Title: Summer in Paris
Rating: PG
Notes: Ginny/Luna. This means girl/girl love and kisses. You have been warned. Written for Losselen in the Ginny Ficathon.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Ginny,
Dad got a whole bunch of money from that last issue of the Quibbler, and he's decided to spend it on a trip to Paris. Want to come along? We're going to leave the day after tomorrow, and stay for a couple weeks. You can come by at noon and we'll Floo to Dover. Dad wants to ride the ferry across. I know you don't like being around your family the whole summer, even if Hermione Granger and Harry Potter do come to visit. It sounds pretty dull.
Luna Lovegood
PS: Is it really dull?
PPS: Do you like art?
-
Ginny smiles at Luna's familiar voice. She reads the letter once again, noting that there is no mention of working on the Quibbler. Maybe they're taking a vacation from the paranormal at last. She looks up to ask Mum if she can go.
"How long will it be?" Molly Weasley is in the kitchen nearby, supervising the dishes and scrubbing counters. There's nobody else at the table, Ginny being the slowest eater of everyone in the Weasley household.
"Two weeks."
"Gin, are you sure…?"
"Yes, Mum. I'm fifteen. We won't be alone. You know Mr. Lovegood, too. It's not like I'm going with complete strangers."
"I know, I know. A mother can be concerned for her only daughter." She's still looking a bit worried, though. Ginny gets up and wraps her arms around her mother.
"Love you."
"Love you too."
"I'll miss you."
"I should hope so."
"I'll write."
They stand there a bit more, and Ginny feels Mum thinking it over.
"All right," she says, "you can go."
Ginny gives her mother a tight squeeze before releasing her, then jumps up and lets out a whoop of joy.
"Now go pack! Shoo!" Mum smiles warmly as Ginny clatters up the stairs.
-
"I hope you don't mind sharing a bed?" Luna gestures to the large hotel bed while Ginny looks around at the faded blue walls, the ceiling fan, the dresser in the corner.
Do I mind? Not at all! she wants to say, but instead what comes out is something smarter, more reserved.
"It'll be fine, it's queen-sized." She drops her bag on the floor heavily and bounces onto the bed. "Do you care what side you have?"
"No."
They can almost see the things left unspoken, hanging in the air.
-
They walk down Champs de Elysee in the bright morning sunlight. The Muggle clothing they wear is stifling in the humidity, even if it is only a tee-shirt and shorts. Ginny is wearing sunglasses but Luna squints into the sun, occasionally raising a hand to shade her eyes.
"Why is it so empty?" Ginny has expected the city to be teeming with people, so popular was the idea of Paris, France. As it is, there seems to be mostly tourists around, and only a few locals, including shop owners and such.
"They're all on vacation, down in the south. By the beaches. That's what the tour guide said." Luna points over at a group of very touristy-looking people. They're all gathered around an officious man with a flag in one hand and a black hat on his head. He looks rather uncomfortable in his uniform as he stands and speaks accented English at the tourists. It must be an awful job, Ginny thinks, spewing dates and facts at silly people on vacation.
But then, she is one of the silly people on vacation. Maybe Ginny is not that silly in all reality, but certainly seeming so, as the Parisians must have judged by her feeble grasp of the French language. Luna knows some of it, though. Certainly more than Ginny does.
-
The sky is dusky violet, the faintest hint of starlight beginning to peek through. It looked as though it would smell perfumed, Ginny thinks. Violet, or lavender; heavy with musk and sweetness. The air is warm enough from the day, still stifling and humid but for the vague breeze from the river nearby. The three of them, Ginny, Luna and her father, are sitting at an umbrella-covered table outside a restaurant, where the waiters speak mostly French and Luna's father does most of the ordering.
They talk about the Quibbler a bit. There haven't been any more rumours of Crumple Horned Snorkacks, the Lovegoods think it's because they've gotten better at hiding. Publication has been going quite well, and they're selling better than ever since Harry's article – he was quite the publicity boost, wasn't he? They're glad they could help him out. Mr. Lovegood will be off on his own for most of the time, he hopes the girls don't mind, but he's got some field research to do.
"He's looking for the Glamorous Féglisée. They live in old French cathedrals, you know. And they only think you're worth talking to if you speak in French to them; that's why Daddy's learned so much French." Luna smiles at her father, and Mr. Lovegood ("call me William" by now) pats her shoulder.
"Paris is lovely," Ginny says. "Thank you so very much for bringing me along."
"Ah, well, you can thank Luna for that. She's got wonderful taste in vacation spots, much better than mine."
"Dad didn't really care where we went. It was just going somewhere that he wanted. A vacation, new atmosphere, that sort of thing. I got to choose where," Luna says.
-
They go to the Louvre the next day.
Luna is practically dancing around the hallway, humming with energy as she walks excitedly up to statues, peering closely at them, and skittering away to discover another. Ginny has a hard time keeping up with her, especially when tour guides with their bright fans and bustling groups come through.
