud in their squalls.
Luna is absolutely horrified at the thought of being left alone with them. Oh, she loves them. They are her sun and stars, entirely. However, they are absolute mysteries to her. Luna was the last Lovegood child, she had no brothers, sisters, or even cousins. Children are entirely unknown to her. She has no instinct for them. When they cry she flinches, and though she holds them, rocking and rubbing their small backs, they do not often comply with her pleas for quiet. She has learnt how to hold a bottle, how to change their nappies, how to burp, how to bathe. But knowing the basics is not quite the same as knowing the details.
Rolf sings to the babies. He tickles their toes and plays small games and speaks to them in a silly sort of way. In turn, Luna is stiff and awkward. It is apparent to anyone who sees them that Luna is frightful of hurting her own babies. She holds them at a distance. She flinches with they cry. Every motion she makes around it's like she's moving around a wobbly shelf filled with china.
This view pains Mrs. Weasley, who takes it upon herself to help the young mother. She watches Luna fluster at the mewling sounds her children make and clucks as she heats milk from the stove. "Come, they are far more durable than you think."
In time she bounces them. She will tickle their toes thoughtlessly, and their small sound become more comforting. She sings with Rolf. He shows her how to play peek-a-boo, though the babes cannot play properly for sometime. Their wide, unknowing eyes will not focus and smiles are not something they do naturally.
She is very surprised to find that even this early they both possess their own personalities and distinct features. Yet even within their differences they fit together, like cogs in clockwork.
Lorcan, the eldest, is the wiggly one. He starts crawling very early, and Rolf speculates that he will soon be a menace. Lorcan definitely has the potential – he babbles loudly to his twin, as though scheming. Luna takes to propping him up against her chest to help him stretch his chubby arms, effectually dancing together.
Lysander is a quieter baby. He's still quite active, and quickly follows his brother in crawling. But he is more pensive. Luna can leave him beneath his mobile, charming it to float breezily above him, and he will marvel at it for an age. She thinks he will like reading when he is older. Lysander's calmer nature draws her to him when Lorcan demands all of Rolf's attention. He is content to simply sit, holding her finger, listening to the radio.
By the sixth month, Luna is much more at-ease. She's begins working again, and feels content enough to strap them into their strollers or carrier while she writes. Occasionally she apparates them to some remote part of the world where she observes strange birds and feathery lizards. Small creatures, they are harmless, but nonetheless Luna maintains an eye on them constantly. Lorcan and Lysander seem to enjoy the creatures a good deal. They reach for the long tails of birds, squealing when the birds escape their reach.
Rolf is gone often. He's teaching, presenting at conferences, busy. He's home when he can be, but Luna is the one who cares for them most hours of the day. When he returns as the sun is setting he tosses them up in the air and they all shout.
They are happy. Luna sometimes reflects on a time during the war, when the future seemed impossible to reach. Now it is here, and it is far happier than she'd ever hoped imagine back then.
-XXX-
Her sons take a little longer than usual to express their magical tendencies. Lysander in particular seems to be rather hard-headed in his shyness, and he doesn't display his until nearly two months after Lorcan, who showed his promptly at two and a half years of age by exploding Mummy's favorite teapot and potted fern.
Luna and Rolf spend several months worrying over their twin's magical abilities before than began to express themselves. When Lysander lags behind they had many a sleepless night of anxiety. If he ended up a squib they'd love him all the same, of course, but what do once they came to terms with his condition? They are clueless. Neither had squibs in their family, and only know of a few personally.
"Hogwarts, I suppose," Rolf whispers into the darkness as they lay side-by-side in bed.
"But then what?"
"He's two," her husband reminds her.
"Still," Luna sighs. "I just don't want him to struggle."
Thankfully, Lysander's talent manifests itself only a week later and it is potent. He turns the cat green with a blink of an eye. Lorcan finds this very amusing and spends the rest of the afternoon attempt to do the same to Da's barn owl. Neither Rolf nor Luna are pleased when Bernard turns up pink, but they are relieved that Lysander finally expressed his magic.
The madness is only just beginning, however. Now that both boys could use their powers to some extent, many things began to disappear, break, change color, fly...all manner of mischief. Luna has a newfound appreciation for Molly Weasley.
-XXX-
She feels vaguely stunned when Rolf informs her that they ought to go school supplies shopping before the end of the week.
