WISHLISTS: A World Apart (Ginny/Luna)
Author: kiertorata
Recipient: evening12
Title: A World Apart
Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood
Request/Prompt Used: Falling in love with your best friend, getting together, slice of life, flangst, post-Hogwarts
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1935
Summary: Hogwarts is over and the future is a big, scary thing, and Neville's flat is just a good place to be.
Notes: This is one of those stories that just wrote itself. I hope you don't mind that Neville just sort of butted in. I just love writing about friendships, and there's so much you can write about the obscure line between friendships and attraction, when everything feels tender and overwhelming and insecure. Writing Luna is always difficult, so you got me out of my comfort zone with your prompts! I hope you like it, evening12! <3 A big thanks to lenapinewoods for the beta!
The door is open like it always is and Ginny swings it loudly to hear the little tingle of the dreamcatcher hung from the hook on it. She steps into the coolness of the flat, throws her hat somewhere amongst the heaps of clothing on the hat shelf and makes her way into the living room. It smells like the Amazon in there as it always does, and a little bit like burnt spices - Neville has tried to cook again, apparently, and her observations are confirmed by the half-eaten, rather crisp casserole on the coffee table.
Neville and Luna are curled up on the sofa in their own respective corners, staring at the telly.
“Did you know they have people dressed up as zebras to help children cross the road in La Paz?” Luna says and looks up at her, silvery eyes connecting with Ginny’s. “Muggles are very interesting.”
“Oh, is it that travel programme again?” Ginny says. “What did I miss?”
“Well, you missed Bolivia. And a rather good episode about the alpaca industry in Peru,” Luna says as Ginny takes her familiar spot next to her in the middle of the sofa.
She takes in a different kind of scent now, almost citrusy but softer. Luna always seems to be there whenever Ginny comes over. There are all of Luna’s things scattered around: the wool blanket that changes colours according to an algorithm that Ginny still hasn’t figured out, the rickety astronomical model hanging from the roof, and all the drawings of flowers that Luna has made using Neville’s babies as models.
Babies, he calls his plants. That’s how mental he is.
But Ginny likes the flat, likes how it’s almost like a jungle in there, even though she could never have the patience herself to water all the plants Neville owns. (Luna says it’s easy, that they have set up a watering system that works according to the phases of the moon and positions of the planets and a lot of other stuff Ginny is fairly sure has nothing to do with plants, but then again, she’s not an expert.) It’s become a sort of base for them now that Hogwarts is over, and the perfect place to escape the Burrow when her mum is being particularly irritating.
“Did you hear from the Ministry yet?” Neville asks, finally looking away from the TV.
Ginny shakes her head and they return to the programme. The muggle TV has still not quite lost its attraction, and Ginny stares fascinated at the little people moving inside the box without the aid of magic.
Sitting here between her two best friends she feels that familiar tug in her heart. Come September, she might be spending forty hours of her week climbing obstacles in a muddy field, practicing combat spells that are barely legal, and learning how to write those reports that Ron and Harry inform her are hell. Come September, she might be living in goddamn London and Luna and Neville will still be sitting on Neville’s sofa eating crisps and watching bad television together.
But when the evening draws out painting the room golden red, Luna leans her head on Ginny’s shoulder and the back of her hand touches Ginny’s, as if waiting to be grabbed. Ignoring the small jab of insecurity she has almost gotten used to, Ginny slides her hand into Luna’s and Luna leans closer, her breath warm next to Ginny’s collarbone.
It’s a little weird perhaps how the three of them always end up like this at Neville’s flat. Often they’ll watch telly late into the night, or just talk about people and life or in Neville’s case plants. As the hours pass by, they’ll melt into each other on the sofa, Ginny stroking Luna’s hand or hair and leaning slightly into Neville. They cook pudding or Sunday roast together and Ginny laughs at how useless her friends are in the kitchen. (It isn’t that hard to put the correct ingredients in and not let it blow up, right? Ginny supposes being the daughter of Molly Weasley has resulted in her acquiring some domestic skills even though she has done her best to actively resist it.)
