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“I used to build dreams about you.”
-F. Scott Fitzgerald
Ginny Weasley, in the past month, had accumulated three broken ribs, a black eye, one dislocated shoulder, and a multitude of purplish blots all over her freckled skin. Her hair was wild and windswept. Her muscles ached constantly, and the skin on her hands was rough and calloused. She loved it.
Luna Lovegood, quite skilled in healing spells, fixed every injury with a wave of her wand before Ginny left her with a smile and the smell of rain and crushed roses. She loved it.
After Ginny’s wildly successful tryout, Luna had taken to accompanying Ginny to all of her Quidditch practices. For the first few she wore elaborate oversized sweaters with embroidered roaring lions and Gryffindor colors. As Ginny was initiated to the team, she changed to the green and gold of the Holyhead Harpies, and always with a six, Ginny’s number. It was always a treat to leave practice through a muggle town and have small children gape, amazed, at the moving talons. She also found it quite wonderful to wear Ginny’s team jacket. “Whassat, softball?” amused muggles would inquire. They both giggled, completely ignorant that such a sport existed. And imagining Ginny playing anything soft was about as ridiculous as anything.
When December came through, sweeping November away in torrents of biting wind, Luna switched to vibrant pinks and purples and white scarves, smooth and soft like snow. “So the flowers don’t get lonely,” she offered to the living room while she and Ginny knit and read, respectively. Ginny felt she could not be more in love.
She slid her book closed, careful to mark the page, and leaned over to Luna. She immediately made room for her girlfriend by replacing an unfinished sweater on the side table so Ginny could rest her head in her lap. Stroking her red hair, she hummed a wizarding Christmas song they had both learned at Hogwarts. Their Christmas tree glittered in the far right corner. Unlike all those Witch Weekly “ideal trees,” theirs was a bit lopsided and covered in an eclectic assortment of ornaments that they had both collected over the years. At the top sat a rather cheerful gnome who had all but begged to be cleaned, clothed, and trussed up as a potato-shaped Father Christmas this year. When the other gnomes got jealous, Luna built them a little house by the shed and charmed twinkling star lights to float about it night and day.
Ginny stroked her thumb over a bruise she had hidden from Luna’s spells, mostly because it made her feel badass. A lot of the women on the team did that, sporting quaffle and bludger shaped circles all over their bodies. Some even wore muggle bandages, much to their coaches’ chagrin. Luna almost protested the bruise-keeping, but she liked the sounds Ginny made when she kissed them too much, so they stayed.
Luna finished humming, perfectly on pitch, and then leaned over to kiss Ginny’s nose. Ginny scrunched up her face and giggled, resulting in many more kisses. It was an odd angle, and it kind of aggravated her sore neck, yet she did not mind at all. Kissing Luna was worth a minor neck twinge, she reasoned. Really, she wanted to kiss her for the rest of her life.
Her heart fluttered nervously and her face reddened. Now would be the perfect time, wouldn’t it? They were cuddling on a sofa with an impossible amount of flower-shaped pillows, steaming mugs of cocoa on the table, a fire crackling comfortably in its chimney, and the gnome was adorably attempting to replicate Luna’s song. It was eleven thirty on Christmas Eve, and Ginny’s one present to Luna relied completely on an unanswered question.
Her hand, seemingly of its own accord, snuck into her pocket. Her fingers closed around a small box and she froze just a little bit, then cursed. What in Merlin’s name could be so hard about proposing when she had once taken a broomstick to the face?
“You’re tense,” Luna observed, all moonlight and music. Ginny stared up at her, wide eyed, all butterflies and blush.
“Yeah, because I.” Ginny swallowed. Blinked. Then, in her very Gryffindor fashion, she tumbled off the couch and gracelessly landed in front of Luna. Regaining some composure, she propped herself up on one knee and reached back into her pocket. “Luna Lovegood,” she began. She paused to breathe and toss a stray bit of hair out of her way. “Luna, I’ve loved you for years. You are my best friend and the happiest, most beautiful woman I know, and you let me keep my bruises. So… will you marry me?”
Luna, with that dreamy look on her face, reached forward and cupped Ginny’s jaw. She slid their lips together, tasting like lavender ice cream and hot chocolate and marshmallows. “That’s the easiest question I’ve ever had to answer,” she said cheerfully. “I love you too, Ginny, and I’d be a fool to say no.”
Ginny’s head spun. She decided Luna’s kisses were the cause, and then boldly clarified, “That’s a yes, then?” while sliding the silver engagement ring on Luna’s finger.
“Yes!” Luna cried, and then dragged Ginny up to dance with her. The portraits around them cheered while others disappeared to spread the news. Luna took up another song, this time a romantic holiday waltz, and the gnome clapped confusedly from above.
They twirled into Christmas morning, kissing, laughing, and kissing some more.