Happy Springsmut, eternellie! Author:t_quibbler Recipient:eternellie Title: A Gesture of Kindness (In the form of a sweater) Rating: R Pairing(s): Pansy/Luna Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Summary: In their last year at Hogwarts, Pansy shows Luna kindness that she cannot forget years later. Warnings: Mention (though no description of) non-con Word Count: ~1,850 Author's Notes: Thank you to my beta B! Eternellie, I hope you enjoy, I tried to make creative choices incorporating uniforms and public places, as well as a mish-mash of fluff and angst.
"Oh good," Loony said, her voice soft in the cold dark room, her eyes bright. "I thought it would be Crabbe again."
Pansy stood inside the door to one of the small dungeons reserved for detentions, staring appalled at the bare body that was almost luminescent in the faint light of a few candles. She didn't want to know what Crabbe was meant to have done to the girl, or what she had done do find herself in his shoes, and she wasn't sure she wanted to.
This was all down to Potter, her whole miserable year had been remotely orchestrated by Potter and his stupid friends. Every time Pansy had envisioned herself Head Girl, she had thought of it as a position of affluence and power; imagined that people would have to listen to what she said and look up to her. She had never imagined the power would come in the form of choosing torture or mercy.
"Where are your clothes?" she asked sharply, looking anywhere other than at Loony.
"I don't know."
Pansy snorted, trying to figure the odds of the girl simply losing them rather than having been stripped to give an easier target for Crabbe. She shrugged out of her cardigan, pointing her wand at it so the whole thing doubled in size and held it out, still avoiding the sight of her. "Take it."
But the petite blond held still.
"Can't you move?"
"No."
Gritting her teeth, Pansy turned her gaze back in the general direction, somewhere six inches over the girl's shoulder and gauging her aim by that. Loony sat up on the grimy little pallet laid on the floor, still not bothering with modesty, and Pansy felt her cheeks warm as she thrust the sweater out again. "Take it."
She stood up shakily, legs wobbling in a way that reminded Pansy of disuse, and took the over-large wrap.
"Thank you," said Loony, leaning up and kissing Pansy on the cheek, making her jump.
"I – " She glared hard at her, shocked and repelled back to the door by the kind gesture. "Don't say anything about this. At all. Just say I made you pass out, alright, and then leave in an hour or two. They're watching where we are, you'll need to stay here for a while. Just tell them that's what happened."
And before the girl could offer a reply of any sort, Pansy was gone.
"Luna? What… what are you wearing?" Ginny was clearly – very clearly – stifling laughter, and Neville looked completely flabbergasted.
"A diadem." She smiled, happy to see her flatmate smiling. "In honor of the one that was lost in the war, in honor of Ravenclaw."
Luna had been one of the largest advocates of the Commemorative Ball, honoring the five year anniversary of the Battle at Hogwarts and Voldemort's demise, and had done a creative job with her wardrobe to celebrate. Her robes were cobalt blue. And goldenrod yellow. And a rich garnet red. And emerald green. All with silver and gold embroidery, stitching the bits of velvet into an intricate, albeit abstract, pattern.
The robes were not what first attracted attention, however.
That honor went to the elaborate headdress, which most resembled the clash of a roll of aluminum foil and the brass section of the London Philharmonic Orchestra.
"Are you ready to go then?" asked Ginny, stifling another laugh as she took Neville's hand and a pinch of Floo powder from the pot over the hearth.
"Yes." Luna followed with a grin, giving a little twirl as she tossed in her own powder to turn the flames the most beautiful shade of emerald green.
The Ministry Atrium was already buzzing, the crowds of people standing nearly shoulder to shoulder in small groups; some having chats and others observing the newly replaced Statue of Magical Bretheren. Luna and Hermione had campaigned together to give all those represented in it equal size so as not to show preference to witches and wizards over other magical beings, but the selection committee had insisted people had enough common sense not to think that this new representation was as grotesquely biased as its predecessor.
She smiled dreamily up at it, the witch and wizard standing side by side (though this new wizard looked vaguely of Harry, minus his scar), the goblin and elf each standing tall as they were proportionally able in front of them and the brave and noble centaur's torso atop his palomino back behind them. In all, the statue was beautiful with its softly shimmering gold against the marble fountain that splashed serenely around them, and Luna gave a contented sigh.
"What a good rebirth," she commented to no one in particular.
Someone responded, however, with a little snort, and Luna turned to find Pansy Parkinson appraising the statue as well, her robes a deep shade of rose that made it even more apparent that her dark hair was still a chestnut brown rather than black.
"Hello, Pansy." Luna smiled, and the young woman turned her same, critical attention to the slighter blond.
"Hello."
