Being a commercial writer means taking advantage of social, cultural and political elements for my own selfish purposes. That is what touches people's heart.

Hence, le fic:

Summary: Ginevra Weasley returns home after several years of self-reclusion from the Magical world. Former Headmaster Dumledore is dealing with death issues and Luna Lovegood is being… herself. Or what happens when a heterosexual writes femmslash by petition.

Hallelujah.

I've heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music do you?

It goes like this – the fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift

The baffled King composing Hallelujah.

Ginny arrived at Hogwarts one late august day in the afternoon.  The trip to the castle was not as funny as it used to be, when she couldn't see the thestrals pulling the carriage all the way up from Hogsmeade.

"Isn't something everyone can do," she remembered being told by Luna Lovegood the first day they met. As she was cold, afraid and anxious for the forthcoming Selection feast, she labeled the blond girl with the capital M of Madness. Also, she decided to believe only a quarter of everything the blond said, the bits with physical and logical evidence supporting itself. 

Approaching the steps to the entrance of her former school, Ginny thought, not for the first time, that perhaps she wanted to do what everybody usually did, for deviations were paid very highly.

Your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you

She tied you to a kitchen chair

She broke your throne, and she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the hallelujah.

Ginny took with her everything she was taught to the battlefield. That knowledge included the wrong supposition that Harry Potter was immortal. Perhaps he had some 'immortality' the first six times he defied the Dark Lord, but the seven proved to be the last one.

Dumbledore said it was their destiny, to produce that kind of magical interchange that made of Harry an orphan at the age of one. He explained, as nobody understood, that it counted for the 'dying at the hand of the other' bit in the prophecy made by Professor Trelanwey seventeen years ago.

The shock wave, resulting from the final fulfillment of the prophecy, knocked out half the muggle population of Scotland, and was felt by almost all wizards worldwide. After something like that, it was just logical that nobody could find anything on the spot.

That's why it was agreed that the casket was not to be opened during the ceremony.

Voldemort didn't survived, Dumbledore continued, because he overlooked a basic mathematical rule. Something about opposites and how they annul themselves even in spite of the fact that Voldemort was the last one to strike.

"We owe this triumph to the power the Dark Lord knew not," concluded Dumbledore solemnly. There was nobody listening to him among the crowd of sobbing people at the Boy-who-lived's funeral.

Years later, Ginny was keen on giving the old Headmaster of Hogwarts a couple of words regarding her ideas about 'annulling themselves' and 'opposites that are about the same four-word thing'. But the Headmaster was dead at that time, due to his advanced age. They said, in an extra vespertine Daily Prophet edition, that he did it peacefully in his sleep, a privilege not everyone had these violent post-war days.

"And that brings up the subject," said Ginny mockingly, "Headmistress Lovegood, huh? Is the Ministry trying to keep up with tradition? I'm shocked!"

"Tradition?" asked Luna, completely oblivious. Her robes were a combination of yellow and black that would have look better without the transfigurated hat on her head, "They haven't tried the educational decrees again. I'm sorry Ginny. I don't know what are you talking about."

"N'thing important," The badger was now moving in a rather alarmingly way, squirming, struggling and biting at its invisible bounds yet being generally unsuccessful. Still, she had to ask, if only to be completely sure.

"Are you sure those claws can't get through your skull?"

"Yes," as to prove her point, Luna reached out and rubbed its chin with slow, caressing motions.  To her surprise, the badger became more and more docile with each stroke, "Lets get inside, it's getting cold. Plus, I can't wait to talk to you."

Maybe I've been here before

I know this room, I've walked this floor

I used to live alone before I knew you

I've seen your flag on the marble arch

Love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

"Really, I thought you were going to stuff this room with weird, unknown machinery or something," said Ginny surveying the office from top to the bottom.

"No, everything is just as Dumbledore left it last time but by one exception."

"Which is…?"

"Dumbledore's portrait, of course," said Luna with a little bow of her head directed to the wall. Those former headmasters who weren't asleep or just pretending to be, answered by doing the same, "It was here the day I took possession of the post, but I believe it to have been long before. I just haven't got the chance to ask him."

Ginny looked around. Indeed, there was a blank frame next to Phineas Nigellus', "Why?"

"Hasn't shown himself yet," said Luna thoughtfully, motioning Ginny to take a seat, "I think he is still adjusting to the idea of being dead."

