This is a Remus/Luna cookie that does feature Luna as a 12 year old. The
feelings are not openly reciprocated so, I don't see the need to give it a
high rating.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Harry Potter characters. Don't sue me.
I hope you like it, and leave a review... please.
But it was his hands that brought him to her attention. He had worker's hands. He was someone who had suffered, yet someone who still wanted to pitch in with life's chores. She watched him in class write on the blackboard. His fingers were long, chalk dusted and knobbly, while the nails were short, and looked neatly bitten down.
A true indicator of whether someone was completely in the spirit of living – their hands. She recalled with disgust her old DADA professor, with his soft, feminine hands and perfectly manicured nails. Gilderoy Lockhart was a lazy tosser and could never teach her like HE did. Yes, even with his tired and well-worn face that was too old for him, and his hair with 'silver highlights', Luna Lovegood adored Remus Lupin.
He noticed her eyes in class first, staring at him, pupils dilated and fixed on him. Though pale and dull when out of class, they truly came to life in his class. He noticed the change when she was studying her favourite subject. She studied diligently, and he admired that she could completely knuckle down to his work. He always wondered if he did push his first and second year students too far. But those eyes! He sometimes wondered what it would be like to see them glazed, and rolled back in lust when someone (he) would kiss her neck.
These thoughts were totally inappropriate – he was her teacher, a figure of authority, responsibility, respect, though a werewolf, he was an upstanding citizen. He would not allow himself to be attracted to a child of twelve. He admired her that was all, he was not a paedophile, and he would tell himself again and again. Any feelings that she appeared to have for him – he would not reciprocate.
Remus was stressed. Sirius Black, traitor to his dear friend, James was on the loose from Azkaban. Young Harry needed protecting from this maniac – so would the other innocent students that got in his way – that didn't bear thinking about. The students needed protecting from him. He was a werewolf. Any stray students in the shrieking shack, and he was certain to do some serious injury. Young Luna was not a stress relief. He wouldn't make her that. It wouldn't honour what the child really was; she was so much more than that. He would never touch her. She would never know what he really thought about her, she would not be allowed to be repulsed by the thoughts of a dirty, not quite so old man.
But she travelled the corridors at night. She was mostly unseen and unheard by soft footsteps and dark clothes. She didn't know she had passed his rooms. She had loitered outside his office as a want for comfort and the need to base him somewhere. She heard thrashing legs against a blanket. Professor Lupin was obviously having a bad dream. He was murmuring something. Curious, she put her ear to the door:
"No.... No.... Can't do it.... Luna.... Student.... Won't touch her."
Luna brought her ear away from the door. She felt almost infested with guilt. She shouldn't have intruded, spied on him. He didn't want her to know. If he hadn't been keeping it a secret, he wouldn't have been as stressed to communicate in his sleep. She leaned against the door, lost in thought. He would never know she heard him. Despite herself, she smiled, turned on her heel and went back to bed.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Harry Potter characters. Don't sue me.
I hope you like it, and leave a review... please.
But it was his hands that brought him to her attention. He had worker's hands. He was someone who had suffered, yet someone who still wanted to pitch in with life's chores. She watched him in class write on the blackboard. His fingers were long, chalk dusted and knobbly, while the nails were short, and looked neatly bitten down.
A true indicator of whether someone was completely in the spirit of living – their hands. She recalled with disgust her old DADA professor, with his soft, feminine hands and perfectly manicured nails. Gilderoy Lockhart was a lazy tosser and could never teach her like HE did. Yes, even with his tired and well-worn face that was too old for him, and his hair with 'silver highlights', Luna Lovegood adored Remus Lupin.
He noticed her eyes in class first, staring at him, pupils dilated and fixed on him. Though pale and dull when out of class, they truly came to life in his class. He noticed the change when she was studying her favourite subject. She studied diligently, and he admired that she could completely knuckle down to his work. He always wondered if he did push his first and second year students too far. But those eyes! He sometimes wondered what it would be like to see them glazed, and rolled back in lust when someone (he) would kiss her neck.
These thoughts were totally inappropriate – he was her teacher, a figure of authority, responsibility, respect, though a werewolf, he was an upstanding citizen. He would not allow himself to be attracted to a child of twelve. He admired her that was all, he was not a paedophile, and he would tell himself again and again. Any feelings that she appeared to have for him – he would not reciprocate.
Remus was stressed. Sirius Black, traitor to his dear friend, James was on the loose from Azkaban. Young Harry needed protecting from this maniac – so would the other innocent students that got in his way – that didn't bear thinking about. The students needed protecting from him. He was a werewolf. Any stray students in the shrieking shack, and he was certain to do some serious injury. Young Luna was not a stress relief. He wouldn't make her that. It wouldn't honour what the child really was; she was so much more than that. He would never touch her. She would never know what he really thought about her, she would not be allowed to be repulsed by the thoughts of a dirty, not quite so old man.
But she travelled the corridors at night. She was mostly unseen and unheard by soft footsteps and dark clothes. She didn't know she had passed his rooms. She had loitered outside his office as a want for comfort and the need to base him somewhere. She heard thrashing legs against a blanket. Professor Lupin was obviously having a bad dream. He was murmuring something. Curious, she put her ear to the door:
"No.... No.... Can't do it.... Luna.... Student.... Won't touch her."
Luna brought her ear away from the door. She felt almost infested with guilt. She shouldn't have intruded, spied on him. He didn't want her to know. If he hadn't been keeping it a secret, he wouldn't have been as stressed to communicate in his sleep. She leaned against the door, lost in thought. He would never know she heard him. Despite herself, she smiled, turned on her heel and went back to bed.