"We have all day to look at these, Luna. You can slow down." Luna looks at her friend and calms down obediently, staying beside Ginny and looking at the statues at a more subdued pace.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Ginny says when they see the Venus de Milo. "I think she's supposed to be the the perfect woman, right? Venus was the Roman goddess of beauty."
"She doesn't have a head though." Luna looks sadly at the amputated woman. "Or arms, or hands."
Ginny thinks about this.
"If she had a head," Luna says as they leave the room, "Her hair would be like yours." She touches Ginny's vibrant red hair, playing a strand between two fingers.
Ginny blushes. "She'd have your face, though." Luna smiles shylybefore dashing off again to look at more statues.
Winged Victory doesn't have a head either, thinks Ginny later, but she has wings.
-
Luna is calmer when they reach the paintings. Ginny suspects it's because they seem less alive and ready to suddenly move than the statues. Especially because they're Muggle paintings, and not magical ones. Behind her is Ginny, reading aloud from an informational pamphlet she has picked up somewhere.
"'In 1190, King Philippe Auguste built a fortress under what is now the Louvre. It was torn down in 1528 by François Ier, and a luxurious palace was built in its place. Supervised by Pierre Lescot, work on it was continued by Henri II and Charles IX.'"
"Shh, Ginny, I want to look at the art."
Luna stands on tiptoe to see the details of a large, rich painting on the wall before them.
The redhead looks up at what her friend is so very interested in.
"Luna, we've seen this one before."
"Not all of it."
She's right. It's an incredibly detailed painting – The Gallery of Views of Ancient Rome, Giovanni Paolo Pannini, read the plaque – full of pictures of architecture and sculptures. There are people in it too, like they're in a museum themselves.
Later, Ginny snaps a quick photo of the Mona Lisa while the bossy security guard isn't looking. As they are hurried along, she wonders how it would turn out. How will she move? Winking, and smiling a bit more, probably. What if Leonardo Davinci had been a wizard, and painted a magical portrait? Would he have been able to capture any more mystery in Mona Lisa's reserved face?
-
They're sitting in the cathedral chairs, looking around at the nave and its luminous stained glass. Both are in awe, drinking in the sanctity and stillness surrounding them. Luna's father is somewhere nearby in the cathedral, looking in the rays of colored light, in the dark cobwebby corners, behind the tombs for hints of any Glamorous Féglisée. He's told them they can come and go as they please, neglecting to remind them to stay close. They know well enough without him telling them, of course.
"Look," Luna leans close and whispers solemnly in Ginny's ear, making her shiver imperceptibly. "The Virgin Mary. Doesn't she look like the perfect mother?"
Ginny sees the look on Luna's face and twines her hand in the other girl's. Luna squeezes, and they sit there for a moment longer.
When they exit the cathedral, the girls blink rapidly at the sudden bright sunlight. Ginny's only acknowledgement of Luna's over-bright eyes is to grasp her hand a little tighter.
"Come on," she says, pulling her friend along. "Let's get something to eat."
-
Ginny sits on a park bench in the scant shade, reaching down to rub her feet. They're sore from walking so long, and her shoes are a little on the small side. Seeing the other girl stop, Luna sits beside her and takes off one of Ginny's shoes for her.
"Aren't they a bit small?" she asks, a concerned look on her face. Ginny flushes a bit and shrugs like she doesn't know what Luna's talking about, concentrating on what she's doing with her own hands.
"Let me help." Gently Luna pushes Ginny's hands away and begins to massage the aching pads of her feet. Ginny wants to resist, to say, No, I'm fine, there' s no need, but oh that feels so good and she's so tired. She surrenders, after days and days of waiting on the edge, feeling that tension whenever Luna looked at her or touched her or anything.
Luna looks up to see Ginny's eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure, and she simply smiles.
-
The Eiffel tower flashes with millions of tiny, blinding lights that can be seen for miles. Their faces are illuminated, sitting on the grass before it, arms wrapped around one another.
"Would you ever do that sort of thing? I mean, right out in public?" Ginny gestures at all the romantic couples around them, who are kissing and touching, oblivious to anybody else.
"Maybe. Would you?" And for some reason, Ginny thinks as she looks at Luna, hears her voice, 'maybe' depends on what her answer is.
"Maybe." That's not an answer. You can do better than that. "Well, yes."
And Luna kisses her, threads her fingers through her hair, Ginny cups the back of Luna's head, runs her hand down Luna's back, and they lie on the green grass, oblivious to all.
-
They're lying in the hotel bed, trying to sleep but it's just too hot. They're in tank tops and shorts, curled around each other with the ceiling fan twirling away above them.
"Why Paris?" Ginny says, her lips brushing against Luna's collarbone.
"It's the city of love," she replies, smiling into Ginny's gleaming hair. "I thought you knew that."
And maybe Ginny had.