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edenfallingPaint the Town is now up in its entirety at FA, but you should keep reading this version instead. Because I've made a few minor edits between submitting the story to FA and posting it here, which I think generally improve the flow and emphasis of certain bits. And because I Say So. :-)
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Paint the Town, part 5
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Hermione stared blearily at Ginny, trying to figure out how she'd got from Crimson to her own bed, along with a complete change of clothes. While she was at it, she'd like to know why her furniture and walls were swaying, why the air felt thick, and why her breathing sounded so loud. Then she noticed the pile of bras in Ginny's arms.
"You undressed me!"
Ginny edged toward the door. "Er, yes. But don't worry about it! This is just a dream; go back to sleep."
"I'm not asleep. And you saw me naked!"
"Yeah, that happens when you undress someone," said Ginny, and then winced. "Sorry. Er, I didn't want your clothes to get rumpled? And you had your knickers on, anyhow," she added defensively.
Hermione shifted herself so she was leaning against her pillow, propped up by the headboard, and massaged her forehead. "I can't think. But I don't think that sounds like a good excuse." They weren't really her clothes, were they? Were they Ginny's? That would explain why she didn't want them rumpled. But if they were Ginny's, then they wouldn't have fit Hermione. She thought not, anyway.
Her brain wasn't working properly.
"Well..." Ginny began, obviously fumbling for some farfetched excuse.
"Nevermind," said Hermione. She could figure this out if she could just get her thoughts clear. Think, girl, think. She hadn't bought the clothes; they'd just been waiting on her bed...
Wait a minute, forget the clothes. "You saw me naked!"
"Look," snapped Ginny, "it's not my fault you went and got yourself drunk and came onto me. I don't see what you're so upset about anyhow -- you're the one who asked me to have sex with you! And that tends to involve seeing the other person naked."
Hermione blinked. "Sex?"
"Yes, sex! You blabbed at the top of your lungs that you've never had sex, and you were practically begging anybody within twenty feet to fix that."
Hermione gaped. "I never! I didn't. I couldn't have." Especially not to Ginny.
"Oh yes you did!" Then Ginny blanched. "Er, that is to say, no. You didn't. I must have been imagining things. In fact, you're imagining things now -- I'm not really here, this is all a dream, and you'll forget all about it in the morning." She dropped the bras and started backing toward the bedroom door.
"Oh no you don't!" Hermione lunged to her feet, lurched as the room wobbled around her, and managed to latch onto Ginny's arm. "I'm not that drunk. You stay here and explain yourself. Tell me exactly what happened at that nightclub." She paused. "We were at a nightclub, right?"
Ginny let her hand fall from the doorknob and sighed. "Yeah, we were at a nightclub. We met Harry, Luna, and Draco, found out that they're having some sort of ménage à trois, and you decided to get shitfaced. Do you remember that?"
Well, now she did. Hermione winced. "I remember hoping I wouldn't remember that. That's why I was drinking."
Ginny shot her an amused look. "I'm sorry to disillusion you, but alcohol isn't usually that helpful. Anyhow, you got drunk off your arse and started dancing like mad. Then you complained about Ron not having sex with you, said you wanted to know what sex was like, and..." She gulped. "And asked me to, well, do it with you."
Oh, shit.
"So I got Harry and Draco to help bring you back here," continued Ginny, oblivious to the ice running through Hermione's blood. "You fell asleep on the way. And that's basically it."
Hermione stared blankly forward, cudgeling her sodden brain into something that could pass for rational thought. She'd asked Ginny to have sex with her. Shit. She wasn't supposed to do that! She'd known Ginny would be horrified, known the other girl -- no, woman, sod it all, woman -- only had eyes for men. Hermione had been fine with an occasional lingering glance at Ginny's shoulder, or her breasts, or that maddening navel ring, or... Anyway, she'd sworn to never say anything!
She knew going to a nightclub would be trouble. Ginny had the right idea -- pretend this was all a massive hallucination.
