Most of these are Raven/ Starfire fics, of the Teen Titans fame.
The last one is Luna/Hermione/Ginny of Harry Potter fame.

These Little Nights Of Thiers
It was dark, the common room full of a shadowy grey on grey on ever darker grey that shrouded much of any few details that might have been found. It wasn’t exactly the usual sort of place that one would expect a sunny, happy Tameranian might be comfortable, but Starfire seemed to be getting along more than fine. She sat, entranced, on the muted pastel blue of the couch, radiating a faint light and clashing furiously with her dim and murky surroundings. The object of her rapt attention was a novel resting in her lap, billed as ‘a modern fairytale’, that she read by the moonlight that found it’s way in through windows unseen. This had become her custom, this late-night reading of novels, for those nights when insomnia struck with a fury. She loathed the confines of her room with the fiery hatred born of restlessness when insomnia consumed her, and found her accustomed seat in the common room to be more enticing by far. Starfire counted herself lucky many times that Raven had given her a reading list, items from the mage’s own library, to work through once, as her nights of insomnia were growing more intense and common these days and it was good to have something to occupy her mind in the cool dark. The others didn’t think she was much of an intellect, but Starfire was often as or more insightful and intelligent than any one of them, though the language barrier and her sunny disposition often seemed to disclaim it. She had been proud of herself when she had finished a novel of Tolkien in only two consecutive nights, but now her goal was to read a book of equal length in just one, a target she was rapidly approaching at times. The quiet comfort of the book-world was a boon to her in ways that socializing with her new friends could never be, beyond simple amusement and distraction. It let her be herself, just herself, by herself, in worlds no Tameranian would ever have imagined. Even though the words still sometimes confused or escaped her entirely, Starfire sank deeper into the couch and the literature, wandering freely through time and space and reality.
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Raven was struck with insomnia again. The walls and objects of her room, usually dark, were lost in each other and the deep, abyssal shadows of her room. Usually, her restlessness could be resolved with simple meditation, but, tonight, her wanderlust demanded she travel, without space for second opinion or compromise. She slipped out of bed and navigated through the pitch black to her door, treading an invisible path through a perceived vacuum. The abyssal blankness made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand on end in a purely human instinct she tried hard to ignore. Was anyone else awake? No one on this floor, but someone was down in the common room. Well, the human, and more than slightly fearful, part of her brain decided, some company wouldn’t be too bad at all, not at this time of night.
Raven floated down to the common room, careful not to make the slightest noise that might wake her friends. It was odd, she mused, how easily she thought of them as such. After so many long years of being able to trust absolutely no one, even her own mother and closest tutors, it was… just odd; that she could trust these people so readily. Especially people so outwardly alien as Beast Boy, or as utterly different as Starfire. That girl was the most apparently, most blatantly, different from Raven of any of them, but the one she was closest to, the one she trusted most, unless it was not to drop the dishes. They had switched bodies, shared their feelings and beliefs, followed each other into the darkest part of each other’s lives… They were perfect duplicates made of matter and anti-matter.
As if summoned by the thought (Raven made herself check twice that she hadn’t), Raven found Starfire, sitting in the moonlit darkness on the vast curve of the couch as she approached it, reading intently. She was glowing faintly, just enough, in combination with the moonlight, to read by, but little more. Raven couldn’t figure why she was so surprised, she had suggested Starfire read the novels of Earth, that she might obtain a better grasp of language and culture. Maybe it was the dark, or how Starfire seemed so intensely comfortable in it. It always seemed strange to see the happy, hyperactive girl doing anything so tranquil as reading by moonlight at midnight.
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Starfire felt someone settle down on the couch beside her, close enough that she could smell the cinnamon and tea scent of their skin. In the world of the novel, someone was taking a magical drug that gave them anything they could wish for and Starfire lent into the warmth. If I had a magic wish, I would always read with someone warm. The girl next to her shifted a little bit, but settled into a more comfortable position, not quite behind her, but no longer shoulder to shoulder. The reading was finally beginning to overcome her insomnia, and her friend’s warm body at her back was too comfortable to attempt to ignore. She let the book-world go and wafted softly into the real world where she was leaning her head back on Raven’s shoulder with her eyes closed, half-asleep already.
“Starfire?”
“Yes, Raven?”
Raven wrapped her arms around Starfire, hugging Starfire’s shoulder a little with her chin and breathing deeply of sunlight and ginger.
“Just so long as you know who I am.”
“Mmmmm-hmmm.”
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Raven really loved these little nights theirs.


