Fic: The Warmth of summer
Title: The Warmth of Summer
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,232
Genre: friendship
Characters: Dean & Luna Lovegood
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, objects, settings, and plots are the property of J.K. Rowling. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise associated with Harry potter. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the writing of this fanfiction.
Summary: Dean learns to paint Luna's way.
Notes: Written for hp_diversity's Mini-Prompt Fest. Prompt was "Dean/Luna, Summer colours."
Dean and Luna hadn’t really known each other before Dumbledore’s Army, and even then, they’d been mere acquaintances for years afterward.
It wasn’t until Dean’s eighth year that the two began a real friendship. The eighth years felt a lot like they weren’t supposed to be at Hogwarts, so previously developed friendships with other eighth years and those in younger years were rather obsessively maintained. This was especially true with those who’d been in the DA.
Even so, Dean and Luna tended to run in different social circles even amongst former DA members. Luna spent a lot of time with the other Ravenclaws in her year, while Dean spent most of his time with Seamus and Neville. Luna also spent a great deal of time with Ginny Weasley, and Dean and Ginny, although friends, hadn’t been particularly close since she’d left him for Harry. So Luna and Dean didn’t interact a whole lot. And when they did, he always felt a little uncomfortable because, sweet and wonderful as she was, Dean was never sure how to respond to Luna’s odd little comments.
That all changed late one night when Dean was unable to sleep (he was so much more sympathetic towards Harry’s years of screaming nightmares these days). Tired of tossing and turning fruitlessly in bed, Dean left the boys’ dorm and wandered into what was currently serving as the eighth years’ common room. When he arrived, he was surprised to discover Luna already there.
She didn’t see him come in; her back was to the door and she was...painting. On the wall.
She wasn’t using paint, that was the weird thing. But she had a handful of brushes of all shapes and sizes, and she had jars and jars of some sort of coloured, opaque potions with which she was painting a stunning mural on one empty stone wall. Dean was fairly certain that a large tapestry of two knights jousting normally covered that wall.
The scene Luna was painting was bright and cheerful-a lovely, flower-filled field edging a small pond. The field was bright with sunshine except where a few huge old oak trees shaded the edges, and one end of the pond was crowded with water lilies. Several happy-looking animals were being added to the scene: a graceful doe, a family of fluffy bunnies, a handful of songbirds scattered throughout, and he thought he saw the outline of a frog sketched out on one lily pad.
As he watched, Luna dipped a small brush into the jar of green potion and filled in the base color of the frog. He cleared his throat gently when her brush left the stone and Luna looked back over one shoulder.
“Oh,” she said, “hello, Dean. How are you on this lovely evening?”
Dean stared at her uncertainly, then glanced at the timepiece on the nearby mantel. “Luna, it’s...two in the morning.”
“Is it? I haven’t been to bed yet. It makes sense to say it’s ‘evening’ when one hasn’t been to bed, don’t you think?”
“I...suppose?”
Luna just tilted her head a little and blinked at him. A single drop of dark green...whatever it was dripped onto the knee of her pajamas. Dean fidgeted under her stare and finally broke the silence a second time.
“What are you doing.”
Luna blinked at him again. “I’m painting the walls,” she said, just as though the answer wasn’t obvious.
“Why?”
Lune turned back to her mural, tilting her head and examining her work. “It does something for the room, don’t you think?”
“Erm...it’s pretty.”
“Thank you. One goal was to create something aesthetically pleasing. But that wasn’t quite what I meant.”
“What is it supposed to do for the room then?”
“This one makes it happier, I think,” Luna said, tapping the corner of her mouth with the end of one brush handle, looking thoughtful.
“Makes...the room happier?”
“Of course. Each painting has a different purpose. This one will make the room happier. That one makes the room more optimistic,” she added, gesturing to an empty stretch of wall across the way.
Dean stared at the indicated wall, which was blank. “There’s nothing there.”
“Of course not. That’s the point.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It makes everyone feel better,” Luna said, turning back to look at him.
“Your paintings?”
“Yes.”
“Your invisible paintings?”
“Yes.”
“But...they’re invisible.”
“The point is to feel the paintings, not to see them. That’s why I’m not using real paint.”
“So those are potions, then.”
“No. It’s just temporary paint. It’s meant to fade.”
