Find the Time

Find the Time

Soundtrack: "We Have All the Time in the World" - Iggy Pop's cover of the Louis Armstrong original

About a year ago, Dean Thomas could not have thought that he would make such a hasty departure from school. The prospect of going somewhere, anywhere, to nowhere, was terrifying yet exciting to a person like him, and it was the only thing to do at that point. He was sure his name was on a list of You-Know-Who's, somewhere or other. He wasn't thrilled about the idea of getting marked because of his birth. If he didn't know the whole truth about his parentage, who was the new Ministry to judge him for it? Bloody wankers, the lot of them. He was glad when Professor McGonagall asked no questions; instead, she sent him to a man named Ted Tonks, who was preparing to go into hiding as well.

Through their wanderings, they had shared a little about themselves, though Dean could never conjure up the comfort and safety that would have allowed him to be perfectly open with the older man. Mr. Tonks had been in Ravenclaw, graduated from Hogwarts many, many years ago, used to work in spell experimentation, and had a daughter who was an Auror. The habit of not trusting others was clearly two-sided, which Dean couldn't blame him for. Later, when two became five as Dirk Cresswell, Gornuk, and Griphook joined them, the underlying tension of fraught nerves was always there. Dean took care to smooth over his distrust of Cresswell and the goblins. He only wished they had thought to do the same. There were few things more awkward than facing a creature who did not believe, for courtesy's sake, in appearing less hostile to a member of a different magical species.

He still regretted that he knew so little of the man who took him into hiding at his own increased risk. It was clear enough to see as he and Griphook were being dragged away by unnamed Death Eaters that the crazed lunatic woman Death Eater was not going to make death come easily for Ted Tonks.

----

The first feeling he got as he slowly regained consciousness on the cold, hard floor of those dungeons was one of helplessness. As he turned his head onto its side so that his ear touched the cold stone, he found himself staring into a pair of familiar pale blue eyes. Luna Lovegood had been staring at him through the bars of her cell, as he learned later, for a full hour before he awoke. She had been "sending messages to his brain" in order to keep him away from the possible symptom of going insane. Being subjected to the Cruciatus curse for half the night had that effect on many people, she had said solemnly, without tears or a trembling voice. Dean had wondered with a shiver if she had been tortured, too.

Mr. Ollivander was there. Dean watched Luna quietly make the weak old man as comfortable as was possible after another day of starvation. There was a certain efficiency in her manner of working that surprised him. She certainly didn't look dotty when she was busy, and dotty Loony Lovegood was the only Luna he had ever seen. This girl was the one Ginny stood up for to the rest of the Gryffindors all last year. Only months ago, oh gods. Dean rested his head in both his hands, trying not to lose himself in despair again. In this holding cell, there was no losing control of oneself. Griphook occupied the other end of it, and kept to himself. There were no words exchanged between the prisoners except for those swapped between Dean and Luna at odd, scattered hours.

She talked about her father, about school, about Ginny and Neville and Professor Flitwick, she talked about the classes she was missing that day or guessed the current topic in Charms class. She asked Dean disconnected questions; one minute she would ask if his feet were not too cold, and the next moment she would ask if he'd seen You-Know-Who up close and if so, what should she expect when she had to see him? "It seems rather hopeless sometimes," she admitted one night, as they both sat resting against the bars of their respective cells. "Not knowing how Ginny and the others are, whether they're alright, that's the worst." Dean wished he could see her expression when she said that, but their backs were toward each other.

When Harry and Ron were thrown into cells not so far away from them, Dean saw the cool, steady fire return to Luna's eyes. He had not realized that her eyes had possessed this fire until he saw it return and give life to her countenance. Her drive was so very different from Ginny's. While Ginny radiated power, the red-hot power that her red hair did no justice to, Luna controlled her power behind neutral gazes and ridiculously-unbelievable talk. He had not realized that she had been in despair before Harry and Ron were unexpectedly brought to Malfoy Manor, but now he saw her strength, and felt his own wits regroup. They were going to escape, and he needed to get through this with her, alive.

