Disclaimer: Knowing this world that we live in; I probably don't even own my computer, much less the Nargles.
A/N: Fluff! Here's a fluffy fic, which is probably more than a little bit queer, and made me go… "…how very unlike me, Ms. Dark, angst, crude humour, cliché ingester…" when I finished it.
So yeah. I adore Neville/Luna… because honestly, is there a cuter ship out there? Of course not! I mean, 1) Luna is the awesomest, bestest, coolest character that I can only ever hope to amount to, and 2) Neville is adorable. Admit it! You love him!
And wow, you don't realize just how hard it is to write Luna, the unsuspecting eccentric, until you try it for yourself. Props to JK for making it work.
So, um, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, flames will be sent to Africa where they'll cook dinner for underfed children, and… compliments don't hurt, do they?
Hey, while you're at it, you might as well check out my other fics too.
Sounds like a plan, eh?
Nargle-itus
Luna Lovegood was part of a dying breed of people who still used the astronomy tower for, well, astronomy. Of course, now she knew that when the entrance to the tower had been clumsily locked, its inhabitants usually weren't terribly welcoming to whoever had alohomora'd it open to finish a star chart. They were rather rude, actually.
She sighed, and tucked her slightly oversized quill behind her ear, where it drooped dejectedly.
Harry had once told her that indeed, it was love that would destroy Voldemort.
She had found this very strange, of course, since everybody knew it was the Nargles who would ultimately destroy him, under the guise of innocent mistletoe plants. Why else would the Ministry encourage such festive traditions every Christmas? It wasn't as if anybody really enjoyed them.
Later, when she thought about it, she discovered that maybe it did make sense, after all.
That was when she'd realized the noble intentions masked by the clumsy snogging she'd witnessed many an occasion when she'd been trying to do some star gazing. Why, they were just infected with Nargle-itus.
Still, it was rather a pity, she decided, that such measures had to be taken to insure the safety of the astronomy tower from Voldemort's presence. Especially when she was sure there must be plenty of other ways to ward off evil, without Dumbledore having to infect his students with these strange diseases.
Tonight, the tower had been freshly purged of He-who-must-not-be-named-ness – she'd just shooed away a pair 4th years who hadn't seemed to appreciate her interruption. Silly… didn't they know how she'd done them a favour? Any longer, and the Nargles would surely have gotten them for good.
She finished tonight's Astronomy homework early, and had just begun to collect her books when she heard the gentle creak of the door opening. She swiveled around, disoriented, and saw Neville Longbottom standing in doorway, slightly more flustered than usual.
"Hi Luna," he greeted nervously, door ajar behind him.
"You let the love out," she informed him matter-of-factly.
It was unfortunate that he had to find out this way… but he had know. Sometimes, you just had to be blunt about these sensitive subjects.
He didn't seem to take this extremely well… and went into choking fit; just managing to choke out a bewildered "Pardon?" in between coughs.
She noticed that his cheeks were especially flushed today - no doubt in mortification at the atrocity of his actions.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, though," she comforted him.
She blew a strand of hair from her eyes, and proceeded to patiently explain the situation to him.
...Poor, silly boy… he had such a penchant for overlooking the obvious. It wasn't as if this were a particularly difficult concept to understand, not like Valentine's Day. She'd never understood that - the world was so naively unaware of pressing issues these days, like the dangers of students sending each other little boxes of chocolates.
Hadn't anyone heard of Death Eaters disguising themselves as edibles to gain access within students' minds? It had made the front page of The Quibbler. She knew that Dumbledore was desperately using this as a ploy to protect the school, but devoting an entire day to it, she thought, was just going too far.
She gazed up at him expectantly.
"… and if we don't act quickly, he and his followers will turn themselves into miniature Nitzwigglers, and fly up into the tower, where they'll be able to carry out the Arabian ritual Voldemort learned when he was in hiding."
"W-what do you suppose we do about it then?" he asked her in confusion.
