It shouldn't be this easy, but it is, or at least it seems, when, in Shell Cottage, Luna climbs into bed with her, wrapping her arms around Hermione's waist and hugging her tightly. Normally Hermione would protest gently and try to wriggle free, because honestly, she likes Luna just fine, but she's not really this okay, generally speaking, with this sort of closeness. At least, not with Luna.
But it feels surprisingly nice and Luna is warm and soft and her hair is tickling Hermione's nose and it's just the first real moment of peace that Hermione's had in a long time, so she just sighs and lets herself be embraced.
How's your arm? Luna asks, after a while, pulling back so that she can look at Hermione's forearm, where there's still the bright scar of Mudblood written on her skin.
Better, Hermione tells her and flinches when Luna reaches out to stroke her fingers along it curiously; she'd half expected it to hurt, but of course, it doesn't. It just looks worse than it is, she says. It's going to take a bit of time to heal, I think; I mean, I'm not sure. It's not just a regular injury, you know?
Luna smiles, stares at her with wide, blue gray eyes that are soft, like dove feathers, almost. I think it's nice, she says, which is not at all what Hermione was expecting, but then again, it's still Luna, and she shouldn't be surprised.
It is nice, Luna says. It's sort of like a mark of bravery.
Hermione snorts.
No, really, Luna says, and reaches up and waves at the air above their heads. Sorry, she says, distracted. Wrackspurts.
Yes, Hermione both thinks and says. Of course.
They're more likely to show up around bedtime, you know, Luna tells her, temporarily distracted. That's why your brain gets all fuzzy just before you fall asleep. But really, she says, serious again. I think you're quite brave. And your scar, well, what it says isn't nice at all, but what it means is.
Hermione smiles, sighs, leans her head on Luna's shoulder. Thanks, she says, after several long moments.
Of course. Luna's hand slips down, finds Hermione's, intertwines their fingers. And it shouldn't be this easy to forget, at least for a moment, about everything that's going on right now -- Voldemort, the Horcruxes, her parents, and so much more that she can't even begin to list everything -- but it is. It is, with Luna's hand in hers, her thumb slowly stroking back and forth across the back of Hermione's hand.
Thanks, Hermione says again, after a long while. She's not even really sure what she's thanking Luna for, she just needs to say it. For some strange reason; she doesn't quite understand it. Her brain does feel a bit fuzzy; for one wild moment she entertains the idea that Luna may actually be right about wrackspurts and she grins, amused at herself.
What? Luna looks at her through hazy, half-closed eyes. What are you thinking about?
Nothing, Hermione says. Just, well. You.
Luna smiles sleepily at her. Good things, I hope, she murmurs and leans forward to press a kiss to Hermione's forehead, through her hair. Are you going to leave tomorrow?
And there she is, yanked right back into reality. Maybe. I don't know.
Well, we'll just stay like this for tonight then, Luna says. We can worry about tomorrow when it comes.
- -
Don't know if this is what you wanted, but it's what came to me when I read your prompt.
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timeasmymeasure
with beings brighter than have been | luna/hermione | g
Date: 2010-11-30 01:37 pm (UTC)But it feels surprisingly nice and Luna is warm and soft and her hair is tickling Hermione's nose and it's just the first real moment of peace that Hermione's had in a long time, so she just sighs and lets herself be embraced.
How's your arm? Luna asks, after a while, pulling back so that she can look at Hermione's forearm, where there's still the bright scar of Mudblood written on her skin.
Better, Hermione tells her and flinches when Luna reaches out to stroke her fingers along it curiously; she'd half expected it to hurt, but of course, it doesn't. It just looks worse than it is, she says. It's going to take a bit of time to heal, I think; I mean, I'm not sure. It's not just a regular injury, you know?
Luna smiles, stares at her with wide, blue gray eyes that are soft, like dove feathers, almost. I think it's nice, she says, which is not at all what Hermione was expecting, but then again, it's still Luna, and she shouldn't be surprised.
It is nice, Luna says. It's sort of like a mark of bravery.
Hermione snorts.
No, really, Luna says, and reaches up and waves at the air above their heads. Sorry, she says, distracted. Wrackspurts.
Yes, Hermione both thinks and says. Of course.
They're more likely to show up around bedtime, you know, Luna tells her, temporarily distracted. That's why your brain gets all fuzzy just before you fall asleep. But really, she says, serious again. I think you're quite brave. And your scar, well, what it says isn't nice at all, but what it means is.
Hermione smiles, sighs, leans her head on Luna's shoulder. Thanks, she says, after several long moments.
Of course. Luna's hand slips down, finds Hermione's, intertwines their fingers. And it shouldn't be this easy to forget, at least for a moment, about everything that's going on right now -- Voldemort, the Horcruxes, her parents, and so much more that she can't even begin to list everything -- but it is. It is, with Luna's hand in hers, her thumb slowly stroking back and forth across the back of Hermione's hand.
Thanks, Hermione says again, after a long while. She's not even really sure what she's thanking Luna for, she just needs to say it. For some strange reason; she doesn't quite understand it. Her brain does feel a bit fuzzy; for one wild moment she entertains the idea that Luna may actually be right about wrackspurts and she grins, amused at herself.
What? Luna looks at her through hazy, half-closed eyes. What are you thinking about?
Nothing, Hermione says. Just, well. You.
Luna smiles sleepily at her. Good things, I hope, she murmurs and leans forward to press a kiss to Hermione's forehead, through her hair. Are you going to leave tomorrow?
And there she is, yanked right back into reality. Maybe. I don't know.
Well, we'll just stay like this for tonight then, Luna says. We can worry about tomorrow when it comes.
- -
Don't know if this is what you wanted, but it's what came to me when I read your prompt.