NUNA: It was the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about things that interested her that roped me in. Her big, blue eyes would brighten, would shine with excitement, as she spoke of her father and something he’d told her. Family was most important to her, but not like family was important to, say, Draco Malfoy. She valued her father because he was all she had left. She valued her relationship with him and the things he told her because, after all, a father should be the one a daughter trusts most. It was the way her hair always looked, too—always messy and slightly knotted, like she only finger combed through the curls after waking up. It was big, but not like Hermione’s hair, which was bushy. Luna’s hair was big with curls and waves, and it was soft, and it was a natural shade of blonde that no one could’ve gotten it artificially if they’d tried. It was her skin, as well. Light freckles decorated the center of her face, nearly invisible unless you were nearly inches away from her face. Her skin was lightly tanned because of the time she spent with me walking outside and around the greenhouses. It was silky, so soft that even my calloused fingers felt like they were gliding on water. My feelings for her felt like they came overnight, though now, upon closer inspection, I realize I felt for her long before I consciously realized it. Her individuality and free-spirit automatically drew people to her, even if these people didn’t stay with her. I drifted towards her through Dumbledore’s Army. Out of practice, I would see her wandering through the hallways almost in a daze, oblivious to the whispers and giggles that followed her every step. I remember feeling vaguely sorry for the blonde, but when I saw her face and realized that she didn’t notice it—or she did and simply didn’t bother with them—I felt confused. Didn’t she realize that she was the joke of her year? Then I saw Ginny run up to her and link arms with her, and the two began laughing. Her laugh was soft and bubbly, and you saw her laugh more than you heard it. The two turned around and when Ginny saw me, she smiled and waved me over. “Neville!” she’d said. “What’s up?” I awkwardly lifted my arms, filled with my textbooks of the day and a plant that Professor Sprout had given me. “I’m headed towards the common room to drop these off,” I told her. “Where’s your bag?” Luna asked me, in her dreamy sort-of voice. Frowning, I looked down at my books again. “I think someone hexed me, and the bottom of the bag ripped.” Ginny automatically reached over towards me to grab some of my books to carry them for me. Luna, on the other hand, nodded hazily. “That’s happened to me before.” I looked at the two girls with a half-frown on my face. Then, suddenly, my books and plant were removed from my arms, and I saw Ginny walked away with a grin on her face. “I’ll take these to the common room for you, Neville!” she called back to me, as though I had any choice. That, of course, had left me with the absent blonde. As soon as Ginny left, the whispers and giggles sounded once again. In my peripheral vision, I saw fingers being pointed, eyes following us. I glanced over at the blonde, idly wondering what was going on in her mind. At the same time, she looked at me—but by no means did she try to hide that she was staring at me. “Hello,” she said suddenly. “Your name is Neville, right?” I nodded, somewhat sullenly, still thinking about the murmurs and whispers following us. As though reading my mind, she said, “I ignore them.” Her blue eyes met mine, and she offered me a sweet smile. “If they’re so busy talking about others to make them feel bad, they’re too busy to be mindful of themselves.” “You’re saying they’re just insecure?” I asked her, disbelief colouring my voice. Her smile faded into a serene look. “You can’t degrade someone else without degrading yourself. Yes, I think they’re just insecure.” We turned a corner and walked into the great hall together, and I contemplated that. She turned to look at me one more time before a short wave, and she then walked towards the Ravenclaw table, sat, and began dishing pudding onto a plate. I couldn’t help but notice how she sat alone, but I shook my head minimally and took my own seat at the Gryffindor table. At the next DA meeting, Luna meandered her way towards me, seemingly unconsciously. “Hello, Neville,” she said airily. I nodded, not saying anything, as I was concentrating on performing my patronus. Christmas was nearing, and I was staying for the holiday to practice further. Luna, having been watching me, asked, “What’s your memory you’re choosing?” My face reddened, and I looked down, again without answering. She, however, went on when she knew she wouldn’t get an answer. “My mum died when I was nine. I chose a memory of when she and Dad and I were all together, out at a muggle carnival.” I couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled from my lips, but imagining Luna surrounded by muggles at a muggle outing was comical. The laughter died from my face, when I looked over at the blonde and saw a wave of sadness encompass her features. “Do you miss her?” I asked tentatively, lowering my wand and looking her in the eyes. Her own blue eyes widened slightly, and looking back at me, she said, “Every day.” Her airy tone had returned, but was slightly shaky. I looked at my wand, then I said quietly, more to myself than to her, “I miss my mom, too.” From then on, she and I were partners every DA meeting. It was fun, getting to know Luna. Her eccentrics, it seemed, stemmed from her father and how he viewed things. I didn’t question