Ginny was speechless. "¡Blimey, it has been almost a year!" she crossed her arms over her chest, "Oh well, maybe he wasn't prepared for it."

Luna thought about it for a while, and then shrugged. "Tea?"

"Sure," said Ginny in an almost automatic reaction. She blinked, "Y'know, nobody is ever going to think about stealing your things again so, there's no need for you to be paranoic."

"I know," a tray with a kettle and two cups appeared in front of her eyes,  "But you can't teach an old dog new tricks," added Luna, chuckling, "How much sugar?"

"I guess not. Two cubes, please."

A comfortable silence settled between sips of tea and bites of chocolate chips cookies.

"So," said Luna after a while, holding her cup of tea at eye-level, "How is all going on in the muggle world? Did they treat you well?"

"It's fine as long as they're entertained," answered Ginny, dismissingly.

"They're actually trying to get a scientific explanation for the Hamburg incident," said Luna conversationally, "I've been asked assistance by the People's government. Being classified as magical creatures by the Ministry of magic, they are having quite a tough time with bureaucracy."

"I can imagine."

"Any boyfriends?"

"What?" asked Ginny.

"Have you got any muggle boyfriend?"

The question was weird coming from one Luna Lovegood's lips. She isn't even the kind of person, thought Ginny, who would raise this kind of subject. By that, she meant the gossiping girls assembled in Moaning Myrtle's toilet every weekend. She knew because she was president of the fourth year Below-Potter Gryffindor party along Colin Creevy. Years after, they were the ones to discover the sordid affair between the Golden Boy and Draco Malfoy of the house of Slytherin. Colin didn't seem to have been too deceived, though. She blushed.

"Are you ok?" asked softly Luna noticing the unhealthy change of color in her cheeks. Ginny realized she had been quiet for quite long thinking about the past.

"Uh, yes, sorry. It just was a bit of a surprise that you would ask that," she said, "No, I haven't got any."

"Perfect," said Luna, raising from her seat, "because what I wanted to tell you requires that you're still free."

"If this is other of Ron's plots I'm gonna…"

"No," Luna had suddenly appeared by her side. Before she could ask, she knelt so to be at her eye-level.

"Ginevra," said Luna so seriously that made Ginny nervous, " Would you be my girlfriend?"

Ginny blinked.

"I am already your friend Luna, why are you asking?" she stared at Luna.

Luna stared back at her, meaningfully.

"Oh," said Ginny, as if realizing something, "This is actually one of my brother's jokes. I'm so going to kill him!" she said with more force than what was necessary.

"I meant it," said Luna, calmly, "And no, this is not a joke."

There was a time when you let me know

What's real and going on below

But now you never show it to me, do you?

And remember when I moved in you

The Holy Dark was moving too

And every breath we drew was hallelujah.

Ginny blinked for the second time. For some weird reason she knew it wasn't going to be the last one. Truth to be told, her mind was a real chaos. Instead of asking the dominant question in her mind 'When did you become a lesbian?', she said the first thing to come out from her mouth. She was wide-eyed and resembled very well a parody of the person in front of her.

"No, I'm sorry, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because Harry was the only man I've ever really loved."

"Ginny, " whispered Luna, her lips just inches from the redhead's ones, "I am no man."

"Uh, yeah. But that's not what I-mmmph."

Luna had closed the space between their mouths.

Her first reaction was to stare at the face of her friend in shock, but said friend had her eyes closed and was making the most disturbing series of satisfied sounds. As Luna continued her ministrations, Ginny was surprised to find her eyelids fluttering close and her determination, that of getting away from that warm and comfortable body, dying at an alarming rate.

She was starting to enjoy it when Luna broke the kiss.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have."

"What?" she asked, her brown eyes several shades brighter. In there was confusion, but also a generous amount of desire.

"Kissed you without permission, though, I'm not completely sorry for it."

"What?"

"This," insisted Luna, laying a hand over Ginny's cheek and rubbing circles in the soft, pink pinks, "Shouldn't have happened."

Then the full blow of the situation dawned on Ginny. Those two blue orbs staring at hers impassively, the swollen lips that surely matched her owns. Cheers and cries of awe coming from the portraits somewhere in the background. She also became self-conscious of her hands, holding around a long, pallid neck for dear life. Any of these details alone were enough to make her really angry in a normal situation. As this was certainly not a normal situation, she forgot about raising her hand and hitting for all her Weasly pride, doing the only reasonable thing that came up into her confused mind.

