A/N: If you find this story lame, don't say I didn't warn you. Being me, and having the super power of being able to ship anything that moves (except incest), I have decided to write a Luna/Krum story. Just for the hell of it, really, but I rather enjoyed writing it, cheesy or not. But don't let me tell you. Read it for yourself! I own nothing. Cheers!
Bright yellow robes, a matching sunflower set upon her cascading white-blonde curls… If they didn't blind me of her beauty, anger at her matching father certainly did.
She was sitting alone, tossing bits of wedding cake at the birds. What a waste! I told myself. Fleur's mother-in-law worked hard on that dessert.
Needing an escape from the jovial chaos of the wedding reception, I sat down next to her, desperate for any form of salvation from the usual wedding commotion.
"You know," I said, hoping she'd understand my accent, "the birds weren't invited to the wedding…" She looked up at me. "Viktor." I introduced myself. "Viktor Krum."
"I know who you are," her pale eyes not unmoving. Of course she did. Her voice was soft and whimsical, but surprisingly melodic.
"You read the Daily Prophet, I see," I said. It was one of the few times I was irritated by my fame—when my own face was plastered on the black and white pages of the Daily Prophet.
"Of course I don't. Father writes for the Quibbler."
I wasn't sure exactly what a Quibbler was, but it at least meant she did read the rumours and half truths that spread like a vindictive cancer from one page to another. Before I could ask, she seemed to know my question. She also already had an answer for me. "Luna. Lovegood. That's my name." I nodded. I did like her name. Something was mystic about it, about her, and I found myself shocked that I smiled about it. Again, before I could even attempt to ask, she gave me an answer. "I enjoy watching the birds, and I'm pretty sure they enjoy my company as well. We, well, people in general have so many things in common with birds."
I had to stare in scepticism. "How so?" They were only blackbirds after all.
"Do you see that bird, right over there?" I followed her extended index finger. There was a jet black bird with feathers that stood up in all directions. I was startled to see that he had green eyes instead of the eerie yellow once belonging to most birds of his type. "He's a very heroic bird, that one. He was shot by a crossbow, but didn't die. I believe that several of the other birds something just short of worship him. They follow him around, you know? I just don't think he's realized he's famous just yet." Luna giggled as my eyes roamed the crowd in an attempt to find Harry Potter. He was nowhere to be seen; just some Bert or Barry amongst the massive sea of red haired Weasleys.
"Oh!" Luna grew excited and pulled my arm so I would focus on the birds once more. She was pointing to two older birds, greyer than the others in spots, a male and a female. "These two are rather unique. You see, most birds don't mate for life, but I've observed these two for years and they've always been together… the whole time."
My dark eyes were pulled to where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley happily danced to a slow song; dancing as if it was the first time, fitting perfectly into each other's arms. Somehow, the two snuggling blackbirds looked the same way at each other. How did Luna see these things? How did she make these connections? They're only blackbirds, after all, I reassured myself.
I pointed to a puffy little bird with a serious face. "What about that one?" I asked, deciding to play along with Luna.
Looking amused, "She's smart, very smart. I saw her build her nest faster and more accurately than really any bird I've seen. She's a brilliant little bird." As she said this, I watched the bird follow the one with the green eyes loyally and an image of a bushy-haired girl in periwinkle robes swam before my eyes. The similar blackbird passed a piece of cake to a clumsier blackbird also in the green-eyes one's wake. As if they were magnets of opposite charges, my eyes made contact with Hermione Granger as she passed Ron Weasley, her jealous friend a plate with cake on it. I had to shake the striking similarities from my head. They were only blackbirds, after all.
"That one," I said, pointing to a lonely blackbird separated from the rest of the group, "what's that one's story?"
Luna's wide eyes suddenly shone, not with life, but with the salty glistening of tears, even her smile trembled slightly. It was as if she was connected to the bird, as if the life of a feathered creature had direct impact on her own being.
I took a closer look at this particular bird. It had only one yellow, unblinking eye. I watched another bird attempt to bite at it, but the bird simply sat there, taking it. I didn't dare look at Luna as the bird sat there, taking every jab from other squawking birds in silence. But it wasn't until Luna spoke that I truly saw how strong the bird was.
"The other birds think she's weird, odd. They all make fun of her, I just know they do. She just takes it because she loves the other birds, and she hopes that by not fighting back, they'll maybe, just maybe, love her back. But…" I heard Luna struggle and choke on her words. "they still don't."
I finally hazarded a look in her direction and she was crying. I felt both of our hearts break in a simultaneous crunch that sent shivers down my spine. As I watched her silently cry, I could help but wonder if her tears added to her beauty as the summer sun hit her wet cheeks, or if they washed away my blindfold. All I could tell was that she now looked beautiful, almost angelically so. "Well," I said, putting an arm around her shoulders, not caring if it was too forward, "I think that bird is beautiful." And I knew, as her tears dried, that she wasn't just a plain blackbird, after all.