"So... I asked you to have sex with me?" Hermione heard herself saying. No! Stop acting as though this is really happening!
"Yeah," said Ginny. "Er, you can, you know, let go of my arm. I'm not going to run away. Probably."
Hermione blinked. "Oh, sorry." She let go of Ginny's arm and tried to take a step back, only to find the room swaying, the air suddenly thinning and refusing to support her. "Ohhh, I drank too much... turn off the room!"
"What? Are you okay?" Ginny stepped forward and steadied Hermione, hands firm around her shoulders. Whatever was making the room swim didn't seem to be moving her.
Hermione leaned gratefully against her friend, soaking in the warmth from body contact. "I can't think right now. Don't let go."
Why was she saying things like that? She was trying to pretend this wasn't happening. Stupid alcohol, making her lose control of her mouth. Ginny obviously wanted to go away and pretend nothing was wrong. She shouldn't ask her to stay.
Then again, Ginny was holding her...
Sod it. Thinking could wait until morning. Right now, Hermione was going to enjoy cuddling against Ginny.
"I meant it, you know," she admitted. "Do you mind?"
Ginny squeaked, then cleared her throat and said, "Not really? Er, that is, I'm flattered? And totally confused. And we're not doing anything because you're still drunk, and you'd better agree with me about that or I'm leaving and I don't care if you fall over." By the end, Ginny's voice had settled firmly into the I-know-what's-best-for-you tone she'd picked up from her mother, the one that suggested both great affection and a great capacity to inflict pain if the person addressed didn't shape up and follow orders right now.
Hermione admired that tone. When she gave orders, she sounded screechy or hysterical, not calm and confident like Ginny, or like Harry when he wasn't busy doubting himself.
Wait, Ginny had told her to do something.
"Yes," she murmured into Ginny's neck. "Yes, of course."
"Oh. Well, that's good," said Ginny a bit awkwardly. She patted Hermione on the back. "Let's get you back to bed now -- I promise to stay until you fall asleep -- and we can talk about this in the morning when you're not drunk and I don't feel like you could knock me over with a feather."
"Mmm-hmm," agreed Hermione, letting Ginny maneuver her back toward the bed and closing her eyes to shut out the swaying furniture. The dresser had to be doing that on purpose to make her dizzy. Perhaps it was a hex. She'd have to look into that in the morning.
But not now.
Hermione let herself be tucked into bed, and she drifted off to the wonderful sensation of Ginny stroking her hair. She'd definitely feel embarrassed in the morning, she thought distantly, but right now she couldn't possibly care less.
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Luna's first conscious thought, upon awakening, was that there was something in her hair. She blinked, examining herself in the mirror on the opposite wall: the pink ribbons were a bit tangled, and she really preferred orange in her hair, but they were a sweet thought. Now, which of her boys...?
She blinked again, noticing Harry's matching ribbons and the one bow further down. Ah. She nudged Draco with her foot and shook his arm where it lay across her stomach.
"Thank you for the present, Draco," she said.
He snorted something that might have been an acknowledgement, and snuggled up to his pillow. Harry grunted and tightened his grip on Draco's other arm.
Luna sighed. It could be hard, being the only morning person in a relationship.
Since there didn't seem much chance of a repeat of last night, she supposed she might as well clean up and start fixing breakfast, including the strong tea and coffee the boys used to pry themselves awake after club nights. Checking on Hermione might not be a bad idea either -- Luna hadn't been paying much attention, but she didn't think the other girl was used to that much alcohol, and she had seemed overly upset about being a virgin. That was a silly thing to worry about, in Luna's opinion, but she'd never really understood Hermione. She rarely understood people with minds so tightly laced and blinkered.
It was a pity. Hermione was quite brilliant, and if she'd only been a bit more accepting, she could have been a great help to Luna's investigative reporters.
She sighed again and slipped out of bed. Her wand was still on the dresser, along with the paperclip jewelry Harry had tangled when he summoned his wand to hex Draco. Luna carefully detangled the flimsy pieces of metal, mind drifting as her fingers worked.
