all her grace was in her vagueness.

❝ sleeping or waking, the world was a slippery game: fluid stage sets, drift and echo, reflected light. and all of it sifting like salt between numbed fingers. ❞

{ trans woman, she/her } huh, who’s JAMIE CLAYTON? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually LUNA LOVEGOOD - SCAMANDER. she is a 48 year old HALFBLOOD witch who is A MAGIZOOLOGIST. she is known for being ECCENTRIC, BLUNT, PROUD, ABSENTMINDED, and AIRY but also OPEN MINDED, INNOVATIVE, CREATIVE, PERCEPTIVE, and SERENE, so that must be why she always reminds me of the song THE WIND BY PJ HARVEY and GREEN GRASS TICKLING BARE FEET, SPRING FLOWERS, LOCKING HANDS WITH THE ONES YOU LOVE, ALWAYS WELCOMING STRAY ANIMALS, A WATERY MOON AGAINST A MORNING SKY, UNEXPECTED LAUGHTER, PAINT STAINED SHIRTS, COMFORTABLE SILENCE . i hear she is aligned with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, so be sure to keep an eye on her.

their  habitual  hikes  are  a  much  needed  constant  in  his  life  .  there’s  little  he  can  completely  rely  on  these  days,  but  he  can  rely  on  this  .  on  fresh  air,  and  good,  comforting  company  .  though,  the  sadness  in  the  air  is  palpable  .  as  they  move  through  the  forest,  he  can  tell  they’re  both  thinking  about  the  same  thing  .  he  can  feel  the  missing  presence  even  before  she  says  it,  but  that  doesn’t  make  the  mention  of  it  hurt  any  less  .  though,  it  is  nice,  for  once  to  speak  to  someone  that  truly  knew  him  .  it  seems  all  he  does  these  days  is  offer  comforts  to  students  and  parents  who  were  enamoured  by  his  legacy  .  and  though  it  was  a  great  one,  neville  often  missed  the  opportunity  to  remember  him  as  a  friend  .             “          that  he  would  .          ”          he  agrees,  after  a  moment  of  contemplation,  his  eyes  surveying  the  land  as  he  tries  to  hold  himself  together  .          “          i  hope  he’d  continue  to  be  proud  .          ”          he  continues,  after  another  moment  of  silence  .  neville  spends  much  of  his  time  thinking  about  his  late  friend          —          and  what  he  would  do  if  he  were  still  here  .  harry,  if  one  was  to  compare  the  two,  had  always  been  the  braver  one  .   and  neville,  left  behind,  can  only  hope  to  be  half  the  person,  or  leader,  that  he  was  .

Azalea waited for the other to be done talking to herself before then turning her attention back to the other and then to the bottle that the other had shown her before. “I’d say it looks a bit more misty than cloudy.”

She considered that. “What’s the difference?,” asked Luna, not to Azalea per se, but just in general. “Isn’t mist just a form of clouds?” Her mind wandered, away from the conversation about the vial, her eyebrows creased in thought. “Hm.”

Lysander tried not to think of the way Rose had said her evening was better once she and Ly had found their way to each other, when the two of them had snuck off together, studiously not looking at their mother as they replied. “I think she’s doing her best to focus on the good, tonight,” Ly admitted, thinking over the interaction. 

“Let’s go outside,” Lysander decided, linking their arm through their mum’s and guiding her to the nearest door. They couldn’t help but worry about her, her emotions clear enough that Lysander couldn’t just do nothing to try and help. “If anyone asks, I’ll fake sick, how’s that? Maybe I have a puking pastille in my bag, yeah?” They swallowed, their whole being aching at the words Luna spoke. “But you’ll always have a part of him with you, in your heart, right mum? People we love-even when they leave us, they’re always still a part of us,” they weren’t sure if what they were saying made sense, if it would help her at all, but they hate seeing their mother anything less than happy.

Luna did not miss the way Lysander did not look at her, but she did not find herself wanting to ask questions. Children were allowed their secrets, she thought, if there even were any. “That’s very brave of her,” she said, with a sad smile. “We all should.” Her heart ached, for all of them – these young ones, who deserved to discover their twenties in a time of piece. Hers had been lived on the graves of a short-lived war, and theirs was being ruined by it.

The two of them moved through the crowds, and Luna was filled with appreciation for Lysander. Such kindness: had she thought them that? “The Weasley twins’ inventions are sometimes surprisingly helpful,” she stated matter-of-factly. Luna’s lips smiled that sad smile again, watery and filled with longing. “Things have a way of coming back to us in the end.” It was something she had said before, to Harry. “You’re very wise, Lysander. And right. But it’s different, isn’t it? When someone isn’t their in their usual form. Physical.” She stroked at a strand of Lysander’s hair. “But he’s a part of me. And you.”

“Ah, I see,” Fleur replied, realizing how her answer might not have helped the woman then. “That might be best.” Rather than ruin a good potion (but then, potions weren’t her strong suit). She couldn’t help the short chuckle at the late greeting. “Hello, Luna,” she returned. She held out the vial she’d been examining. “Does this look blue or purple to you? I need purple but I can’t quite tell with this one.”

