For K4writer02 (id: 382795)'s birthday.
(thanks to Quatre-Sama (id: 47665) for betaing. If you have a minute to spare, I highly recommend either author!)
Luna has never liked the idea of something being simply wrong. She knows she is lucky to have been brought up by a man who sees more than other people – a man who recognises that things hide, and sometimes require a second look, and sometimes can't be seen at all.
It is difficult, however, for her to see the reasoning behind Mrs Weasley sending Ginny to Romania to cool off, because all Romania is doing is making Ginny angrier and angrier.
It is especially difficult for her to think of Mrs Weasley as being wrong. For a moment, sometimes, when the older woman wraps her arms around Luna, Luna will shut her eyes and pretend that she is being hugged by her own mother, who has not hugged Luna for almost ten years.
She wonders if Harry does the same; Harry whose mother hardly got to hug him at all.
Harry is fortunate in other ways, though. He is, for example, fortunate enough to not have been sent with Ginny to Romania so she can 'cool down a bit'. Although, Ginny probably wouldn't have needed cooling down if Harry hadn't been on an Auror mission.
Luna adjusts the make-shift pillow of her travelling cloak and shoes, and turns onto her back. It isn't really very kind to be thinking of her friend like this. It is rather hard to turn her attention to anything else, unfortunately – even for Luna, who devoted essays entitled 'Describe the functions of the Substantive Charm' on the breeding patterns of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks – because the heat is unbearable.
"I'm going to find Charlie," Ginny snaps, leaping to her feet. "This is silly. It's torture, that's what it is. He's trying to torture me, just because I told Peggy Macmillan that he fancied her, and that was years ago."
Luna is surprised to find Ginny so reasonable, and a little surprised too that the placid-seeming Charlie would fabricate a story of needing the two girls to watch a hatching dragon in a stifling room, so he can take revenge on his little sister.
Ginny lets forth a series of expletives, sending Charlie's belongings flying every which way in the search for her wand. Luna leans back on her elbows, watching the destruction with mild curiosity, and considering for the first time the idea that maybe Mrs Weasley wanted a few days without her hot-headed daughter.
She checks herself again, knowing it is only the heat that is making her think like this.
It is only a few minutes afterwards that Ginny's brother returns, but Ginny has managed to make the room completely unrecognisable in that time.
"Bugger," Charlie says, running his hands through his hair. Luna notes that this is probably the only word that Ginny left out of her string of profanities, so they now have a full collection. "Ginevra, if you don't put my boots right back down this instant, so help me-"
Ginny seems to have exhausted herself, however, and flings herself back onto Charlie's bed with a huffing noise. "If you hadn't taken my wand, this wouldn't have been necessary, Charles."
"Act your age, Ginny," Charlie says scornfully. "I'm a dragon-tamer, not a baby-sitter."
Luna sits up, now that it is safe to do so without fear of being hit by a missile, and wipes the sweat from her face. Part of the reason Mrs Weasley suggested Romania was to give the girls some experience with the dragon reserve. Neither girl knows what they want to do with their lives, not really. Ginny is toying with the idea of professional Quidditch, but Luna is (perhaps not for the first time) clueless.
She has discovered that dragons are not for her. If this is how hot she has to be in order to be around a baby dragon, she's not sure she would like the temperature required for being near a fully-grown dragon.
"What breed did you say it was?"
Luna glances up, startled by the new voice.
"Longhorn," Charlie replies, closing the door and walking over to the fire. "Couldn't see any sign of the mother around, so I volunteered to help it through the early hatching stages. It'll hopefully be moved to the hatching rooms before it fully emerges, but a Vipertooth decided she'd rather eat her eggs than meet her babies, so those are occupied at the moment. Girls, this is Rolf Sc-"
"Nice to meet you," Rolf says, cutting over Charlie and extending his hand towards Luna. His smile is too wide, and Luna dislikes him immediately for interrupting a Weasley. She shakes his hand, but drops back down to the floor and rubs her palm along her foot afterwards, for fear of attracting mind-reading Humdingers. Daddy says they're particularly prominent in Romania and, whilst she's sure they're friendly, she doesn't want her mind being broadcast to this stranger.
Charlie gives Rolf a half-amused smile. "That's Luna, and little baby Ginny's on the bed there."
"You're so funny, Charlie," comes the muffled reply – Ginny has apparently stuffed a pillow over her face. Luna isn't too sure of the practicalities of such an action, given the already boiling room, but is sure Ginny has an extremely good reason for it.
