Sanity ~ A Luna Lovegood Fanfiction

A Familiar Face

Back in Hogsmeade. Finally on the other side of Hogwarts' confining stone walls. Surrounded by the quaint streets laden with witches and wizards. Engulfed by the electric excitement, the amiable company and the crowded shop windows proclaiming BEST VALUE IN TOWN and FOR A LIMITED TIME ONLY in glittering letters.

The exhilaration trilling through me like jingle bells was only accelerated by the presence of the purple-paged letter sitting comfortably in my jean pocket. Daddy's reply to my surrender was rapid and in no time at all he was once again rattling off every detail of his ludicrous life without me, indulging me with every sliver of news he could muster the memory to tell me.

I was surveying the whizzing, swooshing and popping creations that danced behind the glass of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes when a voice that had been distant from my ears for a long time made its reappearance.

My mind was caught up in awe at the sight of the joke shop; its vibrant kookiness and colour and life thriving as it always had been, as if the war had never happened. The shop window invoked in me such intense joy, my heart warming considerably despite the biting air that numbed my fingertips.

After the suffering George had been through... the facts were simple and sickening, my own memories of his pinched face and his vacant eyes were indomitable. They lurked like thunderclouds. Yet George didn't succumb to his grief and wallow in his anguish. He didn't deny his loss and he didn't fight full-throttle against it either. Instead, he threw himself into his work, the work that Fred would've wanted him to do.

I was thinking of going in. Seeing George again, I would hug him, maybe, and tell him how much I admired what he had done. I would listen wholeheartedly to anything and everything he was willing to tell me. And while I was in there, I would look for some paints. I needed some new colours to decorate my bedside notice board which persisted in remaining blank.

In fact, my hand was reaching out for the crooked door handle, my cold fingertips grazing the even colder copper, when I heard the voice destined for my ears.

"Ginny told me you'd be here." Friendly, light and hopeful. Coming from behind me. The instantly recognisable voice that could be kind, warm, humble, loyal and sensitive all at once.

It had been so long since I'd seen him. But everything about him, from his hair to his nose, was exactly how I remembered it. Nevertheless, I couldn't prevent my mouth from dropping open as I turned and took in the sight.

He was stood with his hands slipped inside the pockets of a pair of smart trousers, a variety of bustlers and strollers passing by on the cobblestone street behind him, and a wide grin as delighted as a Niffler in a Gringotts vault shining on his face.

In a matter of seconds, I was plummeting into him, my bodyweight pummeling him backward as he accepted me into his arms. My cheek pressed against his woollen jumper and my head tucked in snugly beneath his chin, I breathed in deeply and was encompassed by his homely, boyish smell.

When our hug slowly disintegrated and was blown away in the wind, I gestured to the crookedly perched shop behind me and informed him that I was about to go in to look for some paints.

The chilly breeze blew light curls across his forehead, masking his face, but it couldn't hide from me the fact that the tops of his cheeks were tinged a warm red.

"I missed you," Neville said.

"So did I," I replied, meaning the words more sincerely than I could ever communicate. "You look handsome," I said, hoping his would suffice as one way of making my feelings for him known.

His cheeks became, noticeably, even redder. He stepped past me, subtly hiding his face, and reached for the same door handle that had been teasing me prior to his arrival. "Let's find some paints," he said, opening the white-paned door and allowing me to step through and be immersed in all the colours, smells and sounds.