He hasn't been following her. Of course he hasn't. When Luna Lovegood left her room, Draco wasn't even in bed. He hadn't been sleeping well lately, though he'd told no one. The only evidence were the dark circles under his eyes, marring his already pasty face.
He was on the boardwalk when she passed him, and he offered her a sneer that might have been a greeting. Surprisingly, she didn't take the bait. Didn't chirp hello or ask him any of her usual ridiculous questions. She just walked right on past him, leaving him gaping at her retreating back.
He let out an annoyed huff and stomped after her, his mouth opened to shout something nasty when he caught a glimpse of her face in the moonlight.
"Oh, perfect," he muttered to himself, following at a distance, only making his presence known when she stepped into the surf.
"You're going to drown yourself, you imbecile," he muttered, curling a hand around her arm and grimacing when cold sea water began to fill his shoes.
"But I haven't got any apples," Luna says clearly, immediately pliant under his hand even if she was still asleep. She's been hauled around plenty in this state before, even if not by Draco. Many of the teachers at Hogwarts had even remarked to her that it was a blessing she was so easily handled.
"Oh, for Salazar's sake," he snapped, abandoning all pretense of being gentle and giving her a violent shake. "Wake up, Loony. I'm not dragging you all the way back to the dormitories."
Luna blinks herself awake, only a bit surprised to find herself at the end of his grasp, and being shaken too. "Hello, Draco," she says. "Did we go for a walk, or am I sleep-walking again?"
It's been a long night. After talking to Neil, Charlie had sat on the porch of the hut that Neil had showed him, enjoying the quiet of that place called the Hidden Hamlet, but he still hadn't relaxed. Eventually, he'd wandered down to the beach. Somehow, the sound of the sea that he couldn't see was comforting.
There are few things in the world that Charlie Bartlett is as bad at as actually feeling like he fucked up.
He watches Luna walk past him and he calls out to her, but she doesn't seem to hear him. Which is when Charlie realises that she's still wearing her shoes and, by the time he catches up to her, he's breathless and skidding in bare feet on the damp sand.
"Luna?" he says, reaching out and taking hold of her shoulder gently. "I'm not sure it's safe to sleep at night, you know?"
After years with his Mom, strange behaviour doesn't really phase Charlie at all. He just knows how to keep someone safe.
"We just got back from Sweden," Luna answers, and if it's nonsensical, it's at least apparent that she's still asleep. She's easy to stop, though, not even stumbling as she pauses. "They have the strangest mice there, you know."
Oh, Jeez. Charlie had a roomate at his first school who did this sometimes. He wraps his arm gently around both of her shoulders, guiding her away from the waves.
"They're green and they glow in the dark, but I don't have a name for it," Luna explains haltingly. "I don't have a name for it...." She only stumbles a bit as she lets him guide her away, instinctively leaning into his side.
Sirius doesn't sleep. Not in any traditional sense, at least, and definitely not lately. He naps, usually in the afternoons, and then crawls out of James' drowsy embrace at night to wander the pathways or Compound halls.
There's a slip of a girl with pale, pale skin and long blond hair whipping behind her in the breeze, and Sirius doesn't know that he should know who she is; he really only knows that it's odd for a girl to be out on the beach alone at this time of night.
"All right there?" he calls as he steps closer, half-smoked cigarette poised between two slender fingers, smoke curling lazily toward the sky.
Asleep as she is, some outside stimuli still seeps through, and she wrinkles her nose pertly. "It's not Stubby Boardman, is it? He has the most awful cigars..."
"Trust me, you don't want me singing," Sirius replies, although he does make the effort to hold his cigarette away from the girl when he draws closer. There's something familiar about her, like the wisp of a dream he can't quite remember. She's from home, obviously, but if Sirius has met her he can't recall it.
"It's Sirius Black, love," he offers, voice careful as he peers back at her. Something's definitely a bit off, here.