her—seeing her eyes light up at the mention of her small family was worth it to hear her talk about nargles and wrack-spurts. Never once did I hear her complain about anything, either. It seemed she truly lived by what she’d said in the corridor: she didn’t talk about others, and instead she only worried about herself. Even outside of the meetings, she and I would walk around the castle grounds together. Even of rainy days, she and I would make our ways outside and talk. Sometimes, we wouldn’t even say anything. We would just enjoy each other’s company. Still, not every day did we do this. It was more of a weekly occurrence, something we did when neither of us was swamped with homework. One Friday evening, as I was walking through the corridors toward the Gryffindor common room, I was so lost in my thoughts of homework and studying and practicing that I didn’t notice the blonde walking steadily beside me. She was walking fairly close beside me, and it wasn’t until I heard a quiet sniffling that I noticed her. Seeing Luna with tears in her eyes was a shock to me. I think part of me was under the impression that she had been the type of person who was incapable of crying. Though strange and wacky as she was, she was one of the strongest people I’d met. To see even one tear fall from her eyes was enough to make me want to hurt whoever had hurt her. That was the first time I recognized my feelings towards her. My sixth year, which was her fifth, she and I had less time to see each other than before. Witnessing the loss of Sirius, and then the summer holiday had separated as enough—as if we needed her studying for her OWLs and my studying for NEWTs thrown into the mix. But still, somehow we managed. Every Saturday evening, the two of us met to have a walk through the corridors. Luna brought with her stories of her break, laughing about stories her father had told her, and I brought with me stories of my break, chuckling slightly at some of the more embarrassing moments. It seemed, almost, that Luna had grown right in front of me. Her hair, now a paler golden blonde from the sunshine of summer, reached her hips in loose ringlets and waves. They seemed shinier than the year previously, neater somehow. Her wide, blue eyes still looked as though she were permanently surprised, but there was warmth in them that I hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps it was knowing that the year previously, Professor Umbridge had sucked the life out of nearly any student at the school, and that dimmed the warmth in her. It wasn’t until the end of the year until I’d realized my feelings for her, on the dark grounds after the first battle of Hogwarts, and Harry sat beside Professor Dumbledore’s body. Luna, like many students and teachers alike, openly had tears shining down her cheeks. The moonlight surrounded her in an unearthly glow, and that was, in my opinion, the most heartbreaking scene that night. I remember, almost but not quite subconsciously, grabbing her hand with my own and holding it tightly. I also remember her throwing herself into my chest, and I could feel her trembling frame in my arms. She made no sounds as she cried, nor did any other student that night. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gone on the run, and when Luna had been held captive at Malfoy Manor, I kept in touch with Aberforth. I’m positive I drove him crazy with my questions everyday: “Where’s the trio?” “Are there any news on the Lovegoods’?” “Has Luna been found yet?” It wasn’t until Ariana had returned with a small blonde with her that I felt at ease. Not long after, however, I felt rage toward the Malfoy family, because if not for them, Luna wouldn’t have been taken, wouldn’t have been so unhealthily thin when she returned to Hogwarts. I always was the last to fall asleep at night, even as more students showed up in an attempt to save themselves from the Carrows. As more appeared, I made sure that they were well tended to before I fell asleep, especially the young ones, who sought reassurance that the school wasn’t always like that. After a few weeks, Luna began staying up with me. If it had been up to me, I wouldn’t have had her help at all, but Luna was persistent, and I’d never been able to win an argument with her. When she was well enough that her bruises had healed and her skin less gray, she began tending to the ones who needed minor healing. During the Final Battle, chaos was the only constant theme. Bodies were lying everywhere, and no matter where I looked, I kept seeing a small blonde lying on the ground amidst the rest of the bodies. Everywhere I looked, I was scared that Luna had fallen victim. When You-Know-Who and Harry were in the great hall dueling, I finally saw my small blonde, covered in blood and her hair matted against her head. When You-Know-Who fell, I ran to her and picked her up. Through all the cheering and clapping and crying and mourning, I looked her in the eyes, and she in mine, and we both began laughing before dissolving into each other, our lips meeting with a soft anticipation. One month later, Luna and I stood at St. Mungo’s. Her hand in mine, we walked up to the fourth floor. Luna, who at this point knew the story of my parents, told me she wanted to meet them. I agreed, albeit reluctantly, only because I couldn’t have told her “no” if my life had depended on it. When we turned the corner to see my mother’s wispy gray hair and thinning face, Luna smiled. “Hello, Mrs. Longbottom,” she said in a soft voice. ~ Hermione Malfoy
Posted on: Sun, 21 Jul 2013 10:15:38 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015