AN: For the Life of Your OTP Competition, round two.

"Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time."- Maya Angelou

I.

Dean is late again.

Luna tries to ignore it, tries to pretend that there's a good reason. A reason that isn't Parvati Patil.

She's always been a strange little Ravenclaw. Never mind logic and proof. Luna has only ever believed in the good in others.

But she's quickly losing faith now.

"Will you be ordering anything soon?" Hannah asks, propping her hip against the table.

Luna shakes her head, climbing to her feet. "Sorry. If Dean shows up, tell him I've gone home."

A frown tugs at Hannah's lips. Luna wonders if she knows, too. "I will," she says. "And if, you know...anything happens, friends get a room free of charge."

"Thank you," Luna says softly before leaving the Leaky Cauldron for the night.

II.

Luna sits at the kitchen table, elbows on the surface, her chin cradled in her hands.

She supposes it shouldn't really be a surprise. She's always been too strange to love. Who could blame Dean for chasing after a normal girl?

But it doesn't seem fair. She's spent most of her life alone. Even though she's always pretended not to mind it, it's always hurt.

And now she has Dean, and she's not supposed to be alone anymore. Still, she is.

The tea kettle whistles, and Luna rises mechanically, forcing the thoughts from her head as she makes her way to the stove.

"A nice cuppa solves everything," her mother had told her once.

Luna wishes it could be that easy.

III.

"I'm sorry," Dean says as he climbs into bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her.

Luna tries to pretend she's sleeping, but her body instinctively tenses, giving away her act.

"I told Parvati we couldn't keep doing this," he continues when she says nothing. "It's not who I am."

She bites her lip. Every part of her screams to forgive him, but she's hurt, and it's too hard to take that chance.

"I love you, Luna," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

Luna rolls over, hands resting on his chest. She wants to push him away, to tell him to get out of the home they've built together. Instead, her fingers tangle in the grey cotton of his shirt, and she pulls him closer, tears falling as she kisses him.

"I'm sorry," Dean murmurs against her lips. "So bloody sorry."

And she whispers that it's okay, that they can get through this somehow.