Loony

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A/N: I started this a year or two ago, and just found it the other day. For some reason, Luna and metaphorical sofas just mesh well in my mind. Enjoy, then review? :)

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In some way Neville never really understood, Luna just walked into his life, sat down on the metaphorical sofa, and made herself at home; suddenly, she was someone he couldn't imagine getting along without. He was, however, not exactly sure what it was that made her so intrinsic to his function, or how it came about.

Luna wasn't bossy, per se; she wasn't particularly brainy, or down-to-earth, or any of those things his Grandmother approved of. She believed in nargels, and snorkaks, and all kinds of things that Neville had always thought didn't exist. He had his doubts now, though. In some unassuming way that he never really understood, Luna could be pretty convincing.

She was different from anyone else. She called a Galleon a Galleon, or, in Neville's case, took him as she found him. No subtle hints on how to avoid being clumsy, no winces when he caused a potion to backfire or left his essay near the window so that in the morning it had flown away. She told him about fantastic creatures and absurd diseases, and didn't expect anything in return. But sometimes he told her about plants.

Maybe that was what it was about her: that she didn't expect him to be anything other than himself. She didn't expect him to be a big, brave Gryffindor; she didn't expect him to live up to his parents; she didn't even expect him to remember to tie his shoes in the morning. She didn't expect him to believe all her tales; she believed them, and that seemed to be good enough for her. She didn't even expect him to listen; if he was distracted, or tired, or napping, she would simply fall silent and contemplate her own unknowable thoughts. In a strange way, her utter acceptance allowed him to accept himself, allowed him to be the brave Gryffindor and the clever wizard (even if he was only good as an herbologist--well, at least he was clever at something) and the boy who remembered to tie his shoes in the morning.

He wasn't particularly in love with her, but somehow when he thought about what his life would be in ten or twelve years, she was always in the picture: Luna sitting across from him at a restaurant, insisting that the bread be checked for bread-kneazles before being eaten; Luna sitting by the fire, reading a magazine sideways and knitting a baby's jumper; Luna feeding the baby while hanging clothes on the line during a light rain; Luna solemnly warning a three-year-old about the dangers of mistletoe-dwelling nargels; Luna burning dinner in order to investigate a toddler's drawing... Some of the ideas were even kind of disturbing.

He'd once told Luna about it. She said he was suffering from Puckle's Telepethy Disorder, and should eat German sausage with dressing during full moons that fall on Tuesdays.

He was waiting for the next Tuesday. For some reason, he also seemed to be inspecting mistletoe more thoroughly before passing...