Faces
by Bil!

Disclaimer: The characters herein all belong to JKR.

A/N: This is a collection of little pieces of writing I've done that aren't really stories but highlight a particular aspect or mood of a character. Since I wouldn't post them otherwise, I've collected them together here.

A/N: Doesn't fit with canon, but I thought it was interesting anyway. OotP insert.

Dreaming (Luna Lovegood)
by Bil!

You dream of Nargles and Heliotropes because it hurts less to dream of ridiculous things than it does to dream of impossible things and you need something to fill that huge, unfillable gap left by the absence of something you can't do without. You would rather spend your days tiring yourself out looking for Erumpents than spend your nights dreaming of death (and shock and fading light).

Maybe it should hurt that people laugh at you, but really you hardly even notice. After all, they're too young to know better and you can't blame children for their ignorance even if they've lived a hundred years. You don't know how old you are, but you are sure it's very old. You barely remember being young.

There are too many other faces around you to notice the ones that are laughing anyway. The wizards think only the magical dead leave ghosts, but you know better. Ghosts are everywhere, Muggle and magic, living and dead, drifting through the 'real' people until sometimes you forget which is which. Long-gone children run through the corridors of Hogwarts; prior teachers stand next to the current professors and their lectures overlap to the point of confusion.

But it isn't only at Hogwarts that you see them. The streets of London throng with more people than they can possibly hold; the North Devon Downs spill out with people who can't see each other, each seeking a solitude you cannot comprehend. The ghosts are everywhere. That's why you don't spend holidays at home, why you and your dad go chasing Snorkaks and Jackalopes all around the world.

Because she is at home, every day. Her ghost, eating breakfast or washing dishes, drifting through your life as if she is still a part of it. The ghost of her in her lab, laughing, experimenting – dying.

They told you at her funeral that those who love us never truly leave us.

You wish they were wrong.

Fin