This was a bit experimental, and it shows. I'd like to think it's not as odd as it sounds, but that's up to readers to judge.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Don't Blink

Sit down. Relax. It's only you and me. The audience has left; the orchestra has packed their bags. The stage is empty. Find yourself a chair. Don't worry about the dust. I assure you it won't matter.

Who am I? Oh, what a silly question. You will know me well enough and near enough, in time. Depending on the variables. On when the performance begins.

Are you dreaming? Perhaps you are. Are you dead? Not quite yet. No one can talk to the dead, not if the dead don't choose it, and well, that would be a problem.

So sit. Calm down. I'll only be a little while. Until then, keep watch. Keep looking. Because who knows, I may be behind you.

Don't blink.

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When Luna was younger, her father told her to keep her eyes open. "Do it, Luna, my love, or else think of the wonderful things you'll miss! Watch the flowers, the rain- who knows, you may spot a plimpy in the river!"

So Luna kept watch over the world, noting the buttery gleam of the daffodils as they shone against the spiky grass. She reached out a hand and studied the laboured progress of a bee as it collected pollen, its furry body covered with coloured dust. She watched the diamond of its wings as it flew away on the murky breeze, humming happily after its work. She saw the Malfoy boy catch the bee and crush it in his sickly palm.

She grew. Things changed. She kept looking.

Luna was still told to watch, to listen, but it was for different reasons now. "Don't drop your guard, Luna," Neville told her when they wrote their messages in the halls. "Don't look away. Don't turn your back. Don't blink. Don't even blink. Stop watching and you're dead, we're all dead. You got that?"

She fixed him with her fortune-teller's eyes. "You're so serious now, Neville."

He set his jaw, trying to disguise his shaking hands. "There's nothing else to be. Not now." He shook his head as if he wanted to shake the doubt from it, and patted her on the shoulder like a comrade-in-arms. "Keep watching, Luna."

The advice wasn't needed. Luna Lovegood watched everything. She watched as friends were tortured, enemies were made and the world went to hell. She watched Ginny pour over letters, desperate for news, weeping as word from her family became less and less. "I'm sure nothing's wrong," Ginny wept one evening, wiping her nose unattractively on her sleeve. She dressed in Ron Weasley's jumper, far too big for her, but she would not be convinced to wear anything else. "They just can't… it's for their own protection… oh God, I wish I could see them now! Just to know everyone's okay! I can't stand this, this not knowing…"

Luna put her arms around Ginny's trembling shoulders, silent as Ginny crammed her hands in front of her chewed-down lips to muffle the sound. "We can't let them know," she hiccupped, copper hair veiling her face. She wiped the tresses away angrily and turned to Luna, her skin red and smeared with mascara. "We've got to be strong. For our families. For… for our friends. Promise me that, Luna."

Luna promised. She made more promises than she could care to remember.

War was tiring, she realised. It didn't let up; there were no holidays. You couldn't just lie down for a few moments and dream it was all over. How she wished it were. Keep watching, Luna. Don't blink. Don't even blink.

It grew harder and harder to keep watch. Even when Ginny started yelling "constant vigilance!" at odd intervals, a weak tribute to the dead Auror who could fight no more. If she could just rest once…

Don't drop your guard.

"But I'm so tired…"

People are relying on you.

"They never believed me before…"

That was different. They need you now. You're not on your own anymore. You have friends.

"Friends…"

The Hogwarts Express was chilly and rain whipped the windows as if it was determined to break through and drench them all. Luna was going home, at last. Finally a time to sleep, to close her eyes from all this fear. To stuff her mouth full of Christmas pudding and pull crackers with her father whilst wearing holly in her hair. School had become the closest thing to hell that she could imagine, but nothing would hurt her now. For a few blissful weeks she could be safe.

Luna found an empty compartment and sat down heavily, making a pillow out of her jumper and leaning her head against the window. She was sick of keeping watch all the time, sick of being scared. She shut her eyes.

Don't blink.