Sometimes she ends up staying the night on the sofa wearing Neville’s pyjama bottoms and one of the jumpers she no longer knows is hers or nicked off Luna a long time ago. On those nights Luna often falls asleep next to her, her silky long hair infuriating against Ginny’s cheek.
Ginny knows Neville had a crush on Luna during the war. She’s not sure if he still does; he did date Hannah Abbott for a bit during his eighth year. Neville and Luna are close in a way that Ginny isn’t with either of them. She wonders what happens on those nights that she doesn’t stay over. Do they sleep in the same bed? Or does Luna spend her nights on the sofa wrapped in the old blanket that turns lilac around her most of the time? She wants to know, but she doesn’t know how to ask, because it’s all a fine balance with the three of them and with the almost-family they’ve become since the days of the rebellion. Luna and Neville are the best friends Ginny has ever had, and she has an aching fear that acknowledging unsaid things will ruin everything.
It’s these thoughts she ponders one early morning when Neville’s grandmother Floo-calls to inform that she’s coming over and they’re all still sprawled on the sofa, zombie-like from watching telly all night. She’s a lovable old lady - well, lovable is stretching it quite a bit - but Ginny doesn’t feel like confronting her right now. She and Luna scuttle into the bedroom quickly while Neville diverts her grandmother.
“-wasting your life away staring at that abominable tel-e-visor instead of doing something useful,” they soon hear from the living room. “And the state of your flat! It looks likes no-one’s ever used a cleaning spell in here. You’re a grown man, I shouldn’t have to pick up after you anymore.”
They choke down their laughter at Neville’s futile attempts to placate his grandmother and climb into the bed where a rumpled blanket and a pile of pillows await, inviting after a long sleepless night. Ginny pulls the covers over them and Luna snuggles close to her, her cheek soft against Ginny’s shoulder.
Ginny hears the kettle whistle, and when Neville passes the bedroom door she whispers, “Oi, bring us some tea too”, while Luna giggles beside her.
Luna’s body is warm next to hers, and Ginny feels calm and electric and a little guilty at once. It’s the normal fusion of different feelings that Ginny has long ago accepted as part of being around her. When Luna snuggles closer Ginny feels part of the guilt fade away and wraps her arms around her. Sometimes she wonders if Luna knows how she feels about her. Luna is beyond wise sometimes, and it’s almost scary.
“Let me have a look in your bedroom,” Neville’s grandmother says from somewhere in the kitchen.
“Oh no, Gran. You don’t need to see that. I didn’t have time to clean it,” Neville rushes to say and Ginny smirks at the panic in his voice.
When Neville’s grandmother is in the bathroom he comes into the bedroom carrying two steaming cups of tea.
“You two are just having brilliant fun, aren’t you,” he says and shakes his head at them.
Later Ginny cooks some sausages and potatoes and they open a bottle of elf wine Luna’s dad received from an appreciative reader of the Quibbler. It’s raining outside and they turn on the wireless and listen to tunes as old as their parents. After a while the wine starts getting to their heads and Luna pulls Ginny off the sofa to dance. At first they dance apart, Luna spinning and turning in wild swirls around the coffee table. She looks like an ancient goddess dancing amongst the plants. She pulls Ginny close and places her hands on her hips, and Ginny can’t help but feel that the earnest look in her eyes means something.
Jokingly, Neville grabs a potted plant off the side table and begins to spin it around. It’s so comical and reminds Ginny of Neville’s horrible dancing at the Yule Ball that they fall to the floor laughing.
“What are you going to do when autumn comes?” Ginny asks Neville when they’re making roast beef in the kitchen. Or Ginny is, at least. Neville is trying his best to help but mostly manages to be in the way; although he’s grown up in a lot of ways, he’s still the clumsiest person on earth. It’s one of the rare occasions that Luna isn’t there; she had to go with her father to do some field work for an article.
“I dunno,” Neville says. “Gran’s been pestering me to do something, but it feels a bit overwhelming to make a choice so soon.”
“Yeah,” Ginny says. “It does.”
She puts the roast into the oven and sets the heating spells. She starts with the washing up, for once glad that she knows some good household spells.
