It was a game they liked to play occasionally. She’d lay, bare in the soft light of their lamp as they cuddled on the bed at night, her dirty blonde hair held up in a messy bun by her wand.
He’d run his hands across her bare skin, tracing the contours of her form, ghosting over the dark ink that adorned her form, indicating tattoos one by one, as she gave reasons, meanings, explanations that were different each time, yet no less true than the last.
His green eyes, filled with warmth, would meet her silvery ones as she spoke, encouraging, loving, as they lay with each other, loving and living and learning.
A moon, etched into the skin above her collarbone. A call to her name, a remembrance of her mother, who’d named her, who she’d lost.
A rabbit, bounding across her back. Just like her, best enjoyed when unrestrained.
A smattering of stars across her shoulder blades. Like her, so far away, yet so much more than you could imagine up close.
Two intertwined names, Pandora and Xenophilius, tied up in each other just like how her parent’s hearts had been.
A thestral, adorning her forearm. A memoria of what she’d lost, and what she’d gained, and who she’d become because of it.
An emerald lighting bolt, on the skin above her heart, a sign of the man who’d she’d given her heart to, and who’d given her his in return.
A rendition of the planets of their solar system, all lined up in order, across her waist bone. Something she’d gotten because she’d seen it, and though it would look nice on her skin.
Hey, not every work had to have some great meaning. There were so many more, black on the pale canvas of her flesh, more reasons yet untold, yet Harry would listen to the tales of those another night. For now, he pulled Luna close, her head tucking into the crook of his neck, one hand reaching up into his raven locks as he wrapped his around her waist, their legs wrapped together as they drifted off to sleep, loved in the other’s arms.