Luna Lovegood had a warrior's heart and an angel's smile, but his love for her was more than that. LunaxHarry, submission for QFFL's Kenmare Kestrals.


Ooh, I like this one :D


Luna Lovegood was quite queer.

Perhaps queer is too strong; Luna Lovegood was just a tad bit off.

Then again, perhaps off was too weak.

Luna Lovegood, as Harry would later say, had a warrior's heart, an angel's smile, and a shattered mirror's soul.

She stole his heart in year five.

"This is absolute rubbish!" Luna swore lightly, turning away from the assignment.

"Luna," Harry groaned, pushing jet black bangs off his forehead, "can we just finish this?"

"I whole-heartedly refuse," she puckered her pink lips and tilted her head toward the ceiling.

Harry's eyebrows wrinkled with his confusion. "You're not usually like this. What's wrong?"

Luna turned back to the papers in front of them, and Harry saw a fire in her pale blue eyes. "How can you not see what's wrong? Look what we have to write our essay on: the imprisonment of the Japanese, the bombing of Hiroshima, the Holocaust. Why do we have to view the muggles in such a negative light? It's always like this; we're oppressors! That's all we are!" Luna stood up, heatedly remarking, "Why can't we focus on the glories of the muggles in World War II? What about how the Americans mounted their flag in Iwojima after narrowly escaping death? What about how Germans would hide Jews to help them escape certain death? What about how completely different nations banded together to obliterate the evil that was the allies? What about the good, brilliant side of the muggles, the one all of us like to ignore?"

The room was quiet, and Luna looked around in surprise. Neville Longbottom clapped for her in the back, while Professor McGonagall straightened her glasses. "Miss Lovegood?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"If you are so heated about the victories of the muggles during World War II, I believe you can talk to Mister Weasley about switching topics."

A bit of the colour flushed from Luna's cheeks, embarrassment welling up inside her. She quickly turned to Ron. "Ronald Weasley, if you-"

"Take it!" Ron squeaked, handing her the paper and scurrying off.

Luna took her seat again, smiling brilliantly. Harry caught her eye. "Are you happy now?"

"Ecstatic," she said, and she was. That was the first time that Harry saw how pink her cheeks were against her porcelain skin, and how her eyes sparkled when she was passionate about something. Luna grabbed his hand and smiled. "Did you see that? Your pulse is racing as fast as mine- were you as excited too?"

Harry's pulse was racing, but it was from more than her speech.

From that day forward, Luna was on Harry's mind at least once every ten minutes. He started noticing the way she would swish her skirt when she found something she like, how she would cock her head to the side when she was confused, and how she would close her eyes and think in the middle of a book.

He kissed her in year six.

"Are you okay, Luna?" he asked after the Great Hall had cleared and she remained.

"Define 'okay'," Luna wiped a tear from her eye and stared at it on her finger. "I don't think I'm 'okay'."

Harry sat by her and leaned back, staring at the star-filled ceiling. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Luna leaned back, too. "Not really."

"That's okay," he hesitated, then grasped her cool hand in his warm one.

"Sometime's I feel lonely," Luna blurted out.

"Me, too," Harry nodded. He felt her stiffen. "What?"

"There's no 'you'll be okay'? No 'you're not alone'?"

"Should I say those things?"

Luna paused, then said no. She settled back into the chair. "I keep putting on Chapstick but my lips stay chapped."

"Is it flavoured?" Harry asked, looking at her carefully.

"I'm not sure. Would you like to find out?"

Harry took his cue and pressed his lips to her soft ones that he'd dreamed about so often, holding her in the small of her back and relishing in her taste. After a moment he returned to his seat. "It's flavoured. You should try the medicated."

Luna smiled at him, then returned to her own seat. "Thank you," Luna couldn't wipe the goofy smile off her face. "I was just going to let you try my Chapstick."

"Oh," Harry blushed furiously.

"I think I liked your idea better, though."

"That's good," Harry's heart beat sped up faster than ever before.



"Could you tell me exactly which flavour my chapstick is?"

That was the beginning of a beautiful future, and Harry imagined it every chance he could.

He dreamed night and night again of her in a long white dress, her pale blonde hair pulled up from her slender shoulders. No makeup on her face, she wanted to match the natural look of the forest around them. He could see the hem of the dress swishing about her ankles, and he only wanted to grab that ankle and kiss it, then kiss every other part of her.

It never happened, though.

She broke his heart in year seven.

Harry's day went in slow motion. That may only be in his mind; but his mind was all he had to go by.

It was the last day of school. He had decided that he would stay with Luna forever, because no one could ever match up to her. He fingered the ring in his pocket and marched down to the Great Hall.

He opened the doors and scanned the room, which didn't take too long; it was empty.

Harry stepped inside and heard the echoes of the door shutting in the cavernous hall. He stepped around, hoping to figure out how every student has managed to disappear overnight.

He heard a cough and he whirled. Across the room stood Snape. "I thought I'd find you here."

"Where is everyone?" Harry gestured to the room.

"In their rooms. I-" Snape shut his mouth and shut his eyes, somehow displaying uncharacteristic compassion. "I am so sorry, Harry."

Harry stood rooted to the spot, fear gripping his heart. He tore out of the room and up the stairs, knocking on the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room with every once of ferocity in him.

The door opened on its hinges.

When Harry stepped inside, everyone fell quiet. As the eyes bored into him, a lone Ravenclaw pointed to the girls' dormitories.

Harry rushed in that direction, climbing the stairs with an acute sense of panic he'd never felt before. He knew her door when he saw it, it was just as out of place as she'd always seemed. He put a hand to the doorknob and, sucking in a deep breath, pushed the door open.

Blood sat in a still pool on the violet carpet of the room, slowly seeping in and turning the same colour as the rusty blade beside it. Her body was gone but he could still smell her.

Dumbledore appeared in the doorway, but he didn't want to hear it: the 'you'll be okay's and the 'you'll be fine's. Harry dropped to his knees, gripping the ring and clawing at his ears, trying to rid himself of the soul-wrenching sound that was his sobbing.

Harry once dreamed of kissing her rosy lips and white dresses.

Now all he had to look forward to was black suits and ashes.