"of wings and things" by gingerbred
Luna Lovegood & Daphne Greengrass
31 October, 1998. Luna runs into Daphne at the Ministry's first Halloween Ball after the war.
Originally Published: 2021-10-31 on LJ / DW / AO3
Words: 1.3 k
Rating: General
Author's Notes: This story was written as part of the rarepair_shorts 2021 Monster Mash (LJ / AO3), and my prompts were: Floating candles and Masquerade. It takes place in Luna's seventh year, post-BoH, at the Ministry.
This is a standalone drabble AU sequel set in the "beyond wandpoint" AU (LJ / DW / AO3) So, cleverly, that makes it an AU AU written for
shaelia. (Thanks. ❤️) wandpoint definitely isn't a pre-req for the story, additional caveat, all of "beyond wandpoint" has not been uploaded to AO3 at this time.
A hearty thanks to the
rarepairs_mod for running the fest! ❤️Saturday, 31 October, 1998
The Ministry's Ballroom
For all it was a masquerade ball, no one that knew them should have had any difficulty identifying either of the witches presently at the bar. It didn't hurt, of course, that Daphne Greengrass wasn't wearing a mask, but even if she had, there probably wasn't another witchard in the room who'd have willingly permitted themselves to be Jinxed with the enormous sparkly purple fairy wings she sported with such evident and very typical glee. The gentlemen to either side of her had been decidedly less enamoured of the things; their annoyance clear, they'd grabbed their drinks and beaten a hasty retreat. Bobbing and weaving and ducking those wings with an elegance few would expect from her - particularly with the addition of her ridiculous headgear - Luna Lovegood now hops onto one of the recently vacated barstools.
"Hi, Luna!" Daphne waves, another clue it's the eldest Greengrass daughter were one still in want of one, as it's unlikely any of the others present would feel a pressing need to wave at the person immediately beside them, but then Daphne generally finds them too serious by half.
"Hey, Daphne," Luna grins warmly behind her mask as she hails the bartender.
"Oh! Sorry!" the Slytherin cries as the lion on top of Luna's head roars in response to one of the wings grazing its mane. The lion chomps at the air close to the wing - so close Daphne can feel the draught - and it's Luna's turn to apologise.
"No, the fault's all mine, I wasn't paying attention and forgot to dodge, plus he can be over-sensitive..." she tuts as she resumes the gentle rocking motion timed to the flapping of Daphne's wings that keeps them from colliding with her somewhat temperamental hat. The overall sensation is not unlike riding a Thestral; she has experience enough with that.
She launches into assurances that he wouldn't actually bite as she magics away the bits of her costume covering her face. Given her long, white-blonde hair was almost completely exposed, it had done nothing to conceal her identity either, on the off chance one were one unfamiliar with the distinctive headwear.
"Well of course not," Daphne replies as though it were perfectly obvious, but then perhaps to her it is. "It's a Transfiguration of yours. I recognise it from school." Unflinchingly she stretches up a hand and begins to scratch the old cat behind an ear, and he actually purrs. Luna feels a brief moment of relief she hadn't charmed it masticating a serpent as she'd originally intended at the time. The result is vastly improved to what she'd been able to create fourth year, no question, but the underlying spellwork is still much the same.
The bartender finally arrives, drawn more by the lion's roar than Luna's wave.
Giving the brunette beside her a disapproving look, he asks the Ravenclaw, "Is she bothering you?" Luna merely orders an elfwine and shoos him away.
"One for me, too, please," Daphne calls after him.
"Sorry, I thought you were set," Luna apologises again.
"Oh, I am," Daph lifts her half-full glass in demonstration, "but he doesn't come around often.
"Lovely job on the fabric," she coos, leaning in to admire its weave. "The mane in particular is a thing of beauty." She begins running her fingers through his long fur, and if he'd been purring before it's a loud rumble now. Luna smiles, both at the praise and her lion's obvious pleasure. "Manipulating the fabric to that extent isn't easy to do. And most people concentrate solely on optics, ignoring the texture." She interrupts the petting gesture to Banish a floating candle that was coming too close to the lion, and he nuzzles her hand in thanks. His gratitude culminates in a sloppy lick, the results of which she Tergeos rather unproblematically before giving him a final scratch. Daphne's ease is another relief. Luna finds people can be rather precious about things like lion slobber - particularly when in their dress robes, and the Slytherin's are quite pretty.
"The candles are suspended terribly low tonight..." Daph remarks, her disapproval is clear.
"Hagrid and Madame Maxime were complaining about just that earlier..." Given their height, that makes perfect sense, the young women agree.
"How is Hagrid?" Daphne asks, her interest genuine. Care of Magical Creatures had always been one of her favourite classes, and she rather misses it since she'd graduated. There aren't many Creatures involved in work as a Draper's assistant.
Interrupting, the bartender reappears with their drinks and the witches reach for their change purses. "Your money's no good here," he reassures Luna. "The heroes of Hogwarts drink free," he explains as he takes Daphne's Galleons.
