[fic] My Heroine Pretend 2/2
My Heroine Pretend
Part 2 of 2
Fandom: HP
Rating: PG
Ship: Neville/Luna
Summary: At last, Luna's cornered a real Wazrel. But since it's hiding in a men's lavatory, she sends Neville to do the capturing.
A/N: Yes, yes. I posted Part 1 in June. I fail a little. The problem was that I didn't know how to end the story. I hadn't anticipated it becoming as long as it did. Then, at work today, I had an idea. Each part is about 1,600 words.
Part One
It's like entering a cave. The walls are painted ochre and hunch so close together that the air feels compressed. Neville sucks it in slowly, feels how heavy it is in his lungs. It's a few moments before his eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting, a few more before he spots the only other being in the loo.
He's tall - though he may be a stumpy Wazrel, for all Neville knows. He's standing by the urinals, so all Neville can see is the spill of his long, black cloak.
He would be wearing black, thinks Neville with a flicker of amusement. He'd be unnerved if this weren’t so daft, and if Luna weren't waiting for him just outside the loo, probably guarding the door like a proper accomplice, her arms crossed formidably over her chest, her wand at the ready.
Neville clears his throat, but the cloaked figure doesn't turn. Well, even if this Wazrel - or whatever - is as harmless as Luna thinks, he isn't going to interrogate it with his flies undone. Neville goes to the urinals - keeping one between him and the Wazrel - and stands there.
There's no tinkling, he realizes. Either the Wazrel isn't really taking a piss, or he's doing it silently. Neville slants his gaze at the Wazrel, then looks away quickly.
Nothing. That voluminous cloak hides everything.
Neville bites his lip, stares at the wall.
If he thinks about this too much, he knows, he'll start to have doubts. Rather, the doubt will start to come back, and he can't have that. He's got to do this for Luna, who's standing just outside thinking he's a hero. He wants to be her hero, which is funny since he never wanted to be a hero before in his life.
Bugger it.
Feeling more than a little daft, Neville heaves an exaggerated sigh and says, "Girls. I ask you."
He waits a beat, but the Wazrel says nothing.
"My girl, I should say. 'Let's go to Prague,' she says, like you or I - or any normal person - might say, 'let's have jacket potatoes for supper.'"
Not a sound from the Wazrel.
Neville steals another glance. It's just standing there, solid and still as a door. "My girl," he continues to babble. "She comes up with the maddest things. Not that going to Prague is mad. It's a brilliant city. It's just that- Well, she knows things - or thinks she knows things - that most people don't. She's not a seer. It's more like… She sees things the way they ought to be, I sometimes think. Daft. But daft isn't always bad, right? In fact, just a little while ago, she was talking about…these people - not people, mind, not human beings, but…and wouldn't you know…"
He's run out of breath, and still the bloody thing hasn't turned so he can see its face.
"Look," Neville says, not sure how much longer he can stand doing this. He's just about convinced that the Wazrel can't understand a word he's saying. "I've never seen a Wazrel, and I reckon my girl doesn't really know what one looks like. She thinks you're one. And - er - she wants me to try and catch you. I'm not going to, of course," he adds quickly, forcing a chuckle into his increasingly strained tone. "I was just hoping… I've got a camera in my pocket, and I reckon I could convince my girl that-"
At that moment the loo door swings open. Neville jumps and bangs his hipbone hard against the urinal. It's only Luna, beret askew, pale hair flying.
"So, you could have done this yourself?" Neville stammers.
"Someone was coming," Luna tells him breathlessly. "Two someones. I think they're onto us. We've got to be quick." She looks at the Wazrel and smiles serenely. "Oh, hello." To Neville, she whispers, "I don't think he's completely stunned."
"It's not stunned at all," says Neville.
"He," Luna insists.
"He. I'm not going to stun him. Let's just take his picture and get out of here."
"But there are so many questions I want to ask!"
"Luna," Neville sighs. "I don't think he can talk. Even if he can, I don't think he understands us."
"There are ways," Luna says, twisting her fingers and eyeing the Wazrel with an intensity that Neville finds a little worrying. "Spells. Decoders."
"Luna," Neville begins, but he's interrupted by the door opening a second time.