----

Little more than a year ago, Dean Thomas could not have guessed that he would be sitting in Ron Weasley's older brother's kitchen being force-fed amazing French cooking by the older man's drop-dead gorgeous wife. He always felt scared for his life when she hovered over him, trying to get him healthy again, because he was a young man now who hadn't had a decent shag in more than a few months.

Dobby was sleeping in the garden to the sounds of the waves crashing upon smooth, weathered rocks; Harry, Ron, and a weakened Hermione huddled together whenever they could and drew thoughtful, concerned stares from Bill; and Griphook sneered what he perhaps thought was a polite smile to everyone who endeavored to talk to him and dogged Harry's steps. Dean fidgeted constantly when he was in one spot for too long (by this time, he would have packed up camp and found another deserted spot in the woods to settle in), and Luna took to staring out of the window for long spells at a time.

One night, Dean had come to refill his water glass when he spied her unmistakable blond hair outside. Only the mental reassurance that Shell Cottage was Unplottable stopped him from panicking, and he peered through the sink window to watch her. He realized she was going to Dobby's grave, and abandoned his plan to get some more water.

Outside, the air was salty and cool, and Dean saw the distant white spray of the sea foam as it met the rocks. Luna was kneeling in front of the smooth gray rock with Dobby's inscription, her long hair whipping all round her. She looked up as she heard his approach, but Dean had no better view of her face because of the wind. "Dean," she said, not sounding surprised at his following her. "You're awake." At last, he could discern the small smile she always wore. It wasn't a conscious smile on her part, he had determined. It was the expression she always relaxed into, with no furrowed brows, dull eyes, or flat mouth. Dean kneeled beside her, and she scooted to her right to allow him more room. They looked at the stone, traced the inscription mentally, and were silent for a moment or two. Then,

"Did you know Dobby well?" asked Dean, glancing sideways at her profile.

"Not at all," she answered composedly. "But, it's peaceful here, when I want to think for awhile..."

He didn't know what to say, but he knew she was thinking of her father again. He was surprised, therefore, when she laid her hand on his. He looked at her, slightly startled, and she smiled serenely at him, saying, "Did you like Fleur's plum pudding tonight?"

Feeling a bit deflated, but smiling nonetheless, Dean bit his lip and answered, "Of course. Who wouldn't? That woman was born to be one of those famous chefs you see on the telly..."

----

One year ago, Dean could not have known that Hogwarts, his school, his home, was to be the final battleground of the war. He never guessed that he would be part of the underground resistance, that he would have to run away from school and later go back to help purge it of You-Know-Who's influence. He never thought he'd be a resident of Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur Weasley and Luna Lovegood, that he would become friends with a girl he very readily used to nickname "Loony."

Now they knew each other without having to explain themselves; Dean could read Luna's expressions, he knew when she was truly thinking about something he didn't quite believe in, such as Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. He also picked up on her moods, which manifested themselves in her body language. Avoidance of eye contact meant she was too distracted for a conversation, her mind was elsewhere. Oftentimes he caught himself wondering what it was she thought of when she wasn't in the mood to talk to him. Other times she was all chatter, telling him of her plans for the future with such an unclouded reserve that he thought she must really forget that the war was still happening. Her dreams seemed to fit her own world, but he liked this world of hers.

He could tell that she knew him, too. His body language spoke volumes for him, which meant he wasn't a particularly loquacious person, but Luna was very perceptive, and showed it in little ways. She always seemed to know what he wanted passed at the dinner table before he actually voiced the request, and could read his facial expressions well enough to take answers to questions out of his mouth. He also suspected that she stared at his mouth more than she used to, but he wasn't going to bank on it. It was a nice thought, that was all.

Then, the day before Professor Dumbledore's brother sent them the summons, Dean found out why Luna had been staring at his mouth recently.

They were out in the garden, waiting for dinner. The sun was close to setting, and Dobby was sleeping to their left a little ways away. Dean lay on his back, arms behind his head, trying to think what his dream employment would be. Luna sat beside him, absentmindedly playing with a strand of her pale, blond hair. He looked up at her and answered, "The comic strip artist? Maybe the Prophet would hire me."

"I expect the Ministry would pay you to draw something that would further their own agenda," she observed, braiding the same strand into a tiny plait.