“How does it make everyone feel better then?”
“The magic’s in the painting of the picture, Dean, and the intent behind it, not in the painting itself. This one for instance.” She twisted where she say to beckon him closer. He sat down on the empty floor she patted beside her, then watched as she dabbled a little extra pink around the edge of one flower. “This one’s all done in summer colours. Outside, it’s cold and dark and white. Colourless. Depressing. It makes it a little harder to be happy, being stuck in the castle. So,” she gestured to her field, “the promise of summer warmth and bright sunshine and gentle creatures. Hogwarts is a little bit alive you know.” She smiled at him. “When I paint, the room absorbs the picture and the emotions behind it and reflects it all back for everyone to feel-all the warmth and hope and joy and everything else.”
Dean stared at the painting and Luna stared at Dean. Her expression, he saw out of the corner of one eye, was patiently expectant.
“How often do you do this?” he asked.
Luna smiled. “As often as it needs to be done, I suppose.”
“And...how do you know when that is?”
Luna’s smile was small and mysterious. “I can feel it.”
“You can feel it.”
“Mmm.” Luna reached out and added a little swoop that turned into a twisting vine of wild ivy.
Dean hesitated. “Can I help?” he asked finally.
Luna’s smile widened into a bright expression. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
“Really? But I’m not as...happy and optimistic as you. Will it still work?”
“You’re an artist, Dean. Is there any time you’re happier than when you’re painting?”
He grinned at her. “Point.”
“You see, you’ll be fine.” She handed him a brush, nudged the “paint” jars a little closer to him, and gestured at the painting. “Please.”
Dean grinned wider and reached for the yellow and the orange, adding the shape of several brightly colored fish to the pond, sun flashing off their shining scales as they swam gracefully beneath the surface of the water.
Luna grinned. “Oh, I knew you’d be perfect for this job,” she murmured, painting the beginnings of a stumbling fawn beside the graceful doe. “I’m so glad you finally came to help,” she added, as though she’d been waiting for him.
Dean stared at her, then smiled and shook his head. Luna was still a complete mystery to him, he decided as he added a bit of a sunshiny glow behind the leaves on the trees.
But he was beginning to think he was okay with that.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,232
Genre: friendship
Characters: Dean & Luna Lovegood
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, objects, settings, and plots are the property of J.K. Rowling. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise associated with Harry potter. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the writing of this fanfiction.
Summary: Dean learns to paint Luna's way.
Notes: Written for hp_diversity's Mini-Prompt Fest. Prompt was "Dean/Luna, Summer colours."
Dean and Luna hadn’t really known each other before Dumbledore’s Army, and even then, they’d been mere acquaintances for years afterward.
It wasn’t until Dean’s eighth year that the two began a real friendship. The eighth years felt a lot like they weren’t supposed to be at Hogwarts, so previously developed friendships with other eighth years and those in younger years were rather obsessively maintained. This was especially true with those who’d been in the DA.
Even so, Dean and Luna tended to run in different social circles even amongst former DA members. Luna spent a lot of time with the other Ravenclaws in her year, while Dean spent most of his time with Seamus and Neville. Luna also spent a great deal of time with Ginny Weasley, and Dean and Ginny, although friends, hadn’t been particularly close since she’d left him for Harry. So Luna and Dean didn’t interact a whole lot. And when they did, he always felt a little uncomfortable because, sweet and wonderful as she was, Dean was never sure how to respond to Luna’s odd little comments.
That all changed late one night when Dean was unable to sleep (he was so much more sympathetic towards Harry’s years of screaming nightmares these days). Tired of tossing and turning fruitlessly in bed, Dean left the boys’ dorm and wandered into what was currently serving as the eighth years’ common room. When he arrived, he was surprised to discover Luna already there.
She didn’t see him come in; her back was to the door and she was...painting. On the wall.
She wasn’t using paint, that was the weird thing. But she had a handful of brushes of all shapes and sizes, and she had jars and jars of some sort of coloured, opaque potions with which she was painting a stunning mural on one empty stone wall. Dean was fairly certain that a large tapestry of two knights jousting normally covered that wall.
