Hello, my lovelies! For those of you reading It's Not Easy, I promise that is on the way-and I'm a terrible person for keeping it on the back burner so long. This is in response to a challenge from my friend kcluvssugar, involving a Luna/Harry fic that includes:

Real Latin (we're in Latin together)

Ron crushing on Tonks

Gay Draco.

Fun, eh?

Thanks to berneynator, as always, for her ninja beta skills.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, or anything else. Except a fabulous Thanksgiving dinner, the complete set of Harry Potter books, and a pair of headphones.

Dear Miss Lovegood,

Thank you for submitting your essay to the Magical Naturalist Writers' competition. We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for our one-year, all-expenses-paid scholarship to participate in our work in the Amazon Rainforest. Congratulations! All information is enclosed.

Yolanda Tel'naier

Administrative Affairs

Reperio Novus Proprius

I sat there, staring at the letter. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe it.

"I WON!"

My squeal reverberated through the store. Thankfully, no one was there to see me jump out of my chair and do a dance out of sheer joy.

Could anything bring me down today?

"Ahem."

I stopped and pivoted slowly. Yes. One thing could.

Mr. Baboso eyed me. "Miss Lovegood, what was that display?"

"I…"

He waited.

"Nothing, sir. Won't happen again."

He sniffed. "See that it doesn't."

I repressed the urge to roll my eyes. I was pretty easygoing, generally, but Baboso acted positively superior. He considered it a sport to poke fun at my clothes, my personality, and my parentage—especially my father.

Yes, Daddy was a bit odd, but that was what made him wonderful. It wasn't his fault that he'd been wrong about the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

Or the Plimpies. Or that Cornelius Fudge had had goblins baked into pies.

I stole a glance at the clock. Five thirty-five. Twenty-five more minutes in this hellhole that called itself an apothecary. Not even the good apothecary, the one that everyone went to. Baboso's Magical Goods was a hole-in-the-wall apothecary that only stayed in business because it sold its merchandise for cheap—because everything it sold was at least a week out of date.

Ugh. But it pays the bills…at least until I leave for BRAZIL!

Humming softly to myself, I went back to feed the rats Mr. Baboso kept for familiars.

Nope, nothing could keep me down today.

I slammed the shop door shut with a bang, jamming my wand behind my left ear. The bell that alerted us to customers tinkled wildly. I got a few odd looks from the few people brave enough to venture out into Diagon Alley after sundown in January, but I ignored them.
Buggering little bastard son of a flobberworm! How dare he say that about my father?

As I trudged through the snow, I realized how apt a comparison I'd made. Both Baboso and flobberworms were slimy, pale, completely ineffective at…well, everything, and easy to squash.

I entertained myself with the thought of squashing Mr. Baboso until I reached the door of Gringotts. I sighed, closed my eyes, and forced myself to relax. Don't let Baboso ruin this.

I strolled in and headed for the nearest goblin. "Vault 192, please."

My mother had set up an account for me to do what I wished with when I came of age. Though the trip I'd won was all-expenses paid, it didn't cover souvenirs—or clothes. My mother had been a good antidote to my father—thinking of more practical things like whether the milk had gone bad, or arranging for the broken gate to be fixed.

The goblin who had been assigned to me said nothing on the way down to the vault, and I was fine with that. I slipped into the vault once it had been unlocked, swept a small pile—about half the gold available—into my bag, then returned to the jostling cart, once again looking around for the obstacles Hermione had told me about.

The Fool's Downfall, the dragon…it sounded exciting. I'd been to Gringott's before, but always with my father, and never down this far. I had never touched my mother's savings, until now—I'd saved it for something I'd really wanted.

Sadly, we didn't get that far down. Bag in hand,I set off down Diagon Alley, making a beeline for the Leaky Cauldron. I had rooms there, and it was too damn cold to do much shopping tonight. My father had asked me to stay with him while I worked, but it reminded me too much of Mum, now that I had another choice.

But in Brazil, it's summer! Oh, joy!

Absorbed in my fantasies of warmth, I didn't pay attention to where I was going.

WHAM!

I flew backward into the snow, wand tangled in my hair and robes flying everywhere.

"Oh…Luna!"

I peered up through the driving snow.

"Harry!"

He helped me up, and we looked at each other for a few seconds. He pulled me into an awkward hug, further discomfited by our bulky layers of clothing.

"…haven't seen you in forever!"

"What are you doing?"

"How's life treating you?"

"Anything new about the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?"

The words tripped over themselves trying to get out. We both stopped, and he motioned for me to go first.

"Wow…Harry! You're looking well!"