That short circuits her whole process a bit, and Luna sits down hard in the waves. "Black," she repeats, and her whole face screws up in concentration as it comes awake.
Whenever Tom or Mike gave him particularly father-feeling looks, or Neil got a bit bossy, Peter would stay out until odd hours, just to prove he could. Sometimes he stayed out all night and slept on the beach with the tide as his lullaby. That was the nice thing about a home- it was there to come back to if you left for a little while.
He was lying on the smooth sand talking to the stars when a tow-headed girl wandered past his field of vision. She looked like something out of a story or a dream.
"Are you going to go swimming in all your clothes?"
"Should I only swim in other people's clothes?" asks Luna back, actually a bit faster than she would if she were really awake. "This isn't all my clothes, it's just one...." She trails off, swaying.
And then she just stands there, staring out at the ocean with closed eyes.
"Well..." Peter trailed off for a moment in honest contemplation of the answer. "They get really heavy when they're wet mostly," he finally said. "And you can get tangled in it, then you won't be able to swim away if a snake or shark comes after you."
She looked like someone he knew, once. But also someone completely new.
Castiel looks over from where he's holding vigil on shore.
"Good evening, Luna," he says calmly, hoping to draw some clue as to why she's there, what she's feeling, by merely looking at her. Before, all he needed was a glance, a thought. Now every thought and emotion could be hidden from him.
"My owl must have gotten lost," Luna assures him without opening her eyes. "I'm quite sorry about it." She ventures another step into the water, with only a slight flicker of a frown as water seeps into her sneakers.
"Oh, no," Luna says. "If I take them off, someone might take them. People are always taking my things... they did stop after Harry, but now he's gone and everything's changed...."
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He was on the boardwalk when she passed him, and he offered her a sneer that might have been a greeting. Surprisingly, she didn't take the bait. Didn't chirp hello or ask him any of her usual ridiculous questions. She just walked right on past him, leaving him gaping at her retreating back.
He let out an annoyed huff and stomped after her, his mouth opened to shout something nasty when he caught a glimpse of her face in the moonlight.
"Oh, perfect," he muttered to himself, following at a distance, only making his presence known when she stepped into the surf.
"You're going to drown yourself, you imbecile," he muttered, curling a hand around her arm and grimacing when cold sea water began to fill his shoes.
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There are few things in the world that Charlie Bartlett is as bad at as actually feeling like he fucked up.
He watches Luna walk past him and he calls out to her, but she doesn't seem to hear him. Which is when Charlie realises that she's still wearing her shoes and, by the time he catches up to her, he's breathless and skidding in bare feet on the damp sand.
"Luna?" he says, reaching out and taking hold of her shoulder gently. "I'm not sure it's safe to sleep at night, you know?"
After years with his Mom, strange behaviour doesn't really phase Charlie at all. He just knows how to keep someone safe.
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"That's nice. C'mon. C'mon up here with me."
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There's a slip of a girl with pale, pale skin and long blond hair whipping behind her in the breeze, and Sirius doesn't know that he should know who she is; he really only knows that it's odd for a girl to be out on the beach alone at this time of night.
"All right there?" he calls as he steps closer, half-smoked cigarette poised between two slender fingers, smoke curling lazily toward the sky.
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But she does stop, and stand still.
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"It's Sirius Black, love," he offers, voice careful as he peers back at her. Something's definitely a bit off, here.
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She blinks. "Sirius?"
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He was lying on the smooth sand talking to the stars when a tow-headed girl wandered past his field of vision. She looked like something out of a story or a dream.
"Are you going to go swimming in all your clothes?"
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And then she just stands there, staring out at the ocean with closed eyes.
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She looked like someone he knew, once. But also someone completely new.
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"Good evening, Luna," he says calmly, hoping to draw some clue as to why she's there, what she's feeling, by merely looking at her. Before, all he needed was a glance, a thought. Now every thought and emotion could be hidden from him.
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"You should take those off," he advises. "It won't be comfortable."
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