Two people, a man and a woman, both in black, come in. They're older, maybe in their late-thirties. The woman has dirty blonde hair pulled back in a long plait and big, pale eyes. The man is stocky and dark-haired. Neville barely has time to make note of this before the room begins to sway. Or perhaps he's the one swaying. Either way, dizziness sweeps over him and he has to grope of the urinal to stay upright.
Luna sags against him. He can hear her short, ragged gasps, can feel her small hands clutching his sleeve. He doesn't want to shake her off, but he's got to get his wand.
"Oh, hello," Luna says again, but her voice sounds far away, and then Neville thinks that maybe it was the blonde woman who spoke.
"It's all right," the man says. "It's always shocking the first time. Deep breaths. Look at your shoes or something. Don't try to focus on us."
Neville stares at the tips of his toes, concentrates on the faded brown leather and on Luna's fingers and the warm, soft weight of her. Her hair tickles his cheek.
"Please don't take him," she mumbles, and for an instant, Neville thinks she's talking about him. Why would anyone - besides Luna - have any interest in him? True, he's helped send plenty of Death Eaters to Azkaban, but-
But she's not talking about him.
"We've got to," the blonde woman says in a soothing tone. Then, a bit dreamily, "We've come such a long way. We've been searching for him for such a long time. I like your hat."
"Thank you," Luna says.
"This is the last Wazrel," the man explains solemnly. "The last one in this dimension, anyway. Merlin only knows how long he's been stuck here, but we've found a way to send him back to where he belongs, and now - thanks to you two - we've finally found him."
"Thanks to us?" says Neville. The floor is no longer rocking. He uncurls his fingers from the urinal and turns, but he avoids the man's face. He focuses instead on the big, round ears, the messy brown hair, the thick shoulders. He swallows. "You were following us?"
"No," says the woman. "We found the picture you took."
"You took," murmurs Luna.
"It took us a while to figure out exactly when the picture had been taken, and in which loo."
"We've been to a lot of loos," says the man, sounding aggrieved. "And I think we might've come a bit early. You haven't taken the picture yet, then?"
"Er." Neville looks at the Wazrel, who has barely moved since the other two came in. His head is tipped slightly and a bit of his hood has fallen back to reveal long, milky eyes and a nose like a snail shell. Neville looks away quickly.
Luna relaxes her grip, but she doesn't step away. She reaches into his pocket, and he opens his mouth to tell her not to go for the wand, but it's his camera she withdraws. She holds it toward the blonde woman. "Will you take our picture?"
"Of course," says the woman.
"Come on, Neville." Luna takes his hand and pulls him away from the urinal. "It’s all right. I understand what's going on."
"I don't," mutters Neville. He has an odd taste in his mouth, like he's about to vomit, though he's sure he won't. "I mean, I think I do, but I'd almost rather not, if that's all right."
"It is." Luna squeezes his hand.
The flash from the camera blinds Neville for a few moments. While he blinks, Luna says, "Oh, thank you. I'm sorry I won't be able to interview him, but I suppose I'll find out all about Wazrels eventually."
"You will. And so will you," the man says to Neville. "Now, you'd better leave. We've got to get this fellow back where he belongs, and it would really be in the best interest of the universe if you didn't see us do it. Go along. Here's your camera. Thanks for your help. It's, ah…well, we'll see you. After a fashion."
*
"I knew going to Prague would be a good idea," Luna says later, as they're walking along the bank of the Vltava. The city lights are reflected on the waving dark water, making it looks as if the world - everything but the pair of them - has been turned upside down. Not a comforting image even under normal circumstances, Neville thinks wryly.
Luna twirls her beret on the tip of her index finger. "I'm still a bit sad we didn't get the interview."
"He couldn't talk. As far as we knew."
"I know. But still." She sighs. "I suppose we'll have to wait to learn anything."
For the first time, it occurs to Neville that she's right about we. He wonders how old the man and woman are. Were. Will be. He shakes his head. Better not to think about it. Luna says she understands, and while what Luna understands and what happens to be the truth aren't always the same - it's all right.
He and his girl are in Prague. She has her fingers through his, and it's a beautiful night.
"You were very brave, by the way," Luna whispers, like she's imparting a secret. She kisses his cheek. "My hero."
"You're right," Neville says, suddenly unconcerned about anything aside from this girl, where they are, and what they're doing - now. "Prague was a bloody brilliant idea."
