Differences Aside by cassie123
Chapter Notes: Thanks so much to my betas Rhiannon (Rhi for HP) and Alyssa (harry4lif)
This is a pairing I've wanted to explore for awhile, so I hoped it turned out okay.
Differences Aside
Dean loves the way Luna’s hands look held in his. Though her milky white fingers are in complete contrast with the dark ones that lace between them, they somehow seem to fit perfectly.
This is how he considers the rest of their relationship to be. In his eyes, the fact that they are each other’s total opposite is the reason they are so perfect for each other.
To this day, he still does not understand the way Luna’s mind works; what makes her say the things she says. But he knows that this is what keeps him interested: she is unlike anyone he has ever met. He never felt this way about Ginny, or any of the Muggle girls in his town. Every second he is with her he can’t help but smile; he hangs on to every word she says.
He remembers the first moments they spent alone after the war. She had said how strange she found it that he actually listened to her, how not many people gave her the time of day.
‘How do you know I’m not just pretending to listen?’ he had asked. ‘I could just be nodding along, really thinking about football... or something.’
She had kept a straight expression and said, ‘I don’t think you would do that.’ She was, of course, completely right.
Dean had always been intrigued by Luna, but in the same platonic way that everybody was. At school, they would talk about her, discuss what an oddball she was, troubled, perhaps, by the way she stood out of any crowd. But he, like the rest, had never taken the time to have an actual conversation with her, and he knows he will regret that for the rest of his life. He regrets each moment that wasn’t spent with her, each moment that was wasted.
This is why he now finds himself with her almost every minute of the day. He used to worry that he was annoying her or getting in the way. When he asked her this, she shook her head. ‘I just hope I’m not boring you,’ she responded in that misty voice of hers. He laughed. Boring is not a word that could ever be used to describe Luna.
While he knows how strong his own feelings for Luna are, he cannot yet put a label on their relationship. Only twice has he managed to build up enough courage to kiss her, and she has never initiated anything between them herself.
‘I wish I could get inside her head,’ he had once voiced, frustrated, to Seamus during a game of one-on-one football. Seamus eyed Dean carefully, before attempting to get the ball past him. He was too quick for Seamus, and managed to get the ball into his own possession.
Seamus gave up, defeated. ‘What’s up with you and Luna, anyway?’ he asked breathlessly.
Dean shrugged, feeling heat creep up his neck. He distracted himself by juggling the ball from knee to knee.
‘No,’ he heard Seamus gasp. He looked up. Seamus was watching him with his mouth wide open. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re in love with Loony Lovegood.’
Dean had felt his face betray him as it let a wide grin spread across his face. Seamus was awestruck, and watched in disbelief as Dean kicked the ball hard, sending it soaring through the air to enter the goal.
He wonders, as he walks up to the front door of Luna’s home, if maybe the reason he didn’t tell Seamus his real feelings for Luna was that he was embarrassed. But he knows it wasn’t really like that. He didn’t explain himself because he knows that Seamus wouldn’t understand. He doesn’t know Luna like Dean does. It would be impossible for him to comprehend their relationship. Not that Dean fully grasps it himself.
Perhaps this is why he is at her home today. He is in search of answers.
He almost reaches the front door, when it opens on its own and a man steps out. It is impossible not to recognise the man in his royal blue robes and eccentric gold jewellery, not to mention his strange facial expression and overall quirkiness. ‘Morning, Mr Lovegood,’ Dean mumbles.
‘Good morning, Mr Thomas,’ Xenophilius replies curtly, passing Dean without looking at him once.
Dean is used to this by now. After many visits to Luna’s house, he has come to accept the fact that Xenophilius does not approve of him. Dean does not have the faintest idea why, but he does not care. It would take a lot more than a mad old wizard to stop Dean from visiting Luna.
He finds the rest of the world’s impression of Luna and her father—that they are both extremely similar—very strange. Dean knows that they are completely different. Luna is far more patient, open-minded (despite what her father might profess about himself) and down-to-earth. He knows that, years ago, he wouldn’t have ever considered Luna Lovegood as down-to-earth. He assumed her head was constantly up in the clouds, that she was not in touch with reality. He soon learned, after a few days of being locked in a cellar with her at Malfoy Manor, that she is the most grounded a person could possibly be. Not once did she panic or scream. She is probably the reason Dean didn’t go insane down there himself.
