artificial light
What Luna had never told anyone before was that she was afraid of the dark. It was not that she was ashamed of this fact, for she knew that everyone had their fears, rational or not. The reason she kept her secret as such was that, in fact, she believed everyone viewed darkness in fear, just as she did. She had always thought it polite not to mention it in conversation because she did not wish to bore anyone with the redundancy of things they already knew. And, as no one else ever spoke of it, she decided that everyone shared her courtesy in regards to the matter.
What Luna had never realized was that no one else had a reason to be afraid. As she always slept with the lights switched on at home, and she never slept anywhere but in her own bed, there was no way for her to know that her sleeping habits were at all abnormal. At Hogwarts, after all, a charmed lantern had floated inside the hangings of her four poster bed, and none of her roommates had expressed any displeasure with it.
What Luna did not know was that the creatures which frightened her after the sun set were imaginary to everyone but her. She had never dreamed, in all her life, that she was the only person with a Flibbertigouch beneath her bed, waiting to grasp her ankles at the opportune moment. She could not even imagine that her home was the only abode that ever creaked at midnight when the Spatterpuffs settled into their nests after casting strange shadows onto her wall. And it was not possible at all, she knew, that her bathroom mirror was the only one haunted by the ghost of a Glass Whippleputt; she thought that everyone, late at night, had to back out of their bathrooms without blinking and then run into the nearest possible room, slamming the door forcefully.
What Luna did know, however, was that these creatures were very real. She had seen them with her own eyes, after all, which she trusted more than anyone else's. She also knew that many others had seen them before, as well; why, if this were not true, then where would her father find stories for the Quibbler?
It was for these reasons that, the first night Pansy Parkinson slept at Luna's flat, Luna was completely and utterly confused. Of course, she had already been confused terribly that afternoon when Pansy had turned up outside her door, looking as though there was a Fweale snapping at her heels.
Luna had not seen Pansy since Hogwarts, which was admittedly not very long ago; but it was still long enough. And they had hardly spoken to each other at all at school; Luna had very few memories of her, and as she had stood blinking in the doorway with surprise, she could only remember that once she had stared at Pansy for a full minute, thinking how pretty her nose was. After inviting her inside, and a bit of thought had ensued, Luna had also recalled feeling sorry for Pansy because of her Malfoudra infestation. (She had snickered quietly at this, as it had once been her own private joke; she had never liked Draco Malfoy very much.)
Quite unexpectedly—as this whole affair seemed to be fond of progressing in such a way—Pansy had demanded to be allowed to stay until morning, and Luna, still exceptionally befuddled, had agreed.
What Pansy had not told her was that she liked to sleep in the deepest, blackest darkness that Luna could ever have imagined.
That was why, when Pansy hoped to tuck herself into bed that evening, she found herself annoyed that all the lights in the flat were still on.
"Lovegood," Pansy growled, pulling a pillow to cover half her face. "I'm trying to sleep."
Luna poked her head into the newly-annexed room and smiled. "Oh. Goodnight, then," she said cheerfully. "Don't let the Swirlabugs bite." She said this with the utmost sincerity, as living on her own was lonely, and she quite enjoyed having someone around to talk to. She would hate to lose the Slytherin to a herd of Swirlabugs.
"Turn off the lights," Pansy whined.
Luna blinked at her. "Why would I do that?"
"Normal people sleep with the lights off."
Luna tried to be polite. "I'm sorry, Pansy, but I think you're mistaken. I always sleep with the lights on. It keeps the Flibbertigouches away."
Pansy snorted. "I like them off," she declared, and she crossed her arms.
Not wanting to upset her guest, the Ravenclaw reluctantly switched off the lights, one by one. As each dimmed into shadows, her eyes grew wider and wider until she stood, terrified, at the end of Pansy's bed. There was darkness everywhere, and she could feel it crawling along her skin like a Peruvian Nargwort. She found herself frozen, unable to move even a fraction of a centimeter.
After a moment, Pansy sighed. "Are you still there, Lovegood?" she asked in disbelief.
Luna could not answer.
"Lovegood!"
Luna managed a small squeak, after emitting which she clamped a hand over her mouth in horror. A squeak would summon the Tup Tups, who preyed upon distressed mice and fake radishes.
"Are you afraid of the dark?" Pansy inquired at length.
Luna gulped. "Aren't you?"
"No…"
What Pansy would never tell anyone, especially if she was asked or threatened, was that she was quickly warming to Luna's company. She was a refreshing reprieve after Pansy had escaped the naggings of her twittering mother, and she was at least entertaining to talk to, if nothing else. Pansy had no reason to wish her hostess ill-comfort.
Feeling thoughtful and uncommonly generous, she took her wand from beneath her pillow. "Lumos," she muttered, and then she waited carefully until a dust mote floated across the milky beam of light she had created.
At once, she smirked. "Lumosa," she purred.
Luna's eyes widened with wonderment now, instead of fear, as a glass-like globe emitting a golden glow erupted into Pansy's hands. It hummed slightly, bobbing up and down when she released it into the air.
"There," Pansy told her, smug. "That will keep the Flipper-whatevers away."
-
What Luna told Pansy the following morning, with excitement in her tone, was that she had had the most wonderful, restful, dream-filled sleep that could ever be experienced.
What Pansy told Luna, after much prompting and the bribe of another night in the flat, was that she had, too.