Written for the Quidditch League Competition. Position Seeker, prompt, fluff plus Resurrection Stone.
Daddy recited the Tale of Three Brothers that night and I began to wonder...
Resurrection stone, Death's second gift, the stone that could bring the dead back to life...
Of course, the dead won't be very much alive and would not adjust with the living.
I don't see the point of the Resurrection stone then. I mean, what is the use of the stone if it cannot actually bring back the dead. The depth of the tale was too much for my ten year old mind to comprehend. I would never argue the existence of the stone, because, both my mother and father have taught me to believe in the impossible... Even though, at times I have a hard time doing so...
I am quite sure that my mother lost her life while searching for something impossible, trying to show the world that anything is possible if you've got the nerve. I smiled as I remembered her, her smile, her brown locks and grey eyes so familiar to mine. Even though, I have seen her battered and wounded, succumbing to her wounds, I put that picture locked up inside the darkest corners of my mind, never to be bothered with it again.
I smile as I tread through the Forbidden Forest. I know my smile bothers a few and makes many wonder how the hell I can smile so soon after the war, after all the people we've lost. I believe, like my daddy says, that when your time is up, you have to go. Dying is imperative and compulsive, but you can definitely choose the way you die, all the people we lost died heroes and my mother died chasing her dreams, that in itself makes her a hero.
But more than anything, I was smiling because the heroes had their dream accomplished. Yes, they lost their lives but they achieved what they wanted. And who says death is to be the end of everything. I think that all of them, everyone, is watching us with a wry smile on their face and I definitely believe that they won't be happy watching us mourn, because that is not what they wanted. They wanted their friends and family to lead a happy and safe life.
But people don't appreciate my beliefs; they think that my ideas are an insult to the memory of the dead. But why make them a memory? They are still with us, watching over us!
"You're not at the funeral," A voice says behind me, I recognise the voice but it is lacking its usual drawl.
"Yes," I answer, turning to look at the blonde haired boy who was my only comfort, even though clandestine, through the stay at Malfoy Manor. When I had sincerely begun to doubt my beliefs, the most unexpected made me believe.
"Why?" Draco asks, moving so he stood exactly opposite to me.
"Because," I reply, with a slight shrug.
"They don't believe you." Draco guessed.
"I don't expect them to," I say, looking in his grey eyes. I have never been bothered by what people think of me. I was always happy with myself, my belief of finding the impossible. My belief of anything is possible. I don't intend to change that, but I would always wonder what Draco thought of me when he saw me in the most vulnerable position in my life. The point where I had lost not just my signature dreamy voice but also myself, I mean, who would Luna Lovegood be if she didn't believe in the impossible, if she didn't say the weirdest things in the worst of the moments.
Contrary to the popular belief, I had perception, and I knew Harry Potter appreciated my perception and my ability to say the things that needed to be heard. And I also knew for a fact that Draco did, too.
The time spent in the Malfoy Manor was not just vulnerable for me but it was also vulnerable for the grey-eyed bully.
"They should," Draco said, taking a lock of my dirty blond hair and intertwining it in his finger.
I felt heat rushing to my cheek as my blue eyes met his penetrating grey.
"The will," I reply confidently, "It just takes time."
Draco smiled, not smirked but smiled and said, "You're very wise, Luna Lovegood."
"You sound surprised," I smile back at him, "I thought you'd know better than anyone else."
"You almost convinced me to leave, you know?" He said. I was surprised at that.
Draco used to sneak in the dungeons with food and comfort during my stay as the prisoner of Malfoy Manor. We had talked and he had confessed his disgust at himself, and I had told him that only he can change his own situation, it is better to die than to live a lie.
He got angry at first, I knew he had been expecting pity, but then two days later he came back with stale bread and a flask of pumpkin juice accepting that I was right. I didn't know then what he was planning to do. I was led that he had never found the courage.
His fingers left my hair and touched my cheek, tracing his long fingers on my features, "That night when Potter appeared, I was planning and escape."
"Oh," Was all I could manage, the information was too raw and too humongous to grasp at once.
His fingers left my cheek and I missed the warmth almost instantly.
"You know Luna," He says, his hands now encircling my waist, sending a rush of pleasure through me, "You're not just any girl."
I couldn't reply, because his lips were on mine.
My hands went around his neck, as he held me close.
The kiss ended all too quickly for my liking, but he rested his forehead against mine and continued, "You brought out the side of me, I was afraid to show. You made me believe."
"I did?" I ask, at a loss of words.
"Yes you did," He replied, "And for that, I love you."
Before I could comprehend the last three words, he kissed me again and I couldn't help but kiss him back and could've done that all day, but then a voice disturbed us.
"Well," Ron's voice said, "She does look like she is mourning."
Draco and I stopped kissing abruptly, and I closed my eyes, my cheeks turning red.
"Ronald!" Hermione admonished and Harry laughed.
"That's a nice way of mourning," He said laughter evident in his voice, "Maybe we should try it, Gin."
"Shut it, Harry." Ginny muttered, and I could tell that she was trying hard not to blush.
Well, like every good group of friends, they weren't going to let it go, but at least they had a laugh over it.