Loony Luna Lovegood (![]() ![]() @ 2015-10-23 19:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | luna lovegood |
WHO: Neville & Luna
WHAT: Keeping company
WHEN: Thursday afternoon
WHERE: Hospital Wing
RATING: G
STATUS: Complete
come spirit come charm, come days that are warm
come magical spell come help him get well
Luna was patient, though when she learned of this virtue she didn’t remember. Luna knew that she was patient. When the war was over, she waited, when school started back again - she waited. Waited for peace, waited for it all to fall apart once more, waited for the day it would be worth it. When Neville got stupid (yes, stupid) and got hurt with his yearmates, she waited for him to wake up. Tell her what happened, and if she could make any of it better. Now she waited for him to be released, so at least she could give it a shot. Yes, Luna was patient. But it wasn’t easy. She could not sit in her room and pine for the day to come, oh no. Instead she bothered the poor boy daily, hourly with questions and thoughts and opinions on everything from Danish art to whether or not the dust bunny in the corner was alive. She bothered him to the point that the nurse had sent her off to find a left-handed grindstone for sake of anything to do that wasn’t in the hospital wing. And wouldn’t you know it? She found one, gave it to a very surprised Madam Pomfrey and sat back down next to Neville. “The Quaxilles are out in force today. You should see them.” “Hm?” Neville looked up from where he’d been starting to drift into a half-doze. There wasn’t much else to do when someone wasn’t around to keep him awake. He checked his journal occasionally but too much reading made his vision blur up and his head spin. He couldn’t really catch up on schoolwork for the same reason. And Pomfrey wasn’t about to let him out of the Hospital Wing until he could stand up without falling over. Luna was an almost endless source of entertainment. Though she occasionally still said things he didn’t understand, she wasn’t alone in that - sometimes he thought there were things his yearmates took for granted that he would never understand - and most of the time she made him laugh enough that he forgot how bored and frustrated he was. Of course there was always the slight awkwardness of that time we don’t talk about, whenever they spoke, but he certainly wasn’t about to bring it up. Unless she did. “What’s a Quaxille?” he asked now, stretching himself fully awake. “The dust behind your ears.” Luna explained, claiming the end of his bed for her seat - just so long as Pomfrey didn’t see. Beds were made for patients, she had been told, but if that was the case, then why were the chairs so uncomfortable? “They travel on the South wind, and gather behind our ears to make homes and families. That’s why you have to clean behind them, otherwise you’ll become an entire city when no one is looking.” The reality of what was real, and what Luna believed in was a fine, delicate line that she often enjoyed jumping over. Why bother any way? When reality left her best friend (?) in the hospital for weeks on end. And it made him smile. “Well I’ve probably got a whole continent back there by now,” he said, chuckling. “Don’t tell my Gran, okay? I’m in enough trouble already.” Luna smiled at that, and leaned forward as if to take a peek behind his ears. “I make no promises. Your grandmother can be...” She wanted to say ‘frightening’ but that might have been mean. “certain. Of things. She might already know.” “I knew there was a reason she was always going on about washing behind my ears,” he admitted, nudging her with his shoulder as she tried to look under his hair. “Agh, c’mon. I haven’t showered in weeks. Cleaning charms having nothing on really washing. You don’t want to get too close, trust me.” “Don’t worry.” She paused, and took a rather long ‘sniff’ of his ear before sitting back again. They were too close again. Neither Madam Pomfrey, nor his grandmother would appreciate that. “You only smell like pillows and cough drops.” Neville snorted. “Yeah, right.” Then Luna took a sniff of her own self, trying to sort out exactly she was. Dirt? Quills? Quaxilles? “You’re gross,” Neville said, lightly. “C’mere.” He took her hand and gave it a little sniff. “Ink,” he said confidently. “As always.” He looked up at her face. She was watching him, watching him as if all that was the world was behind his eyes, and everything was in his hand. He realised what he was doing, too late, and let go of her hand, quickly. “Not that I keep any records or anything,” he added, awkwardly. “That would be a very detailed list.” Luna agreed. She tilted her head then, watching the range of emotions run across Neville’s face. If she was better at reading them, perhaps things wouldn’t still be so awkward, eight months on. Over half a year since everything everything changed, and yet they weren’t even grown yet. “What do you keep a record of Neville Longbottom?” An unfair question, but Luna didn’t really (entirely) care. Neville flushed. “Do you have to use my whole name like that?