60 things you said when i reminded you you could be happy again harry/luna : )
she means well. this is a refined and predominant argument that has evolved from compassionate pity to passionate prominence in the past few years. she does mean well. she’s always meant well. in so many ways unseen by the untrained eye ( much like those nargles and wrackspurts and whatever else she liked pointing out in their school years ), she meant the utter best, whether it be for him or herself or some other poor soul too mundane to see the awe-inspiring. and she means well now, right now. yes, right now, more than ever perhaps, she means so well. unfortunately, harry is NOT well. harry isn’t sure he is capable of being something as simplistic as WELL. thing is, she means it anyway.
and what she says is exactly what she means although it’s the way in which she says it that takes some getting used to. he gets it now, or he tries to, and his trying always seems to be enough for her. she is more than enough and then some for him, but that’s beside the point. the point is that there is not a person, place, or thing in this world that deserves her. he only wishes he could see the world from her point of view every once in awhile. because even covered in blood and soot and ash, she’d been the brightest thing in the burning castle they had almost called their resting place. impressive really.
“i don’t think it’s that simple, luna.” but he doesn’t want to be bitter. he’s bitter, and she’s soft, and she lets it be when she shouldn’t. in those rare times when she speaks a bit louder, stomps a bit harder, PUTS HER FOOT DOWN, harry finds himself beside himself. it’s an amazing thing in any capacity, and sometimes, he wonders if he GOADS it out of her. he wonders if he provokes her on purpose, if only to hear her say his whole name and demand something from him that isn’t saving the world or dying. pure things. she is full of pure things.
" i don’t think you just - choose happiness. i don’t think that’s my place.“
but for a moment, his fingers twitch as though he wants to reach out for it, or her. one or the other, or both. “both” sounds reasonable. she makes it sound reasonable.
“ and if i wanted to? how would i - where would i even begin? where do i - after everything? after everyone? nothing - nothing feels the same anymore. nothing makes any sense, and the - the things i wanted two years ago or three years ago or - or… bloody hell, yesterday? they’re different now. everything’s different, and i don’t - i don’t know what happiness means."
at first, it sounds cliche, unsound, weak. but then he turns the thought over on his tongue, and it feels something more like INSURMOUNTABLE. he has no clue what it means. the happiness he found in the mirror of erised and on his first broomstick ride and in his first quidditch match and after the first triwizard tournament task… well, those instances of happiness all felt bland now, irrelevant,i n e f f e c t u a l. and he looks up at her and smiles anyway because she’s sitting there smiling at him as though they aren’t still covered in the blood of their friends and the sins of their foes, as if she didn’t survive the dungeons of malfoy manor and he hadn’t risen from the dead. that happiness there, in her smile, makes him shiver because it is so surreal, so celestial. and he wants it. for a moment, he WANTS it, needs it, aches for it, yearns. but still, HE DOES NOT KNOW WHAT IT MEANS.
"al - alright then, luna. you-” his hand finds hers with a determination easily mistaken as desperation. he doesn’t care. he doesn’t mind. “how? i wanna know how.”
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