The colour of trust

Her eyes were aquamarine. Not indigo, nor grey, nor turquoise. No, the purest shade of blue Theo had ever seen. It reminded him of the ocean, evoking emotions in him that reverberated through his core long after she was gone. She was as elusive as sand running through his fingers, as wild as the wind that played with her blond hair.

And then there were her eyes, aquamarine divinity; they had the same sparkle as the waves of the sea when they broke and turned into surf. Within the blink of an eye, they captivated him, so deep that they seemed to see behind the mask he showed the world.

Theo sighed, his fingers clawing into the stone of the battlements of the Astronomy tower. She was too good for him. She was like the ancient goddess born from the foam of the sea – and he the god of war, violence, and destruction. They could not be more opposite of each other. Where she was light, he was dark; and still, he loved her.

Even her name was mysterious, enticing, like a poem. Luna. The moon.

But Theo knew it could never be. Not only because associating with him was dangerous in these times, but because a goddess like her could never love a Death Eater. But he wished for it, hoped for it. Hope could be a powerful force, Theo knew. Maybe there was no actual magic in it, but when you knew what you hoped for most and held it like a light within you, you could make things happen almost like actual magic.

He had to believe in her! Believe in the unbelievable – that she would notice him, smile at him, and… like him back.

"Please," Theo whispered, half talking to himself, half pleading the gods, the ancestors, any higher powers that might existto hear him and grant him his wish. "Please, help me."

There was no reply. The night was silent around him, his breathing too loud in his ears. The darkness swallowed him completely, and Theo felt like the last survivor in a world made of stone. The loneliness he felt was so terrible, it gutted him.

"You're an idiot, Theo!" Draco admonished, glaring at him. He had caught him trying to sneak into the dungeons where Luna was serving a punishment with the Carrows.

"But… but I need to help her!" Theo pleaded, trying to fight the magical restraints his friend had put on him.

"You can't!" Draco exploded. "Don't you see that it will kill you? What else needs to happen before you realise that?"

"I…" Theo bit his lip, giving up fighting against the binds. "I just can't watch them hurt her."

Something in Draco's gaze softened. "I do get that, mate." His eyes were unfocused for a second, his mind far, far away. "But you can't. We're in the middle of a bloody war, in case you've forgotten."

Theo just sighed. Draco didn't believe that this war would ever end; he feared they would be caught in this darkness forever. But even if it seemed unfathomable – and quite frankly, impossible – Theo believed that this war would be won and that Voldemort would fall. Tyrannicide had always proved to be a legitimate means of action in times such as these, even as far back as Ancient Greece.

Voldemort had to fall, like all tyrants before him.

"What do you hope to gain, hm?" Draco said, seeing his silence as defeat. "Do you think she'll fall into your arms and worship you as her hero?"

Theo stayed silent, his eyes determinedly fixed on a spot on the carpet.

Draco's words lashed through the air, every word a hit. "She won't, mate. She won't love you. It's impossible! You should give up that childish notion and concentrate on surviving."

Theo snorted.

"I mean it, Theo!" Draco said firmly. "Forget her. Stay as far away from her as possible."

"Will you release me if I promise?" Theo whispered, finally looking up. Their eyes met and understanding passed between them.

"I would, but I know you'd be lying," Draco replied, and with a flick of his wand, Theo was free. "Dig your own grave."

Theo walked through the destroyed hallways. Blood was splattered on the floor, paintings were ripped apart by curses, and burn holes marked the ancient wood like bruises. The marble staircase was in pieces.

Theo felt utterly out of place, like a lone survivor in the wake of the apocalypse. Nobody noticed him. Blood was flowing down his arm and dripping onto the floor, but he barely felt the pain. It didn't seem to belong to his body, as if he were a puppet guided by strings.

It must be the shock, he reflected.

He had hidden in a secret passageway when the other Slytherin students were escorted off campus. Then he had disillusioned himself and tried to find Luna. He had protected her during the battle, shielded her from curses, and taken out many of her assailants.

But then, right before the end, he'd lost her. And that scared the living daylights out of him. What if she was hurt? What if she was dead?

Voldemort was gone – as Theo had predicted. But the war was not over, at least not for Theo. He didn't feel the peace he had imagined he would. He didn't feel safe, or protected, or innocent.

He felt ruined.

The evening sun slanted through shattered windows, painting golden rays into the dust-filled air. Shards of broken windows crunched under the soles of Theo's feet as he ventured deeper into the destroyed castle, down the third floor corridor. Here, a part of the ceiling had caved in and debris covered the ground.

He might as well have died here, he thought, his knees buckling beneath him. He was lost. His father was dead, Draco was missing, and Luna could be either.

"Theodore?" a voice suddenly asked, and his head snapped up towards it.

Dancing rather than walking towards him was none other than Luna herself. He blinked. And blinked again. She was still there. Aquamarine met cornflower blue.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, kneeling down next to him.

Suddenly, his mouth was dry and his voice didn't seem to obey him. Luna looked at him searchingly for a second, then gave up waiting for a reply and instead simply waved her wand over his arm.

"Ferula."

Instantly, the cut was covered by a clean, white bandage that contrasted starkly with his grimy and torn clothes.

Luna looked exhausted but unhurt. There were traces of tears on her cheeks, and Theo's chest tightened.

"Thank you," he choked out, attempting to smile at her.

Her returning smile caught him off guard. It was dazzlingly beautiful, like a ray of sunshine in a universe of darkness. And suddenly, his mouth acted before his brain could catch up with it. "Would you go out with me someday?"

Gasping, he clapped his hands over his mouth. He'd screwed up and picked the worst possible moment for such a question. However, when he looked at her, she just grinned.

"I thought you'd never ask," Luna said, her voice only slightly dreamy.

"Do - do you mean that?" he stuttered, disbelief painted on his face. "I mean, is that a yes?"

She blinked at him like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Of course."

Theo's heart skipped a beat. Did she just agree to a date? It seemed like a new beginning in world that had just ended. Here, on the third floor corridor, where before there was nothing but death, life blossomed. So the magic of hope, of belief, must work, after all.

"When?" he blurted out.

She chuckled lightly.

"Sorry, I mean…" He shook his head. "I've waited this long, yet suddenly now I'm impatient."

Luna didn't reply, but grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the floor. Once he was on his feet, she never moved to let go of his hand.

*Written for the QLFC, Season 6, Round Eight.*

Position: Chaser 3

Position Prompt: Theme - believing in the unbelievable even when nobody else does.

Optional Prompts: (theme) falling in love with the wrong person/thing, (dialogue) "I've waited this long, yet suddenly now I'm impatient.", (colour) aquamarine

Title: The colour of Trust

Word Count: 1, 334

*Written for THC, Year 3, Round 5*

House: Ravenclaw
Year: 1
Category: Standard - Additional Requirement: Feature a member from your house
Prompts: [Setting] Third floor Corridor
W/C: 1,334