“How are you?” Luna knew that Fleur was much more well-versed in polite conversation, but she did not mind. She was genuinely interested in how the other was, even if her question was perhaps a bit late. She cocked one head to the side as she observed the other’s vial. “Definitely more blue than purple, but a purple-ish blue nonetheless. Maybe we should both try Mulpepper’s, hm?”

            conspiracy theories, hmm? anabella’s face went from slightly to confused to more so amused. “you think so?” she responded quaintly, eyes moving to look at the shopkeep behind the worn down wooden desk. “could be, but i’m not one to pry in other people’s business—” she tilted her head. “haven’t you heard of what curiosity did to the cat?” it was more of a slight warning to the blonde than anything — anabella would hate to hear that she left this store and the older woman got herself into something sticky even for whispering on a theory. regardless of their exchange, anabella noticed that the woman looked slightly familiar. there were big family names around here, and although anabella didn’t pay much attention, even she was forced to be aware of such names. “i’m anabella.” she stuck her hand out. 

Fleur was unaware that the woman had been talking to herself, too caught up in her own browsing. She didn’t particularly need anything, but she thought it couldn’t hurt to grab a few things while she was out. The bottle in front of her face caused her to take a step back, blinking furiously for a moment. “Let me see.” When she registered the question, she took the bottle to get a better view of it. She handed it back with a brief nod. “Oui, it is a bit cloudy. Why do you ask?” 

Luna had thought that Fleur would be a good person to ask, with her being a Healer and all. And yet, her answer was less than satisfying. “If it’s too cloudy, it won’t do my potion any good,” she said, taking back the vial and eyeing it again. “I’ll not take it, then. Perhaps I’ll try Mr Mulpeppers.” She spent a moment lost in thought, before looking back at Fleur, as if she had forgotten the other’s presence. “Hi Fleur.” The greeting was at least a minute too late, but better late than never. “Can I help you judge anything, in return for your help?”

Rose had barely noticed Luna’s presence in the shop until she started speaking aloud. They hadn’t come together, no, but it was a toss up as to if Luna was talking to herself or talking to Rose. She had only needed a few basic items today, but it wasn’t much trouble to help out her old family friend. “Oh, no,  I’m sure it’s fine,” she said with a bit of a laugh. “They wouldn’t be trying to sell you old slime, would they?” she asked, thouyyidn’t know you were here,” she said, a gentle smile.

Luna smiled at Rose, both because she was pleased to see her and because she found her naivete amusing. “Oh, they would, Rose. The people who run this shop are not to be trusted. All they want is money.” Luna gave the slime another one over, and then dropped it in her basket. She would risk it, she decided. “I often don’t know where you are, but I’m quite glad to see you here. What are you shopping for?”

Lysander knew far too many people at this event, and knew that far too many of them would be torn between grief for Harry and pride of Hermione. The lives of the two had been so interwoven since before Ly was even born, and they could feel both emotions heavy in the air in the room. 

Their mother-and Lysander couldn’t help but reach their hands out to steady her at the impact, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before dropping their arms-was one of those people. “It’s always the Wracksports,” Lysander agreed without question, a wry smile on their lips. “As good as any, I suppose. Sticking close to Rose, mostly,” they admitted, wondering if their cheeks were flushed or if they just felt the two of them had been too obvious sneaking off. “How are you, Mum?” they asked, voice soft and eyes filled with concern. “I can fake sick if you need an excuse for same air.”

When had they gotten so wise? Luna’s already long list of emotions became longer as Lysander squeezed her shoulder, when they offered to fake sick. It was a happy sadness, or sad happiness, at their concern and caring. Luna was proud, in truth, but awfully saddened by the circumstances in which Lysander was showing their wonderful sides.

“That’s nice. Rose is nice. I hope she’s having a good evening.” Luna vowed to try and find her friends’ daughter, soon, if she got the chance. There were many people to talk to, tonight, and the thought of it dizzied her. She’d try. “You don’t have to fake sick. We could just go and get some fresh air.” She added, with a slight smile, “But you can, if you want.” The expression faded from her face as soon as it had appeared. She did not want to worry Lysander, but Luna also barely ever lied. “It’s a bit strange, this evening. I keep wishing Harry was here.” A beat. “Let’s go get some air, hm?” 

They hiked, like they always had, but everything was different now. Their silences felt heavy, rather than comfortable and light, and even though Harry hadn’t often come with them on their hikes, his absence was palpable. Luna tried to focus on the rolling green hills around them, the nature something so strangely peaceful. It seemed hard to believe that it was in this same world, that a war was taking place, slowly but suddenly unfurling like the tongue of a chameleon. That cruelty and beauty could coexist was something Luna had learned a long time ago, but it still startled her at times. 

Luna did not mind being quiet around Neville, as the two had always had an understanding that went beyond words, but there were a number of unsaid things lying in wait in her mouth.  “I wish Harry had been there,” was one of them. Saying it made her feel lighter. She kept walking, her eyes traveling from the green to her friend. “When Hermione was inaugurated. He would have been so proud.” The memory of the evening had not yet left her, and Luna doubted it would. It was one of those days where Harry’s absence had been even more apparent, where everything felt raw. 