Dark Side Of The Moon (darkfic! Beware.)
Raven looked at the rough paper before her and nearly cried. It was strange, she thought, that someone could care this much, could want to go to so much effort, all on her behalf. She picked up the paper, careful of the odd bits and pieces that stuck out, little scraps, smaller than the tip of her finger that someone had been so infinitely careful to cut out, to add to this collage. Little bits of brown stuck to the paper, some not so very small, and Raven could only try not to see them.

Gone, gone forever, never another smiling face, never anther surprise greeting from around a corner ever again. Raven watched as her eyes blurred and spilled over and away, holding the paper clear of the falling tears.

Never. Never again.

Every single image of her that there had ever been, even transferred from video and television. Careful, so careful. Each piece delicately added, glued on individually. A picture of her as she walked into the Tower the first time was the youngest, transferred from the surveillance tape. A picture of her in comfortable normal clothing with a faint fringe of a sunset around her the most recent, from just yesterday. Standing on the pier. Looking into the sun, dreaming of all the things she could have been. The click of a camera. A kind, glowing smile, a second sun on her skin. She’d blushed at having that smile directed at her.

And now it would never be directed at her again. Ever again.

She always asked for someone to love her, every birthday, every Christmas, every rising of the sun. Raven looked to the sky and asked for someone who would care as deeply about her, who would love her and accept her. She never looked next to her, she never looked into another pair of unnatural eyes. She thought that they were taken, spoken for, nothing she should even bother dreaming about. Why would the goddess of the sun, she reasoned, want anything to do with someone who very obviously breathed the night?

She reached down and touched Starfire’s cheek, the first time she had ever known the other girl to be cold, and said her goodbye, still clutching the piece of paper that had been loosely grasped in her dead fingers.

Over the stake that had been shoved through her heart.

Raven’s form grew and contorted in ways she had no control over, didn’t care to. She was powerful now, a force of nature, something that could wreak the shear and utter destruction that needed to happen. Robin watched from the doorway as she left in a furious storm of shadows.

They never found anything but a few bloody smears of the man who killed Starfire. Raven was really angry. But they found a tiny piece of paper with the bloodstains. When Robin picked it up that day, he just nodded and turned his back to the army of police officers that were before him. There was one tiny picture on that fragment: of Raven, the day she had first appeared, golden and radiant, without the taint of Trigon, taken from afar by a video camera. Though this murder had been grisly, horrifying, Robin hadn’t even blinked.

Slade Wilson was dead. So was the contract on their heads.

And he had the strange feeling that he would never be seeing any signs of Raven ever again.

Light Side Of The Moon (the lighter pair to the last)
Raven looked at the rough paper before her and nearly cried. It was strange, she thought, that someone could care this much, could want to go to so much effort, all on her behalf. She picked up the paper, careful of the odd bits and pieces that stuck out, little scraps, smaller than the tip of her finger that someone had been so infinitely careful to cut out, to add to this collage. She could feel where extra pieces of paper had been carefully added on the back to enlarge the whole. She could sense that this piece of paper was less a static item of a single moment’s impulse, but a long-lived project, imbued with love.

The owner moved back behind her, shy, almost bashful, not longer the same surprise greeter from around corners that had brought her to this piece. Raven watched as her eyes grew ever less clear, trying to focus on this sheet of paper.

Every single image of her that there had ever been, even transferred from video and television. Careful, so careful. Each piece delicately added, glued on individually. So much love and she had never even had the slightest hint. Here, a picture of her as she walked into the Tower the first time, transferred from the surveillance tape of that first day. A picture of her in comfortable normal clothing with a faint fringe of a sunset around her was the most recent, from just yesterday. Standing on the pier. Looking into the sun, dreaming of all the things she could have been, always wanted to be. The click of a camera. A kind, glowing smile, a second sun on her skin. She’d blushed at having that smile directed at her.

