House of Cards
Title: House of Cards (3/??)
Fandom: Harry Potter, Naruto
Summary: The name written on the paper is Luna Lovegood. Sequel to In the Company of Secrets. One-shot HP/Naruto.
Notes:
Unravel (1/??) - http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4955482/1/Unravel
In the Company of Secrets (2/??) - http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5244376/1/In_the_Company_of_Secrets
1
Luna does not get many visitors.
Thus, it does not strike her as strange when two of them turn up at her doorstep, days within the other. That is, after all, how the universe works.
2
The first is Harry.
The poor dear is panting with exertion, looking as if he'd covered the distance from the Ministry to her house on foot. Luna wonders about the frog in the well, climbing two meters up but inevitably sliding three meters back down. In dire emergencies, a Muggle-raised wizard will always return to the original, wandless state, realizing perhaps later that if only they'd used it--
She sees Harry open his mouth and raises a hand to stall the coming deluge of information. There's no need, she says. I already know all about it.
Harry's eyes widen, and his breathing becomes a little easier, and then hitches again. You do? But-
I've been telling you about it since Hogwarts, haven't I? Well, I suppose you only believe me now that the Rotfang Conspiracy's been uncovered. It was in the Quibbler yesterday.
There goes that expression again: it's somewhere between gobsmacked and exasperated and Luna has been meaning to give it a name other than 'gobsmacked and exasperated' but gobsmasperated doesn't give the look on Harry's face much justice.
No, it's about this man named Toad-
Were the rumors true then? Did Harry Potter have extraordinary mind-reading abilities? Maybe he read her thoughts on the frog in the well and that was what precipitated all this talk on amphibians. Well, if he did, she hopes he saw the one about the sorry state of Nargles in Scotland.
Luna, you will tell me if you see him. You must.
All right, Harry, she says with a smile. I’ll tell you when your friend Toad-he sputters unbecomingly-drops by.
3
The second is a blonde woman.
Hi, she says. I'm Cherry.
What a pity. That you were named Cherry when you obviously like orange more, Luna clarifies, glancing at her orange necklace, orange earrings, orange, well, everything. Her belt, though, is light blue. For contrast, perhaps.
Cherry blinks and pouts, puts a finger to her pursed lips and thinks. Then she smiles.
Luna thinks that her smile is what sensuality is made of: all curve and secret and shadow.
You're right, she says. Hi, I'm Orange.
4
Orange steps into Luna's house and never leaves.
She settles into Luna's moth-eaten, once-apple green couch with all the self-assurance of a cat. Most of the time, the girl sleeps like a log until midday. Sometimes, Luna will wake to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and pancakes. She is grateful that Arthur Weasley’s electronic coffee maker gift is finally getting some use, so she doesn’t mind. (She does put her wand down the third time Orange tries to cook lunch, and it’s still noodles.)
Orange takes to reading the Quibbler articles stashed in random corners of the house. She takes to arranging Luna’s numerous trinkets, even going as far as to wear some of them. If Luna feels that there is anything malicious in the manner Orange is rifling through her things, she never says a word.
At least Orange puts them all back, in the end. Besides, she’s checked the woman for Wrackspurts before letting her in the house.
Luna never asks why Orange is here. She suspects the other will never tell anyway.
5
You eat a lot, Luna tells her guest over breakfast one day.
Orange pauses in shoveling down three pieces of pancake down her throat and narrows her blue eyes at Luna. Is this the part you start telling me my metabolism will eventually slow down and I’ll become a fat old hag so I need to-to diet?
Luna frowns. Why were women so concerned with dieting anyway? No, it was just an observation. After all, pregnant women do eat a lot.
Her visitor, if possible, gets even more incensed and purses her cherry lips in anger. I am not pregnant!
Luna smiles patiently at the other woman.
No, you’re not.
6
Orange likes to sleep facing up, her blonde hair in messy disarray and her overlarge white shirt hiked up to reveal a bare midriff.
There is a tattoo on her stomach, stark black against the tan and intriguingly shaped.
Luna finds herself tracing the tattoo once, until Orange opens one eye lazily and asks her what she’s doing.
It’s not normal, is it? Luna asks, ignoring the question. Your tattoo. Beneath her fingers, the tattoo pulses with energy; the skin surrounding it seemed cold in comparison.
Orange says nothing, but yanks down her shirt, hiding it from view.
7
What are you doing, researching clabbert scat?
