I had a hard time deciding whether or not I should've had Mycroft aware (even a slightly bit) of the wizarding world. He IS, after all (as someone pointed out), very very high up in the government. ...in the end, NOPE! Too bad, Mycroft!

Chapter three: ...meet Mycroft Holmes

A long, black car drove silently into a bare storage house, long abandoned, and a perfect place to unload the kidnapped. The door of the car clicked open as it came to a halt, depositing a young blond out. A sole figure stood to greet her, tapping his umbrella on the concrete ground, watching as the girl brushed herself off, and slowly got her bearings.

"Miss Luna Lov-" the man with the umbrella began. He was unexpectedly interrupted.

"Ohh, how marvellous!" Luna crooned, wide silver-blue eyes taking in the abandoned warehouse. "Is this where muggles meet up for tea? It's very spacious." The girl looked around eagerly.

Mycroft blinked, taken back, before gesturing to the wooden chair in front of him with his umbrella. "Please, have a seat," he ordered politely, regardless.

As her unblinking clear eyes turned towards him, the older man had to marvel at the utter sense of fearlessness she emitted. The only sign she gave for the situation she was in was the slight tensing of her right hand, as though she was ready to whip something out at him at any moment. Mycroft couldn't see any sign of a firearm on her, and he doubted a knife would even reach where he was. He applauded her vigilance, nevertheless.

With a pout-like pursed lip, the young blond complied with his order, slowly lowering herself down on the wooden chair. Mycroft cleared his throat, and began his greeting once more. "Miss Luna Lovegood, I presume? I'm glad you've complied to have this meeting with myself," he said, with what could've passed as an amicable smile, dabbed with the practice-perfected amount of intimidation.

Luna was undaunted. "Indeed, Marvin," she nodded. Her response echoed in the warehouse.

"Marvin?" he repeated.

The girl tilted her head to the side, long strands of dirty blond hair fell across her face. "No?" she wondered out loud. "I was sure you were a Marvin… what about Mark? You look like a Mark."

"You do not require a name from me," the man interrupted calmly, "I am no one of consequence."

"But it's only fair since you were able to guess my name so easily," Luna mused thoughtfully. "I must really look like a Luna. …Are you sure you're not a Mark?"

Mycroft let out a sigh. "If you must, Mark is a suitable name, Miss Lovegood," he said.

The blond grinned and clapped her hands happily. "I knew it!"

"Back to the matter at hand," Mycroft, dubbed Mark, continued. Luna nodded, focusing her large bugged eyes at the man.

"So we're going to talk about umbrellas?"

An elegant eyebrow arched at her words. "'at hand', Miss Lovegood, not 'in my hand'."

"Oh?" Luna hummed. Despite that, her eyes remained on his umbrella curiously. "Is that a normal umbrella, sir?" she wondered out loud.

"What else would it be, Miss Lovegood?" Mycroft asked, voice never leaking a hint of the exasperation he felt. This interrogation would take longer than he planned if the girl kept this up.

Luna Lovegood pursed her lips in thought, tapping her chin lightly. Her eyes lit up a second later. "Oh, are you Hagrid's brother? I think Harry mentioned that Hagrid had a younger brother!" The girl grinned to herself, oblivious to the look Mycroft was giving her. "Hagrid always carried around a pink umbrella. The resemblance of your black umbrella is uncanny."

"Is that so?" The elder Holmes shifted his umbrella to the crook of his arm. "But I'm afraid, Miss Lovegood, that the resemblance of umbrellas is not a reliable way of judging the relationship between people."

Luna nodded thoughtfully. "Oh? Then do you suppose Hagrid's brother would want an umbrella like Hagrid's? Just not broken, of course," the girl pondered out loud.

"Regardless," Mycroft interrupted, "we are not here to discuss umbrellas."

"We're not?"

"I hear, Miss Lovegood, that you have moved to 221c Baker Street?" Mycroft forged on.

"That's right," Luna confirmed with a nod. "Would you like to visit some time to have tea and talk about umbrellas there?" she asked.

With a brief pause, he continued. "I believe you've also met the other residences of 221 Baker Street."

"Oh, did you want to have tea with everyone, then?"

"And in particular, a Sherlock Holmes," he finished, carefully ignoring her words now.

"Well, it would be silly of me to know everyone of 221 except Sherlock," Luna commented.

"Yes, well, I do worry about Sherlock," Mycroft began, on track of his carefully planned speech once more. "I worry constantly. Sherlock seems to have a habit of attracting trouble, and the lively antics he gets to are quiet unsettling," he said seriously. "It is very distressing to watch." He shook his head softly, the perfect poster boy of a concerned man.