She'd always liked little contraptions like paperclips, corkscrews, rubber bands, pocket knives, and those retractable ballpoint pens Muggles had. They were fascinating to fiddle around with, and often much more practical than their magical equivalents. It amused her that wizards so often neglected basic technological advances while touting their superiority over Muggles. Closed minds made for some very silly social patterns.
Electricity was generally useless around zones of high magic -- Luna would grant magical supremacists that much -- but what was the harm in replacing parchment scrolls and quills with white paper, staplers, and pens with their own internal supply of ink? Besides, there were so many ways to decorate pens, whereas a feather quill was pretty much a feather quill, regardless of minor plumage variations. You couldn't make quills that had little trains drifting back and forth in a liquid capsule, or quills that had seasonal figurines on the ends. And you couldn't unscrew and rearrange the pieces of a quill while you were trying to think; all you could do was pluck out the little barbs that made up the feather, leaving yourself with a bare, ugly stem.
Ah. The paperclips were detached from each other and bent back into shape. Luna swiftly hooked them into a chain, wrapped it multiple times around her left wrist, and fastened the first clip to the last. There! Aesthetically pleasing, fast, a useful source of transfiguration materials, and cheap enough that she'd have no worries if someone took it, the way people often seemed to take her things. True, that happened less often since she'd left Hogwarts, but her staff seemed to have an odd obsession with hiding her things until she extended their deadlines.
Luna lifted her wand to her hair and charmed the pink ribbons orange. Then she tidied them until they were arranged in a sort of crown, ran a brush through her now-loose hair, and transfigured her abandoned clothing into a purple paisley bathrobe. That ought to be decent enough for wandering around her friends' flat on a late Saturday morning.
After tugging the sheet up over her boys -- you never could tell who might accidentally open doors, and she was the only one who got to see them naked and relaxed -- Luna ambled into the main room of the flat.
She knew her way around practically blindfolded -- she and Ginny had lived just above this flat for over a year, and had spent most of their time down here with their friends -- and as such she managed not to trip over any of the furniture. Luna wasn't fond of furniture. Sofas and end tables had a tendency to attack her when she wasn't paying attention, unless she'd used subduing charms on them. Fortunately, she'd long since charmed all the furniture in this flat. Hermione and Ron had given her peculiar looks, but Ginny had stared those two into submission before they could open their mouths.
Harry had simply shaken his head and sighed. Luna smiled now, remembering that. He had a mind as closed as Hermione's in some ways, but at least he didn't try to force his blinders over her thoughts; he just tried to explain why some people thought her actions were odd. And he was getting better about keeping his disbelief off his face. Perhaps that meant he was even getting rid of his disbelief.
There was always hope, after all.
Luna knocked softly on Hermione's door. When nobody answered, she peeked in. Then she jerked her head back, shut the door, and slapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter.
Hermione was lying curled up against Ginny, head tucked into Ginny's neck. Ginny's leg was thrown over Hermione's, and both girls had their arms tangled around each other. Granted, Ginny was fully dressed, and she was on top of the covers while Hermione was under them, but that wasn't at all what Luna had expected after Ginny's blatant discomfort at Hermione's drunken advances.
"That'll teach me not to expect surprises," she murmured to herself, smiling.
She headed for the kitchen, planning to make pancakes. Draco and Harry still needed breakfast, after all, and she didn't particularly want to be near Hermione's room when either one of those girls woke up.
That should be amusing.
She had started the coffee steeping -- Hermione had thoughtfully set up a number of Muggle appliances, including a coffee machine, behind a miniature protective ward -- and was mixing batter for the pancakes when a pop of displaced air signaled somebody Apparating in the main room. Luna frowned. Who would visit at this hour on a Saturday? More to the point, who had the keys to the house wards? Hermione and Ginny had let some of the protections lapse since Harry had moved out -- they didn't have to worry about hero-worshipping stalkers, after all -- but it was still fiendishly difficult to break into this flat.
