Note: Written in HPFC for a drabble challenge: "Neville/Luna."
He never makes fun of her, and she doesn't know how to show her appreciation. She babbles at him about nargles and crumple-horned snorkacks and wrackspurts until she's practically blue in the face and her hair won't stop sticking to her cheeks because it's so cold outside, but he doesn't say a word. Doesn't mock her or call her "Loony." Just smiles at her, patient, his hands thrust in his robe pockets and his hair too floppy over his forehead.
She takes his hand, pulling him out into the forest, leading the way shyly. She's never shown anyone before. She wonders if he can see them. Like she does. Has he seen death? she wonders. The raw meat in her coat pocket for the baby thestral drips pink juice down her leg, but she doesn't notice.
"Here," she says, placing his hand on a thestral's skeletal muzzle. He freezes, eyes wide in surprise and something else, but she can't quite read it.
"What are they?" he asks, his voice breaking the stillness.
"They're called thestrals," she smiles, taking the meat from her pocket and feeding it to the baby one in wide, ragged scraps. His eyes grow wide at the sight of something utterly invisible nipping food from her palm, but says nothing. "They can only be seen by people who've seen death."
"Who died?" he asks, and then flushes, his ears turning red in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," he says and she smiles, rising gracefully to her bare feet.
"I don't mind," she reassures him in her customary airy tones. "My mum. She was an extraordinary witch but one day, one of her spells went badly wrong. I was 9." She shrugs and goes silent for a bit, lost in her memories.
"My parents are in St. Mungo's," he confides slowly, with the air of unburdening a great secret. "They don't recognise me."
"I'm sorry," she whispers, feeding the last of it to the baby thestral and wiping her hands off on her coat.
"It's all right," he says, but the sheen in his eyes lies for him.
"Shall we go in?" she asks, offering her slightly stained hand. He takes it and smiles, eyes still bright.
"I'd like that," he says, and they proceed.