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The cool wind reminds him of the cooling of a body. Skin that’s gone pale. Siri- someone’s eyes reflecting the ice. When Harry looks at Luna it reminds him of the wind. Yet Harry isn’t afraid of her as he is death. Maybe that doesn’t say much. These days, deaths hand has a siren’s call. Lulling him into the green light.
“They’re beautiful,” Luna hums, petting a thestral. “Aren’t they.”
Harry lets the air freeze his lungs. Let’s the moment steal his breath away. Replacing it with an empty space. One he can fill anything with. That emptiness is as nice as it is scary. Cold, and hot. Alive, and dead. It’s neither, yet both at the same time. Just.. nothing.
“Yeah,” and right now it hits him just how beautiful they are. His hand traces over the bone of a thestral. Lightly caressing the ridges, and bumps. “They are.”
They were pretty before all this. But now? Now they are beautiful. The two of them spend a long time just standing here. Silence that doesn’t need to be filled covering them like a blanket.
“You’re scared, aren’t you.”
His cheeks heat up. Warmth against the cool air. If it were any other person he would lie. Snap, and tell them he’s no wuss. That he’s the ‘golden boy’ the ‘savior’ of the wizarding world, not some boy.
But he is some boy. Just a kid faced with war. With death. Meant not just to watch, but to fight, and win.
So yeah, maybe he’s scared. Wouldn’t you be?
“Just as scared as anyone else,” that doesn’t feel right on his tongue. He’s not anyone else. People have made that clear since he was a first year. Some with good intentions, some without.
“You know Harry,” she says, “you shouldn’t have to be so brave.”
Harry scoffs, “if I wasn’t then who would?”
Tilting her head she looks at Harry. Really looks at him. It’s.. weird? But also refreshing. Everyones stopped looking at him after- no don’t think about that- don’t-
“Does there have to be someone who is?”
What a silly thing to say, of course there does.
“No, Harry, listen.” So he does, even if it isn’t true he knows whatever she says will be interesting.
“What if the world was peaceful? Calm to the point no one needs to prove anything they don’t want to.”
“It’s impossible.”
“I know,” she smiles softly, “just try to imagine it.”
So he does. He closes his eyes and try’s to imagine a perfect world. This perfect world never comes out just right though. Every time he try’s to imagine it, he ends up balling the image away.
A few minutes of this pass, and he can’t seem to picture it. He always gets stuck on how it would play out. Then realizes it just wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Finally he gives up, “I can’t.”
“Me either.”
Harry rubs his eyes, he wants to go back to bed. Lie there until Hermione comes raging in like a hippogriff. Pulling his legs, and demanding he complete his homework. As if homework mattered now.
“Why try then?” Harry asks.
“It’s refreshing,” she turns to a bush plucking a red flower. Harry expects Luna to tuck it behind her ear; instead she leans forward and tucks it behind his. “Knowing the world isn’t as fucked up as it seems.”
Luna is so close to him, her breath hot against his neck. Blonde hair flowing freely around her.
“How so?” Harry breathes, a piece of him knows what she’s getting at. The rest of him needs to hear her explain it.
She moves just a bit closer, as if telling him a secret. “Maybe it needs to be messy, just a little.”
“And you’re saying it’s not all my mess to deal with?”
Bending down she feeds one of the young thestrals some meat. It chews up the meat, tickling her hand as it does. “I’m saying it doesn’t feel right to imagine a world with clean streets.”
He nods. Everything she’s saying isn’t true. Not for someone like him. The words feel good anyway. Like someone is shifting through his messy brown hair.
“I think my mom would’ve liked you.”
Harrys eyes feel wet, “I think,” he whispers rubbing the melted ice away. “My mom would’ve liked you too, Lue.”
Luna presses her lips to his, wrapping her arms around Harrys neck. Harry pulls her closer, needing Luna to hold him close. To say everything will be alright, even when it won’t. She smells like flowers, but not in the traditional sense. More like something dug from deep beneath the surface. Something smoking, and hot to the touch.
The group of thestrals turn to leave as if to give them privacy. It makes him giggle a bit. Lunas laughing too. Pulling him to the floor she picks up a leaf.
Tucking it behind his other ear she laughs, “I didn’t think that would happen, but I’m glad it did.”
Harry takes this as a go ahead to keep snogging her. Because, right now, Luna is the mess that makes the world shine.