"Then put hers on my tab," Luna tells him, voice low and her eyes narrowing a little dangerously. The effect is ruined completely by her hat and the bizarre rocking dictated by the other woman's wings, but people have spent the last six months telling all kinds of stories about what the witch can do and warily he returns the Slytherin's money. "She fought in the Battle; where were you?" Luna raises her voice to shout after him as he flees.
"I'm sorry," she apologises - yet again - this time for the scene, making Daphne giggle, because it's evidently becoming a thing. "There are so many Wrackspurts here tonight... Plus someone told me recently I need to work on being more assertive," she elaborates with an obviously unhappy look over her shoulder in the direction of the crowd. "I guess I'm not 'Gryffindor enough'..." As if in explanation, she indicates her hat and red and gold scarf.
"How silly," Daph objects instantly and most sympathetically. "You're a Ravenclaw.
"Were you supposed to be a Gryffindor tonight?" She asks, taking the scarf in hand. Such a nice weave. Madam Malkin should be jealous.
Luna shrugs, not answering, and Daphne just shakes her head. "Here I sort of thought you were you. You know, 'Quidditch fan Luna'." Luna laughs because it's silly and sweet and leaves her feeling a little bit better. "Well it's not like any of them ever looked like that," the brunette justifies with a decisive nod. "That was always you."
They clink glasses and take a sip and the elfwine is a good vintage indeed.
"Thank you," Daphne says, raising her glass minutely by way of illustration.
"It needed to happen. Their prices are outrageous anyway," Luna casually assures her, as though the witch hadn't really meant her defence instead. Luna has the feeling the bartender's reaction was all too common. She takes the witch's hand and gives it a gentle reassuring squeeze. If they weren't treating Professor Snape much better, where would people like Daphne stand?
"That's all the more reason to say 'thanks' then," Daph giggles anew. "Say, have you thought of talking to Hagrid about the Wrackspurts? He was always such a font of unusual solutions. I just can't believe there isn't something to be done for them."
"Well, positive thinking, of course, but do you know, I find the company one keeps does make a difference..."
"Glad if it does," the pretty brunette smiles in reply. Between the optimal handling of various exceedingly rare Magical Creatures - some so rare as to be thought mythical - and the subtleties of fabric Transfiguration and Conjuration, they find they have a fair few interests in common. By the time the ball comes to an end in the small hours of the morning, after donning a pair of Spectrespecs, Luna is able to cheerily inform her new friend there isn't a single Wrackspurt in sight.
It doesn't surprise Daphne in the least to hear it.
31 October, 1998. Luna runs into Daphne at the Ministry's first Halloween Ball after the war.
Originally Published: 2021-10-31 on LJ / DW / AO3
Words: 1.3 k
Rating: General
Author's Notes: This story was written as part of the rarepair_shorts 2021 Monster Mash (LJ / AO3), and my prompts were: Floating candles and Masquerade. It takes place in Luna's seventh year, post-BoH, at the Ministry.
This is a standalone drabble AU sequel set in the "beyond wandpoint" AU (LJ / DW / AO3) So, cleverly, that makes it an AU AU written for
shaelia. (Thanks. ❤️) wandpoint definitely isn't a pre-req for the story, additional caveat, all of "beyond wandpoint" has not been uploaded to AO3 at this time.
A hearty thanks to the
rarepairs_mod for running the fest! ❤️Saturday, 31 October, 1998
The Ministry's Ballroom
For all it was a masquerade ball, no one that knew them should have had any difficulty identifying either of the witches presently at the bar. It didn't hurt, of course, that Daphne Greengrass wasn't wearing a mask, but even if she had, there probably wasn't another witchard in the room who'd have willingly permitted themselves to be Jinxed with the enormous sparkly purple fairy wings she sported with such evident and very typical glee. The gentlemen to either side of her had been decidedly less enamoured of the things; their annoyance clear, they'd grabbed their drinks and beaten a hasty retreat. Bobbing and weaving and ducking those wings with an elegance few would expect from her - particularly with the addition of her ridiculous headgear - Luna Lovegood now hops onto one of the recently vacated barstools.
"Hi, Luna!" Daphne waves, another clue it's the eldest Greengrass daughter were one still in want of one, as it's unlikely any of the others present would feel a pressing need to wave at the person immediately beside them, but then Daphne generally finds them too serious by half.
"Hey, Daphne," Luna grins warmly behind her mask as she hails the bartender.
"Oh! Sorry!" the Slytherin cries as the lion on top of Luna's head roars in response to one of the wings grazing its mane. The lion chomps at the air close to the wing - so close Daphne can feel the draught - and it's Luna's turn to apologise.
"No, the fault's all mine, I wasn't paying attention and forgot to dodge, plus he can be over-sensitive..." she tuts as she resumes the gentle rocking motion timed to the flapping of Daphne's wings that keeps them from colliding with her somewhat temperamental hat. The overall sensation is not unlike riding a Thestral; she has experience enough with that.
