DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE SERIES OR THE ONCE UPON A DREAM
This is written for the The Relationship Challenge by Rosa Clearwater at HPFC Forum. The prompt is onesided love, and the coupling is Sanguini/Luna. This is different from what I usually write, since I normally write smaller paragraphs. The title and summary is taken from the song Once Upon a Dream from Sleeping Beauty. Hope you enjoy!
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The personalities of humans agitate you sometimes. You've told Worple you absolutely detest parties, but he still drags you to one. You've also told him you detest fanciful things like 'love' and he still drags you to an engagement party. And it's not like the Scamanders are known for their fabulous parties. They're known for having wild creatures roaming about the house and stupid damn Kneazles that try to ruin your brand new suit. Anyone else would've had their neck snapped in half, but Worple is one of your longer lasting friends and you would hate to spend this party alone.
A group of young women passes you, their giggles floating behind them, the smell of their blood heavy with alcohol. The intrusive odour burns your nostrils and you have a small coughing fit. Even when you were a human, you never liked the taste of alcohol. On you or anyone else. Worple takes notice of this and winks at you before walking away. The damn man took it the wrong way and now you're alone. The group of young women is still looking at you, their giggles covered by their hands. A woman is pushed out of the group towards you, her friends watching with attentive faces. The daring lady saunters up to you, a sly smile on her lips. Her ruby dress hangs low on her frame, the build specially made to bare a large amount of skin. The smell of men's cologne overpowers the smell of firewhiskey on her and you frown in disdain. Women may have changed a lot in your time, but their sneaky character has stayed the same.
"Hello there, darling. Want to have some fun?" she says. It takes all your resolve to refrain from snapping her in two. Such a shame that you've already eaten.
"No thank you, miss," you reply and before she has to chance to say something back, you swivel around to walk away. People talk and whisper behind your back as storm off, frowning at the nerve of that bloodsucker. It doesn't matter. Anywhere away from that annoying little girl is fine with you. Humans and their damn gossip. Worple watches you with cautious eyes, his lips mouthing 'we'll talk later'. You ignore him; he's the one who caused this mess in the first place. When you reach outside, the cool air hits your skin and the wary eyes of the moon calm your senses. You feel rejuvenated and you decide to take a stroll through the gardens. Nature reminds you of when you were alive, when your mother used to put different flowers in her hair every day, each flower a different meaning. Stardust dances about in the air, probably used as another party decoration. The morning glories and belladonna flowers that surround you shoot toward the sky, reaching for the stars. The Scamanders always had a nice collection of plants, probably due to their occupations. Newt Scamander was a good friend of yours, though a bit too absorbed in his creatures and writings.
As you reach the end of your path, you see a woman-child crouching down, her silvery dress brushing against the dirt path. Her brownish blonde hair falls to the ground too, strands of it covering her face. Her small hands skillfully weave through the belladonna flowers and stop at the morning glories hidden in the middle of patch. She plucks one of them from its roots and puts it in her hair. You move to walk past her but she stands up, blocking your path. Her dress is covered in stardust and you think faintly of the faeries your mother would talk about. You feel like a silent alliance has bloomed, a pact made by children of the moon.
She shines like a candle in the darkness, her curious stormy-blue eyes piercing into yours. She looks like she knows the world like the back of her hand and it unnerves you, because you have certainly lived much longer and you have never managed to understand the natures of those around you. You barely understand Worple sometimes.
"Tell me, what is your name, moonchild?" you ask. She grins, but doesn't answer. Instead, she grabs at one of your hands and tugs you along with her. You reach the top of a grassy hill and the moon bathes you both in light. Her scraggly blonde hair glows and her eyes twinkle like stars. She is more beautiful than any Veela you've met. She twirls about and signals with her hands that she wants you to join. So you do: you sway with her and spin her around till she is too tired to move anymore. She plops down the grass and lets out a breathy laugh. She looks up and smiles at you, her teeth pretty white pearls tucked behind pink velvet. Your dead heart sings.
"Run away with me, love. I'll give you the world, anything you wish." You are smitten, like a schoolboy with his first love. You promise her everything, but she only smiles and points to the horizon. The sun is rising. Your meeting is coming to an end. You beg her not to leave you, your words desperate. She shakes her head in disagreement and places a soft kiss on your cheek before running away, the sun swallowing her whole. Warmth floods your cold skin and you rush to chase after her, but the sun is already in the sky and you run back into the heavily wooded path to prevent from burning. You grab at the air in one last attempt, but all you catch in your hands is stardust. You take out the special charm that Worple made for you to decrease the chances of catching on fire. You look back to the sky, a sad smile on you lips. Your protector, the moon, has left to guard someone else in some faraway place. You take a deep unneeded breath before heading back to the party, which has most likely ended.
The stardust slips through your fingertips, leaving a trail of gold and glitter behind you.
The magic is gone.
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Thanks for reading!
EDIT 11/14/2010: I decided to cut up the text. It just seemed so large when it was all one long paragraph.