It was strange, to be back here. Luna was reminded of the days after her mother had died, before she had gone to Hogwarts. Her father, retreated into his own mind, and she, walking around a house that felt so empty. Every corner reminded her of her mother, from the little trinkets she had left laying around to that lamp she had been meaning to fix, from her favourite (by then dead) flowers. Being at Harry and Ginny’s – well, just Ginny’s – home felt eerily similar to that, and Luna was picking through Harry’s old belongings with an absent mind, her mind busy with the gaps in it. She found herself thinking of her mother more often, these days, as if that wound had been opened alongside the one created by Harry’s loss.

Her hands stumbled upon an old snitch, and Luna produced the thing from the box. “Look,” she said. A sad smile curled her lips. “Remember, when I commentated? It was a rather disastrous match.” Even she, who had little Quidditch knowledge, knew that. She twirled the thing in her hands, remembering Harry on the pitch. Harry’s glasses slipping down his nose, his sarcastic tone, how he had called her friend when she had barely had any. Her eyes turned to the snitch, and Luna swallowed, thickly. For a moment, she was quiet, and then: “I preferred being part of the crowds, though.” 

Once, Luna and Harry had shared something –– a similarly-sized gap in their lives. A parent, or even two, gone, taken much too soon. Their lives marked for it. They had looked at Thestrals and Luna had known, then, that this was what understanding was. She found herself thinking back to such moments a lot, now, ridden with nostalgia and longing. For what once was.

But she could not let herself drown in it, even if that seemed so tempting. There was Ginny, whose hands Luna squeezed and who she had offered a bed, a place to sleep where she didn’t have to be awfully aware of the gap beside her. There was Lily, and Albus, and James, too – now all children who had lost a parent, too. That was one of the things that scared Luna most about motherhood: dying, too early, and leaving her children behind. She wondered if Harry had shared that fear with her.

She had invited James over, for a cup of tea. She’d added nothing more on her invite; just that she had tea, and would like to share it with him. An extended hand. Luna hoped James would grab it. And as it turned out, he did, because as she was working in the front yard, she caught his familiar raven hair in the corner of her eye. “James,” she said, rising, eyes wide. Her hands were muddy, a weed with intact root dangling from one of them. “Come on in, the kettle’s on.”

            yes, anabella loved to be in other people’s business from time to time, but she still did often live by the words mind the business that pays you. hearing the taller blonde only mere feet away from her speaking to herself was… alarming, yet anabella didn’t do so much as glance at her — until she was approached. “i’m sorry?” she lifted her gaze to the woman, then looked back down at the product she was showing. “i-” a little scrunch of the nose. “i don’t believe so, no — it looks genuinely fine to me.” she ended the note with a delicate smile, trying to seem more approachable and less aloof for the odd blonde.

Zara had blanked out the moment she’d stepped into the shop, eyes fixated on the bottles aligned perfectly on the wall. It had become a bad habit in the last few months. Some might even say it was her way of coping with things, but the truth was she wasn’t coping with things. Zara had bottled all her emotions up and started throwing her focus into work, more so than usual. This meant visiting the apothecary more than she’d liked to stalk up on an array of potions. So, it took a few seconds before she realized Luna was talking to her.  

“What was that?” she frowned, looking up from the bottle that she was holding up as she came back to reality, a faint smile appearing as she recognized Luna. “It’s hard to tell if it’s the contents itself that are cloudy or the bottle making it appear that way.” Zara finally replied as her mind caught up and registered the words spoken. “I was never a potions expert, though so I may not be the best person to ask.”

As Luna let her focus shift from the bottle to Zara face, she registered who she was talking to, a few moments too late. While holding a potion ingredient in someone’s face was a strange way to start a conversation to begin with ( in some people’s eyes, at least –– though not in Luna’s ), it was especially strange considering the bigger picture. Kingsley’s loss was still raw, even to her. She didn’t blame Zara for being absent-minded.

Luna had, after all, spent years in a grief-triggered haze. She tried not to think about that, right now. It was hardly Zara’s business. “That’s a good point,” she said, her voice calm as she returned her attention to the bottle. “Maybe I’ll just risk it. Perhaps I’ll be surprised, and a surprise is never a bad thing.” She lowered the Billywig slime. A question nagged at her, but she didn’t ask it. Not yet. In stead, she asked, both bluntly and curiously: “Why are you here if you’re not a potions expert?”

Azalea had been heading to her flat when the older woman had stopped her, caught slightly off-guard by her question and assuming it had been meant for someone else at first until she looked over at Azalea. “Oh, you were asking me?” She asked, pointing at herself before then thinking for a second. “What do you mean cloudy?”

...

“Yes,” Luna said, her attention more on the bottle than the woman in front of her. She let her gaze drift from the bottle to the person in front of her, pulling back the product slightly. “I suppose Billywig slime is always quite cloudy.” It took her a moment to realise that that wasn’t really an answer, and she soon added, “I mean – does it look more murky or cloudy or misty than usual?”