"Oi, anybody awake?"
Luna slipped her wand back into her pocket and sighed. Ron. She ought to have known; the boy did have a talent for turning up at the most unfortunate times.
This might be a bit awkward.
"Hello, Ron," she said, carrying her bowl of pancake batter into the main room. "What are you doing here?"
Ron gaped. It wasn't a particularly good expression on him, Luna thought absently, and it was one he wore too often for her taste. That had been one reason they hadn't worked out as a couple, aside from his complete inability to open his mind or at least stop trying to close hers.
"I'm checking on Hermione," he said now, "making sure Ginny hasn't mucked up on relaxing her. What the bloody hell are you doing here?"
Luna shrugged. "We helped Ginny bring Hermione home last night, and decided to stay instead of risking the Underground. Now hush -- everyone's still sleeping and I don't want to wake them until breakfast is ready."
"'We helped'? Who's this 'we'? And don't worry -- I'll just wake Ginny -- she's used to it." Ron moved over to Ginny's bedroom and opened the door before Luna could protest.
"Oi, Ginny, time to wake-- she's not here!" He spun around with a worried look. "Luna, where's Ginny? Her bed isn't slept in... who was with you last night?"
Luna sighed. He was jumping to paranoid conclusions again, a classic symptom of a closed mind. She didn't think the other girls would want him to know the details of last night... how should she put this, then? "Ginny is fine. Hermione drank a bit too much and Ginny seems to have -- no, don't go in there--"
She was too late; Ron had flung Hermione's door wide open and was gaping in fish-faced shock at his sister and his best friend sharing a bed, one in club-wear and the other in a nightdress, their arms wrapped around each other. Ginny had shifted so Hermione's face was visible, her lips clearly pressed again Ginny's neck.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"
Hermione and Ginny jerked awake to Ron's thunderous question, blinking in shock at their position and his presence. Luna caught Ginny's eye and shrugged. "I tried to stop him. You explain, and I'll have the pancakes ready when you're done." She was fairly sure this was going to take a while.
"You're damn right she's going to explain!" shouted Ron, looking like he was winding up for a melodramatic tirade.
"Oh, bugger me, it's Weasley."
Ron whirled. Draco and Harry were both leaning out the doorway of the spare bedroom, bleary curiosity on their faces and scraps of pink ribbon decorating their shoulders like confetti. Luna glanced downward, noticed they'd both found loose trousers somewhere, and nodded to herself. If Ron was reacting this badly to Ginny and Hermione, she didn't think he would have survived seeing her boys naked together.
Although... his expression if he'd found the three of them in bed... no, funny as that might have ended up being in retrospect, she was sure it wouldn't be at all pleasant to experience. Currently they were all at least semi-clothed and this was going to be awkward enough.
"Luna! Is this the 'we' you were talking about?"
"Yes."
"You and Harry were out with that dirty bastard Malfoy?"
Luna frowned. "Ron. Harry and I are going out with Draco. I realize you may be slightly jealous since I used to be with you, but please don't insult him in our presence."
Harry made a strangled sort of gasp and ducked back into the bedroom.
Ron turned purple.
"YOU AND HARRY ARE GOING OUT WITH MALFOY? AS IN, HAVING SEX WITH MALFOY? DRACO MALFOY, THE DEATH EATER? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR BLOODY MINDS?"
Luna sighed. This must have been what Harry meant when he said Ron would explode at the news. Draco opened his mouth, presumably to make some sort of sarcastic insult; Luna motioned him to be silent.
"According to you, I've been out of my mind for years," she told Ron. "Even though I doubt you'll understand anything, we'll explain what's going on. But first I'm going to finish making pancakes while Ginny and Hermione explain their own situation."
As Ron spun back to face the other girls, who had neglected to let go of each other's hands, Luna smiled to herself and walked back into the kitchen. This was definitely going to be a bit awkward, but at least she didn't have to face it alone.