Luna adjusts her headband (orange, to discourage Nargles from nesting in her hair) and fans her face with her hand, enjoying the very slight breeze it offers. "Ginny isn't normally like this," she informs Rolf helpfully. "She hasn't seen her boyfriend in about six months, and I think she misses him. Her mother sent us here, but it was really much colder at home... She doesn't usually wear pillows."
"Thank you, Luna," Charlie's pillow replies.
Ignoring the girls, Rolf moves to the fireplace and kneels, examining the egg. "How long have you been incubating it for?"
"Not long, an hour or so. Longhorns take their sweet time hatching."
"Snorkacks are the same," Luna adds, nodding.
"Snorkacks?" Rolf asks, twisting to look at her, his dark eyes narrowing as he takes in her appearance. Words bubble to her lips about how she knows profuse amounts of sweat attracts all manner of Dark creatures, but she bites down on her tongue, and pushes a hand through her damp hair. "Is that a breed of dragon?"
Luna shakes her head, eager to impart some of her own knowledge. "The Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are a rare creature, most often sighted in Swe-"
She is interrupted by Rolf's loud snort. "You sound just like that prat who runs the Quibbler."
Luna is quite taken aback. "No, I don't."
"You do. Snorkacks, indeed. He's always writing to my grandfather, trying to prove the existence of some nonsensical magical creature. Ridiculous man."
Luna swells up at this. "I don't sound like my father at all," she replies haughtily, thrusting her chin forward. "He is a man in his forties, and I am approaching twenty. I think you are the ridiculous one if you cannot tell our voices apart!"
The pillow lets out a yelp of laughter, and Ginny emerges, looking dishevelled. "Quite right, Luna," she intones solemnly, eyes twinkling, and Luna is glad to see her friend restored to her former good spirits. "Ridiculous, indeed. Now, what do you think about having a look around this dragon reserve, since the resident baby-sitter has returned to take over?"
She leads Luna out of the room before either Rolf or Charlie can respond.
Romania does, to Mrs Weasley's credit, leave a profound effect on Luna. She decides she wants nothing more than to prove the existence of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, so the next time she comes across a Rolf, he will be full of praises for her father as the one who knew it all along. The discordant voice of reason. It does not leave a profound effect on Ginny, but neither does Ginny feel the need to continue to wait around for Harry's return. She gets herself signed on as a reserve to the Holyhead Harpies.
Luna travels to Sweden.
It proves harder than she thinks to uncover a single Crumple-Horned Snorkack, though there is a rather nasty run-in with a Swedish Short-Snout. Thankfully, her time in the reserve has taught her that she does not enjoy being in close proximity to dragons, and she escapes (albeit narrowly, but it is best for both of them. She has ingested a good deal of Gurdyroot tea, and she isn't sure the dragon would like it had it accidentally bitten her).
Her current predicament is all down to mistaking a Hinkypunk for a Snorkack newborn, leaving her standing knee-high in mud. Fortunately, she was able to deal with the Hinkypunk as soon as she came to her senses, but she is hesitant to Apparate away lest she frighten any of the highly-sensitive magical creatures. She might disrupt their breeding patterns for another year, and then there would be even less of them around. She's left trying to make her way back in a non-magical fashion.
"Hey, there! Are you all right?"
Luna rolls her eyes. She needn't have bothered trying to tread so carefully; the Snorkacks are sure to have been scared off now. She neglects to respond, wading her way through the thick mud instead. One of her shoes falls off in the process, and she halts, feeling her way through to the bottom. They are her best shoes for repelling mind-reading, and she is reluctant to lose them. Daddy always tells her that sole-reading is a dangerous and commonly-practised skill, and he is surprised that Hogwarts still refuses to teach its students about its dangers, though Dumbledore once agreed to look into it.
The stranger is now striding towards her, apparently unheeded by the mud. "Can you walk?" he calls out.
Luna frowns, wedging the misplaced shoe back onto her foot. It squelches unpleasantly. "Of course I can walk," she answers calmly. "Did you come all the way out to ask me that? You could have asked me from the grass, or waited until I got back. I won't be long."
He stops, scowling at her. "I came out here to rescue you."
"That was very kind of you," says Luna airily. She finds it best to pretend not to notice bad moods. "I'm afraid I'm fine right now. Would you like me to let you know if I need to be rescued?"
He lets out a bark of laughter, returning to the bank. "I think I'll be okay without that, thanks."
Luna shrugs it off, slipping and sliding her way back to join him. She sits down on a tree stump, removing her shoes and wrinkling her nose as the mud starts to dry in the hot August sun. One glance at her companion tells her that he is no Muggle - she can see his wand poking out the back pocket of his jeans. Figuring that she can use her own wand now, because her intended rescuer has likely frightened off any sensitive creatures anyway, she magically cleans her shoes, deciding that her legs and skirt can wait until she returns to her hotel.