01.04.07
Part 2 of 2
Fandom: HP
Rating: PG
Ship: Neville/Luna
Summary: At last, Luna's cornered a real Wazrel. But since it's hiding in a men's lavatory, she sends Neville to do the capturing.
A/N: Yes, yes. I posted Part 1 in June. I fail a little. The problem was that I didn't know how to end the story. I hadn't anticipated it becoming as long as it did. Then, at work today, I had an idea. Each part is about 1,600 words.
Part One
It's like entering a cave. The walls are painted ochre and hunch so close together that the air feels compressed. Neville sucks it in slowly, feels how heavy it is in his lungs. It's a few moments before his eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting, a few more before he spots the only other being in the loo.
He's tall - though he may be a stumpy Wazrel, for all Neville knows. He's standing by the urinals, so all Neville can see is the spill of his long, black cloak.
He would be wearing black, thinks Neville with a flicker of amusement. He'd be unnerved if this weren’t so daft, and if Luna weren't waiting for him just outside the loo, probably guarding the door like a proper accomplice, her arms crossed formidably over her chest, her wand at the ready.
Neville clears his throat, but the cloaked figure doesn't turn. Well, even if this Wazrel - or whatever - is as harmless as Luna thinks, he isn't going to interrogate it with his flies undone. Neville goes to the urinals - keeping one between him and the Wazrel - and stands there.
There's no tinkling, he realizes. Either the Wazrel isn't really taking a piss, or he's doing it silently. Neville slants his gaze at the Wazrel, then looks away quickly.
Nothing. That voluminous cloak hides everything.
Neville bites his lip, stares at the wall.
If he thinks about this too much, he knows, he'll start to have doubts. Rather, the doubt will start to come back, and he can't have that. He's got to do this for Luna, who's standing just outside thinking he's a hero. He wants to be her hero, which is funny since he never wanted to be a hero before in his life.
Bugger it.
Feeling more than a little daft, Neville heaves an exaggerated sigh and says, "Girls. I ask you."
He waits a beat, but the Wazrel says nothing.
"My girl, I should say. 'Let's go to Prague,' she says, like you or I - or any normal person - might say, 'let's have jacket potatoes for supper.'"
Not a sound from the Wazrel.
Neville steals another glance. It's just standing there, solid and still as a door. "My girl," he continues to babble. "She comes up with the maddest things. Not that going to Prague is mad. It's a brilliant city. It's just that- Well, she knows things - or thinks she knows things - that most people don't. She's not a seer. It's more like… She sees things the way they ought to be, I sometimes think. Daft. But daft isn't always bad, right? In fact, just a little while ago, she was talking about…these people - not people, mind, not human beings, but…and wouldn't you know…"
He's run out of breath, and still the bloody thing hasn't turned so he can see its face.
"Look," Neville says, not sure how much longer he can stand doing this. He's just about convinced that the Wazrel can't understand a word he's saying. "I've never seen a Wazrel, and I reckon my girl doesn't really know what one looks like. She thinks you're one. And - er - she wants me to try and catch you. I'm not going to, of course," he adds quickly, forcing a chuckle into his increasingly strained tone. "I was just hoping… I've got a camera in my pocket, and I reckon I could convince my girl that-"
At that moment the loo door swings open. Neville jumps and bangs his hipbone hard against the urinal. It's only Luna, beret askew, pale hair flying.
"So, you could have done this yourself?" Neville stammers.
"Someone was coming," Luna tells him breathlessly. "Two someones. I think they're onto us. We've got to be quick." She looks at the Wazrel and smiles serenely. "Oh, hello." To Neville, she whispers, "I don't think he's completely stunned."
"It's not stunned at all," says Neville.
"He," Luna insists.
"He. I'm not going to stun him. Let's just take his picture and get out of here."
"But there are so many questions I want to ask!"
"Luna," Neville sighs. "I don't think he can talk. Even if he can, I don't think he understands us."
"There are ways," Luna says, twisting her fingers and eyeing the Wazrel with an intensity that Neville finds a little worrying. "Spells. Decoders."
"Luna," Neville begins, but he's interrupted by the door opening a second time.
