Word count: 1, 513
Challenge response. Requirements:

Luna and Neville conversation or shippy scene
A house-elf with a bad temper
A trip to St.Mungo's
Less than 2500 words

A Different Side of Loony

Neville stood by his mother's bed, clutching a glittery blue-green candy wrapper in his sweaty palm. He watched his mother's sleeping form for a moment, before sighing and sinking into a hard wooden chair. Flattening the candy wrapper carefully against his robes, Neville swallowed, then slipped the wrapper into his pocket. He stood up again, preparing to talk to his father, when the door suddenly opened with a bang.

Neville looked down quickly. 'It's Gran,' he thought to himself. 'She wants me to talk to them again.' He could hear her loud, forceful voice in his dreams, declaring how his parents had been driven insane, and how Neville should tell them he was proud of them, as did she, every minute of every day.

"Groucher! Don't run off!"

Neville glanced upwards in surprise. A creature—no, a house-elf—scampered across the cool hospital floor, hissing and spitting in a most un-house-elf like way. Grumbling and cursing, he scowled as he ran, only to smash headlong into the lumpy Christmas tree. He screamed, a freakish sound in the room's silence, and Neville winced as several rainbow bobbles fell from the tree and onto Groucher's head.

Then, suddenly, there was a girl by the house-elf's side, crooning and whispering in what seemed to be…Latin? Shooting a nervous glance at his parents, Neville walked forwards, feeling more and more confused by the second. She was familiar, and just as Neville was about to tap her on the shoulder, she stood up abruptly and whirled around, holding the house-elf in her arms and murmuring softly.

"Oh!" Luna gasped.

"Ugh!" Groucher hissed.

Neville was at a loss for words. He stared at two pairs of eyes; the taller set was bright blue and belonged to Luna, while the lower set, even more enormous, was pale green and belonged to Groucher. Just as abruptly, the pale green orbs disappeared; Groucher had turned his head away from Neville, frowning and muttering.

"Hi!" Luna said brightly breaking the silence. She flapped a hand in his face. "Fancy meeting you here, Neville."

"Hi."

By now Neville had gathered his wits fully about him, and he looked at the floor, blushing slightly. He had no idea why she was here, and he guessed she would be wondering the same thing about himself. She would wonder what he was doing there, wouldn't she? It was inevitable; anyone would be curious. Neville braced himself when she opened her mouth, expecting her to ask, but it never came.

"I call him Groucher," Luna said conversationally, holding up the tiny creature and gazing out the window at the same time. "I found him just outside the hospital doors, apparently looking for dust bunnies." Catching Groucher's glare, she continued to Neville, "And go ahead and ignore him. He tends to be rather bad-tempered." Her words drifted off dreamily, and before Neville could react, she started wandering around the room, drawing near the beds. She stopped in front of Frank Longbottom's. She watched him for a moment.

"He looks rather like you," she said cheerily.

"Um, actually—" Neville began. Luna dropped Groucher lightly to the ground, then, without hesitation, slowly drew Frank's blanket, which had fallen to the ground, gently over his torso. She looked down at his face for a moment more, the mystical smile never leaving her face, before picking the house-elf up again and cradling him softly in her arms. Wandering over to the window, she stared out at the falling snow, humming something unintelligible under her breath.

Neville froze, momentarily stunned, then walked over to join her, distantly wondering why she was here. It didn't seem as though she was here to visit anyone, for that manner, but then again, Luna was always distracted, so perhaps he was wrong. Loony Luna, everyone called her, and Neville suddenly noted the irony that she should be in this ward, of all places.

He drew a bit closer. One hand shifted restlessly in his pocket, feeling the sticky wrapper under his thumb. He wanted to tell her to go away, but what could he say? "Sorry, Luna, but I really want you to leave, right now." After all that had happened last year, and with the Death Eaters—she wasn't just a stranger anymore, she was a friend. He couldn't tell her to leave; she wouldn't understand. After all, it didn't really make sense. And he knew it.

