Jam Jars, Mosquito Repellent, & Sunblock
I could feel the sun slowly soak in every pore of my body, even the hidden shaded enclaves of my armpits and my freckled nose that was supposed to be protected by her abnormally large sunhat. Sheâd suggested I wear it.
Though, to be fair, that wasnât too just of a statement. She was even paler than I was, more likely to be burned to a crisp under the blazing, summer heat.
We sat by the mellow waters that stretched out in front of our environs, one that happened to make little to no sound unless ventured, in heaps of sticky, probably expired, sunscreen from my late cousinâs cabin. It had sneakily been trapped behind bottles and bottles of mosquito repellent, collecting dust with jam jars and sweet ketchup my aunt had once made before falling illâa bittersweet symphony.
I looked over to her. Intense greenery, mostly dense verdant evergreens, almost perfectly shaded her.
âDo you need me to rub sunscreen on your back?â Her intonation was as sweet as honey. It made an uneasy feeling rattle in the pits of my already-queasy stomach. I wasnât too sure how to respond without letting my voice betray me.
âNo,â I blushed, turning away rapidly to make certain my cheeks didnât give my attraction away either. Iâd already lacked subtlety in the days prior. I needed to be careful. âThanks.â
Weâd been spending a lot of time together since Lunaâs sudden demise. Sheâd dated her for a little over a year, and Iâd become Lunaâs close friend after graduation many years ago.
Once we left Hogwarts, our past differences, mostly my sometimes judgemental comments, had all slipped away into things of the past; in an alternate universe of pre-war used-to-bes.
It hadnât been a surprise to anyone when Luna started dating a woman. Sheâd never struck me as being someone who limited her attraction to one gender. It just wasnât who she was, as a person.
However, on the other hand, when she did, when Pansy openly admitted to not only dating Luna but being entirely gay, I couldnât quite contain my awe. I hadnât seen it coming, not remotely.
Pansy had always been blatantly herself, or so I thought, completely disinterested in other peopleâs opinions of her. I guess Iâd been wrong, wouldnât be the first time Iâd jumped to conclusions.
I shouldâve known better to believe in a façade. Iâd been that way, showing others the parts of me I wanted them to see and craftily masking the ones I didnât want to be shown.
It was only normal Pansy didnât want people to know her true identity for so long. She was a Pure-Blood witch. She was raised to do no wrong, expected to do things in a certain way. It was too much for any child to bear on their shoulders, but it was what it was.
Every Pure-Blood knew that battle, and every Muggle-Born knew another.
âWhat are you thinking about?â The question caught me off guard, for a moment. I searched my thoughts and said the first thing that came to mind.
âJam jars and mosquito repellent,â I laughed. She furrowed her eyebrows, curiosity etched on her every feature. âThat and sticky sunblock.â
âAnd how if Luna was still here, sheâd entirely refuse to put on either,â Pansy added. Her smile was genuine, but it didnât reach her eyes. I hated when it did that, when it faltered right before reaching that moreno hold of hers Iâd grown to love so immensely.
âSheâd want to feel the sun on her skin, and sheâd allow those filthy bloodsuckers to suck her dry if nobody stopped her!â Pansy covered her mouth in hysterics as she swam in an ocean brimmed to the brink in nostalgic loss. I knew some of the memories couldnât be all that bad, but death had a way of making everything blur with hurt.
It had been quite some time since Lunaâs passing, but grief after the first initial storm, Iâd found, was a fickle, funny thing. It came in waves of painful realisation, leeching on tightly for two or three days, to then, greet you with weeks of serenity until the cycle started anew.
It never ceased, at least not full stop.
âItâs okay, you know,â I started, âto still miss her. I do.â I couldnât bring myself to look in her direction, maybe due to my attraction, or maybe because her pain had an odd way of becoming my own.
Like all of her emotions, they were so bright, even the sad ones, I couldnât help but want to know what it was like to feel things so entirely, so vividly again it swooped me off my feet into a world that wasnât forever grounded in my version of reality.
âYou do?â Pansyâs voice was rough at the edges, jagged with her own ever-looming grief.
âYes, I do, every day. She was such an innocent soul. She always saw the good in everything,â I voiced.
