[ I want you to stay. The words actually pull a physical reaction from her, she jumps slightly — looking across at him with slightly widened eyes. She looks visibly stunned, a hot feeling flashing through her as she startles. For a brief moment, she's almost in disbelief at his words. But the longer she stares at him, his words ringing in her ears, the realisation actually settles in her: he wants her to stay. He wants her to stay.
Eyes fluttering in a few quick blinks, she looks away — flushing slightly. It's... a good feeling, a nice feeling. Too long she's spent being rejected by others her own age — never included, never a part of anything. Dumbledore's Army had started the wheels in motion of finally belonging, being wanted but it's still something that she's not used to. And here, a peer, a friend — who wants her to stay. And she's warmed by it, quietly touched. A small smile slowly spreads across her lips as she looks away, bashful if anything.
But then come his next words. Luna feels a pang in her stomach, shifting on the pleasant feeling. Her smile slips a little: he's worried. ]
I'm alright, you know. I will be— I'm just—
[ She wants to tell him. She wants to tell him everything that happened, the reason behind her sickness. Keeping the information from him doesn't feel right in a way — not when they've been so open with one another so far in their friendship. But this? This she hasn't told him, and it stings — burns through her like a betrayal of that friendship. She wants to tell him the truth — because he's been nothing but good to her and deserves it.
But she can't. She can't put that weight on him. Being around Peter has been nothing but a comfort, a warming joy — almost like she could tell him anything. But the last six weeks have been difficult for their friendship — and they've both hurt enough. Luna doesn't want to hurt him further, doesn't want wound him with that truth.
It goes against much of who she is — but for Peter, she wants to shield him from this. She will tell him, in time. Just not now. Luna inhales softly, flashing a tiny smile to finish her sentence. It's all she can do. ]
No, no. It's fine— [ She's slept in worse places. Even her own sleeping place back with Newt, Theseus and Percival isn't the greatest — although she's probably gotten the best deal out of the four of them. At their insistence, of course. Luna's been too tired to really argue with them. ] it's perfectly good to me.
[ She watches him fuss over the blankets, not quite moving just yet. And then come his offers: You can lean on me if you need to. Luna pauses again, mouth opening and then closing. It shouldn't be surprising, she's... kind of done this before. Back in the depths of the cellars of Malfoy Manor — she remembers times when Mr Ollivander would rest on her, the elderly and battered wizard gently leaning against her arm to doze sometimes as she held his hands. She's even, months ago now, napped with Newt — when the Moon Sickness had taken its toll, and the cure had worn her down. Newt had let her sleep curled against his chest in an arm chair, both of them too tired to climb the stairs to bed.
She'd liked that. Remembered how comforted she'd felt. She looks at Peter again, with his small shy smile — feels a bloom of warmth in her chest. Finally: ]
Stay where you are. Don't lie down.
[ She's slow to move, tentative even, pushing herself forward — it seems much like coaxing a timid animal, this is such new territory for her. Even in the throes of the survival mindset Deerington so often throws on them all, she's never... done this before. Not this, not with a boy — and despite the mindset, despite the desperate urge to rest, there's a strange, jittery buzz in her chest. It's a low-burning feeling, background noise — not enough to keep her away for too long, to stop her from going to him.
She scoots forward towards him and wordlessly crawls into his lap, carefully manoeuvring herself to sit sideways in it, her shoulder resting against her chest. Luna pauses then, pursing her lips to glance up at him, before she settles any further. ]
Is this okay—? I like this way. I—
[ Something catches her eye, cutting her off: something at Peter's hand as he moves a little to accommodate her. The glint of red in the low light. Luna inhales sharply, her eyes widening — blood—?
She reaches for his hand, pulling it towards her to examine it. Only it's not blood at all. Far from it. The red shimmers slightly as she gently twists his hand — the pale, spectral twine tied around his middle finger. Softly, she touches it with her own fingers, finding it completely intangible. But it isn't just simply tied around his finger completely: it's only one end and the thread trails from him — she follows it with her and realisation dawns on her.