It’s my job, Luna replies. It’s interesting how you can tell it’s from a clabbert just by looking at it.
For a moment, Orange looks like she’s just revealed a secret she wasn’t supposed to. Then she grins playfully-it’s not her usual smile. It’s wide and full of teeth and makes Luna realize how little she knows about the other woman. It was my job to know.
8
Every year since she was sixteen, on the day her mother died, Luna pays a visit to the Department of Mysteries.
They don’t let her in at first. She doesn’t remember when they actually do, but she does know that it was some time after Harry was made Head of the Auror Office. Being a friend of Harry’s always carried political clout, even when Harry never wanted it that way.
These days, she imagines she has her own influence, at least within certain academic circles, though she doesn’t fool herself that it’s the reason why she’s allowed entrance to the Veil Room. Albus Severus Potter, one of the most brilliant minds to graduate from Hogwarts since Hermione Granger, is the department’s newest Unspeakable.
He is also her godson.
Today, Orange comes with her. The other blonde is uneasy; she makes up for it by flirting outrageously with Albus while he processes the paperwork.
(Why? she had asked.
Luna paused. Sometimes, the dead have all the answers.)
The other woman’s unease falls away the moment they step into the room. The Veil stands as majestic as ever; the sight of it is supposed to soothe Luna, but she can’t help but feel she’s upset some delicate balance.
Hullo, she speaks to the Veil. It’s me again. I brought a friend.
It isn’t her mother’s voice that greets her. Instead, it’s a thousand other voices, howling loss and anguish. It reaches a crescendo and the pain of it threatens to overwhelm her.
She doesn’t notice Orange until the woman is right in front of the Veil, hand outstretched. Luna yells for her to get away, but her voice catches in her throat at the sight of Orange’s hand finally reaching the Veil.
She wonders whether this was how Harry felt-wretched and useless-when Sirius fell through.
9
Today, Luna wakes up and the smell of coffee and pancakes is absent. This is not strange in and of itself. What is strange is the lack of noise (she used to snore) and the extra food on her plate during lunch (she’s cooked for two again).
An owl swoops into her house, and its hoot echoes in the aching emptiness.
The letter is a request for her to return to North America and her research. It’s the quickest ‘Yes.’ she has ever penned in her life.
Fandom: Harry Potter, Naruto
Summary: The name written on the paper is Luna Lovegood. Sequel to In the Company of Secrets. One-shot HP/Naruto.
Notes:
Unravel (1/??) - http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4955482/1/Unravel
In the Company of Secrets (2/??) - http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5244376/1/In_the_Company_of_Secrets
1
Luna does not get many visitors.
Thus, it does not strike her as strange when two of them turn up at her doorstep, days within the other. That is, after all, how the universe works.
2
The first is Harry.
The poor dear is panting with exertion, looking as if he'd covered the distance from the Ministry to her house on foot. Luna wonders about the frog in the well, climbing two meters up but inevitably sliding three meters back down. In dire emergencies, a Muggle-raised wizard will always return to the original, wandless state, realizing perhaps later that if only they'd used it--
She sees Harry open his mouth and raises a hand to stall the coming deluge of information. There's no need, she says. I already know all about it.
Harry's eyes widen, and his breathing becomes a little easier, and then hitches again. You do? But-
I've been telling you about it since Hogwarts, haven't I? Well, I suppose you only believe me now that the Rotfang Conspiracy's been uncovered. It was in the Quibbler yesterday.
There goes that expression again: it's somewhere between gobsmacked and exasperated and Luna has been meaning to give it a name other than 'gobsmacked and exasperated' but gobsmasperated doesn't give the look on Harry's face much justice.
No, it's about this man named Toad-
Were the rumors true then? Did Harry Potter have extraordinary mind-reading abilities? Maybe he read her thoughts on the frog in the well and that was what precipitated all this talk on amphibians. Well, if he did, she hopes he saw the one about the sorry state of Nargles in Scotland.
Luna, you will tell me if you see him. You must.
All right, Harry, she says with a smile. I’ll tell you when your friend Toad-he sputters unbecomingly-drops by.
3
The second is a blonde woman.
Hi, she says. I'm Cherry.
What a pity. That you were named Cherry when you obviously like orange more, Luna clarifies, glancing at her orange necklace, orange earrings, orange, well, everything. Her belt, though, is light blue. For contrast, perhaps.
Cherry blinks and pouts, puts a finger to her pursed lips and thinks. Then she smiles.
