A/N: Luna's been paired up with Harry many times, Ron and Draco sometimes, and in one scary case I read, Voldemort. Then JKR offers us Dean, and we Luna fans think, "It's about time."

So here is part of their story. A one shot for now, maybe more later.

Lemme know if I pull this off.

"Hello, Dean Thomas." She was silhouetted in moonlight on the grounds, gazing out at the Forbidden Forest.

Dean jumped. "How did you know it was me!? Blimey, you're not even facing this direction..."

"Everyone has different footsteps, you know."

"Er, of course."

He cleared his throat. "Do you mind if I stay here with you?"

"Not at all, Dean." They stood there together in a comfortable silence until a rather unLunalike sniff caused him to glance over at her lovely face.

What he saw made him gape. "Luna, you're crying!" Never had he known her to cry or do anything vaguely like it, but here she was, big silver tears running down her cheeks and nose and chin and he was forcibly reminded that this war had made people change.

"Dean. Your name. It's only one letter off from Dead, you know. We're all just barely off from Dead, that's how we're alive and others aren't. Like Dumbledore-"

"Luna, really, we're alright now!"

"-and Ronald's older brother-"

"Harry killed You-Know-Who for good, remember? No more of those Horcrux things or whatever they were called."

"-or Professor Lupin, do you know what he told me during second year? He said he liked my butterbeer top necklace, no teacher had ever said that to me before." She sank to the ground and sobbed with a renewed vigor.

He sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into his shoulder and said, "Dean, just look."

And he looked, really looked, for the first time.

Charred bits of furniture and paper from the remains of Hagrid's hut blew idly in the wind. Dozens of trees from the Forbidden Forest had been knocked over and were now dying on their great, leafy sides. The Great Lake was partially diluted, and with a sickening feeling he realized it was tinged red from the dying men that had sought a drink or water to clean their wounds.

But Hogwarts was the most painful to look at. Parts of the walls and the castle itself were knocked in, and though a valiant effort had been made over the last few days to set it right, it would be a long time before it was the glorious Hogwarts so well-remembered.

He turned back to Luna's eyes, which were expectant instead of their usual dreamy. "Well?" she demanded.

"It's..." he struggled for a word.

"It's different," she said, the most bitter he had ever heard her sound.

"But it's different because of something good!"

"I know that. But people died here."

"Luna, they knew what they were getting into. They knew that they might have to sacrifice their lives to defeat You-Know-Who."

"They had families! What about Professor Lupin and his wife's baby? The baby that no longer has a father?"

He suddenly realized what this was about. "You haven't heard from your father in awhile, have you?" he asked gently.

"No, I ha-haven't, and I know he was imprisoned, but I thought he would have sent me an-an owl..."

"Shhh," he said, giving in to the urge to stroke her long hair. "I'm sure he's been released but can't track down an owl. The Death Eaters killed loads of them, you know, to stop people from communicating."

"But he would have-"

On sudden impulse, he said, "Or maybe his owl was eaten by a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

She laughed weakly. "How many times do I have to tell you that they can't fly?"

"Well, maybe the owl landed and started walking."

Her voice regained part of its dreamy quality. "Dean Thomas, you're trying to make me feel better."

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

"Most people don't bother." Her voice was blunt and slightly muffled, her face was still pressed into Dean's shirt.

"I'm glad you're alive," he said softly. "And I'm glad we're out here, alone."

"We're not alone if there's two of us."

He laughed. "Always the Ravenclaw, are we?"

She looked up at him, wiping her eyes, and as their eyes met, Dean's softened around the edges.

"Wrackspurt?" she asked knowingly.

"What?" he asked, not wanting to look away.

"When they target you, they fly into your brain, and-"

"Wait, so they run through your mind?"

"Yes, and they make it hard to concentrate."

"Then you, Luna Lovegood, are definitely a Wrackspurt," he said, leaning in and meeting her lips with his.

He noticed her surprise, and taking it for reluctance, immediately pulled away. Luna, however, deliberately pulled him back, and he noticed that his heart was pounding.

Her lips were impossibly soft, and he realized that they were both breathing as though they had just run the length of the grounds.

After a few more minutes of almost unendurable pleasure, she pulled away and returned her head to his shoulder.

His hand fell once again to stroking her hair. "Was that," he murmured, "real?"

"As real as a Crumple-Horned Snorkack," she replied.

And he smiled, because she was his and he was hers.

Drop me a line... I like this pairing, and I might write more if I get feedback...