She shook her head gently, soft curls catching the light. "It wasn't Ginny. I don't know who she was supposed to be. It isn't like my mind to play tricks like this." When she had nightmares, at least something about it made sense, something connected to her life. This had been completely foreign. As had the screams.
Luna stared into the empty cup, the sound of her own voice begging rang through her ears and she paled. The pain hadn't scared her, though it had traumatized her. No, the pain was something of the flesh, something that would either be or not be, but she had offered the woman anything.
Unable to voice her thoughts, she stood silent, eyes unfocused into the recesses of the china before her.