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Back to part 4
Continue to part 6
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Paint the Town, part 5
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Hermione stared blearily at Ginny, trying to figure out how she'd got from Crimson to her own bed, along with a complete change of clothes. While she was at it, she'd like to know why her furniture and walls were swaying, why the air felt thick, and why her breathing sounded so loud. Then she noticed the pile of bras in Ginny's arms.
"You undressed me!"
Ginny edged toward the door. "Er, yes. But don't worry about it! This is just a dream; go back to sleep."
"I'm not asleep. And you saw me naked!"
"Yeah, that happens when you undress someone," said Ginny, and then winced. "Sorry. Er, I didn't want your clothes to get rumpled? And you had your knickers on, anyhow," she added defensively.
Hermione shifted herself so she was leaning against her pillow, propped up by the headboard, and massaged her forehead. "I can't think. But I don't think that sounds like a good excuse." They weren't really her clothes, were they? Were they Ginny's? That would explain why she didn't want them rumpled. But if they were Ginny's, then they wouldn't have fit Hermione. She thought not, anyway.
Her brain wasn't working properly.
"Well..." Ginny began, obviously fumbling for some farfetched excuse.
"Nevermind," said Hermione. She could figure this out if she could just get her thoughts clear. Think, girl, think. She hadn't bought the clothes; they'd just been waiting on her bed...
Wait a minute, forget the clothes. "You saw me naked!"
"Look," snapped Ginny, "it's not my fault you went and got yourself drunk and came onto me. I don't see what you're so upset about anyhow -- you're the one who asked me to have sex with you! And that tends to involve seeing the other person naked."
Hermione blinked. "Sex?"
"Yes, sex! You blabbed at the top of your lungs that you've never had sex, and you were practically begging anybody within twenty feet to fix that."
Hermione gaped. "I never! I didn't. I couldn't have." Especially not to Ginny.
"Oh yes you did!" Then Ginny blanched. "Er, that is to say, no. You didn't. I must have been imagining things. In fact, you're imagining things now -- I'm not really here, this is all a dream, and you'll forget all about it in the morning." She dropped the bras and started backing toward the bedroom door.
"Oh no you don't!" Hermione lunged to her feet, lurched as the room wobbled around her, and managed to latch onto Ginny's arm. "I'm not that drunk. You stay here and explain yourself. Tell me exactly what happened at that nightclub." She paused. "We were at a nightclub, right?"
Ginny let her hand fall from the doorknob and sighed. "Yeah, we were at a nightclub. We met Harry, Luna, and Draco, found out that they're having some sort of ménage à trois, and you decided to get shitfaced. Do you remember that?"
Well, now she did. Hermione winced. "I remember hoping I wouldn't remember that. That's why I was drinking."
Ginny shot her an amused look. "I'm sorry to disillusion you, but alcohol isn't usually that helpful. Anyhow, you got drunk off your arse and started dancing like mad. Then you complained about Ron not having sex with you, said you wanted to know what sex was like, and..." She gulped. "And asked me to, well, do it with you."
Oh, shit.
"So I got Harry and Draco to help bring you back here," continued Ginny, oblivious to the ice running through Hermione's blood. "You fell asleep on the way. And that's basically it."
Hermione stared blankly forward, cudgeling her sodden brain into something that could pass for rational thought. She'd asked Ginny to have sex with her. Shit. She wasn't supposed to do that! She'd known Ginny would be horrified, known the other girl -- no, woman, sod it all, woman -- only had eyes for men. Hermione had been fine with an occasional lingering glance at Ginny's shoulder, or her breasts, or that maddening navel ring, or... Anyway, she'd sworn to never say anything!
She knew going to a nightclub would be trouble. Ginny had the right idea -- pretend this was all a massive hallucination.
"So... I asked you to have sex with me?" Hermione heard herself saying. No! Stop acting as though this is really happening!
"Yeah," said Ginny. "Er, you can, you know, let go of my arm. I'm not going to run away. Probably."