And he was, too. His hair was wet from the snow, in its perpetual mess, his nose and cheeks ruddy with cold, and snowflakes stuck to the lashes around his bright green eyes. Oh, those eyes…

I looked down, hoping the cold would cool my blush. I'd had a minor crush on Harry since fifth year—almost three years now, but I'd hoped that was a factor of his actually being nice to me—which had been a bit of a first. It appeared not.

He smiled. "And you! I was just heading to the Cauldron, have a drink with me?"

"Yes! O-of course! I've rooms there."

"Perfect."

As we set off, he chattered on about Percy Weasley's upcoming wedding, Fleur Delacour's pregnancy, and various other Weasley news. I listened happily—the Weasley family, especially Bill and Fleur, had been unimaginably kind to me after my stint in the Malfoy house. Fleur and I still exchanged letters, so I knew most of what he said about her already, but he seemed so happy to go on about it that I let him.

"And…how's Ron? And Hermione? And Ginny?"

His face fell. "Er…Ginny's tried out for the Holyhead Harpies, and she made it."

I smiled. "Congratulations!"

"Yeah."

I frowned. "What?"

"Well…they don't take attached witches, and she…didn't want to deal with it anymore."

I raised my eyebrows.

He rubbed his forehead. "You know, just being the girlfriend of "The Boy Who Lived", not really knowing who wants to be her friend and who just wants to be close to me…it was too hard on her."

I rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry."

He coughed. "It's all right, I'm… really happy for her."

A slightly awkward silence permeated the rest of our walk to the Leaky Cauldron.

Insistently, I asked, "But what about Ron and Hermione? They still…an item?"

He grimaced. "Yes, and a bloody happy one they are too."

I looked at him quizzically. "Isn't that a good thing?"

He nodded. "I suppose, but honestly…I think I liked it better when they bickered all the time."

I laughed. "Yes, it can get a bit soppy, can't it?"

"You're telling me." He seemed relieved that I'd understood.

"Ron had a bit of trouble after Tonks's death—he still had a massive crush on her—but he's doing fine now."

I wrinkled my nose. "Far too old for him."

"Yeah, but she was really kind to him. He spends a lot of time with Teddy—Tonks and Lupin's son."

"Is Teddy a Metamorphmagus?"

"Yes. It's hilarious to watch, actually. I'm his godfather."

"Ah. I bet."

There was a small silence as we ordered our butterbeers, but a comfortable one.

He blinked. "Well, enough from me! So what's going on with you?"

I smiled, taking a sip of my drink. "Not much…my boss is driving me absolutely bonkers, but I'm quitting tomorrow, because…I won the Magical Naturalist Writer's competition!" That last nearly burst out of me, sounding rather incredulous—I still couldn't believe it.

He blinked. "Really? That's great! Er…what is it?"

I giggled at his confusion. "It's a competition from a magazine, the Magical Naturalist. The winner gets to work with their top magical zoologists in the Amazon Rainforest—for a year!"

He stared at me. "That's…wonderful!"

I laughed, still disbelieving. "I know! It's what I've always wanted to do!"

"Really? I never realized."

I smiled. "Well, even if Crumple-Horned Snorkacks don't exist, there are plenty of other amazing things out there."

We laughed together quietly, till Harry's eyes widened at something over my shoulder. "Don't look now... but is that Draco Malfoy?"

I paused for a second, then carefully swiveled around. Sure enough, it was, ordering at the counter with another man in tow…and they were holding hands.

"Why yes, it is…and I think he's learned something about himself since you saw him last." I gestured to the hand-holding. "I've seen them around before."

Harry's eyes widened more, if that was possible, and he choked on his butterbeer.

I picked up my own bottle, which was rapidly cooling, and spun it between my fingers. "If it makes him happy..."

"Yes! Of course! But…it's Draco."

I smiled. "It is a bit ironic, isn't it?"

He grinned sardonically. "No continuation of the Malfoy line, methinks."

I frowned. "I've met Ryan—the man he's with—and he's really nice. And Malfoy's not nearly so much of a git, either."

He nodded, slightly shamefaced. "I'm sure. It's just odd."

I nodded, and silence prevailed again.

A soft chime issued from the pocket of his robes. He pulled out a battered old watch, cursed, and stood. "Sorry, Luna, I've got to go…"

I stood as well, reaching into my bag to pay for the drinks. He snatched my hand, stopping me, and placed a few Sickles on the table.

"Please, let me."

He held my eyes for a few seconds, then looked down.

"Well, I'll see you around, Luna. I hope you find what you're looking for."

I raised my eyebrows.

He flushed. "In Brazil, that is."

I smiled. "You too, Harry. Take care."

He looked like he was about to say something, then thought the better of it. He turned on his heel and disappeared out the pub door.

I rubbed my cheeks. It's the heat of the fire, Luna. Just the fire.

Still rubbing, I bid Tom the bartender good night and climbed the steps to my room.