She tilted her head to the side dreamily.
"I suppose we'd better scare him away again (Daddy says love is a scary thing. I've wouldn't know, I've never been in love, although it does sound quite interesting)… but we'd have to be infected with Nargle-itus first and I'm not quite sure how to do that…"
Wrinkling her brow, she paused.
"We could probably ask Dumbledore, though."
He stared at her in incomprehension.
"Anyways, I came here to look for my charms spell book… I don't suppose you've seen it…?"
Vaguely, she remembered nudging a large book over the edge of the tower – she'd suspected it'd been cursed – but decided that he couldn't possibly be talking about that one. He didn't strike her as one to curse his school-books.
"No," she replied, tilting her head to the left and observing him. She noticed that his tie was slightly crooked today. Why hadn't she noticed that before? She'd better warn him about staying away from outhouses when he was alone. His uniform was slightly rumpled as usual, and his hair was a rather pretty shade brown in the moonlight…
…Which was rather odd, because only the other night, she remembered comparing it to her leftover chocolate pudding at suppertime.
She shivered. It was beginning to get chilly. They'd have to watch out if the Gumble-shoots were out.
Neither of them moved.
After a few moments, she looked up at him again.
"Are we listening for the Buzzing Wuzzlers?" she whispered loudly.
"…I thought I felt one sting my ear a while ago…"
He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to decide against it.
She cupped her ears with her hands to listen for the Wuzzlers better, and –
"Youhaveprettyeyes." He blurted out suddenly, and immediately clamped his hand over his mouth, shocked at his own boldness.
"…S-sorry… I-I dunno what…"
She was about to inform him that indeed, he was showing definite signs of Wrackspurt-itus, which was often mistaken for the blabbering curse…, when something stopped her.
Because Wrackspurts always traveled in packs alongside the Nargles and…
"The Nargles!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Of course!"
He frowned at her. It wasn't that she was being especially strange… it was just that he found it particularly hard to make out her thoughts today.
"Pardon?"
"We must have been infected with Nargle-itus, of course. And there's only one cure that we know of…"
She beamed at him, clued out and confused as he was.
Nothing happened.
She beamed harder. If possible.
Still, nothing happened.
Then she realized that she might have to take matters into her own hands. It was the only way. And it was for the greater good, anyways.
It wasn't that Neville was dumb… just a little bit slow on the uptake sometimes, she mused.
She leaned up, preparing to peck him on the lips, but was met by him half-way there. And her surprise (she hadn't known that very many people were familiar with the cure for Nargle-itus) was the only reason that the kiss (the only cure, of course) lasted a little bit longer than she'd intended. By about 5 minutes.
And it was clumsy; even more so than the ones she'd seen (walked in on).
But her hair ended up just as rumpled as anyone else's (as rumpled as his uniform).
And she very nearly forgot to come up for a breath.
But eventually (and thankfully), they both remembered, and the chilly night air wasn't quite so chilly anymore.
And she smiled dreamily, but only because they were cured, and they were all safe from Him once again. Which was a nice feeling, really. That was what was so great about safety wards.
She frowned as she peered down at his arms, still tightly encircling her waist.
"It's probably safe to let go now… you never know when the Nargles might decide to come back…"
She glanced up and saw him looking at her with a perplexed expression upon his face, rather like a deer caught in headlights.
"Nargles aren't a force to be reckoned with you know," she began.
He didn't make a move to let go.
Perplexed, she wrinkled her nose and thought hard. Really hard.
"But then again, they sometimes are intimidated by groups, so sticking together might be a good – "
Her sentence was cut off by a large something colliding into her mouth, and when she crossed her eyes to get a better look, she realized that it was Neville's face. Well, his lips more like.
Well, she could live with that.
She closed her eyes and kissed him back, because it was the sensible thing to do, really. After all, it was a chilly night, and this was when the Heliopaths usually liked to search for lone, unsuspecting victims.