Dean frowned, and looked at the orange sky again. "Every Ministry would lean on the Prophet," continued Luna, "because now it's a tradition for the Prophet to be unduly influenced by the establishment."

"Maybe something in art publishing then, that sounds much safer, yeah?" he offered, closing his eyes and breathing in the salty air. "That way I could design banners and such, cover art and the like." He opened his eyes and focused on Luna again. "Flourish and Blotts have their publishing house in Diagon Alley. It's the place to be after school, plenty of cheap flats for rent there."

She was silent for a few moments, but still stared at Dean through some straggly strands of hair with that small smile. "If you worked for Flourish and Blotts, and I worked for Flourish and Blotts-"

"Yeah! You wanted to work at their bookshop, right?" Dean closed his eyes again, feeling himself grin.

"-then we would be neighbors as well?" she asked.

"I suppose," he said, brushing some grass away from his nose. "We'd have to live in the same building for that to happen, Luna."

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"I think you'd do very well in art publishing. Your Gryffindor banners were always very well done."

"Thanks." And he meant it.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think Fleur's making dinner or shagging Bill?"

He cracked open an eye at her, but didn't react much more to that loaded question. "Dunno. If they're shagging, I'd say they need it. It must be hard to get much shagging done in such a small house while we're in there. It'd be awkward."

"Yes, I suppose it would be difficult," she answered, looking back at the house briefly. "But with a Silencing Charm they needn't worry, you know. Even we know how to use one, so shagging would be easy enough for us."

This time Dean opened both eyes and stared at Luna. It wasn't as if the concept was completely foreign to him; he had had thoughts of Luna that would have made her father murder him, but this was the first time she had ever let drop such a forward statement concerning them. Yes, they were friends, who else did they have in this limbo between peace and inevitable war? But it had never escalated into something more than friendship. But she was looking at his mouth again, and Dean's throat was suddenly very dry. He finally managed to say hoarsely, "You've thought of us shagging?"

No, the girl didn't blush, just nodded matter-of-factly. "Yes, I have. Not with any solid intention of following through, though, because I imagine it would be quite awkward between the two of us afterward. We do live in the same house," she finished with a blink, and waited for him to respond.

Dean blinked. "You really think it would be awkward between us?" The idea of sleeping with Luna always carried that element of the unknown with him because there was just so much he didn't know about her. He knew her habits, her moods, her facial expressions, her dreams, but he didn't know what sort of man she admired, or if she had sensitive skin or what she smelled like. He didn't completely know her, which on one hand frustrated him, but on the other hand motivated him. Now there was a reason to dig deeper and get to know her more. And Merlin, she had just admitted to having the same thoughts as him when it came to shagging.

"Awkward, yes," she admitted easily, continuing the tiny plait of hair. "I don't know you as well as I should like, so I don't know if you would regret it in the morning or not."

"Ah," said Dean weakly, covering his eyes with his hand and trying to reign in the hormones that had been quietly raging all the while. "I - don't think I'd be that much of a prick - to regret shagging you," he added quietly.

He felt her stare upon him and uncovered his eyes. Her protuberant eyes had widened slightly as she looked down at him, her hands had stilled at the end of the braided plait of hair, and her mouth was slightly open. She had coral pink lips. Dean swallowed nervously.

Then she smiled a little wider, and leaned closer to him. "I expect shagging you more than once would be enjoyable," she said softly.

His own gaze had widened as well, because she was leaning ever closer, until her long hair created a curtain around their faces. Fine strands of faded blonde brushed the sides of his face and his ears, tickling him. But all he could do was look from her eyes to her lips, and lick his in anticipation of what she was going to do, of what she wanted to do...

The loud creak of the cottage's back door opening was a sore interruption. Luna slightly furrowed her brows in curiosity as she sat up, intending to see what the noise was about. Dean allowed himself a slight groan, but thanked the higher gods that the back door was as loud as it was. Bill or Fleur, whoever it was that just came out to tell them to come in for food, would have been witness to his first kiss with Luna. And part of him wanted that occasion to be a very, very private one.

He looked at Luna, who had gotten up and brushed off her jeans. She held her hand out to help him up, and he had just hauled himself to his feet when Bill reached them. "Steak tonight, you two. Go wash up, we'll see you in the kitchen." He looked around briefly before adding, "You didn't see anyone, did you?"