Hermione blinked. "Oh, sorry." She let go of Ginny's arm and tried to take a step back, only to find the room swaying, the air suddenly thinning and refusing to support her. "Ohhh, I drank too much... turn off the room!"
"What? Are you okay?" Ginny stepped forward and steadied Hermione, hands firm around her shoulders. Whatever was making the room swim didn't seem to be moving her.
Hermione leaned gratefully against her friend, soaking in the warmth from body contact. "I can't think right now. Don't let go."
Why was she saying things like that? She was trying to pretend this wasn't happening. Stupid alcohol, making her lose control of her mouth. Ginny obviously wanted to go away and pretend nothing was wrong. She shouldn't ask her to stay.
Then again, Ginny was holding her...
Sod it. Thinking could wait until morning. Right now, Hermione was going to enjoy cuddling against Ginny.
"I meant it, you know," she admitted. "Do you mind?"
Ginny squeaked, then cleared her throat and said, "Not really? Er, that is, I'm flattered? And totally confused. And we're not doing anything because you're still drunk, and you'd better agree with me about that or I'm leaving and I don't care if you fall over." By the end, Ginny's voice had settled firmly into the I-know-what's-best-for-you tone she'd picked up from her mother, the one that suggested both great affection and a great capacity to inflict pain if the person addressed didn't shape up and follow orders right now.
Hermione admired that tone. When she gave orders, she sounded screechy or hysterical, not calm and confident like Ginny, or like Harry when he wasn't busy doubting himself.
Wait, Ginny had told her to do something.
"Yes," she murmured into Ginny's neck. "Yes, of course."
"Oh. Well, that's good," said Ginny a bit awkwardly. She patted Hermione on the back. "Let's get you back to bed now -- I promise to stay until you fall asleep -- and we can talk about this in the morning when you're not drunk and I don't feel like you could knock me over with a feather."
"Mmm-hmm," agreed Hermione, letting Ginny maneuver her back toward the bed and closing her eyes to shut out the swaying furniture. The dresser had to be doing that on purpose to make her dizzy. Perhaps it was a hex. She'd have to look into that in the morning.
But not now.
Hermione let herself be tucked into bed, and she drifted off to the wonderful sensation of Ginny stroking her hair. She'd definitely feel embarrassed in the morning, she thought distantly, but right now she couldn't possibly care less.
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Luna's first conscious thought, upon awakening, was that there was something in her hair. She blinked, examining herself in the mirror on the opposite wall: the pink ribbons were a bit tangled, and she really preferred orange in her hair, but they were a sweet thought. Now, which of her boys...?
She blinked again, noticing Harry's matching ribbons and the one bow further down. Ah. She nudged Draco with her foot and shook his arm where it lay across her stomach.
"Thank you for the present, Draco," she said.
He snorted something that might have been an acknowledgement, and snuggled up to his pillow. Harry grunted and tightened his grip on Draco's other arm.
Luna sighed. It could be hard, being the only morning person in a relationship.
Since there didn't seem much chance of a repeat of last night, she supposed she might as well clean up and start fixing breakfast, including the strong tea and coffee the boys used to pry themselves awake after club nights. Checking on Hermione might not be a bad idea either -- Luna hadn't been paying much attention, but she didn't think the other girl was used to that much alcohol, and she had seemed overly upset about being a virgin. That was a silly thing to worry about, in Luna's opinion, but she'd never really understood Hermione. She rarely understood people with minds so tightly laced and blinkered.
It was a pity. Hermione was quite brilliant, and if she'd only been a bit more accepting, she could have been a great help to Luna's investigative reporters.
She sighed again and slipped out of bed. Her wand was still on the dresser, along with the paperclip jewelry Harry had tangled when he summoned his wand to hex Draco. Luna carefully detangled the flimsy pieces of metal, mind drifting as her fingers worked.