Luna hummed, pondering the words. The government official watched, studying her face and reaction. Perhaps Dr Watson might not be the only one to pass his test this year?

Luna scratched her chin thoughtfully. "You know, me too," the blond witch agreed. "I worry for him too." Mycroft raised a manicured eyebrow at the girl. "I can't help but fear he might be discovered to be a Swagglemoth by others. Who knows what would happen then!" Luna leaned in closer to the man standing tall in front of her, as if letting him in on a secret. "He is perfectly horrible at hiding it!"

Mycroft felt a throb by his temples. Dare he ask what a Swagglemoth was? "Is that so?"

Luna nodded fervently. "But no doubt you knew that too. Why else would you need to worry about another grown man as much as you do now?"

Her wide eyes looked so innocent, the Holmes couldn't even tell if she was just saying that, or implying something.

He pushed forwards to his next plans regardless. "Miss Lovegood," Mycroft began, "I happen to notice that you could use some help with affording a life in central London." He pretended to shuffle through some papers. "Ah, let's see; you merely have a single account opened in a small bank, and ah-" he pulled up a paper from his folder, "That is rather an insubstantial sum for someone hoping to live comfortably where you do now."

"Oh, Daddy set up a muggle account for me?" The girl seemed shocked she even had an account in the first place, Mycroft noticed. And why did she keep saying 'muggle'? As far as Mycroft was concerned, that was not even a word. Was it a new slang? He would have to ask his PA about it afterwards.

"Your father didn't even have one himself," the man noted.

Luna nodded, "Daddy didn't like how the bank didn't have any carts to ride in when we go get our money."

"I see." Honestly, that was a lie. He didn't see. But regardless, "I'd be happy to," Mycroft paused. How did he word this to Dr. Watson again? Ah, yes, "I'd be happy pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way into Baker Street." He focused on the girl's reaction.

"No thank you," Luna said serenely, "The exchange rates are terrible."

That was an unexpected answer. "Exchange rates? Are you planning on moving out of the country?" Mycroft asked.

"Of course not. I do occasionally travel around looking for creatures, but I stay in England most of the time."

The older Holmes pursed his lips. "Then allow me to reiterate: I'd be happy pay you a meaningful sum of money, in whatever currency you require, on a regular basis to ease your way into Baker Street."

The girl shook her head again. "No thank you. I rather don't like dealing with the goblins unless it is unavoidable, nowadays. I think that they're part of the Rotfang Conspiracy now, ever since the original members started doing their jobs properly."

Mycroft closed his eyes. He could name four completely irrational things in those two sentences. "And if you did not have to deal with … goblins?" he asked instead.

"Well, I wouldn't know how to store my galleons then."

The Holmes tried not to rub in temples in bewilderment. And now they were suddenly talking about sixteenth century European sailing ships? Did she want him to pay her in ships? In less than a second, the man came to a decision. He took out his phone and punched in some numbers before pocketing it again.

A black car drove in not a minute later.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Lovegood," he said, wearily, leaning heavily on his umbrella. "This meeting has been most… interesting."

"Very," Luna agreed cheerfully.

Mycroft quirked a quick smile in response. "In any case, I am afraid I must cut our chat short." The door to the car swung open, a hand from the inside welcomed the girl in. "My assistant will escort you home," he said gesturing for Luna to step into the car. "It was a pleasure to meet you." Mycroft watched as the blond skipped happily into the waiting car, shaking his head softly. "Please continue to worry about Sherlock," he called after her.

Luna turned sharply on her heel. "Only if you promise not to tell anyone he's secretly a Swagglemoth," Luna said firmly.

"As you wish."

And then the door slammed shut, car speeding away.

Mycroft sighed, umbrella tapping rhythmically in the echoing warehouse. His head hurt already. He wondered if he could cancel his meeting with embassy?

I answered a review to ImLostForever (good question, btw) with the following:

"Well, (in my opinion, at least), I don't think she's violating the Statue of Secrecy. Nothing she's saying gives away that she's a witch. Plus even the wizarding world doesn't believe in her imaginary creatures anyways.

Besides, Luna's a good witch; when she thought Sherlock was a bit close, she debated about contacting Oblivators... She changed her mind because surely the oh-so-logical Sherlock wouldn't even consider the possiblilty of witches. :)"

And now I think Luna's toeing the line even closer in this chapter by mentioning galleons. hehe. The goblins comment can be filed under imaginary creatures (by the muggle's pov) so that doesn't count :P