"No," answered Dean. "No one." It was another reminder that this beautiful place by the sea was always in danger of being found out. He stole another glance at Luna, but she had turned her gaze to the sea, which was furiously beating against the smooth rocky cliff. Her mind was somewhere else again.

That was why it was a surprise to Dean, as he lay that night tossing and turning in his bed, to see the door open and behold Luna tiptoeing over the carpet and crawling into bed beside him. "Silencio," she whispered, and Dean could not think straight for the rest of the night.

----

In Hogwarts, the Room of Requirement was the rallying point of everyone who had endured not doing anything over the past year. Dean watched as Neville lead much of their old group - the former DA - through the door to the battle, then realized that he wanted to stay with Luna, to keep an eye on her. But that was going to be nearly impossible. He always knew in the back of his mind, that Luna's first friends were Ginny, Neville, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and so he could do no more than to let her go find the diadem-thing that Harry needed. He stared at her retreating back until Seamus's pat on the shoulder brought him back to the present. Giving his best mate a half-smile, he was thankful that Seamus knew without asking. All he could do now was hope that she would be okay.

So it was for several hours, until it seemed that hope was entirely gone, that Harry was too close to death and that Voldemort had won. Dean fought his way through the onslaught of Death Eaters with his newly acquired wand, hardly knowing what he did; acting on instinct, moving automatically and dodging spells as if he were running Quidditch practice drills and those spells were Bludgers. Dean did not know how it would all end. Numbness had settled into his bones, refusing to let him prepare himself for a sudden death. Death, even though he knew it to be very close, still appeared to be an abstract concept in his mind, and so he could not face what dying actually meant at that moment. Every glance he could spare was given to Luna, who was holding her own with Neville and Ernie. He could feel the occasional slap of Parvati's long, silky braid against his arm as she dodged the same spells as he did, watching his back as he was watching hers. It became a mindless dance after a while, and Luna especially looked beautiful when the carefully controlled fire behind her often-vacant gaze escaped its confines and channeled into her spells.

----

Less than a year ago, Dean had taken all his meals in the Great Hall, unhappily to be sure, but never with the suspicion that the long House tables could be replaced by dead bodies, former shells of people he knew, people who had had dreams and hopes. His older housemate Fred, gone. Professor Lupin, his wife (Mr. Tonks's Auror daughter), too. He remembered the night his old professor had come late to tell them the news of his son's birth, and Dean suddenly dreaded that the baby's godfather would die, too. He rested against the wall of the Great Hall closest to where the Gryffindor table ought to have been, and gazed blankly at the flagged stone floor in front of him. Harry had disappeared. Dean was not an optimist.

The Weasley family was close by, huddled over Fred. Dean saw Ginny, the fear and worry in her eyes, the red blotches on her cheeks that were telltale signs of her having shed tears. He guessed that she was on her final reserves of strength, and kept herself going for the hope that Harry was alive. She had always been in love with him, even when she had smiled her infectious smile at Dean.

Why all these scattered thoughts about his past ran through his mind, Dean didn't know. He supposed he was still distracting himself from thinking about what lay in the hour ahead. Finally, he turned to his right and looked at Luna. Her eyes were noticeably softer now, as they were raised to the enchanted ceiling above, watching the rolling storm clouds rumbling by. He realized with a sinking heart that she was again in that place where he could not follow, perhaps thinking of a reunion with her long-dead mother, or sadly wishing she could find her father and say farewell. Try as they had done, they had not yet been able to find Mr. Lovegood in all the chaos that surrounded them still. Luna bit her lip in consternation, and Dean took her hand in a strong grip, squeezing it firmly and offering her a tiny smile of comfort. It was the only thing he thought to do, before everyone tensed at the sound of Voldemort's voice.

A rushing out of the castle followed, the Weasleys, Neville, and the rest of the DA first in line to face Voldemort and his Death Eaters on the grounds of Hogwarts, and Luna let herself be pulled along with him in the crowd to see Harry, to make sure their heroic friend was out of pain. It was the first time since his torture at Malfoy Manor that Dean shed angry tears, as he finally started to realize that a slaughter was imminent.