She'd always liked little contraptions like paperclips, corkscrews, rubber bands, pocket knives, and those retractable ballpoint pens Muggles had. They were fascinating to fiddle around with, and often much more practical than their magical equivalents. It amused her that wizards so often neglected basic technological advances while touting their superiority over Muggles. Closed minds made for some very silly social patterns.
Electricity was generally useless around zones of high magic -- Luna would grant magical supremacists that much -- but what was the harm in replacing parchment scrolls and quills with white paper, staplers, and pens with their own internal supply of ink? Besides, there were so many ways to decorate pens, whereas a feather quill was pretty much a feather quill, regardless of minor plumage variations. You couldn't make quills that had little trains drifting back and forth in a liquid capsule, or quills that had seasonal figurines on the ends. And you couldn't unscrew and rearrange the pieces of a quill while you were trying to think; all you could do was pluck out the little barbs that made up the feather, leaving yourself with a bare, ugly stem.
Ah. The paperclips were detached from each other and bent back into shape. Luna swiftly hooked them into a chain, wrapped it multiple times around her left wrist, and fastened the first clip to the last. There! Aesthetically pleasing, fast, a useful source of transfiguration materials, and cheap enough that she'd have no worries if someone took it, the way people often seemed to take her things. True, that happened less often since she'd left Hogwarts, but her staff seemed to have an odd obsession with hiding her things until she extended their deadlines.
Luna lifted her wand to her hair and charmed the pink ribbons orange. Then she tidied them until they were arranged in a sort of crown, ran a brush through her now-loose hair, and transfigured her abandoned clothing into a purple paisley bathrobe. That ought to be decent enough for wandering around her friends' flat on a late Saturday morning.
After tugging the sheet up over her boys -- you never could tell who might accidentally open doors, and she was the only one who got to see them naked and relaxed -- Luna ambled into the main room of the flat.
She knew her way around practically blindfolded -- she and Ginny had lived just above this flat for over a year, and had spent most of their time down here with their friends -- and as such she managed not to trip over any of the furniture. Luna wasn't fond of furniture. Sofas and end tables had a tendency to attack her when she wasn't paying attention, unless she'd used subduing charms on them. Fortunately, she'd long since charmed all the furniture in this flat. Hermione and Ron had given her peculiar looks, but Ginny had stared those two into submission before they could open their mouths.
Harry had simply shaken his head and sighed. Luna smiled now, remembering that. He had a mind as closed as Hermione's in some ways, but at least he didn't try to force his blinders over her thoughts; he just tried to explain why some people thought her actions were odd. And he was getting better about keeping his disbelief off his face. Perhaps that meant he was even getting rid of his disbelief.
There was always hope, after all.
Luna knocked softly on Hermione's door. When nobody answered, she peeked in. Then she jerked her head back, shut the door, and slapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter.
Hermione was lying curled up against Ginny, head tucked into Ginny's neck. Ginny's leg was thrown over Hermione's, and both girls had their arms tangled around each other. Granted, Ginny was fully dressed, and she was on top of the covers while Hermione was under them, but that wasn't at all what Luna had expected after Ginny's blatant discomfort at Hermione's drunken advances.
"That'll teach me not to expect surprises," she murmured to herself, smiling.
She headed for the kitchen, planning to make pancakes. Draco and Harry still needed breakfast, after all, and she didn't particularly want to be near Hermione's room when either one of those girls woke up.
That should be amusing.
She had started the coffee steeping -- Hermione had thoughtfully set up a number of Muggle appliances, including a coffee machine, behind a miniature protective ward -- and was mixing batter for the pancakes when a pop of displaced air signaled somebody Apparating in the main room. Luna frowned. Who would visit at this hour on a Saturday? More to the point, who had the keys to the house wards? Hermione and Ginny had let some of the protections lapse since Harry had moved out -- they didn't have to worry about hero-worshipping stalkers, after all -- but it was still fiendishly difficult to break into this flat.
"Oi, anybody awake?"
Luna slipped her wand back into her pocket and sighed. Ron. She ought to have known; the boy did have a talent for turning up at the most unfortunate times.