“Luna likes you, you know,” Neville says behind her. Ginny freezes, and then relaxes again.
“Luna likes everyone,” Ginny says, even though she knows it is stupid.
“But she likes you in a special way,” Neville says.
But what about you? Don’t you like her in a special way? Ginny almost asks. Instead she just nods, even though she doesn’t think Neville can see.
A few days later, she’s back on the sofa, looking absentmindedly through the window. The first spots of auburn and yellow have started to appear in the trees, and the leaves shake in the early autumn wind. Neville is doing something in the kitchen when Luna comes in through the fireplace and sits down next to Ginny. She glances at Ginny’s lap, where a thick, official-looking letter lies heavily.
“Oh, the letter arrived from the Auror Department?” Luna says. When Ginny doesn’t say anything, she says, “You don’t feel like opening it.”
“I don’t want this to end,” Ginny says in an almost-whisper.
That’s when Luna kisses her.
It’s as if all her fears disappear in that one kiss. It’s hot and demanding and feels right in all the ways Ginny never dared to let herself think about. Shivering, Ginny tangles her hands in Luna’s hair and allows herself to get lost in feeling her.
Neville comes into the living room, carrying a bowl of crisps and stops in his tracks.
“Figured it out, didn’t you?” he says, and places the bowl onto the coffee table. His voice sounds a little bit strained, but maybe Ginny is just imagining things. At least he sits down next to them like things are normal, and when Ginny lets go of Luna and catches a glimpse of his face, he’s wearing that wonky, lopsided smile that Ginny loves. She knows that things are still alright between them.
“Open it,” Luna says, taking the envelope and putting it in Ginny’s hand. “Whatever it says, there’s still the Floo Network if you haven’t forgotten, silly.”
“But if I’ve been chosen it means I’ll be really busy. I might only be able to see you during the weekends,” Ginny says. She’s being stupidly stubborn at this point, and she already feels like choking up from relief.
“We won’t be going anywhere,” Neville says. He wraps an arm around her and Luna scoots closer, and hands fumbling, Ginny tears open the letter.
Recipient: evening12
Title: A World Apart
Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood
Request/Prompt Used: Falling in love with your best friend, getting together, slice of life, flangst, post-Hogwarts
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1935
Summary: Hogwarts is over and the future is a big, scary thing, and Neville's flat is just a good place to be.
Notes: This is one of those stories that just wrote itself. I hope you don't mind that Neville just sort of butted in. I just love writing about friendships, and there's so much you can write about the obscure line between friendships and attraction, when everything feels tender and overwhelming and insecure. Writing Luna is always difficult, so you got me out of my comfort zone with your prompts! I hope you like it, evening12! <3 A big thanks to lenapinewoods for the beta!
The door is open like it always is and Ginny swings it loudly to hear the little tingle of the dreamcatcher hung from the hook on it. She steps into the coolness of the flat, throws her hat somewhere amongst the heaps of clothing on the hat shelf and makes her way into the living room. It smells like the Amazon in there as it always does, and a little bit like burnt spices - Neville has tried to cook again, apparently, and her observations are confirmed by the half-eaten, rather crisp casserole on the coffee table.
Neville and Luna are curled up on the sofa in their own respective corners, staring at the telly.
“Did you know they have people dressed up as zebras to help children cross the road in La Paz?” Luna says and looks up at her, silvery eyes connecting with Ginny’s. “Muggles are very interesting.”
“Oh, is it that travel programme again?” Ginny says. “What did I miss?”
“Well, you missed Bolivia. And a rather good episode about the alpaca industry in Peru,” Luna says as Ginny takes her familiar spot next to her in the middle of the sofa.
She takes in a different kind of scent now, almost citrusy but softer. Luna always seems to be there whenever Ginny comes over. There are all of Luna’s things scattered around: the wool blanket that changes colours according to an algorithm that Ginny still hasn’t figured out, the rickety astronomical model hanging from the roof, and all the drawings of flowers that Luna has made using Neville’s babies as models.
Babies, he calls his plants. That’s how mental he is.