âShe did, yeah. I swear she even made me see it sometimes,â Pansy agreed. âYouâre the only person that still willingly discusses her so openly with me. I appreciate that.â
âItâs what I wouldâve wanted when he died.â It had been much longer than Luna. Heâd died during the war. Ron had thrown himself in front of Fred, ultimately saving the twinâs life by ending his own.
"Even though Iâm in love now, I miss him the same. He was still my best friend, after all.â I bit my lip, trying to reel the words back into my mouth before their moment of existence. I felt a gush of heat rise to my face, but Pansy didnât mention it, which made me both happy and sad, concurrently.
âYou can talk to me about him whenever you wish. I might not have known him well, or at all for that matter, but what he did-" Pansy choked on her words before breathing in and out to find stability in her breath, once more. âItâs what Luna did; sacrifice.â
âThe ultimate demonstration of love.â The smile on her face was brilliantly radiant. I couldnât stop myself from smiling, too. It was contagion in its truest forms. âNot some impulse, crazed âLoonyâ move.â
âAnd not another reckless Gryffindor lapse of judgement,â she stated. Iâd heard a ton of people say those things about Luna and Ronâs deaths, time and time over. âIt was courage and bravery... and love beyond measure.â
âYes,â I gleamed. âYes, it was.â I let myself sit and pause in thought before taking in my surroundings again.
âThis place really is beautiful.â
âThank you,â I said, finally turning my gaze to hers for the first time in minutes. Pansy was now bathed in sunlight, the shadows that once protected her were long gone, faded into the backdrop of what shouldâve been our simple Tuesday afternoon.
âWho did the cabin belong to again?â
âIt was my cousinâs,â I whispered, barely audibly. I never liked talking about my Muggle life. It seemed so uneventful and almost wrong when speaking to a Slytherin Pure-Blood.
I knew sheâd changed. Pansy knew what oppression felt like due to her sexuality, and I assumed that, most probably, made her more aware of just how difficult it was to be a Muggle-Born in a Wizarding World still full of internalised racist ideologies.
âYou can talk to me about your Muggle life, Granger,â she teased smirkingly before quickly deciding to change to a more empathetic approach. âHermione, youâre my friend-â she paused.
Her eyes were full of love and understanding and something I couldnât quite decipher. She was so beautiful, and it physically pained me to stare at her.
âBut nothing, I want to know everything about you, dear.â My heart clenched at the pet name. I knew it shouldnât. Pansyâs nonchalance was everything I needed to know, to be wary of just how crazy I was for this infatuation festering inside of me.
Pansy might be gay, but it sure as hell wasnât for me, a witch that had strictly dated men prior. It wasnât even worth getting started on just how different I was to Luna. We were worlds apart.
I evidently couldnât be her type. Luna was a dreamer, an optimist, an adventurer. I was just a girl who read books with loud opinions and a knack for expecting the worst out of things. I couldnât think of many who would be attracted to such characteristics.
âCâmon then, you donât have to talk about it now if you donât want to,â Pansy chuckled at my obvious non-wanting to discuss my more ordinary upbringings. âIâm going to need some sunblock now,â she uttered looking straight up at the sun. âHelp me out,â she grinned, flashing that seductive smile of hers I could never get accustomed to.
I approached her slowly as I sat at the edge of the lounge chair. Barely making eye contact, I squeezed creamy, not as sticky as I first remembered, block all over my hands.
âMight as well do it everywhere if youâre going to put that much in your hands, âMione,â Pansy laughed once more. It filled all of our surroundings, even outdoors.
With slightly shaky hands, I began to spread it all over her arms, her neck, and down her back. I tried to keep a steady mind, but it was an utterly impossible task.
Her body danced under my fingerpads as she basked in the final golden hours of summerâs heat. Blue ash lakeside and popped-cherried-lips, she beckoned me like the sun to her perfect, alabaster skin.
The difference was, I didnât pretend the burn wouldnât come. It would. It would wilt, or rot, or expire like jam jars, sweet ketchup, mosquito repellent, sunblock, and the ends of summer at the cabin in the woods of my youth and bottles that had stayed far too long in the cupboard.
It was too late for protection of any kind, and I'd just have to embrace it, the burn, when it inevitably came.
And oh, did I know, it would...
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