She is fire. Her soul is bright and her heart is burning. She is raging heat and crackling flames. She is filled with life, constantly laughing and screaming and dancing and flying and you love her. You love her with all of you. Your heart and mind and body and soul. You love her so much it hurts.
You watch her flying, sometimes. Her hair whipping behind her. She goes so fast she leaves a crimson streak behind her, and when you close your eyes you see her after image, her silhouette against the sky. She flashes through the air, dodging and weaving and she is so brilliant it hurts.
When you talk to her, you are fixated with the details. Her long eyelashes brushing her cheeks. The freckles spread across her face. The smoothness of her skin. Her lips, red as fire and roses and her House's crest and she is so beautiful it hurts.
She is kind to you. Her fire dims into a single flame. She goes from a bonfire to embers. She speaks to you of everything, of her brothers and her spells and her flying and her fears and her hopes and her hatred and her love. She speaks to you and she is so amazing it hurts.
She finds you crying and she sits beside you and holds you in her arms and whispers soft words and you tell her of your mother's death and your classmates taunting and she is furious with them and her soft embers rage up into an inferno. Her body trembles with anger. She stays with you till your tears cease and then she marches off, and she comes back soon after and says that no one will bother you ever again and she is so wonderful it hurts.
She is fire. She is wild and untameable and she is perfect. Her soul is bright and her heart is burning. You love her so much it hurts.
Her lips are soft against yours. Her smile is dazzling. Her eyes are shining.
"I love you, Luna Lovegood," She says, and your life lights up.
She is fire.