As he enters Luna’s house, he does not take his usual moment to absorb the sheer peculiarity of it all because he knows Luna will be outside. He hurries out the back door, anxious to see her. He has something he needs to show her.
In his hand he holds a drawing he finally finished the night before. The drawing is something he had hoped to perfect, and normally he would have been quite proud of it.
The drawing is, of course, a portrait of Luna. He feels that he has almost everything right, from the fine silver lines of her hair, to the exact colour of her skin. Her lips are as full and pink as he has ever seen them on Luna herself, and the nose an exact replica. But there is still one thing that bothers him about the drawing: the eyes. They are not Luna’s at all. He found it impossible to capture the wisdom in them. He knows he could never see things from her perspective, so the eyes appear dull, lifeless – everything that is not Luna.
He follows a grassy path down to where he knows she will be. He finds her sitting cross-legged beside the pond, staring curiously into the water. He approaches her as silently as possible, hoping to surprise her.
He grabs her shoulders from behind suddenly, expecting her to be frightened.
She doesn’t even flinch. ‘Hello, Dean,’ Luna says, turning her head to give him a radiant smile.
‘Hey,’ he grins, joining her on the grass. ‘I’ve brought you something.’
She continues to smile, looking down at the parchment in his hand. He hands it to her carefully, feeling strangely nervous. He has drawn portraits for people before, but this time it’s different. He wants for her to approve, to appreciate something he has done. And more than anything, he wants her to know how he feels.
She examines his artwork for what seems like a lifetime. ‘It’s very good, Dean. It looks almost exactly like me, but –’
‘But?’ he asks nervously.
‘The eyes,’ she says.
He nods. ‘I know, I couldn’t get them right. It took me age –’
‘They’re yours,’ she interrupts.
He blinks at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘They’re your eyes,’ she says, as if it’s obvious.
He looks at his drawing, puzzled by her remark. He wonders how she could have come up with that conclusion when he has brown eyes, and the ones in the drawing are clearly a pale blue.
Then he remembers the way he himself had described the eyes – lifeless. Is this the way she sees him? Numb to the world around him, having no knowledge of his own? He is horrified that she would think that, but then he begins to worry that maybe she is right.
‘You came here for a reason,’ Luna says. It is not a question.
‘To give you the drawing,’ he says.
She smiles warmly. ‘Is that all?’
‘Oh,’ he says, hurt. ‘You want me to leave?’
Her smile vanishes. ‘Of course not. I just have the feeling you have something else on your mind.’
It amazes him how she can read him like that, almost tell what he’s thinking even before he knows it himself.
‘Well,’ he mumbles, ‘I did have... one... small thing.’ As he leans in closer to her his voice is almost inaudible. She doesn’t move away as he places his hand softly on her neck. He takes this as a good sign.
His lips finally meet hers and it is better than he ever could have imagined. He has kissed her before, but it was nothing like this. Yet something about it troubles him. It is like she is kissing him for the last time. This is why he holds onto every second her lips are on his; even as they part he lingers for a moment in her sweet-tasting breath.
‘Dean,’ she whispers. He realises that for the first time he does not want to hear what she has to say.
As she opens her mouth again to speak, he tries to silence her with a kiss. ‘No,’ she murmurs against his lips.
He reluctantly pulls away from her and stares at the ground. Not until now has he even considered that he might not be able to be with Luna. He has always assumed they would ignore what everyone else says; be together no matter what. It had never occurred to him that the one thing that would keep them apart would be Luna herself.
‘We can’t do this,’ she says, looking at him with apologetic eyes – the eyes he had failed to put to paper, the eyes he fears he will rarely see again after this moment.
He doesn’t ask for a reason why. He knows nothing she could say would satisfy him. Even though he knows she is wrong about them, he sees no other option but to get up and walk away. Until now, he has never believed a heart could break. Now he understands that a heart can shatter entirely.
He leaves Luna alone by the pond, walking back the way he had come. ‘It will be okay,’ he hears her murmur in the distance, as if from lifetimes away.
Since the moment he had gotten to know Luna properly, he had never failed to believe a thing she had said. He almost finds it funny that of all things, ‘it will be okay’ is what forces him to lose all faith he once had in Luna Lovegood. ‘It will be okay,’ is the one thing he can never, ever believe.
Chapter Endnotes: Let me know what you think :)