Title: Lost and Found

Summary: He found the girl who didn't know she lost. / Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter and spearmint toothpaste. Freeverse, for Jannice Sace.

Prompt: Advent Calendar challenge - HarryLuna and tinsel and mint.

Day: Five gold rings... four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Recipient: Jannice Sace.

Notes: This was written as part of my December advent calendar challenge - 12 days, 12 stories, 12 amazing authors and reviewers who deserve to have something back :) Jannice Sace is the fantastic recipient of this piece - she's stuck with me through my Narcissa phase, my freeverse extravaganzas and overall teenage one woman angst show. Thank you so much, and enjoy!


"Well, when I was lost, I suppose it's good advice to stay where you are until someone finds you. But who'd ever think to look for me here?" - Alice, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.


Pretty girl, you're in way over your head;

you can run, you can run,

but you can't ever lose yourself, can't ever hide,

(run, rabbit, run)

because they will find you, my dear -

they will search the corners of the world

and they will hunt you,

and catch you,

and kill you.

They will kill that smile you inherited

from the mother you don't remember,

and they will kill the spirit

that your father lent you.

(time to give it up, pretty girl)

Maybe you'll run for the rest of your life,

looking over your shoulder

at things that aren't there,

and you'll be lost for the rest of time

(time to run, sweetie)

That is your curse, pretty girl,

and your blessing,

because all these mundane little people

just can't understand the wonders they can't see.

You're a firecracker,

my dear,

(but you're fizzling out)

and from up here you can see the whole world

in all its wonder,

and all its tragedy.

You will live your life with creatures

(because they understand you so much better than people)

and maybe even be happy,

but run, run,

little girl;

the chase isn't over yet.

.

It's going to take more than

wishes on stars

and four leaf clovers

to escape this time, sweetheart.

(your fairy godmother was too busy to take you to the ball)

After all,

pretty girl,

girls like you aren't made for fairytales.

You don't get the prince, love,

and he doesn't want you.

All you know is...

(insanity and imperfection)

castles & princesses & moonshadows & nargles -

darling, your fantasy world is crumbling around you,

and if you don't get out now,

it will crush you,

pretty girl.

(because that's what villains DO!)

DOWN WITH THE BLOODY RED QUEEN,

the voices scream,

but you shake your head,

because you aren't Alice, my dear,

(however lost you are)

and she's no Queen of Hearts.

She's done no wrong.

You've done no good.

.

Darling, don't be so naïve -

she's better than you.

That's not just the bitterness (or the voices)

talking;

she is.

She is Ginny Weasley,

and she's not so lost;

she is a firework where you're sparkler -

she's a Crumple Horned Snorkack and you're just a little ol' nargle.

You're spearmint toothpaste,

and she is chocolate.

You remind him of tinsel,

but she's the star on the top of the tree.

She's got a poison, buttermilk smile,

and those hypnotising eyes;

you're a blonde, pretty girl,

and don't you know that Potters only go for...

red-heads?

Your skin is too light

(no tan from playing Quidditch)

your eyes aren't bright

(autumn over winter, every time)

your hair isn't right

(fire over sunshine, dear)

and you have no fight...

(because who can defend castles and nargles

over love and passion and Harry Potter?)

.

But -

but, but, but, pretty girl,

maybe -

you could possibly kind of maybe be the one,

(if you're known for one thing and one thing alone,

it's hope)

because after all,

Harry's never tried to be more than what he is,

and Ginny might be fiery, tanned,

brown eyed, red-headed perfection,

but she's predictable,

and Harry's never~ever~ever been that.

(Luna Lovegood -

the girl who believed)

Maybe he wants

mint and hide&seek and freckles,

and maybe grey reminds him of silver,

rather than stone;

maybe he even wants sunshine,

and castles and nargles,

and the girl who reminds him of tinsel.

.

After all,

you're running and running

from things that aren't there

(the shadows in your mind are real enough)

and maybe the voices still scream

WE'RE ALL MAD HERE,

but you didn't fall down that rabbit hole -

this is reality.

Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood,

against the world

and all its demons,

because he can find you and save you, pretty girl.

You may not be Ginny Weasley,

and you may not be a princess,

(did you ever really want to be, pretty girl?)

but he's not Dean Thomas,

and he's not a prince,

so maybe you're practically perfect in your own little way.

Well. Maybe not.

.

You think you're kind of like a ghost

of who you used to be

(darling, it's called growing up)

but he says that that doesn't matter,

because he's not the same,

and he's not quite so...

innocent.

That doesn't mean he hasn't changed for the better.

(And you think, if you're tinsel,

then he's mistletoe.)

Maybe, dear, you can learn a thing or two

from this handsome little boy

- who tastes like spearmint toothpaste -

- who found the girl who didn't know she was lost -

- who never wanted anything,

apart from you.

You. Aren't. Perfect.

(but dear, did you ever say you were?)

.