A/N This is my first Luna/Oliver story, and I would never have written it without prompting from the Crack Pairing/Potion Ingredient Challenge by Screaming Faeries with the prompts Luna Lovegood & Oliver Wood and Erumpent Horn. I also used the prompt Robin Egg Blue from the Crayola Challenge by Aim. Reach. Increase.
The Three Broomsticks was used to business after local Quidditch games, but whenever Puddlemere United played the Holyhead Harpies, it was always packed. It was a good thing for Rosmerta, then, Oliver Wood thought, that such a match had just occurred. Oliver himself didn't typically go to any sort of pub after a game, simply because the team usually went to one of their houses for a celebratory or consolatory drink.
But today, the team had decided to congregate at the Three Broomsticks. It had been a huge win, the largest margin they had ever beaten the Harpies by, and Oliver's teammates had wanted to celebrate with a party that was open to fans. Oliver was just as excited by win as the rest of them, but he'd seen what fans had done to other Quidditch teams, and wasn't exactly falling off his broom in anticipation for what was to come.
But he'd ended up there anyway, all but carried by his friends to a large booth, and had a butterbeer in front of him before he could say "Snitch". Alicia Spinnet, who had joined the team once she'd graduated from Hogwarts, flung an arm around his shoulders and downed her own stronger drink in one gulp. She gasped and laughed while Raymond Littler told a dramatized version of him catching the snitch right from under the opposing Seeker's nose. Oliver chuckled along with her, feeling vaguely uncomfortable that she was using his shoulders for an armrest.
"Oh," Ray said, as he finished his story. "My firewhiskey's gone."
"Could just do a replenishing spell," Oliver suggested with a grin, well aware of the man's ineptness at complicated magic.
"Shut it, Wood," Ray said, but he smiled back. "I'd go and get some more myself, but I'm a bit caged in here." He gestured at his surroundings. He was, Oliver noticed, sandwiched between Urlich, a Chaser, and Jonesy, a Beater. They didn't seem to be paying attention to the conversation, too engrossed in listening to Alicia's joke.
"I'll get it, I suppose," Oliver said, all too glad for an excuse to walk away from the team. He stood up and grabbed Ray's glass, heading over to the bar. He sat down on a barstool and placed the glass on the counter.
"Just a firewhiskey, thanks, Rosmerta," he said when the woman bustled over. She smiled and snatched the glass away. Oliver blinked blearily, a bit tired from the intense game, and glanced around. The seat to his left was empty, but sitting on his right was a woman facing away from him, her long blonde hair tumbling down her back as she talked animatedly with a different man next to her.
"...I told Mr. Gobstake that the horn was clearly from a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, but he kept insisting it's some sort of Erumpent horn, even though the markings are slightly darker on an Erumpent-"
"Luna?" Oliver startled even himself by saying her name out loud, surprised he'd even remembered the girl. She turned immediately, cutting off her conversation with her neighbor without a second thought. The man looked relieved, and quickly got up and walked away.
"Hello," she said in her serene voice. "You're Oliver Wood, aren't you?"
"You know who I am?"
"Well, you're a famous Keeper, and I'm a reporter. Of course I know who you are. The question is how you know who I am." She stared at him with her huge, robing egg blue eyes. Why didn't she blink?
"I... I mean..." he stammered, losing his train of thought in her gaze. She smiled at him.
"It's all right," she said. "I think there are Wrackspurts in here, they're probably messing with your ability to speak freely." She was so confidant, so matter-of-fact about this statement, that Oliver was stunned out of laughing.
"Shouldn't you be in school right now?" was all he managed to eek out.
She laughed. "I graduated last year." Had she really? That meant he was twenty-three... Twenty-three! How had he aged so quickly? How had he let all those years go by? "Also, it's Christmas break."
"That's nice." He couldn't believe he was being this stupid. Think of something clever, idiot. "So you're working for The Quibbler, then?"
"Yes, I took over as editor earlier this year. Daddy's just getting a bit too old to run the magazine, I think, and he doesn't put nearly enough stories about current events in there for people to be interested." So she wasn't completely crazy. At least, she was saner than her father, but that wasn't saying much.
"Here you go, dear," Rosmerta said, pushing the full glass of firewhiskey under his nose. He thanked her.
"Bit strong, don't you think?" Luna asked.
"Oh, this isn't mine," he said quickly. What was he doing? Why did he care if Luna Lovegood thought he drank too much? "It's for Ray."
"Ray?" She looked almost adorably confused.
"I thought you kept up with Quidditch players." Now he was smirking.
She shrugged, not embarrassed, apparently. "Only the ones I know."
Slightly touched that she thought of him as worthy of her time, Oliver decided that Ray could do without a second firewhiskey for another few minutes.
"So what was that about the Erumpent horn?" he asked.
She sighed, and instantly he was sorry he'd asked. Clearly, she was annoyed. "It was not an Erumpent horn, that was very clear, but the merchant was adamant about it. I tried to tell him that he was being ridiculous, but he wouldn't budge. Wanted to sell it to me for fifty galleons. Even I wasn't willing to pay that much for a Crumple-Horned Snorkack horn, because I do need to pay for realistic things, you know."
"Of course," Oliver said, watching the light from the little lanterns hanging overhead as it glinted on her hair. He blinked and told himself to snap out of it. If nothing else, the girl was five years younger than him and barely out of school, not to mention she believed in ruddy Wrackspurts.
"It's okay," she told him. "You can go back to your friends." She gestured back at the booth, where Ray was now looking at him with an irritated expression and waving him over.
"I'm fine. You're much more interesting than any of them," he said. Oh, Merlin. Had he really just said that? She smiled at him, a real, genuine smile. It lit up her face like nothing else.
"That's very nice of you to say." Luna took a sip of her Pumpkin Juice to hide her grin. Oliver was pretty sure she didn't smile like that often, and it was a sad thought, because her smile was beautiful.
"Well, it's true. All they're doing is recounting the match, which I don't need, seeing as I lived it. Plus," he gestured at the booth, "I don't really want to deal with fans right now." Sure enough, there was a group of four teenage boys surrounding the table, holding out bright blue notepads for Alicia and Ray to sign.
"But I'm a fan of Puddlemere United," Luna said. "Does that mean you want me to leave?"
"What? No," he said at once. His cheeks flamed. "I mean, you can stay if you want. I'm not forcing you."
"It's all right. I like talking to you," she said. "It's just kind of boring being here after a Quidditch match."
"Why?" Oliver would have thought it would be more interesting, especially for a reporter, with more people to interrogate and watch for mistakes. But, he realized, Luna wasn't that kind of reporter. She didn't care about the mess-ups or the weird things people did. All she cared about was what mattered to her.
Luna shrugged. "It's just the same as always, but with more people."
"We could go somewhere else, if you want." Was he flirting with her?
"What did you have in mind?" Was she flirting back?
"I've got some leftover cake from the last party at my house, if you want some." Had that been too bold of him, asking her over after only talking for a few minutes? But no, Oliver was sure he liked Luna now, and wasn't going to deprive himself of her company.
"What kind of cake is it?" she asked.
"Coconut, I think. It's a little strange, but it's all I have."
Luna gave him one of her huge, real smiles again. "That's okay," she said. "I like a little strange."
And with that, they departed, leaving the firewhiskey alone at the bar.