Revolutions of the Sun

I. Dawn

There was something to be said for Luna's hair in the early hours. Lying in the grass as she was now, the brilliant locks resembled, almost perfectly, the striking rays of the rising sun. She was very much like the morning, Ginny thought. For all that the other girl had lost, she remained hopeful, believing that every moment was a beginning. Her eyes reflected that limitless potential, as clear blue as the skies, always looking for things that only she could see.

Luna was singing something now, soft and quiet, reminding Ginny of the lullabies her mother used to sing to her when she was little. She wondered if Luna was thinking of her own mother at times like these; wondered what sort of songs she would've sung and if they were the same as Molly Weasley's. With anyone else Ginny would've felt like an intruder, witnessing in Luna's open face what were clearly intimate and often painful memories. But with Luna things were different somehow. Luna gave herself up with no strings attached--Ginny could do what she liked with her knowledge, and she doubted Luna would even notice. It was mystifying how anyone could possibly be so unself-conscious, but Luna managed it with ease. It was as though she didn't quite exist in this world; as if she were only visiting. Ginny was always a little amazed that Luna acknowledged her at all, since she paid so little attention to anyone else. But then, perhaps she could see what most others couldn't: that Ginny didn't really belong here, either.

Ginny wasn't sure how long they'd been lying there, enjoying the sunlight, but it didn't really matter. It was Sunday and there were no classes, and since they were both morning people, it had become their ritual to meet like this on the weekends. Luna claimed to be watching for Phookas, some kind of goat thing, but Ginny knew that she really enjoyed the sunrise and Ginny's company more than anything. But Ginny didn't mind; sometimes she even caught herself searching the edges of the forest for horned, elf-like heads.

There was something child-like about her that made you want to believe in such strange, fantastical things. And maybe that was why Ginny found such a comforting companionship in the other girl--Luna inspired Ginny to chase after happiness, an illusion as evasive as the impossible phantasms that Luna herself sought, so blindly and stubbornly.

Luna had turned her gaze away from the forest to study Ginny now, and Ginny met those glassy blue eyes, wondering what Luna saw when she looked at her. There was something sad in her expression as she leaned forward to brush her lips against Ginny's, but her kiss was just as soft and sweet as the morning, leaving a gentle warmth wherever they touched.

Ginny was drowning in sunlight.

II. Twilight

If Luna was like the morning, then Ginny was the evening. There was an empty classroom in the North Tower that Ginny had discovered during her third year. She had often sought solitude there over the years, finding it comforting to have a place that was all her own. It had an incredible view of the lake and Ginny liked to come there at dusk, watching as the setting sun lit the lake on fire, and made it shine like blood. Her red hair was the exact shade of the sun during these hours, a dark scarlet that had marked and branded her since birth.

During their fifth year, Ginny had shown Luna her secret room. They only came here during the evening--any other time would've been wrong. The grounds were perfect for the daylight and all the cheerful, mysterious things that Luna loved. But at night, they would climb to Ginny's room, and as the sun painted its walls and floor in brilliant reds and golds, Ginny would whisper her own, darker secrets, which were better suited for the evening. Luna accepted Ginny's world with the same distant fascination that Ginny had accepted Luna's. They were so different on the surface, but underneath both wanted something so beautifully surreal that it would distract them from reality and make them forget.

Luna was soft and full of hope and optimism, filling Ginny with a sunny warmth. But in the evenings, in Ginny's room, Luna learned to love the pain and the darkness and the crimson passion that defined Ginny. Together they were an end and a beginning, encompassing all the beauty of light and dark in their opposing natures. Together they found harmony in the endless, rhythmic movements of the sun.

As Luna awoke each day to a dream that never ended, forever chasing her ghosts, Ginny's only came to her in the night, like snakes in the dark, her own spirits unbidden and unwanted.

Dawn and twilight - life and death - all transitional periods, brief yet made all the more beautiful by the passion of their brevity.