The scene Luna was painting was bright and cheerful-a lovely, flower-filled field edging a small pond. The field was bright with sunshine except where a few huge old oak trees shaded the edges, and one end of the pond was crowded with water lilies. Several happy-looking animals were being added to the scene: a graceful doe, a family of fluffy bunnies, a handful of songbirds scattered throughout, and he thought he saw the outline of a frog sketched out on one lily pad.
As he watched, Luna dipped a small brush into the jar of green potion and filled in the base color of the frog. He cleared his throat gently when her brush left the stone and Luna looked back over one shoulder.
“Oh,” she said, “hello, Dean. How are you on this lovely evening?”
Dean stared at her uncertainly, then glanced at the timepiece on the nearby mantel. “Luna, it’s...two in the morning.”
“Is it? I haven’t been to bed yet. It makes sense to say it’s ‘evening’ when one hasn’t been to bed, don’t you think?”
“I...suppose?”
Luna just tilted her head a little and blinked at him. A single drop of dark green...whatever it was dripped onto the knee of her pajamas. Dean fidgeted under her stare and finally broke the silence a second time.
“What are you doing.”
Luna blinked at him again. “I’m painting the walls,” she said, just as though the answer wasn’t obvious.
“Why?”
Lune turned back to her mural, tilting her head and examining her work. “It does something for the room, don’t you think?”
“Erm...it’s pretty.”
“Thank you. One goal was to create something aesthetically pleasing. But that wasn’t quite what I meant.”
“What is it supposed to do for the room then?”
“This one makes it happier, I think,” Luna said, tapping the corner of her mouth with the end of one brush handle, looking thoughtful.
“Makes...the room happier?”
“Of course. Each painting has a different purpose. This one will make the room happier. That one makes the room more optimistic,” she added, gesturing to an empty stretch of wall across the way.
Dean stared at the indicated wall, which was blank. “There’s nothing there.”
“Of course not. That’s the point.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It makes everyone feel better,” Luna said, turning back to look at him.
“Your paintings?”
“Yes.”
“Your invisible paintings?”
“Yes.”
“But...they’re invisible.”
“The point is to feel the paintings, not to see them. That’s why I’m not using real paint.”
“So those are potions, then.”
“No. It’s just temporary paint. It’s meant to fade.”
“How does it make everyone feel better then?”
“The magic’s in the painting of the picture, Dean, and the intent behind it, not in the painting itself. This one for instance.” She twisted where she say to beckon him closer. He sat down on the empty floor she patted beside her, then watched as she dabbled a little extra pink around the edge of one flower. “This one’s all done in summer colours. Outside, it’s cold and dark and white. Colourless. Depressing. It makes it a little harder to be happy, being stuck in the castle. So,” she gestured to her field, “the promise of summer warmth and bright sunshine and gentle creatures. Hogwarts is a little bit alive you know.” She smiled at him. “When I paint, the room absorbs the picture and the emotions behind it and reflects it all back for everyone to feel-all the warmth and hope and joy and everything else.”
Dean stared at the painting and Luna stared at Dean. Her expression, he saw out of the corner of one eye, was patiently expectant.
“How often do you do this?” he asked.
Luna smiled. “As often as it needs to be done, I suppose.”
“And...how do you know when that is?”
Luna’s smile was small and mysterious. “I can feel it.”
“You can feel it.”
“Mmm.” Luna reached out and added a little swoop that turned into a twisting vine of wild ivy.
Dean hesitated. “Can I help?” he asked finally.
Luna’s smile widened into a bright expression. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
“Really? But I’m not as...happy and optimistic as you. Will it still work?”
“You’re an artist, Dean. Is there any time you’re happier than when you’re painting?”
He grinned at her. “Point.”
“You see, you’ll be fine.” She handed him a brush, nudged the “paint” jars a little closer to him, and gestured at the painting. “Please.”
Dean grinned wider and reached for the yellow and the orange, adding the shape of several brightly colored fish to the pond, sun flashing off their shining scales as they swam gracefully beneath the surface of the water.
Luna grinned. “Oh, I knew you’d be perfect for this job,” she murmured, painting the beginnings of a stumbling fawn beside the graceful doe. “I’m so glad you finally came to help,” she added, as though she’d been waiting for him.
Dean stared at her, then smiled and shook his head. Luna was still a complete mystery to him, he decided as he added a bit of a sunshiny glow behind the leaves on the trees.
But he was beginning to think he was okay with that.