A bit of late night wanderings and young love. SLASH! Ginny/Luna but all rated K.
Just a Cup of CoffeeI am looking for a safe-place, a place of silence and darkness. Once I find it, I will sit there all day. The Nargles that steal my happiness wont find me there; they don't like silence. In my safe-place there would be just me and nothing else.
My safe place would be dark, too. The Urlges are afraid of the dark. Urlges laugh at me and remind me, loudly, of all my faults. I don't like them. Last year someone stole my protective ring of woven Crumple-Horned Snorkack hair and now the Nargles and Urlges wont leave me alone. They are always present, ready to put me down and make me feel bad. In my safe-place the Nargles and Urlges will never find me.
It is because of my safe-place search that I am wandering the halls this late at night. The clock whispered out two o' clock more than half an hour ago. I am near the dungeons now, and still noises are filling my ears. There is the rustle of curtain fabric, the shrieking creak of an unclosed door, sleepy snores from the portraits, a rat, a house elf, a hiccuping trashcan. There is no safe-place down here. Turning I begin to walk dejectedly back to my common room. Is there nowhere safe for me?
I am so busy thinking that I don't hear the sound of sneaking footsteps until I see their owner. A redheaded Gryffindor is looking at me, curious. It's obvious that she, like I, didn't expect company. Looking at her smile. Hopefully she will just pass my wanderings off as another weird thing Loony Lovegood does. I don't want anyone to know about my safe-place search, because if they know about my safe-place, then it's no longer safe.
"Are you alright, Luna?" she asks, a look of genuine care upon her face. Staring at her, I notice that her eyes are the most unique shade of brown. They are not like chocolate or pudding as they are described in fluffy romance novels, but rather a strong, earthy color. They are the color of an old tree's tough bark and of the rich planting soil we use in Herbology. They are much like her: strong, wise, caring and determined. Now they are mostly caring. I have forgotten to answer her question.
"Where are you going?" she asks in my silence.
"Nowhere particular," I lie. "What about you?"
"I'm off to the Kitchens, I need some more coffee before I can finish my Potions essay. Come on, let's keep walking, I don't want Filtch to catch me." I join her and we begin a quiet walk down the stairs, her slippers rustling, my bare feet padding against the floor in sync.
I do not stare at her, but my eyes are constantly sneaking sideways glances at her. I am thinking about her as we walk to the kitchens. I wonder what she is thinking about. She nibbles at her lip and absentmindedly plays with the Quaffle keychain on her book bag. She must have brought her books so she can work on the essay in the kitchen. I smile to myself as I visualize how many coffee cups and chocolates that will lead to.
We are there. Ginny reaches out and tickles the pear. It giggles and, for the first time since I met up with Ginny some fifteen minutes ago, I wince at the loud sound and think of the Nargles. With a jolt I realize how comfortable I have become with her.
She is smiling as she kneels to talk face-to-face with a runty house-elf. "May I have a coffee please?" I hear Ginny ask as politely as if she were a muggle at Starbucks - politer, actually. Coffee in hand she comes over and takes a seat beside me. Pulling out a few books, two quills, an inkbottle and a half-finished essay she gets to work. Quietly I watch her write. She hunches over and dips her head until it is but a half-foot above her paper. With almost boyish handwriting she scratches down her thoughts and carefully words her sentences. Every once in a while her hand darts up to re-tuck her hair behind her ears
Ginny must've noticed me staring because she looks up at me. We sit in silence for only a few seconds. "Coffee?" She offers me her drink. I smile and accept it.
"Thank you." At the edges of the cup I can taste where her lips have touched. Taking a sip I smile. Sugar and cream, strangely she had seemed more like a plain black coffee person. I like sugar though. I hand it back to her. She smiles a bit and writes a little more. Soon Ginny sets down her quill, rolls up her parchment and puts away her books, but she doesn't move to leave. As if it is the hint I've been waiting for, I speak to her.
"You're hair is the color of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack's mane." I tell her. "It is quite beautiful."
"I've always been told it looks like fire." She holds up a bit to examine to herself.
"No," I correct her. "Fire is much more orange. Yours is like a Snorkack's mane." I reach out and run my fingers through her hair. She doesn't pull away.
"Tell me about the Snorkacks. You went looking for them last year, didn't you?"
"Yes. They are beautiful creatures, as beautiful as a unicorn, but not in the same way. Snorkacks are not so thin. They are built much like a sturdy mountain pony with wings. Their mane is, like your hair, the color of phoenix feathers. They are determined and protective of their family. They are very caring and kind." Though I am talking about the Snorkack, I am thinking about Ginny.
"Did you find one?" I look deeply into her eyes. She doesn't think I'm crazy. She really cares about what I have to say. A smile creeps across my face.
"Yes. It was absolutely amazing," I breathe.
Now Ginny notices how deeply I look at her. She blushes, but doesn't look away. "Your hair looks like the moon, Luna," she tells me, leaning closer. "I love the moon, know why?" I shake my head. "Because when it's darkest outside the moon shines the brightest."
Leaning in she kisses me full on the lips and I eagerly return it. Ginny's lips are small, a bit on the thin side, but they sure know how to kiss. Through half-lidded eyes I reach up to run a hand through her soft, Snorkack-colored hair. She closes her eyes and I study her long, red eyelashes.
When the kiss ends, we are smiling. The clock chimes four and we stand. "You know," she tells me as we step through the kitchen portrait. "I think I'll have to finish my Charms essay tomorrow night." I smile and we part ways.
As I walk back to my common room, the feel of Ginny still on my lips, I am thinking. There may have been no safe-place in the dark dungeon, but I have found a safe place in Ginny. Perhaps a ring of Ginny's hair will protect me from the Nargles and Urlges, too.
A/N: What are you're favorite pairings? I'd like some ideas. I'm interested in branching out my writing and I've never done romance before. How'd it turn out?