A/N: Sorry for the upload-spam. You guys still love me, right?

This is dedicated to dayflow, for no other reason than she is one of my most loyal readers and always makes me smile. Thank you, dayflow. (And I am sorry for assuming your gender. Here's hoping I'm right, eh?)

Pairing: Luna/Pansy

Prompt: 8. Rain

The music is loud but soft, notes from the piano echoing around Pansy's head and ringing in her ears. Perhaps she has had too much to drink.

She sees her across the room. If she's honest, Pansy's been watching her all night. The woman with the honey blonde hair that falls in delicate waves and that long (tight) dress in deep, deep green, the one who's been sitting on a barstool and swaying to the music all night. Alone, Pansy has noticed.

Now is her chance.

She walks up to the woman-on-the-barstool and leans casually against the bar, drink in hand.

"You're very beautiful, you know," she whispers, a gentle lilt in her voice that has nothing to do with the years she's spent in Scotland and everything to do with how very ethereal this woman looks, skin so pale against the dark velvet of her dress.

"Thank you, Pansy," says the woman, with a sweet smile that brings back half-forgotten memories of long, empty corridors and a high tower that Pansy's never reached.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asks, "How do you know my name?"

"Pansy, it hasn't been that long since we last saw each other," she replies with a tinkling laugh, "You should know me."

And then she meets her eyes and Pansy jumps back, her hand flying to her throat, and almost shouts, "Lovegood?"

"Good. I was starting to worry about your memory," she grins, "You look pretty, too, by the way."

"Th- Thank you," Pansy manages, but it's an old habit, the words just falling from her lips before she can even think.

Lovegood? Loony Lovegood?

"You," she tries, but fails to form a coherent sentence.

"Me? Why am I here, you mean?" and that is exactly what Pansy means. How did Loony get that? Dear Merlin, she can read minds. Which means she knows exactly all the ways that Pansy has imagined her lithe form bent in that tight dress, all the different colours that she would bring out on that pale skin, all the kisses she would rain down on Lovegood's long neck...

And maybe it's just the alcohol talking, but Lovegood or no, Pansy wants all these things and more. So she stays. And she stares. And she smiles.

"You're staring."

"You're beautiful."

"You've said that."

"I have, haven't I?" Pansy says with a grin, "Why don't we go for a walk?"

The night is cold and the clouds are dark, but it smells like Halloween and the streetlamps are brighter than any sun could be.

The rain hits her skin painfully, each droplet cold and sharp. She turns to see Luna covering herself with her hands and Pansy, being slightly tipsy, decides that she's not going to let the rain ruin her night.

She grabs Luna by the hand and pulls her right out into the middle of the road.

Pansy takes Luna in her arms, the alcohol in her veins making her brave and reckless and perhaps a little overly romantic. She twirls Luna beneath the stars, watching as she smiles at the sky and lets the raindrops paint her face with the watery reflection of the streetlamps.

"You're beautiful."

"So you keep telling me," Luna breathes, "But you still haven't kissed me."

So Pansy does, and they forget all about the rain in favour of midnight kisses and keeping each other warm with body heat and promises of tonight, just tonight.