Disclaimer: As my polyjuice potion isn't finished, I am not yet technically J.K. Rowling
They're standing outside, the rain pouring into the sea, and Dean, he waits, wishing this calm could crash on forever. (Luna and him. In their own separate reality. Shell Cottage.)
She returns from over the hill, arms bundled with firewood.
"I could have got it," he starts.
"—No, that's alright!" She smiles, rain trickling down her face. "There were some nargles down on the rocks, you have to watch out for them."
"Right," he says, and she pauses. Is he mocking her?
Am I mocking her? He wonders, Dean doesn't know anymore. Luna is crazy: Loony Lovegood, with her radishes. And yet, he hasn't felt so sane in weeks.
Outside, the war is pressing on. Outside, it's dark and people are dying and bodies are rising and people are falling down dead.
Dean thinks that maybe the world needs a little bit more Luna in it.
"Do we have enough wood, then?" Is all he says.
She looks around stoutly, "I think so. Beech wood is good for fires, did you know?"
"Yeah, I think so," he says. Dean has never heard such a thing.
"It has to do with the fire leeches, Daddy says," she continues. "There is an invisible layer of mucus on the wood, jugglywamp syrup, I think. You can't see it, but the leeches like it. When it gets wet, the water melts off, so the wood doesn't catch the same way."
"That makes sense," Dean says, picking up his own pile of wood. And he walks on, pretending with her, until he's not sure he's pretending anymore.
Thanks for reading! I designed this as a one shot, but I might add a few more chapters. I write mostly canon, but I have a recent obsession with this pairing.
If you'd like to see them kiss, or else see this story continued, please leave suggestions. Any review would absolutely make my day, as I didn't get any on my last story, and I kind of gave up.
Thanks again!
-Vi