For so long, she’d lived without the sun.

She always asked for someone to love her, every birthday, every Christmas, every rising of the sun. Raven looked to the sky and asked for someone who would care as deeply about her, who would love her and accept her. She would never in twice her lifetimes have looked next to her, she never would have looked to another pair of unnatural eyes. She thought that they were taken, spoken for, nothing she should even bother dreaming about. Over and over again in all the years they knew each other. Why would the goddess of the sun, she always reasoned, want anything to do with someone who very obviously breathed the night?

Starfire reached out and rushed the back of Raven’s hand with her fingertips. Raven curled their hands together, feeling a rush of warmth and love transferred through just the simple touch.

And it was wonderful.

Starfire led her to a small packing box in her closet, pulling it out and putting it on the bed and opening it. Each item she removed was some new aspect from them both: a chunk of rock from when they had saved Zeus to end the war between the gods, some of the green goop that had been used to return them to their primitive states (which Raven promptly tucked into her cloak for safe-keeping), as well as innumerable pictures and other trinkets. Robin watched with a soft smile as they flew out of that tower.

Nothing was heard of from either of them for a long time. Robin told the rest of the team Starfire had gone to deal with something on her home planet and Raven had traveled to Azarath to reflect. Everyone else accepted this with a nod. Thought nothing more of it. Until they strode into the building hand-in-hand. And presented themselves by kissing in the hall in front of everyone.

Then they walked up the stairs to Raven’s room and there shut the door with audible authority.

Amid all the noise and hubbub, Robin simply smiled and remarked that it was unlikely that they would see either of the girls for some time yet.


Caramel (lol... have fun, girls)
Luna knows kisses and touches are a gift. Something shared between friends. A sweet, warm bliss that is given freely. Far more gratitude than favors, no currency exchanged, just breaths and hands and warmth and the knowledge that she can make someone as happy as they have made her.

Luna knows the bookish Hermione needs it most. Knows what the older girl has given up for her friends, the ones she loves: Far more than she dare say.

And she knows Hermione won’t mind. Won’t shy away from her gentle hands like Neville, afraid of what she doesn’t know. Hermione loves them all, more than she would ever admit. Luna sees it in her eyes. In her glances at the boys when they’re too thick to see, at her and Ginny across the vast distance of the Great Hall or a conspiratorial table.

Hermione pretends she feels nothing. Burying everything for her friends.

But she doesn’t shy away from Luna’s passing touch on her stomach as they walk down the hall. She doesn’t shift her hand away at the conjoined table of their winter meals. And, when she feels the lightest touch of Luna’s hand on her shoulder, she follows it readily into a shadowed room with a simple, comfortable bed and a warm fireplace.

In the shifting light, Luna thanks Hermione with her whole body; like Ron never will, like Harry never can, like Ginny doesn’t dare. They’ve all been blessed by Hermione’s presence these last few years, doing things people said were impossible. She made them simple reality. She accepted everything they were, light and dark. She opened their shuttered eyes to their own ignorance. Hermione was an Isis bound to flesh; dreaming private dreams she thought could never be.

But Luna can see into anyone’s eyes.

She gives Hermione warmth, and love. Company and unharnessed joy. And the tiniest piece of Luna’s soul that was hers; that had been for years. Hermione tastes like melted butter and sugar, a warm mix with her sent of leather and ink and old things that she wore like a veil. Hermione’s body comes to soft caramel in Luna’s hands, molten but not truly liquid.

She relaxes in front of the fire with her arms wrapped protectively around Hermione, letting the older girl feeling warm and sweet and wonderful like she never dreamed a human being could feel. Hermione sighs deeply and rests her head against Luna’s bare chest, slow drifting into sleep as Luna strokes her hair in a soothing rhythm.

Luna can’t help but smile as another body pulls itself out of the shadows and leans against her, hands replacing her in Hermione’s hair.

“Luna…”

“Shhh…. She’s sleeping.”

The Ginny lets out something like a comfortable purr and snuggles in against Luna as they all fall into warmly contented sleep.