Chapter image: By me
It was not the first time Luna Lovegood had found black hairs on her bag. Nor, she was sure, would it be the last.
It was a typical assembly; just like any other. Everyone lined up in their houses, normal procedure. She dropped off her bag, by the double-oak doors, without a thought in the world, and was about to join the throng of students, when her misty eyes were drawn to a tiny, black hair lying innocently beside some sheets of parchment. How had it got there? Where had it come from? It didn’t make sense. Luna frowned, picking up the hair. Maybe it’s come from the heavens above? Perhaps it’s a sign. But pointing to what?
Her father had always said that one day, Nargles would take over the wizarding world. They had black fur, so maybe it was from one of them? But, hang on, what was this? There was someone’s handwriting- but whose? Luna sniffed, peering closer. It was small, and a real struggle to read. However, with further scrutinising, she could just about make out the message.
‘You are all I live for; everything I want, but cannot have.’
Even she knew Nargles couldn’t write. So, who was it from? Luna smiled, envisioning who she wanted it to be from. ‘Well,’ she mulled. ‘I wouldn’t mind if it was Harry. He’s always been so nice to me. He never judges me. He doesn’t care what I do.’ Who else in her year had black hair? Oh. That was, if it had come from a boy in fifth year? What if it was from a younger year?
Luna blinked, her protuberant eyes silvering over, as she immediately pictured a scrawny, third year with ink-coloured hair who had been taking interest in her. Whenever she was reading the latest edition of ‘The Quibbler’, he was always there, peering intently through his fringe. She didn’t have a clue why he cared about her; why he had taken such a, um, somewhat passionate curiosity to her. Noticing Professor Snape striding towards her, she pocketed the hair, and folded up the love note.
But it was too late. He stopped behind her.
“Miss Lovegood. Why aren’t you in assembly?”
“Sorry sir. I was just going-“
“The procession ends in five minutes,” Snape addressed icily, bending down, his nose only inches from her face. “Twenty points from Ravenclaw.”
Luna lifted her chin defiantly. “Yes, sir.”
“And make sure that it doesn’t happen again,” Snape warned, marching off in the direction of the dungeons. “Ever!”
Luna Lovegood sighed, trailing her fingers through her dirty-blonde hair. “He needs a haircut.”
*
Pansy Parkinson was asleep; fast asleep- though her mind still raced. In her dreams, she was not alone. Every night, she was with her. The one person whom she wanted, more then anyone. At first, she had been sickened by her thoughts, repulsed by every one of them, but now, after so many months of pushing the feelings aside, she was to face them. Every minute of every day, she thought of her.
By now, it did not effect as much as it used to, but it was still there; preying upon her conscience; concealed secrets never wanting to be up-rooted, inexplicable desires spreading through her some would say, twisted head. Oh, but that was the beauty of it. Nobody knew a thing. Not one person. She could have perhaps spoken to the Hogwarts counsellor, but she knew that Madam Priscilla wouldn’t listen; would not understand; think her deluded.
It was so hard, only Merlin knew how much. Pansy did not understand in the least, could not comprehend what these notions were . . . and why they were . . well, there. Nonetheless, she had known from the moment that the girlhad arrived, hair flowing about her shoulders like a majestic golden cloak, eyes brimming with other worlds, lips like glistening rubies . . . Pansy had never seen anyone more beautiful.
And that was where the trouble started. She came from a highly renowned aristocratic family, generations of whom had married mixed genders, the usual, natural pattern- and, consciously, Pansy knew she was disrupting everything.
Nobody could ever know. No one could ever find out.
Guilt seeped through her veins, but not regret. She didn’t dislike these feelings . . . at all. After all, they were a part of her. However, with every letter she sent to her parents, the culpability intensified. She wasn’t angry anymore, just confused. Why was she thinking these kind of things? It really wasn’t ordinary, a sin to the world around her, the faces she passed, the meals she ate, the rain that fell . . . Yes, even nature was unaware.
Half of her wanted to cling onto this weird and wonderful desire, but the other half wished she’d never had it in the first place, because it was entirely and utterly hopeless. Her heart ached to tell the truth, to spill her deepest, darkest secret, but she couldn’t.
She felt as though she were trapped in some metal, barred prison; a glass cage of emotion, with no view to any keys, no vista of the future. She could even hear the screams, ricocheting around and around, but nobody knew she was there. To them, she was dead.
Why was she experiencing this? Was there any hope? Could she stop it? Did she want to? Wait, she had already answered that. Or had she? Now that she thought about it, what did she really want? Well. She knew who she should be wanting, and yet, a little part of her did; just not enough. Draco liked her. That much was true. She could tell by the way he always offered to help her with homework, was rarely seen out of her company, complimenting her on appearance, but at the same time, it seemed a kind of warped obsession-he was sometimes over enthusiastic.
For example, he may have asked her out millions of times (to which she refused, due to her dirty secret), but the places to which he wanted her to go? Now, that was the strange thing. He’d asked her to escort his presence to Knockturn Alley, so that he could buy some dark arts skulls- more to add to the collection, but what was strange was the fact that he had also wanted to get a wizarding camera. The offer had not seemed like a date at all, rather, an excuse to obtain more objects of evil. Not that she wasn’t against his fascination, on the contrary, but- a camera? That just confused her the more. Why had he wanted to get? . . .
Pansy sighed, pulling the sequinned covers more tightly around her. She had not meant to, but all of a sudden, she felt her eyes closing,
She was sailing . . .
. . . on a sea of pearl waves.
Pansy jumped, as she felt something touch her skin. She whirled around on the spot, staring into the glittering, glistening, veiled eyes of her. The girl. The one everyone nastily referred to as ‘Loony.’ But Pansy knew her real name, she said it each night- in her dreams, and out. Luna Lovegood. The blonde-haired girl reached out to her, hands hopelessly caressing thin air.
Hating herself for giving in too easily, but loving herself for the passion that burned inside her, Pansy ran forwards, embracing Luna, planting kisses on her cheeks. The girl did not recoil, quite the opposite. She returned the kisses, soft as rain. Pansy smiled, closing her eyes, as she felt them wash over her like a godly waterfall. She liked it when they were wet; when they were completely alone. Pansy pushed her onto the waves, it did not matter if they were atop the ocean, for it was a dream after all. Gravity did not exist.
Luna laughed, her precious hair falling about her perfect shoulders; sunshine bathing her body. Pansy couldn’t stop. She wanted her, needed her. She was the only person who understood. Entwining her fingers, and running her hands through Luna’s velvety locks, Pansy felt as though she was awake, that this was happening right now. And, regardless of anyone and everyone, everywhere and everything . . . she was insistent, sexually driven, ravenously zealous.
Suddenly, Luna was fading.
It was always the same.
Pansy tried to call out the name, struggled to reach her-
But it was too late. It was always too late. In a flash of crimson light, she awoke, drenched in sweat, tossing and turning. Oh, why couldn’t be dreams be real, not just . . . codes from the un-conscious state of mind? Pansy cried, beating her pillow, drowning in salty pools of sentiment. Luna would never love her. And, sad as it was, she would have to live with it.
How? She did not have a clue. Her heart was already broken, the pieces scattered hopelessly, shattered by the sin of reality. She would find a way to deal with these feelings. There had to be one. Well. One thing was of certainty- Luna can never, ever know. She would hate her, not that they were friends or anything, but weird as it was, Pansy already thought she knew everything about her.
Sinking back onto her pillow, she closed her eyes.
And within minutes was there again.
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