She launches into assurances that he wouldn't actually bite as she magics away the bits of her costume covering her face. Given her long, white-blonde hair was almost completely exposed, it had done nothing to conceal her identity either, on the off chance one were one unfamiliar with the distinctive headwear.
"Well of course not," Daphne replies as though it were perfectly obvious, but then perhaps to her it is. "It's a Transfiguration of yours. I recognise it from school." Unflinchingly she stretches up a hand and begins to scratch the old cat behind an ear, and he actually purrs. Luna feels a brief moment of relief she hadn't charmed it masticating a serpent as she'd originally intended at the time. The result is vastly improved to what she'd been able to create fourth year, no question, but the underlying spellwork is still much the same.
The bartender finally arrives, drawn more by the lion's roar than Luna's wave.
Giving the brunette beside her a disapproving look, he asks the Ravenclaw, "Is she bothering you?" Luna merely orders an elfwine and shoos him away.
"One for me, too, please," Daphne calls after him.
"Sorry, I thought you were set," Luna apologises again.
"Oh, I am," Daph lifts her half-full glass in demonstration, "but he doesn't come around often.
"Lovely job on the fabric," she coos, leaning in to admire its weave. "The mane in particular is a thing of beauty." She begins running her fingers through his long fur, and if he'd been purring before it's a loud rumble now. Luna smiles, both at the praise and her lion's obvious pleasure. "Manipulating the fabric to that extent isn't easy to do. And most people concentrate solely on optics, ignoring the texture." She interrupts the petting gesture to Banish a floating candle that was coming too close to the lion, and he nuzzles her hand in thanks. His gratitude culminates in a sloppy lick, the results of which she Tergeos rather unproblematically before giving him a final scratch. Daphne's ease is another relief. Luna finds people can be rather precious about things like lion slobber - particularly when in their dress robes, and the Slytherin's are quite pretty.
"The candles are suspended terribly low tonight..." Daph remarks, her disapproval is clear.
"Hagrid and Madame Maxime were complaining about just that earlier..." Given their height, that makes perfect sense, the young women agree.
"How is Hagrid?" Daphne asks, her interest genuine. Care of Magical Creatures had always been one of her favourite classes, and she rather misses it since she'd graduated. There aren't many Creatures involved in work as a Draper's assistant.
Interrupting, the bartender reappears with their drinks and the witches reach for their change purses. "Your money's no good here," he reassures Luna. "The heroes of Hogwarts drink free," he explains as he takes Daphne's Galleons.
"Then put hers on my tab," Luna tells him, voice low and her eyes narrowing a little dangerously. The effect is ruined completely by her hat and the bizarre rocking dictated by the other woman's wings, but people have spent the last six months telling all kinds of stories about what the witch can do and warily he returns the Slytherin's money. "She fought in the Battle; where were you?" Luna raises her voice to shout after him as he flees.
"I'm sorry," she apologises - yet again - this time for the scene, making Daphne giggle, because it's evidently becoming a thing. "There are so many Wrackspurts here tonight... Plus someone told me recently I need to work on being more assertive," she elaborates with an obviously unhappy look over her shoulder in the direction of the crowd. "I guess I'm not 'Gryffindor enough'..." As if in explanation, she indicates her hat and red and gold scarf.
"How silly," Daph objects instantly and most sympathetically. "You're a Ravenclaw.
"Were you supposed to be a Gryffindor tonight?" She asks, taking the scarf in hand. Such a nice weave. Madam Malkin should be jealous.
Luna shrugs, not answering, and Daphne just shakes her head. "Here I sort of thought you were you. You know, 'Quidditch fan Luna'." Luna laughs because it's silly and sweet and leaves her feeling a little bit better. "Well it's not like any of them ever looked like that," the brunette justifies with a decisive nod. "That was always you."
They clink glasses and take a sip and the elfwine is a good vintage indeed.
"Thank you," Daphne says, raising her glass minutely by way of illustration.
"It needed to happen. Their prices are outrageous anyway," Luna casually assures her, as though the witch hadn't really meant her defence instead. Luna has the feeling the bartender's reaction was all too common. She takes the witch's hand and gives it a gentle reassuring squeeze. If they weren't treating Professor Snape much better, where would people like Daphne stand?
"That's all the more reason to say 'thanks' then," Daph giggles anew. "Say, have you thought of talking to Hagrid about the Wrackspurts? He was always such a font of unusual solutions. I just can't believe there isn't something to be done for them."
"Well, positive thinking, of course, but do you know, I find the company one keeps does make a difference..."
"Glad if it does," the pretty brunette smiles in reply. Between the optimal handling of various exceedingly rare Magical Creatures - some so rare as to be thought mythical - and the subtleties of fabric Transfiguration and Conjuration, they find they have a fair few interests in common. By the time the ball comes to an end in the small hours of the morning, after donning a pair of Spectrespecs, Luna is able to cheerily inform her new friend there isn't a single Wrackspurt in sight.
It doesn't surprise Daphne in the least to hear it.