Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, :)

Dedication: To all of you suffering writers block, or looking for some hope in the world, this is from one suffering dreamer to the next.

Author's Note: This is pretty much a pretty little drabble that I wrote in the space of a half hour. So, I was sat watching 'Samantha Who', (to which I am currently very much obsessed with) when I saw an advert that involved butterflies. Immediately, this plan just came into my head, and I saw Luna in a field spinning and spinning, dreaming of the impossible. After that, the words just spoke for themselves, and I didn't plan any of it, just wrote - I really love it when I can do that, even if it turns out as drabble. I'm not sure where this is supposed to be going emotion wise, it was just a quick one shot fluff. Sad? Happy? You tell me, I'd love to know :) Sorry for shortness, it's just a senseless drabble! Haha.

Butterflies

Luna skipped through the field of poppies, her corn coloured hair cascading down her back in a dusty blonde plait. As she twirled, the many bright skirts of her peculiarly beautiful dress flared out beneath her slender body, caught on the light wind that played with a few loose curls that had twisted their way from beneath her plait. Her pale arms went up above her head as she span and span, pirouetting on the edges of her toes, the perfect stance of a ballerina.

Around and around she twisted, giggling softly to herself as she went, never once losing her balance against the long, tickling poppies that brushed against her bare legs, never once wincing from the pain of the slightly rough grass beneath her muddy, bare feet. Tiny sparks of light shot from the end of her wand, the thin, fragile stick held tightly in her curled hand, the raw edges of the nibbled nails pressed against it. She was one of them, she had wings that none of the others could compete with, wings of the richest purples, pinks and oranges that even the most beautiful of sunsets would be jealous of.

Dropping her hands back down to her side, the grinning blonde began to slowly run, mixing occasional skips into the mix of travelling, twirling every now and then to fan out her skirts once more. She loved the feel of the air tangling around her legs, loved the way it made her feel as though she was a part of the magical world around her, the way that it lifted her wings into the air as she flew above the rest of this paradise.

Luna closed her eyes, eyes as blue as the midsummer day sky that hung above her like a distant temptation, pulling her forwards, urging her to rise into its pure arms and never to leave its side. In its loving hold, she would be the most beautiful, even more beautiful than the glowing sun that she would fight for its view on the world that lay below. She'd be the queen.

Spiralling through the field of red, her light pink lips curled up into a smile of joy, dimples forming at the bottom of her cheeks as a laugh bubbled out from within her, rising to the surface and blessing the air around her with its musical sound. The light freckles spattered across her skin were no less of a beauty than the scattering of the continuous flow of dark red flowers, each petal brushing softly against her alabaster legs, like the wings she so longed to possess.

She imagined them swarming around her, claiming her as their own, their princess, their angel. She imagined their soft kisses that their wings would leave as the pressed gently against every inch of her body, the tickling feeling of their sensors finally reaching out to her. She was theirs, and they would be hers.

Yet on she span, the mishmash of colours that she wore appearing as a ray of sunshine lighting up the darkness that was the bloody poppies, clumped together to form a never-ending sea of red. Her arms flew out to her sides this time, causing her to look like a spinning top with no apparent desire to ever stop turning. She was floating, dancing in the air, her feet no longer on the ground. She was flying.

No, she was spinning straight into him, her skin brushing against his as her hands entwined around his neck, pulling him close to stop herself from falling from dizziness, the tingle that she felt in her brain. She pressed her cheek against his chest, feeling herself being held in his grasp gently, his hands settling against the small of her back where the ruffles of her full skirt began to fall.

His hands toyed a little with the netting, stroking the coarse material between his smooth fingers and pushing a strand of pale hair back from her face in an attempt to see her beauty, to stare into her translucent eyes and see her smile staring back. But her eyes were closed, and a soft sigh left her silky lips. Who needed wings, when a single touch could transport you to heaven?

Luna burrowed into the cotton of his shirt, her ear flat against the muscles of his chest. The soft beating of his heart was music to her ears, knowing that it was for her that it was beating, that the heart belonged to no one but herself. It was better than the swooshing of air running through your brain, better than a laugh of joy or a squeal of excitement. It was even better than the beating of symmetrical wings.

Neville Longbottom laid one single kiss upon Luna's crown, a smile on his lips that transferred to her own as his heart rate began to increase from the tender sharing of a promise. He would love her forever, if only it wasn't so hard. If only they didn't have to keep meeting in fields...

"What's on your mind?" His voice was barely a whisper, more a hum, a sign of their intimacy and the little noise that he needed to make. He didn't want to ruin the moment; he couldn't. Not when he would be gone soon, a forbidden sweetness that she couldn't reach - just another memory.

That's when she felt them in her stomach, no longer circling around her mind, their wings beating their own heart beats above her head. It was then that Luna found what she had been so eager to, in the few moments that she would have left to hold him close to her, time that was slowly slipping through her fingers. But it didn't matter, because she'd found them. She'd found him.

A murmur slipped almost silently from her lips, a dreamy noise that hovered between them like a gust of wind, a gust of wind that would turn into a storm the moment that he was forced to leave her. One word, one promise.

"Butterflies."

Fin.