Crush

The heart I bled in, was cotton;

it soaked me in, staining its purity with my impurities.

It enveloped my hard core with a mellow that made me feel safe.

I stayed, as she dried out my sorrows.

I made her incapable to float, still she wouldn't ever let go.

I left a mark that she gladly carried, but through it all, her softness never died.

One look at her flowing blonde tresses and her lazy smile that expressed the world to be as easy as child's play, Ginny Weasley knew Luna Lovegood would be a breath of fresh air. Little did she know, this air was a dancing carrier of an addictive drug.

One breath in, and thence followed an uncontrollable desire to set her feet on ground and never breathe out. A desire to stay choking rather than fly breathing, anything but her.

She was important but dangerous. Necessary, but, Merlin knows, a luxury at best.

Ginny reckoned Harry Potter in second year with his bespectacled green eyes and messy hero hair, saving her from the Basilisk like a fantastical hero fighting for his damsel in distress, as someone absolutely admirable and heart throbbing to the point of obsessive secret crushes and valentine gift giving.

But by God, was she wrong!

Luna Lovegood to Ginny Weasley was like playing Quidditch on a pleasant day after drinking Felix Felicis. Luna 𝘸𝘢𝘴 her felix felicis. Whilst the world wanted her to stay away from it, Luna brought her one step closer to it's real beauty. Quidditch made Ginny's Gryffindor heart go bizarre like Ron Weasley after witnessing a spider, but Luna somehow possessed the power to manipulate it to a wilderness of a seeker catching the snitch right a minute before the game's conclusion.

When nothing like sitting on a stick in the middle of nowhere, dodging possible paralysis or permanent physical damage and flying around at the speed of a Thunderbird to appreciate life, accept death and celebrate a good day — Luna Lovegood made her do that without the inclusion of possible mortal peril.

She was falling deeper, faster, everyday, and it was sinful. Liking a girl, Loony Lovegood at that?! The world would have her head. It was wrong in all ways possible— but something in her Gryffindor soul was inclined to do wrong by a Raven claw.

The vision of her Raven claw skipping through the hallways with an optimistic bounce in her step as her moony eyes glistened in admiration towards nature outside, the sight of her being tortured by Umbridge in the ghastly pink office but all her face portrayed was sheer boredom, the sight of her bravely fighting against experienced Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries and being one of the last D.A. members standing— Ginny did not know what it was. The trigger.

Maybe it was the way she giggled when her Patronus circled her around her that erupted butterflies in Ginny's stomach; maybe it was the way she got influenced by gnome saliva and started dancing in twirls at Fleur and Bill's wedding that had Ginny desperate desperate for a taste of lips only because she wanted to share the high and be unique with her; maybe it was her absence in sixth year when the death eaters captured her for ransom that clawed Ginny's brave heart out in a lump. Whatever it was and whenever it happened, it was real, it was present and Hermione said that it was fine.

It wasn't a disease as Ginny diagnosed herself to be suffering from in fifth grade, when all she could dream about was holding Luna's hand and playing hide and seek in the forbidden forest, sneaking pretty kisses in seclusion, being each other's happy secrets. Their forbidden love veiled by Ginny's public crush on Harry. It wasn't a phase either, the probability of which provided by Hermione, where Ginny considered girls were cute but Luna was the cutest to not be dating any guy— when half of the school was bonkers over dates and boyfriends — and spending all of her time with the read head. Hermione, over the summer, had googled Ginny's symptoms of heart lurching when her doe brown orbs set a direct contact with Luna's pale blue ones and denied the possibility of an impending cardiac arrest hanging over her head.

By the time Ginny knew it was love, war started. A war, wizarding or muggle, takes a lot away from us. It's an unprejudiced force, a consequence of consequences, that wipes away everything in it's way regardless of the blood status, cast, creed or culture. And within the war the pure bloods suffered just as much as the muggleborns. It leaves no one a winner. Just like the Weasleys.

Irrespective of being a core family on the winning side of the war, they lost plenty. They might have won materialistic wealth or social fame— but the emotional loss they suffered was immeasurable. The loss of a son, the loss of a brother, the loss of a loved one.

But, it is said — Death can bring us closer or tear us apart. In their case, death brought Ginny and Luna even closer. The Ravenclaw sticking by the broken Gryffindor like cotton candy.

And when Hogwarts renovated and resumed under the pretence of a new beginning with the same old people with scarred souls and tainted smiles, Ginny knew seizing the day was the only option. She could wait in fear no more, her life was too short to be wasted not loving Luna Lovegood the way she deserved.

So one autumn afternoon Ginny collected her Gryffindor courage in abundance where after winning a Quidditch game against the Slytherins, she flew straight to Luna's open arms, blinding smile and kissed her like no tomorrow.

Their hearts raced in sync as if being chased by a Nundu, almost threatening to free itself from its cage and rush to their counterparts' body.

Being kissed back was not something Ginny expected, though desired wholeheartedly, so the shock was more than evident when in her almost-tripping from her broom stance. Pulling back, they grinned at each other, communicating with everything but words.

As the deafening crowd subsided, Ginny broke the silence.

"Meet me near the whomping willow tomorrow?

"When the sun and moon are the closest?" Luna questioned in her dreamy voice as Ginny's grin widened beyond humanly possible measures.

She could now fully understand the 'Luna-lingo' as Dean had termed one frosty winter night.

"In the evening, yes," Ginny replied, easily pulling Luna up and on her broom. The Ravenclaw let a surprised squeal that made Ginny coo in more than one feeling.

And then they flew away.