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Harry was completely enamored with Lune Eulaile Altier.
The way she carried herself, as if she was an angel, grazing her feet by the sea, speckled with white dots and scars, the turquoise perfection against the sun-kissed shore. Her presence alone, making the trees sigh, watching her sit at the gladiolus-lined hillside, the breeze slightly tickling her nose, freckles dancing like constellations. Her sparkling blonde hair shining into the stars; there was no one as perfect as her.
Cedric Diggory's sudden death has completely ruined him. All he did was sit in his bedroom and cry. He cried and cried, wishing that there was just one more second. One more chance. That's all he wished for. He felt guilty, like he should've been the one to go.
He wanted to be considerate, and not ruin everyone's year, because he had already ruined the Diggorys' one, so he found interest in Lee Jordan's joke ideas, Dean Thomas' latest artwork ideas, Ron Weasley's ranting about Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley's love for muggle studies, and so on. But none of these things fulfilled the distraction he needed. No one could fill it, the big vortex sucking his joy, no one could fill it up.
Until he saw her.
Lightly giggling with her Ravenclaw friends, walking amongst the hallways with her bags laden on her shoulders, her blonde hair flowing graciously behind her, her caramel-like skin, her joyous rose essence - but none of this could even compare, not even close, to her eyes.
Sparkling blue pools of the rare indigo sea, that swooned the world with laughing light, glimmering of happiness. Oh, the long, slow whisper of the sea, begging, no - crying for her eyes to even glance at them, would be the biggest blessing on earth.
