Warnings:Luna’s brain, original characters, playing merry hell with the dates of solar eclipses because it bloody well suited me.
Summary:All Luna wants is for her friends to be happy. Harry and Draco aren’t going to make it easy for her, but that’s okay. She has a plan.
Why I loved it:I loved the authors idea to have this from Luna's pov how wonderful. I adored the way she wrote her so beautiful and caring. She made me smile a lot and I like how she is also unafraid to be a little sneaky if she needs to. She made me feel so many feels with Harry and Draco pinning for each and all the longing. *happy sighs* Luna was not overly loony here just well rounded and sweet. She just wanted all her friends to be happy. :))))))
Everything about the story was delightful from their dancing, pj's and Luna seeing her glimmers. This story is refreshing and a joy from start to finish. Please do yourself a favor and read it if you have not yet. :D
She’s seen the colours as long as she can remember. Professor Flitwick, whom she has always trusted, had called them ‘auras’ but Luna prefers to think of them as glimmers. That’s how they look. They swim and glow around every person she meets, intensifying with emotion and health, and every single one of them is different. She can pick out a person who is close to their end, and when she sees the familiar cloudy pallor swooping over a young person or a child, her heart breaks. She had seen it that morning when she was nine years old, when her mother had ruffled her hair, headed off to her workshop and never come back. At first, she hadn’t understood the connection, but like the sight of the ghostly Thestrals two years later, it hadn’t taken her long to work it out.
In the end, there had been too many of them to count, the castle and lawns a dizzying mass of vivid, angry colours and then sickening wisps of milky light, swirling out from every corner of the grounds. Once or twice she had managed to throw herself at a friend or ally, knocking them to the ground and restoring their colours to bright, fighting red or green or orange. More often, her split-second advantage had simply not been enough, and the fall came anyway.
The dead leave no glimmers.