Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Or so I'm told.

"I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Loving might be a mistake
But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance.
--Leann Womack, "I Hope You Dance"

Chapter Eighteen: I Hope You Dance

Luna lay in bed Friday night after Tom had left her alone in the dungeons. Oh my. I can't stand him. Yes I can. No I can't. He's awful. He's cruel and cold and awful. I can't stand him.

I can't believe he did that to me. He made me think he was going to kiss me again. Stupid prat. I'm a stupid prat. I actually believed he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to, too. I don't understand it. I can't stand him.

He was so close to me. He was so close. He smells so nice. His eyes frighten me. I feel like I'm falling into them. I wish I was home. No, I don't. I don't want to go back. Yes, I do. I hate this. I want to go home. I don't belong here. I don't belong with Tom Riddle. I belong with Harry, Neville, Ginny and the rest of them.

Cat was right. He might be good-looking, but he's absolutely rotten. To the core. I can't stand him. Ooh, I hope I'm right.

Tom lay in bed Friday night after he had left Luna alone in the dungeons. She's obnoxious. I can't stand her. Yes I can. No I can't. She's annoying. She is stupid and prying and annoying. I can't stand her.

I can't believe that. She actually thought I was going to kiss her again. Silly girl. I'm a stupid prat. I actually wanted to kiss her. I'm going completely off my rocker. I don't understand it. I can't stand her.

She was so close to me. She was so close. She smells so nice. Her eyes frighten me. I feel like I'm drowning in them. I wish I'd never met her. No, I don't. I'm glad I met her. I don't know what I would do without her. She is all I have. I wish I had never met her. I hate this. I'm not meant for this. I'm not meant for Luna Lovegood. I'm meant for great things, things no wizard has ever dreamt of before, but not for Luna Lovegood.

Malfoy was right. I should have just scared her off. Then I would be rid of her. I can't stand her. I had damn well better be right.

"Do you realize I've been here over five months now?" Luna asked as she stuck her wand behind her ear. She and Tom were in the Entrance Hall after breakfast on Saturday morning. Othello had his head poked out from her pocket.

"Yes, how fascinating," Tom replied dryly, leaning back against the wall.

Oblivious to his tone, Luna continued, "It's just…five months is such a very long time. And you know what's silly? I'm not even sure I want to go back anymore."

Tom glanced at her and noticed that she wasn't really talking to him, so much as to herself. She was staring off into space with her hands clasped in front of her, and she was rocking slowly back and forth from the heels to the balls of her feet. He said nothing.

"When I first got here, all I could think about was getting back, but now…oh, I don't know. Life is much more pleasant here," she said vaguely.

"How so?"

"Oh, there aren't any wars."

"What wars?"

She ignored him. "I needn't worry about such serious things. All I have to worry about now is you." She chuckled to herself, and looked at him with huge eyes. "Of course, back home all I had to worry about is you, too! Isn't that strange?" She didn't wait for an answer, but began to drift away.

Tom caught up to her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, Thomas."

Tom continued to wheedle at her to try and get more information out of her, but as she was either the only person able to resist him or she simply didn't understand what he was doing, she added nothing to cure his curiosity. Tom decided to give up for the time being, but shelved it away in his mind for later.

"Do you want to go into Hogsmeade today?" she asked.

He snorted. "Now you're asking me on a date."

"No, I was just wondering."

"Well, no, I don't want to go into Hogsmeade today," he replied.

She shrugged. "All right. What do you want to do?"

"What makes you think I want to spend today with you?" he shot at her. Othello hissed at him, as he usually did when Tom's tone towards Luna offended the kneazle.

She looked at him curiously. "Almost no one but the first and second years is going to be in the castle today. So, unless you want to be alone, then I assumed you would be with me today."

He glared at her, but he knew she was right. "Fine. What do you want to do?"

"I just asked you that," she replied matter-of-factly.

Rolling his eyes, he racked his brain. He suddenly smirked and said, "Follow me."

Luna obligingly trotted along side him up several flights of stairs until they were on the seventh floor of the castle. Tom stopped walking in front of a portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.

"That always was one of my favorite portraits," Luna remarked, watching a troll attempt to pirouette.

"Right. Well, see this stretch of wall?" Tom asked, pointing at the wall opposite the portrait.

"Ooh, yes, Tom, good idea." Luna thought carefully for a moment, and then walked back and forth three times. A door appeared, and Luna grabbed Tom by the hand and led him through it.

"How did you know…?" Tom stammered.

"I've been here before," she replied simply. Suddenly she squealed with delight and ran over to a swing set in the middle of the room. Looking around the room, Tom saw the rest was blank and empty, and the floor was covered in soft grass.

She set Othello down carefully on the ground and pulled a ball with a bell out for him. She rolled it across the ground, and Othello went bounding through the grass after it. Luna then sat herself onto one of the swings.

"This is what you wanted?" Tom said skeptically. "A swing set and that's it?"

Luna nodded happily and began to swing. Soon, she was flying through the air, up, up, and then backwards. She giggled as her long hair flew about her face. She let the swing lose momentum until it was almost still. "Come swing with me, Tom," she said.

Tom, who had yet to move from the doorway, snorted. "No, I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself." She shrugged and began to swing again, but not as high as the previous time. "Are you still planning on killing your dad, Tom?"

"Damn, I thought you'd finally let that one go."

"Why would I let it go? It's rather important," she replied.