This might be a bit awkward.
"Hello, Ron," she said, carrying her bowl of pancake batter into the main room. "What are you doing here?"
Ron gaped. It wasn't a particularly good expression on him, Luna thought absently, and it was one he wore too often for her taste. That had been one reason they hadn't worked out as a couple, aside from his complete inability to open his mind or at least stop trying to close hers.
"I'm checking on Hermione," he said now, "making sure Ginny hasn't mucked up on relaxing her. What the bloody hell are you doing here?"
Luna shrugged. "We helped Ginny bring Hermione home last night, and decided to stay instead of risking the Underground. Now hush -- everyone's still sleeping and I don't want to wake them until breakfast is ready."
"'We helped'? Who's this 'we'? And don't worry -- I'll just wake Ginny -- she's used to it." Ron moved over to Ginny's bedroom and opened the door before Luna could protest.
"Oi, Ginny, time to wake-- she's not here!" He spun around with a worried look. "Luna, where's Ginny? Her bed isn't slept in... who was with you last night?"
Luna sighed. He was jumping to paranoid conclusions again, a classic symptom of a closed mind. She didn't think the other girls would want him to know the details of last night... how should she put this, then? "Ginny is fine. Hermione drank a bit too much and Ginny seems to have -- no, don't go in there--"
She was too late; Ron had flung Hermione's door wide open and was gaping in fish-faced shock at his sister and his best friend sharing a bed, one in club-wear and the other in a nightdress, their arms wrapped around each other. Ginny had shifted so Hermione's face was visible, her lips clearly pressed again Ginny's neck.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"
Hermione and Ginny jerked awake to Ron's thunderous question, blinking in shock at their position and his presence. Luna caught Ginny's eye and shrugged. "I tried to stop him. You explain, and I'll have the pancakes ready when you're done." She was fairly sure this was going to take a while.
"You're damn right she's going to explain!" shouted Ron, looking like he was winding up for a melodramatic tirade.
"Oh, bugger me, it's Weasley."
Ron whirled. Draco and Harry were both leaning out the doorway of the spare bedroom, bleary curiosity on their faces and scraps of pink ribbon decorating their shoulders like confetti. Luna glanced downward, noticed they'd both found loose trousers somewhere, and nodded to herself. If Ron was reacting this badly to Ginny and Hermione, she didn't think he would have survived seeing her boys naked together.
Although... his expression if he'd found the three of them in bed... no, funny as that might have ended up being in retrospect, she was sure it wouldn't be at all pleasant to experience. Currently they were all at least semi-clothed and this was going to be awkward enough.
"Luna! Is this the 'we' you were talking about?"
"Yes."
"You and Harry were out with that dirty bastard Malfoy?"
Luna frowned. "Ron. Harry and I are going out with Draco. I realize you may be slightly jealous since I used to be with you, but please don't insult him in our presence."
Harry made a strangled sort of gasp and ducked back into the bedroom.
Ron turned purple.
"YOU AND HARRY ARE GOING OUT WITH MALFOY? AS IN, HAVING SEX WITH MALFOY? DRACO MALFOY, THE DEATH EATER? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR BLOODY MINDS?"
Luna sighed. This must have been what Harry meant when he said Ron would explode at the news. Draco opened his mouth, presumably to make some sort of sarcastic insult; Luna motioned him to be silent.
"According to you, I've been out of my mind for years," she told Ron. "Even though I doubt you'll understand anything, we'll explain what's going on. But first I'm going to finish making pancakes while Ginny and Hermione explain their own situation."
As Ron spun back to face the other girls, who had neglected to let go of each other's hands, Luna smiled to herself and walked back into the kitchen. This was definitely going to be a bit awkward, but at least she didn't have to face it alone.
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Date: 2005-02-17 03:44 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-02-17 06:02 am (UTC)I think the vaguely detached feeling is the key. Which makes her either completely loopy or devastatingly practical by turns, since she just doesn't quite connect to things the way other people might.