Then, confused chaos. Back in the Great Hall, Dean found himself separated from Luna again as their fighting took them closer to their own friends. He, Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender ended up at the other end of the hall before he looked up to see Luna, Ginny, and Hermione dueling with that lunatic woman Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange. His heart nearly stopping, he watched in breathless wonder as Luna deftly avoided death several times while discharging spells so strong the air seemed to quiver around her. Parvati set a Shield Charm on him a split second before a stray Stunning spell hit him, and he was brought back abruptly to his own situation, which wasn't pretty. Three Death Eaters were working their way to their four-strong back-to-back defense. It was doable, but Dean needed all of his concentration for it. Luna was strong; she could take care of herself. She didn't need him.

When their three Death Eaters were out of the way and their general corner of the Hall had been more or less cleared, Dean turned his attention toward the center of the Hall, where Mrs. Weasley had taken over the duel with Lestrange. In another moment, everyone had stopped fighting, the remaining Death Eaters had gathered behind Voldemort, and Lestrange was falling to the ground, dead.

The only thing left now was to watch Harry and Voldemort's last duel in silent horror, so Dean kept his hand on his wand while Parvati clutched his other arm tightly. Everyone listened with bated breath to Harry's calm, unnervingly calm, resolve to finally end it all.

----

When Voldemort fell, Dean grabbed Seamus and pulled him into a strong hug, the rare hug that isn't often shared by best mates, but requires a great amount of emotion on either side to go through with it. Lavender kissed Seamus, tears falling down her pale cheeks, as he hurriedly wiped them away, trying to stop her from ever crying again. Parvati sobbed into Dean's chest for the better part of a minute, before hiccupping and thanking him for watching out for her. Silly as she undoubtedly was, and harder to figure out than most girls, she was still the sweeter of the Patil twins, and Dean kissed her forehead before she ran away to find her sister.

Luna was straight ahead of him. Through hysterical screams and cheers he saw her face alight with joy for the first time in his life. Without giving a thought to Seamus or Lavender, who were still wrapped up in each other's arms, he began the half-run through the jostling crowd of students, elves, centaurs, Hogsmeade villagers, everyone, to get to her and Neville and the Weasleys.

When she finally saw him coming to her, she came forward to meet him, and they met in the middle of a group of wizards who had run in from Madam Rosmerta's bar, happily drawing out bottles of firewhiskey and butterbeer from their robes, dancing in circles and clinking bottles in the air, breaking out into tunes about Beadle the Bard. As Luna threw her arms around Dean's neck, he was rewarded with the smell of her hair that he remembered from their night together, the night that seemed to be from another world, a dream. He lifted her off her feet; how could he not, given that he was so much taller than she? Their eyes locked, and she smiled at him, that same smile she had given him when she had leaned over him in Bill's garden, her hair hanging around them, shielding them. This was Luna giving him all of her attention.

It was his turn. He leaned forward and kissed her, his arms wrapped securely around her waist, her feet dangling inches from the ground. She smiled even more under his lips, tightened her embrace, and sighed contentedly as he felt her relax against his body, fitting perfectly with him. When he pulled away, she was serene Luna again with a telltale twinkle in her pretty blue eyes that had not been there before their first kiss. "Dean," she said, sounding shy for the first time ever, "I think I like you a lot."

----

The following September, Dean, his old group of friends, as well as many other formerly seventh year students, joined the new seventh year class at Hogwarts, determined to finish school and get on with their lives. For the first time in a year, Dean began to contemplate with leisure how he would officially ask Luna Lovegood out on a date. Seamus was there to tease him, Parvati was there to offer her advice on wooing the Ravenclaw (which Dean took in stride but never seriously considered), and Lavender fawned over Seamus. Ginny barged into their compartment on the train to congratulate him on turning Luna to mush on more than one occasion, and Neville had taken it upon himself to warn him against hurting Luna. "She's like my sister, Dean," he had said quite seriously.