"Lovegood. Why is it such a big deal to you? You never knew my father. There's no reason it should matter to you," he said.

"It matters to me because I'd hate for you to keep going down the path you've started. It isn't too late to turn around."

He eyed her suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

She took one hand of the chain of the swing to brush her hair out of her face to look at him. "I know this wouldn't be your first murder, Tom."

He crossed quickly to her and, grabbing the chains of her swing, forced her to a stop. "What do you mean?" he hissed.

"I mean I know about the Chamber of Secrets. I know it was you." She gazed at him with large eyes, and looked completely unafraid.

He leaned closer to her, never taking his hands from the chains. "I suppose your precious Dumbledore told you his suspicions, then? And you believe them?"

"Dumbledore told me nothing," she replied.

"Then how do you know?" he growled, shaking the chains violently once, causing Luna to nearly fall out of the swing and Othello to come running over to see what was going on.

"Does it matter? I haven't told anyone. Besides you, of course," she said, her face expressionless.

They were almost nose to nose. "If you know I'm already a murderer, what does one more on my hands matter?"

She raised her eyebrows. "It would never be just one more, Tom."

He was shaking in fury and terror. "It is too late to turn around. It's been too late for a very long time now."

"No, it isn't," she insisted.

"How do you know? How the hell do you know?" he screamed into her face.

She released the chains and reached up her hands. Cupping his face in her hands, she said, "I know because I love you."

Tom froze. "What?" he snapped.

She cocked her head. "You heard me."

His mind felt like it was in overload. "How could you love me?" he stammered.

"I don't know," she said honestly.

They stared at each other for what felt to Tom like an eternity. I don't love her. I don't love her. I don't. Shit. He looked into her eyes, and what he saw terrified him. Her eyes were pouring out love. No one had ever looked at him that way. It was awful. It was horrible.

He swallowed hard. "Don't say that."

"But if you know when I'm lying, Tom, what good will it do?" she asked.

His face was contorting, trying to find an accurate expression to show all his emotions.

She was pulling his face down towards hers. His mind was telling him that he shouldn't let her, but his body seemed incapable of following through on the directions.

For just the briefest of moments, Luna pressed her lips against his.

"You don't have to love me, Tom. Just know that I love you." She stood up from the swing. She moved as though to go around him, but he suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him again. He again saw that awful love in her eyes.

"Don't love me. Just don't," he insisted.

She looked incredibly somber. "Honestly, Thomas, if I could change it, I would. I don't want to love you." Her eyes were full of tears.

"So don't!" he cried and shook her by the shoulders.

"I can't help it!" she said, a few tears leaking out and trailing down her cheeks.

"I'm not meant for this. I'm not."

"And I don't belong with you!" she said, stomping her foot and crying freely.

Tom's heart lurched at the sight of her crying. She's crying because of me. I don't love her. Shit!

He took his hands from her quickly as though burned and backed away.

"No, don't leave me," she said, reaching out to him.

He stopped moving, and Luna took this as an invitation. She flew into him, burying her face into his chest and throwing her arms around his neck. He remained stiff for a moment, but then – Shit. I love her.

He buried his face in her hair and wrapped his arms around her awkwardly. He was unsure how to do this, but was encouraged when she held him even tighter. He was infinitely pleased with himself when she muttered, "I love you. I love you."

Suddenly, they both broke away, stammering, "I can't do this," and Luna adding, "Not with you."

They stared at each other. Luna moved first, taking him in again. How long they stood that way, they didn't know. Othello curled himself around their legs, purring wildly as though he had known this would happen from the beginning.

A few hours later, Luna opened her eyes to find herself lying in the grass next to Tom. Othello had squished himself in between them, just to remind them that he was terribly important. She didn't know when they had fallen asleep, or even when they had laid down, but she gently shook Tom awake. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared at her, his expression unreadable.

Without speaking, they both stood up and left the Room of Requirement. They went outside and sat down on the steps. It was late in the afternoon, nearing twilight. For a few minutes they sat in silence, watching students return from Hogsmeade. Tom glanced up at the sky, and saw angry storm clouds forming. "It looks like it's going to rain," he remarked. What the hell? I don't talk about the weather. He scowled.

Indeed, a few minutes later, large, fat raindrops began to fall down. Several of the girls headed back screamed and ran into the castle. Luna, on the other hand, stood up and walked out into the grass as the rain began to pour more heavily. She spread her arms out wide and turned her face to the sky, closing her eyes and letting the drops of water run down her face, as other people rushed past her to take shelter inside the school.

Tom watched her in the safety underneath the eave above the doors. She began to spin slowly on the spot, but after a few moments, she began to dance without any music guiding her, and oblivious to the stares she was eliciting from the other students.

Upon her face was a look of pure joy, and she stopped dancing for a moment. She walked over to Tom and pulled him to his feet before he could protest.

"What are you doing, Luna?" he snapped.

"Dance with me." She had his hands in her own and was trying to pull him out into the rain.

"No," he replied, and whipped his hands away from her. "Why would I want to get soaked?"

"Don't you love the rain?" she asked, undaunted.

"No, I do not."

She furrowed her brows at him. "Tom. Dance." She took his hands in her own once again and led him out. She firmly placed one of his hands on her waist and took the other in her hand, and began to waltz.

Tom attempted to resist at first, but after looking into her eyes, and seeing the terrible love that he had seen earlier, he gave in to her and danced in the rain with her.