Disclaimer and Notes can be found in Chapter 1

Counting Stars and Passing Cars 08/14

Hermione/Luna

Inspiration: You Picked Me

She's up to her knees in green pond water with a net held over her head, ready to catch…I don't know what. If I ask, she'll be happy to tell me, just as she's always ready to discuss Nargles or warn brunettes not to overindulge in cherries lest they attract the attention of the Horned Goozler.

My Luna is a lover of the exotic and fantastical, without a doubt. Which begs the question, what does she love about me?

If I imagine myself as an entry in one of the magical zoology books she's always reading, it's not hard to imagine what it would say:

HERMIONE GRANGER – Native to Britain, the Granger is easily identified

by its bushy brown plumage, plain brown eyes, and sharp, nagging call.

Often found in and around libraries and bookshops.

Not terribly interesting, but she picked me and, more and more, I want to know why. Would she be happier with someone who shares her love for her father's creatures? Who is free to travel across the globe hunting for them instead of trapped at the Ministry all day long?

Her net strikes the shining surface, and cool drops of water pepper my legs. I shift the books and parchment I brought with me to a safer distance. "Any luck?" I can't help smiling; she's frowning at her net, looking like a tennis player who blames her racket for a missed shot.

"Not yet, but it's only a matter of time." As always, she's confident.

"What are you trying to catch," I finally ask.

She perks up. "The Albino Hemscrunch. They swim up bathing suits and force them to cling awkwardly to the wearer's derriere. Daddy did an editorial on them for the last issue, just in time for swim season."

"Ah." I try not to tell Luna her creatures are imaginary. I love her, so I guess part of me actually wants her to be right.

She replants her feet and resumes her stalking pose. She's so cute, in her bikini top and cut-off jeans. Dragonflies buzz around her head, and her hair glows in the summer sun. If I were a different sort of woman, a spontaneous woman like her, I'd get off our blanket and join her in the water. I'd thread my fingers through her belt loops and tug her close enough to kiss. I'd kiss her again and again—on her sweet mouth, her round cheeks, and her pale eyelids—while minnows nibbled at our toes and the sun warmed our shoulders. It's what she would do. But I'm Hermione Granger, so I admire her from the shore where I sit, all dry and tidy, working on a legal brief to present before the Wizengamot. If I feel like getting a little wild later, I brought my knitting and a new pattern.

Honestly, sometimes I even bore myself. How can I not bore her?

I set the brief aside and pull my knees up toward my chin. "Luna?"

"Yes?"

"Sometimes we seem so very different."

She lowers the net to rest on her shoulder and blows stray strands of dark blonde hair out of her eyes. "I suppose. You never sleepwalk, for example, and you continue to eat cheeses despite the Bovine Conspiracy."

I ignore that. "Well, out of everyone you could have loved, why did you pick me?" I bite my lip, suddenly too late the adage about not asking a question unless you're sure you want the answer.

"Hmm." She spins the wooden shaft between her palms, causing the net to spin behind her head and send tiny droplets everywhere. "Beyond the obvious, you mean?"

There was something 'obvious' about us? "I'm…I'm like an apple in an orchard or a single shell on a beach with a million others." She purses her lips and I squirm inside. I don't want to talk myself down—and she hates it when I do—but simple observation tells me Luna is a collector of rare butterflies and I'm a moth. I clear my throat. "Sometimes I just wonder if you ever want someone—" flashier, imaginative, more exciting—"more like you."

She waves her hand dismissively. "Sometimes I wonder what you'd look like as a blonde. We could find out with a glamour."

I roll my eyes. "That's not really what I mean."

She cocks her head to the side. "Do you think I'm strange, Hermione? Loony?"

"Loony?" It's been so long since I have thought of her as Loony Lovegood. "You're not loony! You're—" I cast around for an apt description. "You're uniquely you, Luna: open-minded, creative, loyal, and loving. You're always you, all the time and then some. It's a wonderful way to be."

She smiles. "Thank you. It's nice to be loved for who you are."

"Yes. I do..." I'm distracted by a butterfly landing on her head. "I mean, I do love you for being you."

"Well, I love you, Hermione Granger, for the brave, devoted, brilliant, and compassionate woman you are. You're a defender of house elves, a ruthless and determined litigator, and you make the best chocolate biscuits I've ever had. And you love me. How could I not pick you?"

I feel warm down to my toes, and it has nothing to do with the afternoon sun.

She tosses her net onto the bank and holds her hands out to me. "Now come dance with me."

"In the water?" But I'm already standing and toeing off my sandals. It's so easy, when she stands there with open arms waiting to hold me, to leave my inhibitions behind and be a little more carefree, just for a while.

"Of course in the water." She kicks water up into the air, her toes pointed like a ballerina. "Why not?"

The water is cool and the stones are smooth under my feet as I wade to her side. "There isn't any music."

Her hand, cool, soft, and damp, takes mine, and we're a perfect fit, palm to palm. "We make our own."

Like an apple on a tree
Hiding out behind the leaves
I was difficult to reach
But you picked me
Like a shell upon a beach
Just another pretty piece
I was difficult to see
But you picked me
Yeah, you picked me

You Picked Me
A Fine Frenzy