Two people, a man and a woman, both in black, come in. They're older, maybe in their late-thirties. The woman has dirty blonde hair pulled back in a long plait and big, pale eyes. The man is stocky and dark-haired. Neville barely has time to make note of this before the room begins to sway. Or perhaps he's the one swaying. Either way, dizziness sweeps over him and he has to grope of the urinal to stay upright.
Luna sags against him. He can hear her short, ragged gasps, can feel her small hands clutching his sleeve. He doesn't want to shake her off, but he's got to get his wand.
"Oh, hello," Luna says again, but her voice sounds far away, and then Neville thinks that maybe it was the blonde woman who spoke.
"It's all right," the man says. "It's always shocking the first time. Deep breaths. Look at your shoes or something. Don't try to focus on us."
Neville stares at the tips of his toes, concentrates on the faded brown leather and on Luna's fingers and the warm, soft weight of her. Her hair tickles his cheek.
"Please don't take him," she mumbles, and for an instant, Neville thinks she's talking about him. Why would anyone - besides Luna - have any interest in him? True, he's helped send plenty of Death Eaters to Azkaban, but-
But she's not talking about him.
"We've got to," the blonde woman says in a soothing tone. Then, a bit dreamily, "We've come such a long way. We've been searching for him for such a long time. I like your hat."
"Thank you," Luna says.
"This is the last Wazrel," the man explains solemnly. "The last one in this dimension, anyway. Merlin only knows how long he's been stuck here, but we've found a way to send him back to where he belongs, and now - thanks to you two - we've finally found him."
"Thanks to us?" says Neville. The floor is no longer rocking. He uncurls his fingers from the urinal and turns, but he avoids the man's face. He focuses instead on the big, round ears, the messy brown hair, the thick shoulders. He swallows. "You were following us?"
"No," says the woman. "We found the picture you took."
"You took," murmurs Luna.
"It took us a while to figure out exactly when the picture had been taken, and in which loo."
"We've been to a lot of loos," says the man, sounding aggrieved. "And I think we might've come a bit early. You haven't taken the picture yet, then?"
"Er." Neville looks at the Wazrel, who has barely moved since the other two came in. His head is tipped slightly and a bit of his hood has fallen back to reveal long, milky eyes and a nose like a snail shell. Neville looks away quickly.
Luna relaxes her grip, but she doesn't step away. She reaches into his pocket, and he opens his mouth to tell her not to go for the wand, but it's his camera she withdraws. She holds it toward the blonde woman. "Will you take our picture?"
"Of course," says the woman.
"Come on, Neville." Luna takes his hand and pulls him away from the urinal. "It’s all right. I understand what's going on."
"I don't," mutters Neville. He has an odd taste in his mouth, like he's about to vomit, though he's sure he won't. "I mean, I think I do, but I'd almost rather not, if that's all right."
"It is." Luna squeezes his hand.
The flash from the camera blinds Neville for a few moments. While he blinks, Luna says, "Oh, thank you. I'm sorry I won't be able to interview him, but I suppose I'll find out all about Wazrels eventually."
"You will. And so will you," the man says to Neville. "Now, you'd better leave. We've got to get this fellow back where he belongs, and it would really be in the best interest of the universe if you didn't see us do it. Go along. Here's your camera. Thanks for your help. It's, ah…well, we'll see you. After a fashion."
*
"I knew going to Prague would be a good idea," Luna says later, as they're walking along the bank of the Vltava. The city lights are reflected on the waving dark water, making it looks as if the world - everything but the pair of them - has been turned upside down. Not a comforting image even under normal circumstances, Neville thinks wryly.
Luna twirls her beret on the tip of her index finger. "I'm still a bit sad we didn't get the interview."
"He couldn't talk. As far as we knew."
"I know. But still." She sighs. "I suppose we'll have to wait to learn anything."
For the first time, it occurs to Neville that she's right about we. He wonders how old the man and woman are. Were. Will be. He shakes his head. Better not to think about it. Luna says she understands, and while what Luna understands and what happens to be the truth aren't always the same - it's all right.
He and his girl are in Prague. She has her fingers through his, and it's a beautiful night.
"You were very brave, by the way," Luna whispers, like she's imparting a secret. She kisses his cheek. "My hero."
"You're right," Neville says, suddenly unconcerned about anything aside from this girl, where they are, and what they're doing - now. "Prague was a bloody brilliant idea."
01.04.07