milliways_bar | (no subject)

“I’m a Luna.”

Her head pokes up, chin resting on the tabletop.

Added as an afterthought, “I’m a witch. What are you?”

"Jack of the Frost."

He nods, and sips his water.

"Just that."

She pauses, sliding the glasses back down onto her nose to squint at him through them.

“Does it get cold?”

"Yes."

He holds out a cold, cold hand to her, palm up. Like touching ice, if she chooses to reach for it.

So Luna reaches out (first with her purple umbrella, before quickly swapping it to her other hand), and places her palm carefully over his.

Eyes wide, “Do you melt?”

"Yes. Sometimes. In the very middle of me."

He sighs.

"It hurts something dreadful. Do not tell anyone."

“Oh dear.”

She gazes solemnly up at him from her place on the floor, and pats his hand.

“I won’t tell anybody, don’t worry.”

"Thank you. They all get very concerned and hover."

He hates it.

"Sit and eat with me?"

“That is quite terrible, isn’t it?”

She beams up at him through her glasses. “I am quite comfortable down here, but eating would be lovely, thank you. I’ve had a very busy day.”

"What have you done? Would you like icecream or raisins or toast or grapes?"

Or any combination thereof.

“Daddy and I were trying to get the umbrella to fly.”

She holds it up over the table for inspection. It’s big and purple and the handle is duck-shaped.

“I think ice cream would be very nice.” A thoughtful pause. “On toast.”

"Ack, no, not with butter."

He orders icecream on toast for her, and just icecream for himself.

Luna smiles happily up at him.

“Thank you very much, Jack of the Frost.”

She cautiously pokes at the ice-cream with the spoon, and sandwiches it between the toast. Messy, but delicious!

"You are very welcome, Luna the Witch."

He takes a bite of his own- rum and raisin, the best sort.

The tricky thing with toasted ice-cream sandwiches is that they seem to melt very quickly. Ice-cream- lemon, the real best sort- is running enthusiastically a down Luna’s hands.

A particularly large drop falls onto her skirt and she blinks down at it woefully. “Oh dear.”

"See?"

He points his spoon at her.

"I was right."

“You were.”

She prods mournfully at the ice-cream staining her skirt.

Pulling her wand out of a pocket, “I’m not very good at cleaning charms.”

"I have never done that sort of magic at all."

He eyes it, consideringly.

"Show me, do?"

“Certainly.”

She flicks her wand, and pokes the ice-cream with it.

The stain stops spreading, but doesn’t quite fade.

"Oh, excellent."

He leans forwards to see.

"What other things are there to do?"

“All sorts.”

With a mischievous grin, Luna pulls the top layer of toast off the ice-cream.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” she intones gravely, with a flick of her wand it shoots up towards the rafters.

"Ah!"

His head snaps up, eyes following it.

"Ah, it will escape!"

A quick wand-twirl, and the toast loop-de-loops with more enthusiasm than aim.

“We can follow the ice-cream trail!” Luna proclaims cheerfully.

"Ah, no."

He brings up a hand to shelter his eyes, in case it dribbles on him.

No such luck for Luna, as a drip lands right on her nose.

“Oh!” she gasps, going cross-eyed as she stares at it.

The toast drifts bashfully back down to the table.