Disclaimer: No ownership over the lovely Harry Potter series.

A big thanks out to shiiki, who beta'd this fic over at checkmated.

Subtleties

There's a difference between nice and friendly. Ginny Weasley is friendly. She sat down at your table, and she talked, and she was so friendly. She smiles at people, waves to them in the corridors. She waves to you, even when she's with her real friends.

Neville Longbottom is nice. You walked up to him and started talking, and he listened politely. He didn't interrupt. Neville never interrupts. He's your friend now, and that's nice. He still won't subscribe to The Quibbler, though.

There's a difference between snogging and kissing. You walked in on Ginny and Dean snogging. He blushed. She rolled her eyes. You walked in on Ginny and Harry kissing. They didn't notice. Later, you told Ginny about the clearing by the lake and you never walked in on them again.

You were saving the clearing for something special, and you like to think that Ginny and Harry are special. That what they have is special. That what they have is remarkable and that everyone will find it. Because you want it, too.

But not with Harry. He's a little too moody.

There's a difference between shy and quiet. Hannah Abbott is shy. You talked to her once, and the poor girl stuttered and stammered and you decided not to talk to her anymore. Clearly, the Nargles had infected her. You tried to warn people, you really did, but no one listens to Loony Lovegood.

Daddy is quiet. He's been quiet since Mum died, but sometimes you think that maybe he was like that before she died, too. But you can't be sure, because whenever you think that far back, all you see is Mum.

There's a difference between frustrated and angry. Harry Potter is frustrated. He's trapped and he knows it and he doesn't know what to do about it. He touches his scar and grimaces, and you feel how frustrated he is. He doesn't notice when you pass in the corridors, but that's okay. He's very frustrated, and that takes up his time.

Professor Snape is angry. He closes books sharply, his walk is too tense, and he can't even smile anymore, not really. Not a real one. Professor Snape looks at his students, and you see the muscle working in his jaw. You asked him why once, and he took away house points.

There's a difference between smart and wise. Hermione Granger is smart. If Ronald Weasley is to be believed, she's brilliant, but he doesn't believe in Honking Horkens, so you aren't sure. Either way, though, Hermione is very smart. She learned it all from books.

Professor Dumbledore is wise. His eyes twinkle and his beard quirks, and you think that maybe, just maybe, at least one person's got it all figured out. His beard is long and his eyes are old, and he is wise. He learned it all from experience.

There's a difference between happy and content. Or at least, you imagine there is. No one is very happy right now, not with You-Know-Who out killing people. But for now, people are content. They smile, and it almost reaches their eyes.

There's a difference between faith and trust. There is a difference between knowing and accepting. There is a difference between pain and ache. There is a difference between listening and hearing. There is a difference between pathetic and pitiful.

There are so, so many differences, and sometimes it hurts to see them all. Sometimes you just want to close your eyes and block your ears and make them all go away. Because it would be easier, really, if everything—if everyone—was the same.

But there's a difference between easier and better. You know this. Everyone knows this. Fairy tale authors and ancient mythology creators know this. People don't listen to the stories, though. They forget, and you hate to remind them. So you don't, but you wonder if maybe you should. No, you decide, if they can't see for themselves, then they don't deserve to know.

When you get indignant like this and start using fancy hypotheticals with lots of they's, Daddy ruffles your hair and calls you his clever little Ravenclaw. You smile at him, and ask him what house he was in. He hisses softly and you laugh.

You never did understand why Slytherin students are so hated. They seem just fine. They like to be left alone, allowed to follow their own rules, and there's nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with that at all.

Daddy didn't like it when you cheered for Gryffindor against Slytherin in Quidditch. But that's okay, because it's only a game and there's a big difference between a game and real life. Oliver Wood never understood that. Poor boy is as dense as his name.

You've been looking, but you haven't found the difference between dense and thick. There should be one, though. What's the point in two words with the same meaning? You'll keep looking, paying special attention to Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

It's not always pleasant, being this observant, but Mum said to always notice. She was the one who taught you to observe the little differences. Never ignore the subtleties, Luna Love, she would say, they tell you everything you need to know. Mum always called you Luna Love.

There's a difference between Luna Love and Loony Lovegood. Daddy called you Luna Love once. You both cried. He doesn't call you that anymore.

Lots of people call you Loony Lovegood. It pinches when they do that, but it doesn't hurt. Sticks and stones and all that. It does get kind of old, though. And it's not that clever, even. People are strange sometimes.

It's best when people call you Luna. It's a pretty name.

There's a difference between pretty and beautiful. Padma Patil is pretty. She has thick, shiny hair, a perfect little nose and clear eyes. A few years ago, boys doodled her name in the margins of their books. Now they stand too close to her and gawk.

Sunsets are beautiful. They change everything. There's a glow.

You close the curtains to the dormitory window. Another day finished.

Sometimes the days run together, and you wonder when life got so boring. Every day is exactly the same. People whisper fearfully in the corridors, no one quite laughs and always the homework mounts. It's like the whole world gets stuck, but at the same time, You-Know-Who gets stronger.

When it gets like this, when you start feeling lost, you double your efforts and notice even the tiniest differences. Although sometimes you wish they weren't there, the differences are all you have and you clutch at them. Professor Flitwick wore a new hat today. Romilda Vane tripped as she followed Harry after Charms. Ron stared at Hermione all through lunch. Lavender dotted her i's with quite a bit of force. Madam Pince looked the other way while a group of crying first years ate chocolate in the library.

Because when you focus on the little things, it's almost possible to forget everything else. You forget that Mum died and Daddy broke, that You-Know-Who is gaining power, and that they still call you Loony Lovegood.

Well, you don't forget, exactly—how could you?—but life doesn't feel as real when it's just a list of differences. Lists are easier to deal with.

But not better. You know this. Everyone knows this.

You rest your forehead against the cool glass of the window. There's a difference between knowing and accepting.