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She turned the record player on in the drawing room, on another chilly night some weeks after the ritual of late night cocoa had begun. Luna sighed, a sigh that was not the usual thoughtful breath. This breath was tired, exiting in a cloud before she lit the fireplace with a wave of her wand. Settling down on the carpet before the flames to the sound of familiar tones, Luna pondered what she'd heard from Hestia Jones only an hour ago, of the little muggle girl…

There had been a time, a few years past, when Luna Lovegood was decidedly detached from most human emotion. Oh she was kind, and she had her odd sense of humor, but she felt no warmth for other's predicaments; they only fascinated her. This had changed, of course, when she had found herself with friends…and later, when said friends had been at her side when her father had died.

She was still adjusting to the confusion, in the best way she knew how…seemingly calm acceptance. Yes I would, if I only could, I surely would…

There was a scratching behind her, claws and paws on the floor, and then a familiar form curling up at her side, resting his head on the carpet with an equally tired whoof of a sigh. Automatically, Luna's hand rested for a moment on his furry coat, before moving to stroke his head. The Werewolf had come to know those very close him while in this form, if they took the time to risk it. He knew Harry, Tonks and Hestia. The month before, he'd known Luna. It had been her first time seeing him in such a light, a not so frightening Beast to her less than beautiful Beauty. She took comfort in it now, somehow. He really was quite quiet like this. Even if she hadn't been recognized, between the Wolfsbane and time The Werewolf was tiring. Luna had wondered, distantly, if the wolf had found her to be the moon. That which brought him pain, coming to see him and hopefully find herself forgiven? An odd thought. Perhaps the Moon had possessed her then. Now, the Moon needed the company.

After a moment, she stretched her legs toward the fire's warmth, turning to lie down on the floor, resting her head against the wolf's furry back, still looking at the flames. The Wolf gave a quiet sort of murmur.

Images would not leave Luna's mind, the images of what had been described to her. She thought of the day her mother died. She thought of the day she'd seen her father under crucio. A tear left her face, and sunk into the wolf's coat.

"I'd rather be a Sparrow," She whispered...

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The following morning, there was rain outside. The sky was shedding tears. And Remus was standing in front of one of the windows, watching it. And Luna was watching him, standing behind him in the hall, wrapped up in one of her father's old sweaters and her oleander earrings. She knew Remus had taken the news with a heavy heart. Everyone had, after the pictures had been all over The Prophet, of the body sent to the Auror Offices the previous evening…the body of the little muggle girl, horribly mangled. Voldemort might have been dead and gone since May, yet his influence and followers were still being hunted down. And they refused to go quietly into oblivion.

"Remus," Luna whispered, breath moving out of her slim, shivering form. Remus whirled around, eyes wide and rather shaken. He stared at her for a long moment, as if wondering if she were tangible. Luna took a step toward him, sighing. That hazy, dreamy sigh, with a touch of concern, "I'm here,"

"I was ready again," He murmured, also taking another step forward, which brought him close enough to rest two slightly trembling hands on her shoulders, "I was ready to believe it was all over and that I could breathe…"

"You are breathing," Luna whispered, reaching up to hold on to his arms. It gives the world it's saddest sound. Remus became quite aware of her hands then, as he did whenever she offered a touch. She stepped a bit closer, "And so am I. These things will be over soon. They can not last."

He looked at her for a while, slowly breathing easier. Rather a forest than a street. His body was still aching from transformation; he should not have let himself be so effected. But he was. The girl had been someone's child. What had been done to her…had Voldemort succeeded in capturing them during the war, that could have been done to Ginny, or Hermione, or…

Motivated by some alarmed instinct, Remus suddenly pulled Luna into his arms, wrapping them around her tightly and pressing his face against her hair. The girl…she'd had a long thick rope of a dirty blonde braid. He shut his eyes tightly. He was breathing, and so was Luna, returning his embrace after a slightly startled moment. Her hand lightly ran over his hair, and he had a strange, detached memory return to him.

The flames were in front of his eyes, and the human's voice whispered words…

She had been the one in pain then. And he had comforted her, so that she was strong for him in this moment, a moment she'd anticipated. It was a full circle now, and they each knew a part of the other.

"I would be a Sparrow too…"

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Author Note: This bit took me a while to put together. I knew what moments I wanted to include, and what sorts of connections and revelations I wanted, but putting it all together was tricky. I am not sure if I managed it completely, but I am pleased with the result. I'm quite fond on this project, hehe. Thank you SO so so much for the reviews, they made my toes happy!