She ran away.   

Maybe there's a God above

And all I ever learned from love

Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you

And it's not a cry you can hear at night

It's not somebody who's seen the light

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

Or, at least, she tried.

On the other hand, Luna didn't try to stop her; if out of shock, she wasn't sure. Hell, she could have well been listening to one of Professor Binn's lessons and it wouldn't have made any difference. Ginny though she was free to flee the room until she reached the door. Then, she noticed with growing despair that it wouldn't open despite how much physical force she applied over the handle.

It was then when she snapped.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"Nothing," answered Luna from the same spot she was when Ginny left her. It did nothing good to her nerves, "I think it has something to do with this room."

"IT'S YOUR OFFICE!" screamed Ginny, exasperated, undignified by the apparent absolute calmness of her offender.

"Technically yes. But I don't think it's ever been the completely property of anyone. In fact, I think it has a life of its own."

"STOP IT!"

"Stop what, Ginny?"

"BEING SO CALM ABOUT IT, STOP IT!"

"I'm not. In fact, I'm scared to dead."

"WHAT? DON'T EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE THAT BULLSHIT!"

"But I am."

A growly, deep sound emerged from Ginny's throat. "You are," she stated, defeated. Something into her chest chose that very second to start deflating.

"Yes, I am."

Ginny smothered her clothes in order to keep calmed and looked at Luna. There wasn't any trace of fear or nervousness in that face. Ignoring it, for the sake of her sanity, she asked. "Why did you do it?"

"I did it," started Luna, "Because I love you."

"WHAT?" she breathed, "That's impo-I mean, how can you-arg!"

"It's nothing abnormal, just love."

"I know, but-We'll state later what is normal and what's not!" Ginny was feeling how her temper was slowly reaching the boiling point. Again, "How can you… say that word so lightly? I mean, ok, we have been friends for quite long but that's not enough reason for you to say that you lo…THAT!"

"That's how I feel," came the simple answer.

"But you can't!" Ginny insisted, as thought by doing so she could convince herself.

Luna shrugged.

"If I am given a word in this discussion," suddenly said a too familiar voice, "I think Miss Lovegood has a point."

Ginny's face blanched. Bewildered, she searched the room for the source of the voice. It wasn't until her gaze dropped upon a certain frame in the wall that she realized a major change had taken place while she was discussing, well screaming to Luna. The portrait of Albus Dumbledore was now inhabited.

"It was you," she said. It was not a question, but a statement.

"Yes, and I must confess that I am utterly sorry for my actions. Normally, it would not be in my place, nor my right, to interfere in your young people's business, but I can not stay impassible when a promising relationship such as yours is menaced by something like petty quarrels of no importance."

"Professor Dumbledore!"

"A PROMISING RELATIONSHIP?"

"I've been waiting since the first day to talk to you," asked Luna, looking fascinated at the portrait, "What could have you been doing that took you so long?"

"My dear Miss Lovegood, you would be surprised to know how difficult it is for a man to renew its acquaintances after his death."

"How many people have you met, professor?"

"I-" he was interrupted before he could say by Ginny.

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!" she screamed very red in the face, "IS NOBODY IN THIS ROOM TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY?"

"I am," said Luna with her normal voice.

"I have never done anything carelessly, Miss Weasley. Neither in life or death."

"You don't understand," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I can't love her because the only person I've ever loved is dead. Dammit! And it's because of you!" she pointed at Dumbledore's portrait accusingly.

"I only tried to keep him alive as much as it was humanly possible."

"Yes?" said her sarcastically, "You did a great job pretending exactly the opposite."

Dumbledore looked at her, sorrow impressed in each of his wrinkles.

"It's not fair," finally said Ginny, her voice broken.

"My child," replied Dumbledore sadly, "war is not supposed to be fair."

"And that gave you right to dispose of his life as he were a marionette!"

"No," he answered still calmed, but there was no shine in his eyes, "And I regret that greatly."

A negative from Dumbledore would have detonated an angry reaction from Ginny. As he declared himself guilty of all her accusations, she felt suddenly out of words. Dumbledore took this as a chance to continue. "Regardless the dubious fact that mister Potter was, in fact, your soul mate, miss Weasley, there is a fundamental matter you should consider before you answer miss Lovegood's question."

"Which would be?"

"She is alive."

The end.