"What were you doing out there anyway?"
"Oh, I was looking for Snorkacks," Luna says, putting her shoes back on. "It's all right, I don't think you scared them off entirely. You should really try to be quieter, though."
He frowns at her, using his hand to shade his eyes from the sun. "Luna Lovegood?"
She blinks at him, a little frightened that he knows her name. "Yes?"
"You're Charlie Weasley's kid sister's friend, right?"
And then it dawns on her. Rolf.
She cannot help her shoulders tensing and her eyes narrowing – they seem to be acting of their own accord. "That's right. Lovely to see you again," she says, though the sincerity is clearly lacking in her voice. Luna is not a resentful person exactly, but being friends with Ginny appears to have taken its toll on her peaceful temperament.
"Found any Snorkacks yet?" He grins at her, and she supposes he is trying to make friends, but her mouth presses itself together and won't let her accept the offer. Eventually, the smile slides right off his face, and he shifts awkwardly. "I just arrived in Sweden myself. I'm not here for long, though, I'm heading over to Albania - eventually, anyway. Now that the Ministry know You-Know-Who's not around to have a vested interest in the country, they want me to assess this supposedly haunted forest."
She gives him a cold look, her eyebrows raising. "Harry thinks it's ridiculous to keep saying You-Know-Who," she informs him loftily. "It means he still has power. Harry says that what he wants is for the next generation to not know who, and we can help do that by treating Voldemort like any other person and calling him by his name."
Rolf looks incredulous, and he folds his arms across his chest. "I see. Now, is this the Quibbler's official word on the matter?"
"No," she replies, genuinely astonished. He could probably do with having his ears cleaned out; she's quite certain that she spoke clearly. Perhaps it isn't his fault, though; perhaps his brain has become infested with Wrackspurts. Most people don't take proper precautions against them. "It's Harry Potter's. The Boy-Who-Lived, though he doesn't much like that either. He's my friend," she adds, though Rolf hadn't enquired.
"I guess a lot of people want to call themselves the friend of the Chosen One," Rolf says, and there is a note of hostility in his tone that even Luna can't mistake.
She can ignore it, though, and chooses to. "Probably," she responds lightly, taking out her handkerchief and brushing down the dirt on her legs. It has dried somewhat, and flakes off reasonably easily. "I don't think Harry would like them to, though."
"Doesn't like much, then, our hero?"
Luna rubs her nose, eyebrows drawing together. She decides she definitely does notlike Rolf.
She leaves Sweden for France, determining that it must be the wrong season for Snorkacks and instead deciding she'd quite like to see more winged horses. A note to Hagrid gets her authorisation to the Beauxbatons stables, but Rolf is there already. He says he's tracking the growth of the herd, but Luna is beginning to suspect he's trying to hinder her Snorkack progress, and wonders if they are there after all.
He hinders her very well; she stays in France three months and cannot find any trace of a Snorkack. They must have returned to Sweden.
She does manage to compile extensive records on the Abraxans, which she sends off to the Ministry in the hope of softening up the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures so they will fund her next Snorkack expedition.
After that, she has no choice but to return home, but it means she is back for Christmas. Daddy is delighted. He is always very conscious of that one Christmas they spent apart, when she had been in the Malfoy Manor. He quite outdoes himself this year, and the Lovegood house simply seems to glow. Dirigible plums hang from gold-coloured string, streamers float from room to room, singing baubles bounce up and down on the tree, and bursts of confetti erupt at intervals from thin air.
On Christmas Eve, somebody knocks at the door, causing it to let out a rousing chorus of 'Deck the Halls'. Luna slips down to answer it, cutting the door off before it can suggest where the visitors can stick their holly.
"Sorry, that's the fourth time it's been asked to sing that today, and I think it's getting tired of it," she says, pulling open the door to find herself speaking to Rolf. "Oh."
"Merry Christmas, Luna," he says, his breath puffing out in the frigid winter air.
Much as she dislikes Rolf, she cannot leave him to the mercy of Nargles, who thrive in cold weather and delight in stealing breath. "Merry Christmas. Would you like to come in?"
He nods, and she stands back to let him past. "Luna, I-"
Daddy interrupts him, coming into the hallway to see who their visitor is. He is wearing his most recent incarnation of Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, and Luna is pleased to note they will finally have the chance to prove Rolf wrong. She excuses herself, offering to bring Gurdyroot tea, leaving Xenophilius to occupy Rolf. Luna smiles to herself, thinking that Daddy couldn't have picked a better topic to right Rolf's opinion of him. Daddy really is very well informed on the subject of Wrackspurts.
