Luna's wedding didn't come as a surprise.

You knew, in the back of your mind, that Rolf had been living with Luna for a few years.

And yet, it was still disappointing.

"Do you think the tablecloths should be ivory or eggshell?"

"Eggshell."

"What do you think of my vows?"

"They're lovely."

"Thank you, Ginny, that means a lot to me."

And yet, Luna could have been a Weasley or you could have been a Lovegood.

"Do you think Rolf will get cold feet?"

"Even if he does, it would be his loss."

"Why?"

"You're a wonderful person and anyone would be lucky to have you."

"Does this dress look okay?"

"You look beautiful, Luna."

"Thank you."

The wedding is on a warm spring day in the middle of a forest.

Standing in front of the rows of chairs, just next to the altar but not quite there, you think that you would have let Luna plan the wedding.

She had done a wonderful job choosing guests and outfits and decorations and all of the rest, and if Rolf weren't here, it would be perfect.

But he is here.

And maybe you should be happy for Luna, maybe you should give up and settle for being her friend and nothing more, but growing up surrounded by so many brothers and so little money, you've learned that sometimes, you have to hold on. You have to take what you want and hold firm even as others yank and grab and pull and try to steal it away.

Seeing Luna in her wedding dress, smiling not at you but at her fiance, you can't help but feel like you did when you were seven years old and doing your damnedest to keep the room you'd gotten for yourself. You can't help but remember the hours spent figuring out how Fred and George pranked you, the time lost to setting traps of your own, the white lies told to Mum in order to frame yourself as the victim. The fear in the eyes of the Death Eater at the Ministry during fourth year when you sent a not-quite-legal spell at them because how dare they lay their filthy hands on your friends-

You can't help but feel as bitter as you did when you couldn't get new robes when yours were frayed and when you got blisters over your feet after you outgrew your shoes and when you weren't allowed on a broom until well into fourth year and when Harry paid more attention to Malfoy than you and when Mum stopped talking about anyone but Fred after the war and when-

And when.

As Luna promises her life to someone else, you're just as bitter and angry as you always are.

But just like every other when, you're going to do something vindictive and bitchy and all the rest of the words the girls in your dorm called you, and you're going to fix this.

You're going to take a page out of Finnigan's book and set something on fire.

Slipping away from the ceremony is easy, and using a few simple wards to seal everyone in is easier.

Murmuring Latin at a few particularly dry bushes is hardly a hardship.

As you watch the flashes of red from the corner of your eye, you find yourself next to Luna.

"I love you."

"What?"

"I love you. Have been in love with you."

She looks surprised. Betrayed.

The fire is spreading.

"Ginny, what-?"

There's not even a flicker of something to indicate Luna feels remotely similar to you.

And just like the wedding invitation, it isn't surprising, but it's disappointing.

At least nobody else will get Luna, now.

Stuffed animals ripped in half, pets set free, shredded books, food thrown out, clothes burnt, wands snapped-

It's just like every other when.

And failure tastes just as much like victory as it always does.

Maybe you end up in prison, and maybe there are no more whens, but you know that the whens you've already had have been grand and you were going to end up here eventually.

And maybe that's fine, and maybe that's good, but it's the first real failure you've had since when-when-when-when-when-when-when-

But you've held on to Luna, even as she falls apart and her stuffing spills and her seams rip, and-

That's as much of a victory as everything else.