There was time now, to take things slowly with this girl, to dawdle around and be lazy with her. He was going to take his time with Luna, because there was no longer the cloud of war upon them, or the possibility of losing each other to such a destructive force as Voldemort had been. One year ago, he could not have imagined that he would come out of the war relatively unscathed, along with the prospect of sunnier days with Luna. One year had passed, in which he had completed his transition into the man he was now, a man who had fallen for such a different kind of girl. One year of his life, the hardest year of his life yet, could not have ended on a lighter note.

"Dean?"

"Mmm?" He opened his eyes, squinting at first through the shaft of sunlight that fell through the high glass windows of the Great Hall. It was breakfast time, and Luna had woken him out of a light doze. She pushed his plate away and replaced it with a rather familiar magazine of hers. Dean figured she had about 20 copies of the same issue stashed under her bed. "What is it?" he yawned, grabbing the toast off his distant plate before Seamus got too hungry. Farther down the table, Headmistress McGonagall was explaining class schedules to a smaller group of frightened first years. Across the table, Lavender and Parvati had just arrived, and Seamus was being given his morning snog. Parvati managed to ignore her best friends rather gracefully by greeting Ginny and Hermione a good morning. Right beside Dean, Ginny nearly choked up her eggs when she witnessed tongue action on Lavender's side of the spit exchange.

Luna, however, was staring at the combination of Seamus and Lavender with something akin to curiosity. Dean didn't realize it until he noticed that she wasn't showing him the interesting thing in The Quibbler he had been expecting. He glanced at her, glanced at Seamus and Lavender who were still going at it, and paused for a second before telling her, "You know, I think I do a better job at snogging than that."

"Oh! Yes, I rather think so," she replied dreamily, curling her fingers lightly around the inside of his elbow where it rested on the table. Dean saw her gaze land at his collar, where his tie was still loosely done and the top button of his shirt was still open. He tried very hard not to blush, but it was impossible not to feel his face grow warm. She had only buttoned up that shirt for him an hour ago, right before they stole out of the Room of Requirement.

But she seemed to recall what she wanted to show him, because her gaze landed next on the magazine in front of them, and she leaned closer to him to point out an article that claimed it had a full written confession from the late Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, admitting that he had indeed employed an army of Heliopaths in order to extend full control over the Wizarding world. "Written, and Recently Found among His Papers" the headline read. Dean chewed on a corner of his toast, Parvati grabbed the article to read the whole thing for herself and get a few laughs, Ginny rolled her eyes and smiled to herself, Hermione wisely kept quiet, Seamus and Lavender had gone back to snogging after showing little interest in the matter, and Luna hummed "Weasley is Our King" while finishing her breakfast.

It was the start of another year. Dean was ready.

Author's Notes: Okay, so from the amount of fics I've read that involve Dean and Luna, I can safely assume that I wasn't the only one picking up some Dean/Luna goodness in the seventh book! I like these two firstly because Luna's been a personal favorite of mine ever since her grand entrance in OotP and secondly because Dean just seems to be another Ron to me: a regular bloke, understandably puzzled when it comes to women and laid back. Luna's different, and I hope I haven't strayed too far from JKR's sketch of her character. In the books, she stands out, and I sort of applied the concept to her love life. I think Luna's the type of person who won't hesitate when she's attracted to someone, and she's honest, frank, etc. to the point of making Dean go tongue-tied! It's very sweet, and very LUNA, in my opinion.

The soundtrack is one of my favorite songs, but the Iggy Pop cover is my favorite version of it just because I think it sounds better. It's sort of hard to find, but anyone who has watched the movie The Jacket (Adrien Brody, Keira Knightley, put out by Warner Independent Pictures) will recognize it as the first song played during the end credits.

Bottom line - Dean fell in with the resistance, became friends with a very odd girl, fell pretty hard for this strange, strange girl, and managed to not get killed during the final battle. So now he's free to live his life the way he wants to live it, and over the past year some of his dreams have been altered to include Luna in them. Obviously I haven't taken into account JKR's later interview in which she spills some details about Luna's future. SPOILER (courtesy of HarryPotterWiki) - Luna travels the world as a naturalist/zoologist looking for creatures to classify, study, etc. She eventually marries the grandson of Newt Scamander (author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them). Yes, this ending fits,but for my fic's sake I decided to disregard this bit of info. Don't flame me on that! Thanks for reading, leave a review please! Constructive criticism is always appreciated.