"… oh, yes, Christmas is a dangerous time of year. Wonderful, yes, wonderful indeed, because everybody is so much more open to new ideas, but very dangerous. It is especially important to watch out for Nargles around Christmas; they tend to favour hiding in mistletoe, but will not hesitate to disguise themselves in any of your decorations if given the chance! Ah, thank you, Luna, that's magnificent."
Rolf is rubbing his temples; a clear sign that he is trying to maximise his intake of knowledge. Luna feels a bit sorry for him, much as she dislikes him, since it is rather a lot to deal with, after all. "I'll be sure to stay alert, thanks, Mister Lovegood." He looks at Luna rather nervously; possibly he doesn't understand that they have undertaken measures to expel Nargles from their home. As she opens her mouth to explain, though, he speaks. "I was wondering if I could talk to Luna alone – if that's all right with you."
Xenophilius leaves agreeably, with the parting comment that he is happy to share their recipe for Gurdyroot tea.
"Luna. I – I work for the Department for the Regulation and Care of Magical Creatures, and…" He blows out his cheeks, looking down at his hands. "They were very impressed by your report, and would like to invite you along on my next excursion."
"Oh," she manages, flopping into one of their seats. "How long is it for?"
He shrugs, following her example and sitting down. A rogue streamer appears to have taken a fancy to him, and is winding itself around his legs, cat-like. "Not sure. The Albanian forest is a bit more of an undertaking than I first anticipated, and I need assistance."
She tilts her head, considering. She can feel the Dirigible Plums encouraging her to keep an open mind, and thinks what a good idea of Daddy's it was to hang them around the living room. Pretty and practical in one. "Okay."
"Okay as in you'll think about it, or okay as in you'd like to come?"
"Both," she says decisively, draining her teacup. "You haven't had any of your tea!"
Rolf gives the cup a guilty glance, and gulps it down – which is silly, because he won't really be able to taste it.
"Did you want to stay for dinner?"
His face lights up, but he shakes his head, setting the cup down. "No, thanks, Luna. I'd better be off. Granddad's expecting me back."
Rolf refuses to allow her to wander off on her own in Albania, and he makes so much noise that the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks all run away before Rolf and Luna can sneak up on them. Despite this, she finds she doesn't mind travelling with him, and then she finds that she isn't lonely any more. She realises that she has been a little bit lonely for quite a long time.
It is impossible to feel alone when she can lie on her back for hours, examining the changing sky through the network of leaves above, and all he does is pick leaves out of her hair and hand her a blanket when it starts to get cold. He listens when she talks of her theories, and most nights they sit together, scribbling their respective notes, and she feels at peace. He isn't the repressive force Luna had encountered on their first few meetings, and she is glad of it.
Later, Rolf tells her that he couldn't do without her, as they crouch down, examining a nest of Dugbogs. She smiles and quietly tells him how ridiculous he is.
It is April before they have completed a full evaluation of the 'haunted' Albanian forest, and they will need to return in a few months to reassess it in summer. For now, though, they are free to go back to Britain.
They hand in their reports to the Ministry, and Luna laughs and comments on how odd it is to be stepping on a ground that doesn't crunch underfoot. She claims she doesn't know how she'll be able to cope with four solid walls and a noiseless night.
Really, it will be strange to be without Rolf, but she isn't sure he wants to hear that. He has his hands shoved in his pockets, and he looks like he wants nothing more than to be by himself. It is a little like there are two Rolfs, and she somehow left the friendly one behind in Albania.
Luna falters, reaching up and taking her wand from behind her ear. "Goodbye, Rolf. You're welcome to – to visit, if you would like. I could make you Freshwater Plimpy soup. We're quite famous for it."
He half-smiles, but won't meet her eyes. "Yeah, maybe."
She wonders if she could threaten to set Harry Potter on him. It is something that worked quite well for Ginny in her seventh year, when anybody was unpleasant to her (and she wasn't able to employ her favourite hex). She doesn't think it would make Rolf any nicer, though, and nice is all she wants him to be.
She wants a proper goodbye, and so she envelopes him in a tight hug. He tenses, but then she feels his arms wrap around her.
"Are you cross with me for leaving?" Luna asks, tilting her head up. "It's all right if you are. Ginny is always cross at Harry for leaving."
Rolf shakes his head, untangling himself from her. "No, Luna, I'm not. I'm going to miss you, that's all."
"You have a strange way of showing it," she informs him. "Most people are nice to the people they miss."
This prompts a grin from him. "You're right," he replies. "I do apologise." He sweeps her back into the hug, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. "Goodbye, Luna-my-Luna. See you soon."
(Luna-my-Luna line thieved/adapted from L.M. Montgomery's Rilla of Ingleside)