Still Lives Posed
Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are created and owned by JK Rowling.
Luna Lovegood looked up from her book and shut her weary eyes. She spent the past hour reading her text upside down and was beginning to feel the worst for it. Luna rubbed her temples hoping to alleviate the stabbing pain forming in the frontal portion of her brain. Perhaps she should have heeded Professor Sorenson's advice and not gone beyond the suggested fifteen minute time cap placed on what she described as Luna's creative reading endeavors.
Professor Anne Sorenson was the new teacher of Hogwarts' very first International Magic Relations (IMR) course. The class focused on the development of magic outside Wizarding Europe and its relationship with Eurocentric magic. There was so much more to magic than many British wizards ever realized. From Shamanism's reliance upon the earth to invoke its will to Santeria's and Voudun's cultural impact on casting to the utilization of meditation in many forms of Asian sorcery; Luna found it all so very interesting. It made her understand for the first time, in a truly real and visceral way, her mother's own fascination with spellular design and execution.
It was the reason why Luna Lovegood found herself in the young professor's company twice a week outside of normal classroom hours. Without any verbal agreement the two witches settled upon an established routine in which Luna would stop by the professor's office to ask questions about topics that perplexed or interested her. This continued for some time and before either of them knew it Luna was conducting IMR's only independent study project for extra credit and Sorenson found herself the mentor of Hogwarts most eccentric and inquisitive young mind.
Luna pushed her book aside and stared ahead. The professor stepped away for a few moments and without the woman's lilting Jamaican accent the room felt oppressive. Actually silence wasn't the culprit. Instead it was the swish swish swishing sound of a hard bristled brush scrubbing against the hard stone floor. The brush belonged to a sore arm attached to a sour faced young man on his hands and knees. Luna was sure he was the source of the ill will tingeing the corner of the room he worked in. She watched him ease off his hands to rest on his knees and catch his breath. He nearly ran his fingers through his platinum blonde hair but thought better of it when he remembered all grime soiling his manicured hands. Shaking his head in disgust he grabbed the brush and resumed his exhaustive task once more with his back facing her all the while.
Luna watched the boy work diligently. He'd been at it for quite some time. His breath came in huffy little pants. Some pink colored his face as he scoured the stone blocks. The Ravenclaw could tell he wasn't used to physical labor. Although to be honest most wizards weren't either, not in the muggle sense. Still, despite his obvious limitations, he was doing a right good job of it she decided. Well except for the area to his left. He seemed to have forgotten about that.
Luna's voice broke the tangible silence between them. "You missed a spot."
The swish swish swishing paused and the air seemed to freeze. Draco Malfoy did not deign to speak. The implied 'fuck you, bitch' rang loud and clear.