Being together. Have been together. Togetherness.

Luna liked the concept of 'being together' with someone. It made life and people seem like missing puzzle pieces.

Starting with a question and hooking with a desirable answer. That's specifically what she thought relationships were like. But Luna wasn't normal so things didn't fall into place. Everything she gathered she collected on her own with strenuous hope. Nothing about her had ever been conventional. Even her little quips and romantic mistakes with Draco.

And for a long time, she liked to think he was the bad guy. But as he picked up his trousers and tucked back in his shirt, Luna came to the realization that she had been just as bad. Only a bad person would sleep with another woman's groom.

She knew why she allowed the affair to happen. She was trying to make up for the years they didn't get it right. Trying to smooth that wordless gap. The harder she thought about the past, the sadder her eyes became. Draco was dressed. Draco was getting ready to leave and be with his wife to be. Again, for what could be the hundredth time, Draco was able to walk away from a mess he helped create.

"Do you love him?" Draco started. Standing at the foot of the bed. His hair falling over his eyes in a familiar mishap.

"Rolf?" She stared back at him with a blank expression. Of course Rolf, but she liked filling silences when she became sullen, "In many ways. Yes. I do."

She did. It wasn't a lie. His love wasn't confusing and it never struck her with pain.

Luna resisted the urge to ask Draco– Well why do you care? Do you love me? Did you ever?

"I'm happy for you," Draco said with his coat gathered under his arm. Looking at her, but not quite seeing her. Like the fool he had always been.

Luna was in love with Draco, but for some odd reason, he could never find it in him to fill the space she reserved for him.

And for horrible, vain reasons, Luna allowed him to hurt her even though they weren't together. They never had been together.

She said nothing and he left her with the weight of her visit. Her lips his wedding gift. And she hoped Astoria could taste all of her despair and sweat.

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