"I still have your sweater," she offered, but before she could continue Pansy coughed, choking the sip of champagne she'd taken at the inopportune moment and looking shocked.
"What?" she hissed, and Luna nodded.
"From the dungeons, that night when—"
Pansy grabbed Luna's arm with her free hand, pulling rather harder than was necessary as Luna didn't mind following her towards the golden gates that were closed to keep party-goers from the lifts that led to the other areas of the Ministry.
As they neared, the gates opened a fraction and Pansy slipped through with Luna behind her, nodding to the security guards stationed on duty, who nodded back in return. She jabbed at the button for a lift with her knuckles around the glass flute, fingers still pressing into the skin of Luna's wrist as though she was afraid to let the girl go.
The lift arrived and Pansy punched another button, both still standing in silence as the lift rose and a polite voice announced, "Level One, Office of the Minister of Magic, Office of the Junior—" and faded away as Pansy led Luna through a series of hallways, seeming to change direction at random until finally she let go of Luna to press her palm against a door with a small window reflecting only inky blackness.
The door swung open and Pansy held her arm out, suggesting that Luna step inside, which she did eagerly. The only thing inside though were four desks and another door with the same dark window.
"Where are we?" she asked, interested.
"I'm the social secretary for the Junior Minister," Pansy said plainly. "This is my office. What do you mean you have my sweater?"
"Oh, I kept it," replied Luna, looking at each of the desks in turn until she found the one she thought must be Pansy's. There was nearly nothing on the desk, only a stark white quill in its silver stand, a matching pot beside it, and a large purple folder with the Ministry's emblem on the front. "This is your desk."
"Yes," she sighed, clearly impatient for an answer to her question, for one that was also clearly not coming. "Why did you keep it?" she asked this time, astutely asking the correct question now.
"I was going to give it back to you." Luna smiled. "On the Hogwarts Express at Christmas, but then I never quite made it on the train, so the sweater went with me, and we don't have occasion to see each other very often."
"No."
"Which is too bad, really, because I also wanted to say thank you."
Pansy set down her champagne flute on the desk of one of her co-workers, putting her palms to her temples. "Listen, you know, I'd really rather just not think about any of that year, if it's all the same to you," she said, trying to keep the bitterness from seeping out of her throat and into her voice. Pansy was grateful for the outcome of the whole fiasco - she wouldn't rather have had the alternative, at least - but she still held Harry Potter and He Who Must Not Be Named responsible for everything that had happened, for everything that she had had to do to keep her own skin safe.
"Why not? You let me go," said Luna, moving to lean against the desk beside Pansy. "You were being kind."
"What are you wearing?" she asked, taking in the full effect for the first time it seemed, intent on anything that strayed from the topic of that night.
Luna lifted the diadem from her hair, a few loose wisps spilling down from the woven bun atop her head. "A diadem," she said and smiled, holding it out before them for Pansy to see. "I made it myself."
"Nice," Pansy lied, her shoulders slumping a little.
"Thank you." Luna turned setting the diadem on the desk and looking at Pansy with her usual understanding stare. "I've wondered, since then, if it might have been nice if you had done it."
Pansy's mouth dropped open, words still stuck inside, until finally one fell out. "Why?"
"Because you let me go. You would have been gentle." Luna reached out, patting her hand. "I would have liked that." She leaned over, stretching her long pale neck to place her second kiss to Pansy's cheek.
But Pansy's head turned, and Luna's lips brushed not the smooth plane of her rouged cheek, rather the sweet swell of her lips.
"Oh," she breathed, and felt Pansy give a little smirk.
The kiss was simple, nearly chaste, and the brunette pulled away. "I didn't – I – you looked like you were hurt – and you're weird, you know? They shouldn't have hurt you."
Luna shook her head, more stray hairs falling free, and kissed Pansy again, with intent this time, and to her slight surprise, Pansy responded in earnest. Fingers slid over necks, cheeks, shoulders; fumbled for purchase over arms and ribs and backs. Pansy slid from the desk, shifting to stand between Luna's legs, her hands pushing Luna back this time, separating them long enough for her hand to press ahead of her hips against the body before her. Blond hair fell free entirely as her head arched back, and Luna ground her hips down against Pansy's hand. Her hands slipped on the desk, back arching as the fingers rubbing her through her robes found an insistent pace, making sharp little circles that moved straight through the layers of fabric separating skin and making Luna moan.
Pansy's fingers were not gentle, not demanding either, but a tease that elicited a response. Luna's body complied without her urging, muscles winding and tensing in a familiar pattern until there was nothing left but a gasping release.
Then Pansy's hand was gone, and Luna pushed herself up to her elbows, finding her frame already in the doorway, wearing a flush. She looked up carefully, meeting Luna's eyes and betraying a soft smile.