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably. “It makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” “Are you?” Luna smiled again, playing with the edge of the scratchy wool blankets all hospitals seemed to have. “It’s a nice name though. I don’t suppose anyone else in the world has your name.” She paused then, and watched her own fingers on the fabric while she thought of the options. Could there be other Neville Longbottoms? Did they smell like cough drops too? She hoped not, because that would be confusing. “Yeah, well,” Neville said, shrugging. “Probably not many Luna Lovegoods either, eh? Guess we’re both unique animals.” Luna continued to watch the blanket for a moment; it was a nice blanket. Warm, she thought. Neville watched her carefully, trying to guess what she was thinking. You could never quite tell with Luna, although arguably he knew her better than most. “I wouldn’t put it like that,” she said finally. “I think...” She looked back up again - past Neville, past the room. “I think we’re something else entirely.” Neville’s brow twisted a little in confusion, which wasn’t unusual around Luna. “What d’you mean?” he asked. His head was starting to throb again. “Your head hurts.” Luna noticed, finally looking back at her dearest friend. She scooted off the bed and into the uncomfortable chair - which was technically further away from Neville, but closer to his headboard. “Well, yeah.” Neville sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest. Being stuck here was making him feel like it was hard to breathe. He tried not to think about his mum and dad, trapped in a room like this ever since he could remember. He wanted to see them, suddenly, very much. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m probably not great company at the moment. You don’t have to stay down here with me.” Luna reached out into the foot of space between them, and rested her hand on his knee. “Of course I do Neville. You’re my friend.” She left her hand there for a moment as she thought. “I could read to you again.” Though, when Luna read only the Title page was close enough to the facts to be trusted. She much rather preferred to take the words on the page as inspiration rather than instruction. “Oh.” She added, “We could just sit for a while. I’ve no where to be that isn’t where I am.” He smiled weakly at her. “Okay,” he said, giving up. “If you really don’t mind.” He’d missed Luna last year. It was like something you don’t realise you would miss until it was gone. It seemed he’d spent half his time since Christmas worrying about her. The way he’d felt when he’d finally seen her alive and whole was hard to describe. And when it was all over, when the castle was half in ruins around them and bodies lay strewn on the ground, when he couldn’t rest for so much as a second for fear of losing himself in grief, it was Luna who had been there. It was a strange sort of friendship, but it went deep, without much need for words. Sometimes when the rest of the world got to be too much, they would inevitably find each other for a while. She didn’t mind sitting in silence while he pruned shakkans or repotted firegrass. He didn’t mind reading or doing homework while she sketched. So, this was okay. Except that, since that brief, almost moment back in May, there was an unspoken layer of something else in the air between them. It was thick, and heavy to carry - the constant ‘ness’ of almost and the uncertainty of why nothing had happened in the end. Was it just adrenaline from a battle? Was it terror and a still-uncertainty of their surviving through the night? Or was it more, on one side or another, or did they both feel this way? Both of them were too afraid to ask the other, and tear down the tenuous bridge that was built between them. Luna should have said something, could have. But instead she nodded, mostly to herself and pulled her own legs up on the chair. She’d be happier back on the edge of his bed. But that was too close for anyone’s safety. Besides, Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t like it. They sat there for a while, quietly. Finally, thinking out loud, Neville said, “You know, I haven’t been sick for this long, ever. Not even after the night - I mean, when Dumbledore died.. and I almost lost an arm, that time.” He rubbed absentmindedly at his elbow. He remembered the funeral, even though he’d been in a sort of daze, leaning on Luna for support. He’d been determined to go. Wild thestrals couldn’t have stopped him. “This is killing me,” he said, low, staring at his knees. “People keep asking me if I need anything. But I need… I need fresh air, and green things, and to not be stuck here like an invalid…” he shuddered. It was the shudder that brought Luna’s thoughts back to earth. While Neville had been re-thinking the darkness of their past, she had (almost determinedly) been focused on the future. They were going to be able to leave Hogwarts eventually, and when they did she was going to go away. Go far away to where fog never rolled in and people did not know her name. Somewhere light, bright and away. Like.... Sweden. Or Morocco. But then Neville shuddered, and she was brought back to where they were - fog and all. He wanted more than air and to not be stuck, but she couldn’t do much about that. She could fix the rest though, easy too. As long as she had a bit of help. “I can do that.” Luna assured him, standing up from her perch. “I can fix that, Neville Longbottom. Just need a moment.” “Luna -” Neville started to protest, but she simply pecked his cheek lightly and pulled her cloak around herself. “Just a moment.” And she was gone. Neville stared after her for a moment, puzzled, but eventually he gave up. It was Luna. You’d think he would be used to this sort of thing by now. |