He didn't like to be distracted when he wrote.

The parchment was curling off the table, the open window occasionally making it dance lazily, but he didn't even notice. He was on a roll, he was making things neat, and logical, and sensible, it was a studious euphoria he was enraptured in, he was in his element. Saturday morning, and almost everyone was sleeping, which meant quiet in the Burrow for once. He could just listened to the scratch of quill, a lullaby very few would appreciate. Hermione perhaps, but the girl skipping down the stairs, no. With her Dirigible Plum earrings and wand tucked behind an ear, she was the type who would probably enjoy the sound of doxies buzzing, or even the cry of one of those creatures she fervently believed existed. The girl had been in Ravenclaw, although her mismatched slippers and slightly unruly hair could make some people doubt that. She was an odd house guest, but even Percy was used to her by now, sort of. Unlike his sister, who had invited the girl for the summer, he still couldn't manage to find her quirkiness endearing. She lived life by faith alone, something he couldn't even imagine and he was always so tempted to think of her as gullible, except she seemed so sure, and he would feel badly about it.

She stopped at the Burrow's kitchen table, watching him with her head cocked slightly. Her periwinkle nightgown almost feel at her ankles, the parchment trailing off the table fell to meet it. Her eyes slowly followed the rapid words forming on the paper, although he did not look up. Percy was concentrating; he probably didn't even know she was in the room, someone Luna seemed unaware of. He was oblivious, lost in a world where he enforced, and kept things precise, where facts and logical ruled above else, where Luna Lovegood would probably never venture. He didn't notice her, but she took him in, misty eyes following his hand, looking at the quill, accessing it.

"I wouldn't be using that quill if I were you. It looks to be a tail feather of a female blibbering humdinger, and could attract nargles almost immediately."

Percy let out a cry of surprise, spilling ink all over his parchment, and began to trickle over the table. He dropped his quill-although he knew for certain it was not made of whatever creature she believed it to be-and grabbed his wand, cleaning up the mess before it spilled over onto the floor. Her head was still titled, she seemed unbothered by his reaction to her, didn't seem to mind the lack of a formal greeting. She was okay with a "Good morning."

"Really, unless it was picked at midnight on the last Tuesday of every other month, you're just asking for them. That one was probably picked on a Friday, by the looks of it….yes, almost definitely a Friday."

She had temporarily rendered Percy speechless, the way her smile was there, not taunting, not malicious, the girl really did believe she was helping him, giving him valuable tips. It gave her a childlike quality, he was almost tempted to ask her if she still believed in Santa Claus, but it was also her childlike quality that prevented him. He felt her eyes on him, locked, observing and wandering all over, drinking him in brazenly. It flustered him; he didn't quite know how to feel about being studied.

"You really shouldn't go about interrupting someone you know," he snapped, his voice stern and almost reminiscent of his prefect years. "I've been trying to write this decree on broom regulations, and now I think I've lost my train of thought." He kept rambling, it was pathetically apparent how soon he was lost in his beloved world of rules and order, going off on tangents, and reciting laws, in such a way one would wonder if he simply loved the sound of his own voice. He was always so wound up, high strung like nobody else, and now he was hiding behind decrees because her eyes wouldn't stop staring, wouldn't stop penetrating, wouldn't stop seeing. He felt unimaginably raw, and sought to cover himself with words, even though he didn't really give a damn that his parchment was stained.

His mouth was moving so quickly, his muttered rant rendering him oblivious to his surroundings, to her. He needed to make sense of this odd, stripped feeling; he let himself get carried away into the land of reason where Luna Lovegood's discovering eyes couldn't find him.

It was almost absurd; she walked towards him, seemingly floating in that strange way of hers, but he didn't even see her until she placed one hand on his face, while the other nonchalantly removed his horn-rimmed glasses. He sputtered, and was hopelessly grasping for words, trying to ask what she was doing, when she leaned in, unabashed and unnaturally serene for someone doing something so bold, and kissed him.

He had never been shut up through a kiss, hardly ever left a speech unfinished, yet words seemed to disappear from his head, his lips stopped forming words, and started reciprocating, he knew well enough that when someone kissed you, you almost always kiss back. Everything about Luna was exploring, her tongue finding places in his mouth he didn't even know needed to be touched, kissing him in a dreamy, whimsical way, it was his job to make it all go deeper. Her left hand remained on his face, her right gently weeding through his hair, making him tingle and letting her touch linger. She kissed slowly, while he wanted more, and let his hands rest upon her body, in a solid way, letting the weight of him be felt. Contrast, he felt like he was living for the superb contrast.

There was no logic, there didn't even seem to be any tension, he never noticed how his whole body was locked together and rigid, he felt like he was melting, unwinding even. But he still liked to take charge; he still liked to make things happen. Luna was more than happy to lie on the table, and let his hands feel, let Percy feel. He could feel how she almost shivered as he kissed down her neck, tracing her clavicle with hungry marks, reveled in the excited sighs as he thrust into her, marveling about how she giggled at times.

They were quiet, biting their lips to avoid screaming and waking everyone, every time their eyes met, Percy felt as if sunshine was filling his stomach, waves of it hitting him as he came. Coiled around each other, their bodies were both shaking, hands finding each other and holding, words and thoughts finally starting to come back to Percy, although they felt heavy and slow, couldn't keep up with him, weighing him down. They were almost drowning him, trying to make up for the minutes when his head was clear, except for instinct. She looked up at him, her head cocked again, body heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. "That was lovely…" She smiled serenely, and traced a finger down his arm. This didn't make sense, but that was okay, right?

Then it sunk in. What had just happened?

Getting off the table, Percy tried to make sense of what had just happened. It was bizarre and random, and increasingly awkward as he realized he was gaping at her. He was making his fear and confusion obscenely clear. Silence hung over them, and he wished she wasn't sprawled out on the table, looking at him, searching him again. She was taking him in, and he had a feeling she knew how he felt better than he did. It wasn't bad-exactly the opposite in fact-but it happened so damn quickly, so how what did he say? He couldn't think straight, and that left him feeling more exposed than before, when he had lists of decrees in his head. Since when did he act on impulse, since when did he do what felt right instead of what he thought was right? And she was still staring at him, and Percy just wanted to search her, see what she was thinking. Minutes ago, he wasn't thinking, and it was good, but it was new, and scary, and could possibly be a regret. How could she seem so calm, how could she smile so simply and look so peaceful? Tension was coming back, he was winding up again, faster, faster, faster.

"I-well-this was, um, I-"

She shut him up by kissing him, again, and he melted again, succumbing to what felt right, even if it didn't make sense. He gave in, because for once, he wanted to live by how he felt, and not worry so much, deal with it all later. Trust his impulses, something he could never do. Just for a few minutes, he was leaving his world of logic, and joining Luna in her world of faith, and faith alone. Sputtering, he tried to form words, tried to think of what words needed forming. She laughed a little, still tracing her finger down his arm.

"See how you can't think clearly? Nargles."

And for the first time, he found her endearing.


"Sola Fide" is Latin for "By faith alone" and is generally a religious term. However, I've always thought it would be the perfect Lovegood motto, and I can't imagine anyone disagreeing.

Thank you so much for reading, review if you want., and I'll love you forever. I've always been pretty Luna/Neville, but the other day, I randomly thought of Luna/Percy, and now this exists. Luna's the "anti-Hermione" and Percy's fairly Hermione-ish, so I thought it'd be a nice contrast. She can unwind him. Plus, I just can't manage to find Luna/Hermione a hot shipping. Luna seems so soft and dreamy, Percy's "masculinity" makes it work.