"Whatever for?" she asks.
He blinks at her, pushing up his glasses. "Well, they'll be going to school soon, won't they? They'll be needing supplies."
"But they're..." She drifts off, frowning. "Already?
"Yes." He runs a hand through his sandy hair. "They're eleven. They got their owls last week."
"Where was I? I don't remember this?"
"Newfoundland, dear," Rolf reminds her gently. "That conference on North American Magical Beings. We flipped a coin, yeah? You got to go, I watched the demons."
As of late, her father has been too ill to babysit. The last time they'd left the twins at his tower, both left with blue hair and chocolate-stained faces – which was a fairly normal occurrence – and the news that grandpa had taken them to St. Mungos. Rolf and Luna had been rather horrified, which only increased that the trip was not for their sons, but for Xenophilis's sudden shakiness.
"Of course." Luna sighs. "It's impossible. Surely they can't be eleven."
He found her hand, squeezing. "It's terribly true."
The next day they took their twin beasts to Diagon Alley. Both were wonderfully excited, bounding down the cobblestones with great enthusiasm. Lysander lingers in Flourish and Blotts, his father patiently holding his selection of tomes. Lorcan wants to look at brooms, though Luna warned him Quidditch was rarely open to first years.
"But Uncle Harry got in his first year!" the boy protests.
"You Uncle Harry is extraordinary."
"You don't think I'm extraordinary?!" He crossed his small arms. His parents nearly laugh, but both manage to stifle their amusement.
"Of course not, darling," Rolf reassured him, scooping his son up. "We think you are very extraordinary, but in different ways."
"You've never even been on a broom," Luna reminds him. This seems to pacify him. That is, until they reach the pet shop. He and Lysander grew quiet as they wandered through the store. Luna is wary, wanting to leave with nothing more than a cat, a small owl, or perhaps a toad. As a naturalist, she knows what kinds of trouble a child – or a pair of children – could get in with a pet. Just when she thought they might be able to get out unscathed, they rounded they corner to find the boys clutching a bunny.
Lysander held the majority of the creature, which appeared calm. Lorcan half-held, half-petted the front end.
"Mum!" Lorcan summons her eagerly. "Look what we found!"
"I see. Do you see, Rolf?"
"Hm," he replies, appraising the rabbit. "What do we have here?"
Lysander shifted the creature in his arms. "He's really nice. I really like him, Mummy."
Luna stroked her son's mussy hair. "Do you?"
"Please, Mum," Lorcan begs. His wide blue-grey eyes are pleading, matched by his brother's violet orbs. "We'll share him."
"What if you are in different houses?"
"We won't be," Lysander declares quietly. Luna believes him without question. He has a certain assurance in his voice that only comes out every so often. She suspects he will enjoy Divination when he reaches his third year.
She exchanges a glance with Rolf. Or tries to. He's distracted by the giant lizard flicking his tongue from a cage above.. So much for being a "team."
A part of her wants to say no – pets are a responsibility. Her boys are so distracted they can barely remember to put on trousers some morning. But having a pet is a rather special thing in one's childhood. Luna narrows her eyes at the rabbit, scooping it up from Lysander's small arms.
Big, liquid black eyes bore into hers, shining brightly. The nose wiggles, while the rest of the body quivers. She strokes the soft downy greyness, considering. The quivering ceases beneath her hand.
"Very well," she finally allows. "But you must take care of it. No asking house elves, no leaving him home over holiday. And you can't let him anywhere near the school owls."
Her sons swear solemnly. They purchase the bunny for four sickles. Locran insists on carrying the cage out of the store. Rolf keeps an eye on his eldest son, careful to make sure the new pet is not being rattled too much. Lysander keeps a few fingers on the cage and will occasionally speak softly to the rabbit. It has backed into the corner nearest Lorcan's chest, balling up, black eyes shining out upon this strange new world.
-XXX-
A little less than a week later finds the four Lovegood-Scamanders at King's Cross. For the novelty of it, they came through the muggle entrance so that the boys could have the experience of running through the pillar between platforms. Lorcan howls with laughter while his brother giggles. Their bunny twitched its nose – perhaps, Luna wonders, he finds the whole thing just as amusing. She stuck a finger through the grid of metal to stroke one velvet ear.
"Mum, the train!" Lorcan tugs on her sleeve. She absently rearranges his hair, smoothing it back. No doubt by the time he made it to Hogwarts it would be mussed again.