But Ginny likes the flat, likes how it’s almost like a jungle in there, even though she could never have the patience herself to water all the plants Neville owns. (Luna says it’s easy, that they have set up a watering system that works according to the phases of the moon and positions of the planets and a lot of other stuff Ginny is fairly sure has nothing to do with plants, but then again, she’s not an expert.) It’s become a sort of base for them now that Hogwarts is over, and the perfect place to escape the Burrow when her mum is being particularly irritating.
“Did you hear from the Ministry yet?” Neville asks, finally looking away from the TV.
Ginny shakes her head and they return to the programme. The muggle TV has still not quite lost its attraction, and Ginny stares fascinated at the little people moving inside the box without the aid of magic.
Sitting here between her two best friends she feels that familiar tug in her heart. Come September, she might be spending forty hours of her week climbing obstacles in a muddy field, practicing combat spells that are barely legal, and learning how to write those reports that Ron and Harry inform her are hell. Come September, she might be living in goddamn London and Luna and Neville will still be sitting on Neville’s sofa eating crisps and watching bad television together.
But when the evening draws out painting the room golden red, Luna leans her head on Ginny’s shoulder and the back of her hand touches Ginny’s, as if waiting to be grabbed. Ignoring the small jab of insecurity she has almost gotten used to, Ginny slides her hand into Luna’s and Luna leans closer, her breath warm next to Ginny’s collarbone.
It’s a little weird perhaps how the three of them always end up like this at Neville’s flat. Often they’ll watch telly late into the night, or just talk about people and life or in Neville’s case plants. As the hours pass by, they’ll melt into each other on the sofa, Ginny stroking Luna’s hand or hair and leaning slightly into Neville. They cook pudding or Sunday roast together and Ginny laughs at how useless her friends are in the kitchen. (It isn’t that hard to put the correct ingredients in and not let it blow up, right? Ginny supposes being the daughter of Molly Weasley has resulted in her acquiring some domestic skills even though she has done her best to actively resist it.)
Sometimes she ends up staying the night on the sofa wearing Neville’s pyjama bottoms and one of the jumpers she no longer knows is hers or nicked off Luna a long time ago. On those nights Luna often falls asleep next to her, her silky long hair infuriating against Ginny’s cheek.
Ginny knows Neville had a crush on Luna during the war. She’s not sure if he still does; he did date Hannah Abbott for a bit during his eighth year. Neville and Luna are close in a way that Ginny isn’t with either of them. She wonders what happens on those nights that she doesn’t stay over. Do they sleep in the same bed? Or does Luna spend her nights on the sofa wrapped in the old blanket that turns lilac around her most of the time? She wants to know, but she doesn’t know how to ask, because it’s all a fine balance with the three of them and with the almost-family they’ve become since the days of the rebellion. Luna and Neville are the best friends Ginny has ever had, and she has an aching fear that acknowledging unsaid things will ruin everything.
It’s these thoughts she ponders one early morning when Neville’s grandmother Floo-calls to inform that she’s coming over and they’re all still sprawled on the sofa, zombie-like from watching telly all night. She’s a lovable old lady - well, lovable is stretching it quite a bit - but Ginny doesn’t feel like confronting her right now. She and Luna scuttle into the bedroom quickly while Neville diverts her grandmother.
“-wasting your life away staring at that abominable tel-e-visor instead of doing something useful,” they soon hear from the living room. “And the state of your flat! It looks likes no-one’s ever used a cleaning spell in here. You’re a grown man, I shouldn’t have to pick up after you anymore.”
They choke down their laughter at Neville’s futile attempts to placate his grandmother and climb into the bed where a rumpled blanket and a pile of pillows await, inviting after a long sleepless night. Ginny pulls the covers over them and Luna snuggles close to her, her cheek soft against Ginny’s shoulder.
Ginny hears the kettle whistle, and when Neville passes the bedroom door she whispers, “Oi, bring us some tea too”, while Luna giggles beside her.
