Chapter 2
Luna Lovegood blew a strand of scraggly dirty-blonde hair out of her face. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she stretched her hand out towards the baby dragon sitting on the ashes of what had been her father's rhubarb patch. The small creature hissed and bared its fangs, flapping one wing threateningly. The overhead moon cast a pale glow on her, making her shine like a goddess. She was always happy under the moon, or in its moonlight. Thank goodness it was summer vacation! At Hogwarts she could never go outside to stand under the moon's soft radiance. After all, Luna meant moon, and it was her element.
"It's okay, sweetie," she crooned, her hand inching closer to the horned creature's head. The dragon drew even farther back into the withered remains of her father's rhubarb, flapping its good wing. The other hung at its side in a pile of blood and tattered membrane. It looked broken.
"I am SO sorry, Mr. Lovegood." The short bald wizard standing behind her said, pushing his hat back farther on his head in exasperation. "Some bloody Muggle had him caged-thought he was a bloody lizard-and I was flying him to Mr. Charlie Weasley-the man's an absolute bally expert on these beasts-when the little bugger set fire to the basket I had him in, and that set fire to my broomstick, and we crashed, terribly sorry about your rhubarb, the little bugger sneezed."
Mr. Lovegood, a tall, graying wizard with a face deeply lined from stress and care smiled and knelt down beside his daughter. "That's perfectly okay, Mr. Drettley. Luna despises rhubarb, and I only let the plants grow because they'd set up such a dreadful fuss if I didn't, I think there were pixies or something living in there."
Luna glanced at her dad, smiling. The dragon stared solemnly at the kneeling man as he stretched his arm out. With a snap of its sharp fangs, the dragon attacked his hand. Mr. Lovegood jumped backwards, as fast as he was, the dragon was faster.
"Are you injured, Mr. Lovegood?" the wizard asked, leaning forward concernedly.
"Mainly my pride. Seems I lost all my Quidditch reflexes, eh?"
"You should go to Saint Mungo's, dad. Dragon fangs are poisonous." Luna said, her eyes fixed on the baby dragon.
"Yes, Mr. Lovegood, I agree. I'll take you." The bald wizard reached down at pulled the kneeling man to his feet. With a loud crack, the two disappeared.
"I guess it's just you and me now, sweetie." Luna let her hand stay rigid in the air, a mere inch from the dragon's face. Curious, the creature sniffed her. She kept her hand still, and when the dragon came closer, she slowly and gently lowered her hand onto his scaled head. He didn't bite her, and twenty minutes later he was sitting on her lap, letting her run her fingers over his horned head. His wing was washed and bandaged, and he was contentedly chewing on a piece of meat. He burped, and a small flame shot out of his mouth. He laid his head on his claws, and closed his eyes. Luna leaned against the fence, stretching out in the moonlight. The dragon began to snore, emitting a small flame with every breath. He was warm, and she was sleepy. With dragonflame glowing faintly in her backyard, she fell asleep.
The dragonflame guarded her, a watchful soldier.
The moon watched her, bathing her in its protective light.
Luna Lovegood blew a strand of scraggly dirty-blonde hair out of her face. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she stretched her hand out towards the baby dragon sitting on the ashes of what had been her father's rhubarb patch. The small creature hissed and bared its fangs, flapping one wing threateningly. The overhead moon cast a pale glow on her, making her shine like a goddess. She was always happy under the moon, or in its moonlight. Thank goodness it was summer vacation! At Hogwarts she could never go outside to stand under the moon's soft radiance. After all, Luna meant moon, and it was her element.
"It's okay, sweetie," she crooned, her hand inching closer to the horned creature's head. The dragon drew even farther back into the withered remains of her father's rhubarb, flapping its good wing. The other hung at its side in a pile of blood and tattered membrane. It looked broken.
"I am SO sorry, Mr. Lovegood." The short bald wizard standing behind her said, pushing his hat back farther on his head in exasperation. "Some bloody Muggle had him caged-thought he was a bloody lizard-and I was flying him to Mr. Charlie Weasley-the man's an absolute bally expert on these beasts-when the little bugger set fire to the basket I had him in, and that set fire to my broomstick, and we crashed, terribly sorry about your rhubarb, the little bugger sneezed."
Mr. Lovegood, a tall, graying wizard with a face deeply lined from stress and care smiled and knelt down beside his daughter. "That's perfectly okay, Mr. Drettley. Luna despises rhubarb, and I only let the plants grow because they'd set up such a dreadful fuss if I didn't, I think there were pixies or something living in there."
Luna glanced at her dad, smiling. The dragon stared solemnly at the kneeling man as he stretched his arm out. With a snap of its sharp fangs, the dragon attacked his hand. Mr. Lovegood jumped backwards, as fast as he was, the dragon was faster.
"Are you injured, Mr. Lovegood?" the wizard asked, leaning forward concernedly.
"Mainly my pride. Seems I lost all my Quidditch reflexes, eh?"
"You should go to Saint Mungo's, dad. Dragon fangs are poisonous." Luna said, her eyes fixed on the baby dragon.
"Yes, Mr. Lovegood, I agree. I'll take you." The bald wizard reached down at pulled the kneeling man to his feet. With a loud crack, the two disappeared.
"I guess it's just you and me now, sweetie." Luna let her hand stay rigid in the air, a mere inch from the dragon's face. Curious, the creature sniffed her. She kept her hand still, and when the dragon came closer, she slowly and gently lowered her hand onto his scaled head. He didn't bite her, and twenty minutes later he was sitting on her lap, letting her run her fingers over his horned head. His wing was washed and bandaged, and he was contentedly chewing on a piece of meat. He burped, and a small flame shot out of his mouth. He laid his head on his claws, and closed his eyes. Luna leaned against the fence, stretching out in the moonlight. The dragon began to snore, emitting a small flame with every breath. He was warm, and she was sleepy. With dragonflame glowing faintly in her backyard, she fell asleep.
The dragonflame guarded her, a watchful soldier.
The moon watched her, bathing her in its protective light.
