Disclaimer: these girls belong to JK, I just took 'em, made 'em gay, and promised to return them in one piece.

Author's note: this is something that's been sitting on my hard disk for a long, long time. Somehow, I still like it.

Contradictio in Terminis

'Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief

That thou her maid art far more fair than she.'

William Shakespeare

Luna dances to a music only she can hear. Her steps are light and fast and airy as if she doesn't touch the ground anymore. Her hair glints golden in the sunlight, her skirt swirls around her legs. The lake of Hogwarts is calm as she dances on its sandy beach, as if in admiration and respect for the ethereal maiden on its shore.

So beautiful, Ginny thinks vaguely as she watches her lover from under a tree. So unreal, as if she's walked down a path destined for her alone, beyond the things I can see.

Luna isn't silver. She is gold; she sparkles with an inner light, setting her aglow with something intangible. Her hair is a halo around her, it streams like a river of light, rivalling the sun in the sky.

Luna isn't cold. She is warm; Ginny needs no blankets when her Luna is her only garment, her body clad in Luna's golden hair. Her lips on Ginny's skin are hot, like a moving and liquid fire, fuelled by passion.

Luna isn't pale. She is every colour of the spectrum; her hair golden, her cheeks rosy, her skin so freckled it seems tan. From up close, even her seemingly pale, wide eyes are contrasting and brilliant against her hair and skin. Ginny knows this, she had seen it and she has marvelled. Luna is almost like a light in the darkness, as if the night, too, is in love with her and lifts its heavy cloak to uncover her in all her glory.

Luna isn't quiet and unmoving. She is wild, fiery; filled with an energy that is unstoppable as she lives through her life. She does what she likes, pays no heed to the poisonous whispers of the other girls behind her back and smiles. Even her smile is fire.

Luna does no justice to her name. She is no moon – she is the sun.

- fin -