"Yes, it's quite a sight, isn't it?"
He nod enthusiastically. Lysander looks less energized. Glancing back a Rolf, she suggests, "Why don't you and your father take the trunks to the end, Lorcan?"
Off they went. Luna opens her fingers, though she doesn't make a show of offering them to Lysander, who is staring at the bright red train, tracing the gold lettering with his lavender eyes. After a moment he intertwines his fingers with hers.
She remembers waiting on this same platform with her father, nearly twenty-five years ago. Back then, on her first train ride with her too-big robe sleeves, worrying the end of her new wand, she had been praying her father wouldn't ask her if she was anxious. If he asked then she would have to tell him. And then he would be worried and feel guilty...Even at the tender age of eleven she knew he was the poorer parent between the two she had. But by then her mother was dead. So Luna had forced a smile and accepted the editor's copy of the Quibbler he had pressed into her hands as a parting gift. As she boarded the train, she pressed her bottlecap necklace into her palms so hard the skin was cut and blood drawn.
Luna is not her father. She knows better than to ask if he is scared. So Luna just waits. She is rewarded
"How long is the ride?"
"Only a few hours," she reassures him. "Less than five. Probably somewhere around 4."
This seems to stricken him.
"Harry and Ginny's children will be there," she reminds him. "And Hermione and Ron's. As well as Bill's and George's. Loads of people you know."
He nods. Luna squeezes his hand.
"Are you worried about the sorting?"
This time he shook no. "I know we'll get in the same house."
"How are you sure?"
"I just am."
"It will be okay," she reassures him. "if you do not end up in the same house. You've been together since you were in the womb, my love."
He smiles as this. But he does not relax. When his father and brother return Luna is admiring the bright green trainers he has selected.
"Are you going to wear those with your robe?" Lorcan asks. "I've got my orange ones in my trunk, maybe -"
"You'll need to be getting onto the train soon," Rolf says firmly. This kind of shut-down would normally deflate Lorcan, but today it only increases his excitement.
Further down the tracks stand the Potters and the Weasley clans. Their youngest children are only a year or two older than Luna and Rolf's. Everyone in their family is an old hand at this. Luna hopes Ginny might have mentioned keeping an eye out for the Lovegood-Scamander boys to her three. She lifts a hand to them, and the adults wave. George looks a little wistfully at her boys. They remind him, without a doubt, of himself and his own twin.
Rolf hands off the rabbit to his son. The still-unnamed creature will be riding with Lysander. The conductor calls for last-minute borders. Luna and Rolf press hurried kisses and share final goodbyes with their twins. The boys take little notice of their parents' tear-filled, half-choked words. They scramble onto the train, Lorcan taking lead as usual. Lysander lingers a little longer, almost hesitant. But he soon follows, though not before saying softly, "Love you, Mum. Dad."
Luna leans against Rolf, sighing. With a loud whistle the train begins to build up smoke The Potters and Weasleys join them.
"First time is always the hardest," Ginny says sympathetically.
Luna smiles through slightly damp eyes. "Yes, but very much worth it. They're going to have a grand time."
"Hopefully better than our years," Ron says from beside his wife. Hermione is quick to protest.
"We had a great time!"
"Yeah, between that nutter constantly trying to kill Harry, the three-headed dog, the year a bunch of Death Eaters invaded -"
"I am sure they'll have a great experience," Harry cut across firmly. "James and Albus have promised to look out for them. Lily couldn't hold still long enough to agree, but I am sure she will as well."
"Hugo and Rose, too," Hermione adds. "They'll be there."
"We do appreciate it." Rolf smiles at everyone. "I have not doubt they will have a wonderful first year. As shall we." His hand goes to Luna's waist.
"It's quite nice," Ginny admits slyly. "Finally, the house to ourselves..."
"Anyone up for lunch?" Ron asks loudly. His ears have redden. Ginny smirks as the group moves out of the station, in search of a descent place to grab lunch in muggle London. Luna only looks back at the train rolling away in the distance once. Rolf meets her eye when she turns back. They share a bittersweet smile, then hurry to catch up with their friends.
-XXX-
Please read and review both mine and AloraMora's stories! And feel free to ask me questions about the class I wrote this for, I'd be happy to share our reading list or some conclusions we met in class discussion!