Written for the Pairing of the Week Drabble Competition with the pairing Padma/Luna. Word Count: 789.
The atmosphere of the Ravenclaw common room feels different on the first night of Padma's fifth year. In the previous term, evenings were spent at wizard's chess tables or hunched over a piece of parchment or poring over a book of Latin roots and attempting to create some sort of minor spell. The only sounds that can be heard are chess players instructing their bishops and seventh years murmuring invented incantations at teacups and often the faint noise of classical music, Muggle or magical, echoing through the room.
Tonight, as Padma and Lisa listen to the door knocker congratulating them on their wit and step through the entryway, something is wrong; something has changed. Rather than the usual background noise of "Rook to E3!" and "Convallium! Dammit, didn't work, what else can I try…", all that reaches Padma's ears is an incredibly muted Serenade for Strings.
The source of everyone's silence is soon evident, as everyone is silently staring in one direction, furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips on nearly every face. Even those that aren't showing their disapproval are tense and awkward-looking. Padma follows their gaze and understands the reason for Ravenclaw House's reproachfulness: a young girl who is waving her arms wildly as she stares out the window, humming a harmony that fits perfectly with the barely audible Elgar piece, oblivious to the stares of over a hundred people.
Padma, along with her house, does not understand this behavior at all; so Padma, perhaps in a way a little too headstrong and a little too unwise for a Ravenclaw, approaches the girl.
"Excuse me," Padma says, tapping the girl on the shoulder, and introduces herself.
"Oh hello," the girl says, smoothing her dark blonde hair with one hand and continuing her odd arm motions with the other. "I'm Luna Lovegood, it's rather nice to meet you. You aren't in my year, are you?"
"No, I'm fifth – what are you, third, fourth?"
"Oh, fourth, yes. No, I didn't think you were in my year. I would've noticed you before. You see, you're rather pretty," Luna says, her right arm still flailing.
"Thanks," Padma replies, slightly embarrased by Luna's awkwardly straightforward compliment, a flush creeping on her cheeks when she realizes her entire house is hearing this rather uncomfortable conversation. "So… what exactly are you doing, Luna?"
"Oh, I'm only protecting the castle. Without this, Ravenclaw Tower would be at risk for an infestation of umgubular slashkilters, you understand."
"…I see. And why tonight? Why not any other year?" Padma says, trying her best to humour the girl but hearing multiple sniggers of less mature students.
"Well, Daddy believes Cornelius Fudge set his slashkilter loose, and when alone, slashkilters breed very quickly. I wouldn't want us to have to evacuate."
"And the music? What about the music you're humming?"
"That's only the violas' part of Serenade for Strings. It's irrelevant to Daddy's protection system," Luna informs Padma, as if every sensible witch in Britain knows the violas' part to Serenade for Strings. "I have to leave; I'm very sorry. My dorm needs a bit of extra defense since Daddy rather angered Mr. Fudge's slashkilter several months ago. Perhaps I could help defend your dorm sometime?"
"Perhaps, Luna," Padma replies, part of her sincere, part of her only humoring the blonde girl as she waltzes away.
Once Luna is safely in her dorm and the sounds of a door slamming can be heard from upstairs, the guffaws become louder and louder and less and less tactful until Padma yells, "Shut up, all of you!"
"What? Why?" comes the chorus of Ravenclaws.
"Just do," Padma says, not exactly sure why; in fact, she's no idea why she isn't snickering about the eccentric girl herself. "It's not very friendly."
"We're not Hufflepuffs," says a sixth year boy.
"Should you be a Slytherin, or – " says his friend.
An argument erupts, all of a sudden. Ravenclaws are yelling at each other and insulting each other and reminding each other of that time when they got a Dreadful on their Transfiguration essay. Some are supportive of everyone's mocking of Luna, and some, Padma thinks, are realizing what they've done wrong and defending the girl. Rather scared of any conflict, Padma dives under the arm of a distressed third year and escapes to the girls' staircase.
She passes the fourth years' dorm and looks through the glass. Luna is there at her own window, waving her arms and probably humming the viola part of Serenade for Strings.
After hours being unable to sleep, Padma finally drifts off, dreaming of a bizarre girl with waist-length hair and an ethereal aura asking to be her girlfriend. When she wakes, she forgets about the dream – but not about Luna.