Written For
Crystals, Gemstones, and Astrology Competition (Throat Chakra, Intermediate- write about Luna Lovegood and her artistic talent)
"Sorry I'm late, Minister," Dean says quickly, closing the door behind him. "I-"
He trails off, looking from Kingsley Shacklebolt to the blonde girl that occupies one of the chairs. Dean can't help but to smile. He hasn't seen Luna since the war had ended.
"Sit down, Mr. Thomas," Kingsley says, indicating the vacant chair beside Luna.
Confused, but pleasantly surprised, Dean obeys.
"Minerva has told me that the two of you are quite the artists," Kingsley continues.
"I do enjoy painting," Luna says softly. "It distracts from the Wrackspurts. Your office is full of them, by the way."
Dean tries not to laugh, but a small giggle escapes him. War has not changed Luna somehow.
"And you, Dean? Are you as talented as Minerva says?"
"I mean, I draw," he says modestly, growing more and more confused by the minute. "It's just a hobby."
"I would like to propose a project for the two of you," Kingsley says. "It has been nearly a year since the war ended. Families are still healing. The community is still piecing itself back together. What I'm proposing may not provide closure to those still grieving, but perhaps it might offer comfort."
Kingsley waves his wand, and a diagram of one of the corridors of the Ministry. "I would like to create a memorial area, a place to honor those who have lost their lives in the war. In time, things will be added. Trinkets loved ones would like to donate, scrolls about the heroes of the war. But before any of that happens, I would like to place you two in charge of creating a mural."
"In charge?" Dean asks, his jaw dropping. He's never been in charge of anything. "I'm honored."
Luna leans in, squinting at the diagram. "Oh, yes," she says. "This would be quite lovely to do."
Kingsley grins. "That's what I wanted to hear. The corridor has been cleared. You can begin now."
…
"I didn't know you paint," Dean says, sitting on the floor and staring at the blank wall.
Luna sits beside him, smiling. "I know that you draw," she says.
Dean laughs. "Everyone knows that I draw."
Luna pulls out a list that Kingsley has given them. "That's so many names," she says sadly. "I do hope they're happy on the other side."
"It is," he sighs in agreement. "Do you think we have enough space on the wall for all of them?"
Luna doesn't answer. Her eyes are focused on the list, and she looks so far away, lost in her thoughts. Dean decides to leave her alone and opens his sketchbook, pulling his pencil from behind his ear and sketching.
…
When Dean arrives the next day, Luna greets him, already covered in splatters of color, a paint brush sticking out of her mess of blonde hair.
"Wow," he says, walking along the wall, taking in the beautiful forget me nots that line the bottom. They look so real that Dean almost wants to reach out and pluck one.
"I thought it was fitting," Luna says. "Rosemary would be a nice touch, as well. Perhaps a wreath at the top?"
Dean nods, though he doesn't really hear her. He stares at what she has done, mesmerized. "It's beautiful," he whispers.
Luna takes his sketchbook, flipping through the drawings he has done of the fallen. She comes to a stop at the one of Colin. "He was such a nice boy," she says. "He and Ginny were the only ones who didn't call me Loony, you know."
Dean shifts his weight from foot to foot, a knot of guilt in his stomach. "Nice," he agrees, remembering all the times has had called her by that ridiculous nickname.
"You can draw the outline," she decides. "I will paint behind you."
Dean offers her a salute before approaching the wall, choosing a good spot. He doesn't have to look at his sketch for reference. He can remember Colin so clearly with his broad smile, his camera in his hands, so eager to document every moment.
…
Luna tucks the brush behind her ear, black paint dotting her blonde hair. "There," she says.
Dean stares in amazement at the end result. Colin grins at them from the wall, his camera raised and ready. He looks so real. "One down," he says. "Way too many to go."
…
Dean never loses his sense of wonder as Luna paints life into each person he sketches. She captures them so perfectly in a way that his pencil never could. From the mischievous twinkle in Fred Weasley's eyes to the kindness in Dobby's smile. Each one of them look so perfect, like they might start talking and laughing at any moment.
"There we go," she says proudly, applying the final layer of a shocking shade of pink to a young woman's hair.
Dean vaguely recognizes her, but he remembers both men at her side. Professor Lupin, kind and scarred, holds his wife's hand while Ted Tonks, the man that Dean had looked at as a father, smiles proudly.
Dean lingers in front of Ted, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.
"You cared for him," Luna guesses.
Dean wipes his eyes, nodding. "He sacrificed himself so we could get away," he whispers.
"Death is not the end, you know," Luna tells him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "They never really leave you. They live on inside of you."
Dean doesn't know if he believes that. He's never really given much thought on what happens after death. He's always thought of it as a big sleep, then nothing. No afterlife, despite what his mother believes. No reincarnation. Just emptiness.
He shakes his head. "It's a nice thought, at least," he whispers.
…
"Is that it?" Dean asks, staring up at the final piece- a snowy owl in flight between James and Lily Potter.
Luna looks at the list. Every name is crossed off, every fallen hero accounted for. She nods.
They stand together, holding hands, staring up at their masterpiece.
…
Kingsley enters the room, stopping dead in his tracks in front of the mural. His eyes wander from face to face, and Dean can see the sadness in his eyes.
"Do you like it?" Dean asks.
He's always been critical of his art. Even his best work is never good enough in his eyes. Luna doesn't seem to share his concerns. She walks along the length of the wall, eyes wide, a smile on her lips, as though she's seeing the mural for the first time.
"You two have gone above and beyond," Kingsley says. "The Ministry is willing to pay you-"
"I don't want any money for this," Dean interrupts. "It was an honor to be able to do it."
Luna nods, coming to a stop in front of Colin. "It was nice to be among friends again," she says, touching a finger to the painted camera.