Luna thinks that her smile is what sensuality is made of: all curve and secret and shadow.
You're right, she says. Hi, I'm Orange.
4
Orange steps into Luna's house and never leaves.
She settles into Luna's moth-eaten, once-apple green couch with all the self-assurance of a cat. Most of the time, the girl sleeps like a log until midday. Sometimes, Luna will wake to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and pancakes. She is grateful that Arthur Weasley’s electronic coffee maker gift is finally getting some use, so she doesn’t mind. (She does put her wand down the third time Orange tries to cook lunch, and it’s still noodles.)
Orange takes to reading the Quibbler articles stashed in random corners of the house. She takes to arranging Luna’s numerous trinkets, even going as far as to wear some of them. If Luna feels that there is anything malicious in the manner Orange is rifling through her things, she never says a word.
At least Orange puts them all back, in the end. Besides, she’s checked the woman for Wrackspurts before letting her in the house.
Luna never asks why Orange is here. She suspects the other will never tell anyway.
5
You eat a lot, Luna tells her guest over breakfast one day.
Orange pauses in shoveling down three pieces of pancake down her throat and narrows her blue eyes at Luna. Is this the part you start telling me my metabolism will eventually slow down and I’ll become a fat old hag so I need to-to diet?
Luna frowns. Why were women so concerned with dieting anyway? No, it was just an observation. After all, pregnant women do eat a lot.
Her visitor, if possible, gets even more incensed and purses her cherry lips in anger. I am not pregnant!
Luna smiles patiently at the other woman.
No, you’re not.
6
Orange likes to sleep facing up, her blonde hair in messy disarray and her overlarge white shirt hiked up to reveal a bare midriff.
There is a tattoo on her stomach, stark black against the tan and intriguingly shaped.
Luna finds herself tracing the tattoo once, until Orange opens one eye lazily and asks her what she’s doing.
It’s not normal, is it? Luna asks, ignoring the question. Your tattoo. Beneath her fingers, the tattoo pulses with energy; the skin surrounding it seemed cold in comparison.
Orange says nothing, but yanks down her shirt, hiding it from view.
7
What are you doing, researching clabbert scat?
It’s my job, Luna replies. It’s interesting how you can tell it’s from a clabbert just by looking at it.
For a moment, Orange looks like she’s just revealed a secret she wasn’t supposed to. Then she grins playfully-it’s not her usual smile. It’s wide and full of teeth and makes Luna realize how little she knows about the other woman. It was my job to know.
8
Every year since she was sixteen, on the day her mother died, Luna pays a visit to the Department of Mysteries.
They don’t let her in at first. She doesn’t remember when they actually do, but she does know that it was some time after Harry was made Head of the Auror Office. Being a friend of Harry’s always carried political clout, even when Harry never wanted it that way.
These days, she imagines she has her own influence, at least within certain academic circles, though she doesn’t fool herself that it’s the reason why she’s allowed entrance to the Veil Room. Albus Severus Potter, one of the most brilliant minds to graduate from Hogwarts since Hermione Granger, is the department’s newest Unspeakable.
He is also her godson.
Today, Orange comes with her. The other blonde is uneasy; she makes up for it by flirting outrageously with Albus while he processes the paperwork.
(Why? she had asked.
Luna paused. Sometimes, the dead have all the answers.)
The other woman’s unease falls away the moment they step into the room. The Veil stands as majestic as ever; the sight of it is supposed to soothe Luna, but she can’t help but feel she’s upset some delicate balance.
Hullo, she speaks to the Veil. It’s me again. I brought a friend.
It isn’t her mother’s voice that greets her. Instead, it’s a thousand other voices, howling loss and anguish. It reaches a crescendo and the pain of it threatens to overwhelm her.
She doesn’t notice Orange until the woman is right in front of the Veil, hand outstretched. Luna yells for her to get away, but her voice catches in her throat at the sight of Orange’s hand finally reaching the Veil.
She wonders whether this was how Harry felt-wretched and useless-when Sirius fell through.
9
Today, Luna wakes up and the smell of coffee and pancakes is absent. This is not strange in and of itself. What is strange is the lack of noise (she used to snore) and the extra food on her plate during lunch (she’s cooked for two again).
An owl swoops into her house, and its hoot echoes in the aching emptiness.
The letter is a request for her to return to North America and her research. It’s the quickest ‘Yes.’ she has ever penned in her life.