Luna pulls her right hand back, towards her, finding the other end of Peter's thread tied to her ring finger. She blinks, swallowing thickly in her stunned silence: a red string of fate—? What magic is this—? She inhales, uttering his name softly. He sees this too, right—? ]
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Eyes fluttering in a few quick blinks, she looks away — flushing slightly. It's... a good feeling, a nice feeling. Too long she's spent being rejected by others her own age — never included, never a part of anything. Dumbledore's Army had started the wheels in motion of finally belonging, being wanted but it's still something that she's not used to. And here, a peer, a friend — who wants her to stay. And she's warmed by it, quietly touched. A small smile slowly spreads across her lips as she looks away, bashful if anything.
But then come his next words. Luna feels a pang in her stomach, shifting on the pleasant feeling. Her smile slips a little: he's worried. ]
I'm alright, you know. I will be— I'm just—
[ She wants to tell him. She wants to tell him everything that happened, the reason behind her sickness. Keeping the information from him doesn't feel right in a way — not when they've been so open with one another so far in their friendship. But this? This she hasn't told him, and it stings — burns through her like a betrayal of that friendship. She wants to tell him the truth — because he's been nothing but good to her and deserves it.
But she can't. She can't put that weight on him. Being around Peter has been nothing but a comfort, a warming joy — almost like she could tell him anything. But the last six weeks have been difficult for their friendship — and they've both hurt enough. Luna doesn't want to hurt him further, doesn't want wound him with that truth.
It goes against much of who she is — but for Peter, she wants to shield him from this. She will tell him, in time. Just not now. Luna inhales softly, flashing a tiny smile to finish her sentence. It's all she can do. ]
No, no. It's fine— [ She's slept in worse places. Even her own sleeping place back with Newt, Theseus and Percival isn't the greatest — although she's probably gotten the best deal out of the four of them. At their insistence, of course. Luna's been too tired to really argue with them. ] it's perfectly good to me.
[ She watches him fuss over the blankets, not quite moving just yet. And then come his offers: You can lean on me if you need to. Luna pauses again, mouth opening and then closing. It shouldn't be surprising, she's... kind of done this before. Back in the depths of the cellars of Malfoy Manor — she remembers times when Mr Ollivander would rest on her, the elderly and battered wizard gently leaning against her arm to doze sometimes as she held his hands. She's even, months ago now, napped with Newt — when the Moon Sickness had taken its toll, and the cure had worn her down. Newt had let her sleep curled against his chest in an arm chair, both of them too tired to climb the stairs to bed.
She'd liked that. Remembered how comforted she'd felt. She looks at Peter again, with his small shy smile — feels a bloom of warmth in her chest. Finally: ]
Stay where you are. Don't lie down.
[ She's slow to move, tentative even, pushing herself forward — it seems much like coaxing a timid animal, this is such new territory for her. Even in the throes of the survival mindset Deerington so often throws on them all, she's never... done this before. Not this, not with a boy — and despite the mindset, despite the desperate urge to rest, there's a strange, jittery buzz in her chest. It's a low-burning feeling, background noise — not enough to keep her away for too long, to stop her from going to him.
She scoots forward towards him and wordlessly crawls into his lap, carefully manoeuvring herself to sit sideways in it, her shoulder resting against her chest. Luna pauses then, pursing her lips to glance up at him, before she settles any further. ]
Is this okay—? I like this way. I—
[ Something catches her eye, cutting her off: something at Peter's hand as he moves a little to accommodate her. The glint of red in the low light. Luna inhales sharply, her eyes widening — blood—?
She reaches for his hand, pulling it towards her to examine it. Only it's not blood at all. Far from it. The red shimmers slightly as she gently twists his hand — the pale, spectral twine tied around his middle finger. Softly, she touches it with her own fingers, finding it completely intangible. But it isn't just simply tied around his finger completely: it's only one end and the thread trails from him — she follows it with her and realisation dawns on her.
Luna pulls her right hand back, towards her, finding the other end of Peter's thread tied to her ring finger. She blinks, swallowing thickly in her stunned silence: a red string of fate—? What magic is this—? She inhales, uttering his name softly. He sees this too, right—? ]
Peter.