She was sitting by the lake when the first snowflakes started to fall. Swiftly, silently like tiny ghosts landing on her eyelashes and freckled nose. Falling in great numbers, like someone had upturned a salt shaker over the dark grey sky, shrouding everything – the tress, the ground, Hagid's hut – in white, frozen rain.
The image of Hogwarts buried under feet of snow was so beautifully picturesque, it was hard to believe that it had not come straight out of one of the Muggle fairy tales her mother used to read to her when she was younger. Everything around her was magical, surreal.
There would be an occasional drop of rain, not properly frosted by the cold, bitter air, each having its own story. And she believed them all. She believed in many things. So many, in fact, that it was almost ridiculously naïve. Her experiences should have taught her to be anything but; yet here she was, viewing the world through a pair of sky blue, protuberant eyes with childlike wonder. Wonder at the beauty of nature, at how something unbelievably complex, at first sight, could turn out to be the simplest thing in the world, at how people could not accept her with her flaws when they were so replete with them themselves.
She was different, and she knew she was. And she knew they called her Loony for it, and she knew that the people who mattered, didn't. but the knowledge did nothing to make it easier on her.
It had been hard at first, but she had grown accustomed to not having friends. Until one day, in her fourth year, she met him. And her whole life fell out of balance.
How she wished, with all her heart, that she were someone else, someone more popular, someone prettier, someone more talented, anyone. Anyone but herself.
The memories came rushing back, memories of her crying into her pillow at the cruelty of fate. I can't sleep, Lovegood. Will you shut the hell up already! Memories of the Boy Who Lived jumping out from under the mistletoe, how it had hurt her more that it should've. Good thinking. It's often infested with Nargles. Memories of Ginny Weasley telling her she might be having feelings for him, of smiling nonchalantly back at her while having her heart ripped to pieces. Luna, I think my old crush's coming back. Memories of him asking her to Slughorn's party and the endless scorn she had received from the female population of Hogwarts, scorn she had willingly put up with for him. How would you like to go to Slughorn's party with me tonight? Memories of Ron Weasley mocking his choice openly and the crying she had done later on. You could've taken anyone! Anyone! And you choose Loony Lovegood?
But that was all over and done with. Another chapter of her mundane life brought to a conclusion. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was closing. Five years of her life, gone. All the memories, forgotten. And no matter how optimistic she tried to be, nothing would ever soothe the dull ache forming at the pit of her stomach.
A single tear fell down her cheek, leaving a trail of wetness behind it, marring her creamy skin. It was fate's way of rearing back its ugly head and laughing gloatingly at her.
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When he found her, she was alone by the lake, hugging herself and staring absent-mindedly at its frozen surface. She looked like an angel, dirty blonde hair thrown over one shoulder, a finger entangled in its depths. And when he realized her shoulders were shaking, he also realized that he would miss her. Miss the nonsense she told anyone who'd listen, miss the wide eyes that seemingly saw more than anyone else's, miss her belief in all things impossible. Like him defeating Voldemort.
He sat next to her on the white grass and allowed himself a small smile at her start.
"Hello."
She didn't reply at first, only stared into his eyes through her own pale ones, with the intensity of a person trying to memorize his features for life.
"Hello."
Her voice was higher than usual, he couldn't help but notice, and her cheeks were puffy and tear-streaked. She hadn't been shaking from the cold.
"You've been crying."
It was obvious and probably the stupidest thing to say. But he had never been a pro when it came to colloquial skills. He saw her brow furrow and her hand move up to angrily wipe away the tears he had already seen.
"What're you doing here?"
A question that was straight to the point, not particularly polite but not necessarily rude either. He could tell she wanted to be alone, but she needed someone to be there.
"I . . . came to say goodbye."
"Goodbye."
"Luna - "
"Just Leave."
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She didn't know why she was so angry; he had done absolutely nothing and yet here she was, having the last conversation she ever would with him, and saying goodbye with the warmth of a goblin. The air around her was suddenly, colder, heavier, more tense and she wanted to melt like the ice at her feet.
"I'm sorry."
He had nothing to be sorry about but he was saying it anyway, his voice quivering for reasons unbeknownst to her. She turned and looked at him. The bottle green eyes she was so captivated with staring back at her, filled with sadness, and happiness, and everything that made him who he was, the person she had cried over so many nights. Just him.
She didn't know how it happened, she didn't know why or exactly when, all she knew was that suddenly, his lips were on hers, kissing her like there was no tomorrow. And that she was enjoying it thoroughly. Enjoying the softness of his lips against hers, enjoying the emotions flowing through her body like blood, enjoying the shivers running up and down her spine, enjoying the desire twisting her stomach into knots. And then. As suddenly as it had begun, it ended. Just another moment in the universe of time, nothing special, significant or unique about it. But she knew it was now permanently etched into her mind.
She got up, the taste of him still lingering on her lips and walked away saying, "I am too."
And she was.
