In the past few months, Luna had heard more people call her father insane than she had in all the previous years of her life combined.

"They have no right," she tells him as he sits at his desk, skimming through letters from unhappy readers, "They just don't want to hear it." He looks up at her, hair slightly greasy and more than slightly ruffled and head propped up with his hand. He'd been mostly unresponsive since Mum... since she'd -

(She doesn't want to say it, think it, hear it. It makes the wound fresh again and the memories come back and it's the last thing she needs right now.)

Dad sighs, wraps his arm around Luna's waist and pulls her close, pressing his head against her shoulder. "We'll be okay, Lu," he says, "You know that, right?" The sleeve of the wool sweater he's wearing slips down as he reaches out to her, showing a pale, sallow arm that reminds her of all the skeletons she's ever seen. He's weak, she knows. He's become fragile, one of those dolls you were extra careful with when you held because you were so scared they'd fall and smash into pieces.

"Yeah. I know." Most days, she wasn't so sure, but she won't tell him that, especially not now. She'd protect him. They'd protect each other.

The papers scattered on his desk say essentially the same thing: where the hell did the brilliance go? The commentary, the fresh outlook they had signed up for had disappeared, and in their place there were conspiracy theories, mutant creatures, tall tales of flying to the moon, and stories about monsters and vagabonds ready to eat you alive once you turned your back. She runs her fingers over the parchment as the two of them stand quiet, trying to feel the little bumps of the dried ink. Visionaries are always outcasted by society, she thinks. It's how the world works.

(The thing she knows but won't admit is that she understands what they're saying. She knows that stories about moon frogs aren't exactly the same as political coverage, but what the readers didn't know was that it was the only way to keep sane. The incredible and far-fetched had opened itself up to them and took them under their wing. And if all those stories are possible, so is seeing Mum again. The Blibbering Humdingers and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks simply become more real to them as a result.)

;;

Later, when she's tracing pictures in the frost on her bedroom window, she sees Ginny step over the brittle, brown grass stalks of the now-frozen field. She furrows her eyebrows because this is a bit of a shock, to be honest.. They hadn't seen each other since the funeral, and even then their exchange had been brief.

Why do you have the casket closed? Ginny had asked. Aren't they usually open, so people can see the body?

Luna had paused, taken a breath and adjusted her gaze straight ahead before answering. It's because of what happened, she'd said, we don't want people seeing her like that. She's beautiful in their memories.

Oh, had been Ginny's only response.

But now, there's a knock at the door, a nervous cough on the other side and (as the rules of politeness dictate) she's obligated to open it. She takes her steps slowly, though. The knocks speed up to a quicker tempo in response.

By the time Luna does reach the door, the knocks have stopped, and it's somewhat to her relief. She can't help but hope that Ginny won't be on the other side, because things aren't like they used to be (or she isn't, anyway - Ginny's stayed agonizingly the same and there are days where it kills her). She opens the door anyhow, just to check, and there she is, cheeks just faintly flushed with the cold and big blue eyes peeping out from under a red scarf that clashes horribly with her hair.

"Hey," Ginny says, waving. "Do you mind if I come in? It's freezing." Luna can't do anything but nod dumbly and stand aside, because in all honesty, she's got no clue what to say. It's strange, seeing Ginny sit down at their kitchen table and take off her coat and wraps, making herself at home like she used to, and it shouldn't be. She should be happy seeing her friend (her only friend, she realizes suddenly and rather grimly). Luna sits down across from her, and for awhile they can't figure out what else to do but just stare at each other.

"We're going to school next year," Ginny says, attempting to lighten the mood. "Do you know which house you want to be in?"

"My dad was a Ravenclaw. I guess that'll be it," she replies with a shrug.

"Well, what house do you think fits you?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

Ginny chuckled and sighed, a smile appearing. "I have, loads. All my brothers are in Gryffindor, and Ron just got in too. He's a bit of a pansy, though, so I guess if he can get in, it should be no trouble for me. I just hope I'm not in Hufflepuff, that would be so embarrassing, yeah? Everybody tells me that Hufflepuff is like, the leftover house, and it's basically where they send all the loonies that can't do anything. I suppose I could get into Ravenclaw, but I'm not that good with memorizing, so that's ticked off-"

"I don't want to go, Gin," Luna interjects. Ginny stops herself, swallows, sighs.

"Why not?"

"I just can't. I mean, my dad needs me."

"It's not going to be forever, though, Luna."

"But it's a long time. And you know, it's just... Ginny, sometimes he looks at me and he doesn't even see me. Like it's Mum he's talking to, not me," (she coughs to hide the fact that her voice is choking up) "Just, what if I come back and he doesn't even recognize me?" Ginny gets up, arms crossed, and walks to Luna's side of the table.

"It won't happen. Trust me."

She doesn't, she realizes. Not one bit.

She's known for a long time Ginny's everything she's not: pretty, outgoing, fiery, smart. There's nothing to keep her from going somewhere else one day and finding new people and just moving forward without her. People like Ginny; interesting and happy people without dead mums and almost dead fathers, people who don't spend their days buying pink roses for graves or putting blankets around people who have fallen asleep writing about gingivitis-ridden vampires in the Ministry. No, she's going to up and leave one day - it's inevitable. Just like the neighbors who used to come around, just like her mum, just like the dad she used to know.

Just like everyone.

"Say something, Lu." Ginny puts a strand of Luna's hair behind her ear, head slightly tilted.

"I'm scared," is what she decides on.

Ginny leans down and presses her lips against Luna's, and there's not much more that she can do but freeze, eyes wide and an odd sensation blooming in the base of her stomach. Her hands tighten in her lap, nails digging against the pads of her fingers until Ginny feels it appropriate to break the contact.

"There. Is it better now?" Ginny asks, grinning. A small smile pulls at the corners of Luna's mouth and she stands up, hugs Ginny in an attempt to widen the small break in the chronic loneliness she's been feeling. It is better, momentarily.