Hello Lovelies, Thinking that my next full time project might be a Luna/Dean one? Anyway, teaser (kinda) just trying to work out stuff from my head into paper to clear it out. Obviously not my characters, they belong to J.K. (the truest writer of any Harry thing).
But yeah, this takes place at Shell Cottage before the battle of Hogwarts by maybe a week?
Dear Ginny,
When he is waiting for something, he drums his fingers on top of mine and I try to steep the tide of noise flowing up and down from my toes to the top of my head. I keep my mouth shut tight for fear that if I open it, an exuberant noise will flow out and when he looks, he shall see my blush and my beating heart at the base of my throat. And I watch his mouth and the way it forms it laughing syllables because I can't look at his face as he laughs. If I saw the laugh forming in his eyes, it would drip though mine and he would read me easily and see what an idiot I am. I am taking care of Fleur's garden, and he sits outside on his relaxing chair and sometimes when I look up- I catch him looking at me, and then he puts his book down and asks me about something new. Mostly about plants and animals. He seems hungry for knowledge. I also spend more and more time by the ocean, stinging shells to bring with me to my next apartment after the war. I want to keep it to remember this time, when all of these things seem the most important. We all connect right before we lose each other.
How silly it is to feel all of the emotions I didn't think possible right now.
-Luna
Gin-
I hope you don't mind that I'm writing you. But I couldn't think of anyone else because when she looks at me sometimes, and her eyes seem to hold silky moonlit wisdom that I will never know to seek, I can't help but think of holding her. And keeping her someplace she won't be harmed, a statue cut from marble that I can sneak off and stare at. I'm obsessed with the angle of her thin nose, and the way her cupid's bow is so prominent above her pale lips. Fleur cut her hair recently, but it's still long enough to curl around her neck in a tiny ringlet that I watch as she talks, and it bounces up and down as she grows more interested in her topic. I just want her to never stop talking. Her voice is so clean and smooth, she makes me feel rough around the edges. Sometimes, I catch her watching me watch her as she gardens and I have to ask her something just so that I can hear her voice run through tracks laid out so perfectly in the air between us- and that little blonde curl bobs up and down in front of her. God, I'm such an idiot to fall in love right before she will be harmed.
Dean.