☼ TWENTY TWO ☼

[suncolors]

"I don't know, but I do think he will do well wherever he has gone back to, England I think, but not our England you see. He was older than he let on, but I didn't ask him why," she says to the thestral, a skeletal being not terribly unlike an emaciated member of the equine family. "I suppose it would be nice to get the chance to ask next time,"

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and all these clouds are boiling over

[suncolors]

"You've jumped ahead of course," the blond muses almost airily, but her eyes retain a weighted quality that says she is all too present, sharp with awareness, the kind that cuts itself into the very air and breathes a specific kind of existence into a situation. She means in time, but she also knows what has happened, not just from what she hears or notices, but from a curse long since past. The Malfoy manor can hold no truly good memories for anyone, even those who have yet to really live through what an aging wand maker will find most difficult, but if she takes it in stride, then she takes it as a step rather than an end, and she believes she might know better if things ended there by now. Ginny might say something at least, Luna knows, so it stands to reason in a backwards and curved manner that though it is dark and terrible there, not even winter, not anything, it is a hole one trips in before getting up--however hard it is--and continuing on.

For the time being, this dream spreads warmth, spreads sun and golden light like a force of magic and nature combined, and maybe it is. In Luna's dream she won't let untended wounds go ignored and though her wand remains tucked behind her ear in its typical, quirky fashion, perhaps Hermione notices pain easing and cuts disappearing. If the silken blades of grass also lean toward her, that is just a way of saying, it's okay, it's safe here.

It's safe here.

The thestral, for its part, noses Luna's knee before peering up and over at the new arrival, tilting its odd head not unlike a toddler would.

"I do hope the nightmares ease soon," she adds more quietly, a whisper switching between a breeze and the echo of laughter that promises better days and peaceful nights.

and all these clouds are boiling over

[honestlyrubbish]

Despite the mental protests, hands quickly working to set up the cobwebs in her mind such that Hermione won't have to feel the daggers in her spine again, won't have to watch as her friends are pulled far away to a place where she cannot protect them, to a place where she cannot be assured of their safety--despite all that, those five words are enough to jolt Hermione back to reality, as much as it is available in this airy dream of Luna's. Which is, in fact, more than Hermione originally anticipated--and at the same time, not at all, for while Hermione perhaps never acknowledged Luna outwardly for all that she was, the subconscious is more difficult to pull wool and fleece over. Yes, she's jumped ahead, and in Luna's expression, Hermione can tell that the Ravenclaw knows something, more than the rest of them realize, and now Hermione's not sure exactly how much--or how little--she can say.

"I've jumped ahead," Hermione nods, agreeing, eyes slightly narrowed as she spots movements, or perhaps it is all in her imagination, for normally when one sits in a field, the blades of grass are parted. Here, it is as though that very field is drawn to Hermione. The physical pain is easing, at least, and Hermione manages to catch a glimpse of one of the many cuts sealing itself during one of her breaks, but she won't say a word.

Is it safe, inside the dream of another? Perhaps only with Luna Lovegood. Hermione reaches a hand out to the threstral. She has no food to offer, no board, nothing other than curiosity. Is it safe, can Hermione hide all of the things that she needs to be kept secret?

"Don't worry about me, Luna. Nightmares are hardly the worst of what I've seen."