"My father doesn't think that they're gone forever," Luna murmured suddenly, trailing one hand on the cold window.

"Does he…work here?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Neville smacked himself inwardly. Luna's father was the editor of the Quibbler…he knew that.

"No…" she replied distantly, dropping Groucher to the floor again. "He's the editor of the Quibbler."

"Right, I knew that, I just—forgot."

"Hmm."

"So, um," Neville swallowed. Should he ask? He knew he hated it when others asked him. "What—what are you doing here?"

"Hmm?" Luna turned to face Neville. She looked faintly puzzled, and her pale brows were gathered in gentle frown.

"I said—"

"—Oh, just visiting." She turned back to the window again.

"Oh." What was he supposed to say to that? She had answered, vague though it was, and it wasn't right to pry. Gran had instilled such rules into him from an early age. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, Neville walked over to the Christmas tree, picking up the bobbles that Groucher had shaken loose.

He started stringing a giggling red-orange bobble back onto the tree, when something hard slammed into the back of his knees, making him collapse—and knock over the entire tree.

"My job!" Groucher was hissing, tiny claws digging into the back of Neville's thighs. "I FIX; YOU GO AWAY!"

"Uh…"

"Shoo, shoo! I can do myself! No need help from Humans."

"But—" Neville was at a loss for words. He had never met such a disrespectful house-elf in his entire life. He stood up quickly, brushing his robes. "Wha—"

"GO!"

Frowning back at the tiny, underweight creature, Neville shook his head, then walked back to the window, where Luna was still gazing blankly out at the world. The snowfall had lessened, and only a few sparse flakes drifted from the white sky.

"Sometimes I just visit," Luna said, as Neville leaned his elbows on the sill beside her. "Just to visit those that are sick."

He looked up, shocked.

"It helps me remember just how lucky I am. Sometimes Father comes with me. He says it's good to know that."

"That's…" Neville trailed off. He didn't know what to say. And to think that he, too, had once thought Luna was silly.

"But he also says that Meek Lions will come out of hiding someday. Father and I know they exist. It doesn't matter that a lot of people think we're crazy. They just haven't seen the evidence."

Neville blinked. He spoke too soon. He placed his hand back in his pocket, fingering the colored wrapper again, when a fierce voice made him jump and look up.

"Neville!" Gran stomped inside, hands placed firmly on her hips. Her presence filled up the room like air in a taut balloon. "What are you doing? You're just standing there." She caught sight of Luna. "Is that another one of your friends, Neville? Have they come to visit your parents?"

Neville cowered. It was coming. "Well, I—"

"Neville's very proud of his parents," she interrupted, looking intensely at Luna. Gran waved a careless hand over their beds. "He knows that they have suffered for a good cause."

Luna blinked several times, as if she'd been shaken from a dream, then smiled softly at his grandmother before looking out the window again. "Yes…" she said distantly.

"You do know what they've done, don't you? Neville's told you."

"Hmm." Luna appeared to be daydreaming again. Looking up suddenly with a huge gaze, she said,

"I have to be going now, Neville."

"Oh, right." Neville said. Gran was watching the two of them like a hawk, glaring at Neville almost accusingly. "I s'pose I'll see you then."

"Oh, yes, probably," Luna nodded. Groucher was in her arms again, chewing fervently on a lock of her blond hair. He sent a growl at Neville, who winced.

"Till then." Neville said, sounding rather depressed. Though talking with Luna wasn't exactly the most exciting or entertaining of experiences, he didn't want to be left alone with his grandmother and her overpowering personality. Neville started to walk with Luna to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gran approach his mother, who seemed to have just woken up. Arriving at the open door, he stopped, feeling Luna stop as well.

"It's mistletoe," Luna remarked suddenly, looking up at the doorway. "We're standing under mistletoe." She paused. "Dad and mum always used to kiss under mistletoe." She looked at Neville, blue eyes gleaming. "It's one of my earliest memories, you know."

"Erm…" Neville backed away very suddenly. She didn't think he was going to—did she?

Luna leaned in.