Luna’s body is warm next to hers, and Ginny feels calm and electric and a little guilty at once. It’s the normal fusion of different feelings that Ginny has long ago accepted as part of being around her. When Luna snuggles closer Ginny feels part of the guilt fade away and wraps her arms around her. Sometimes she wonders if Luna knows how she feels about her. Luna is beyond wise sometimes, and it’s almost scary.
“Let me have a look in your bedroom,” Neville’s grandmother says from somewhere in the kitchen.
“Oh no, Gran. You don’t need to see that. I didn’t have time to clean it,” Neville rushes to say and Ginny smirks at the panic in his voice.
When Neville’s grandmother is in the bathroom he comes into the bedroom carrying two steaming cups of tea.
“You two are just having brilliant fun, aren’t you,” he says and shakes his head at them.
Later Ginny cooks some sausages and potatoes and they open a bottle of elf wine Luna’s dad received from an appreciative reader of the Quibbler. It’s raining outside and they turn on the wireless and listen to tunes as old as their parents. After a while the wine starts getting to their heads and Luna pulls Ginny off the sofa to dance. At first they dance apart, Luna spinning and turning in wild swirls around the coffee table. She looks like an ancient goddess dancing amongst the plants. She pulls Ginny close and places her hands on her hips, and Ginny can’t help but feel that the earnest look in her eyes means something.
Jokingly, Neville grabs a potted plant off the side table and begins to spin it around. It’s so comical and reminds Ginny of Neville’s horrible dancing at the Yule Ball that they fall to the floor laughing.
“What are you going to do when autumn comes?” Ginny asks Neville when they’re making roast beef in the kitchen. Or Ginny is, at least. Neville is trying his best to help but mostly manages to be in the way; although he’s grown up in a lot of ways, he’s still the clumsiest person on earth. It’s one of the rare occasions that Luna isn’t there; she had to go with her father to do some field work for an article.
“I dunno,” Neville says. “Gran’s been pestering me to do something, but it feels a bit overwhelming to make a choice so soon.”
“Yeah,” Ginny says. “It does.”
She puts the roast into the oven and sets the heating spells. She starts with the washing up, for once glad that she knows some good household spells.
“Luna likes you, you know,” Neville says behind her. Ginny freezes, and then relaxes again.
“Luna likes everyone,” Ginny says, even though she knows it is stupid.
“But she likes you in a special way,” Neville says.
But what about you? Don’t you like her in a special way? Ginny almost asks. Instead she just nods, even though she doesn’t think Neville can see.
A few days later, she’s back on the sofa, looking absentmindedly through the window. The first spots of auburn and yellow have started to appear in the trees, and the leaves shake in the early autumn wind. Neville is doing something in the kitchen when Luna comes in through the fireplace and sits down next to Ginny. She glances at Ginny’s lap, where a thick, official-looking letter lies heavily.
“Oh, the letter arrived from the Auror Department?” Luna says. When Ginny doesn’t say anything, she says, “You don’t feel like opening it.”
“I don’t want this to end,” Ginny says in an almost-whisper.
That’s when Luna kisses her.
It’s as if all her fears disappear in that one kiss. It’s hot and demanding and feels right in all the ways Ginny never dared to let herself think about. Shivering, Ginny tangles her hands in Luna’s hair and allows herself to get lost in feeling her.
Neville comes into the living room, carrying a bowl of crisps and stops in his tracks.
“Figured it out, didn’t you?” he says, and places the bowl onto the coffee table. His voice sounds a little bit strained, but maybe Ginny is just imagining things. At least he sits down next to them like things are normal, and when Ginny lets go of Luna and catches a glimpse of his face, he’s wearing that wonky, lopsided smile that Ginny loves. She knows that things are still alright between them.
“Open it,” Luna says, taking the envelope and putting it in Ginny’s hand. “Whatever it says, there’s still the Floo Network if you haven’t forgotten, silly.”
“But if I’ve been chosen it means I’ll be really busy. I might only be able to see you during the weekends,” Ginny says. She’s being stupidly stubborn at this point, and she already feels like choking up from relief.
“We won’t be going anywhere,” Neville says. He wraps an arm around her and Luna scoots closer, and hands fumbling, Ginny tears open the letter.