milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Luna Lovegood walks into the bar with her nose buried in Beyond Basilisks: The Hidden World of Experimental Breeding.

She seems only vaguely aware that she has stepped from Hogwarts into Milliways. Her attention is on her book. And on the faint rustling sound that has been following her since the end of her Transfiguration class. Clearly, she thinks, her ear for detecting nargles is improving.

In actuality, the rustling can be attributed to the sign stuck to the back of her robe – a piece of parchment with LOONY LOVEGOOD in purple and puce.

It's fairly lurid. And flashing.

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"Muggles? Oh, they do all sorts of things."

Invent all sorts of marvelous things to let them get by without magic.

"My friend Archie is a Squib. That's....he's not a proper Muggle. His parents are a witch and wizard. But he was born without magic. He lives a great deal like a Muggle. He's shown me a lot of the things that they use every day."

"Like computers. And airplanes. And movie theaters. They can make almost anything, I think."

All things she can recognize.

But like she's making a suggestion, Elle holds out a hand, and a few bright blue sparks snap up from her palm.

Luna looks impressed.

"No. I've never seen a Muggle to that."

"Are you quite certain you're not a witch?"

"That's not what we're called."

With a gesture toward the sign, "And I can't do that."

"What are you called?"

Luna is quite curious by now.

It's a reasonable question, but unfortunately, Elle can only answer, "I don't think anyone decided that."

Beat. "Yet."

That's fair enough. It's not like a name for a group is strictly necessary.

"What are you called?" she asks.

Names for people are better to know, anyway.

It still takes her a moment to follow this question.

"Elle," she answers simply, once she's seemed to catch up.

"Elle. That's pretty."

Quite clean and simple.

"It means 'she' in French."

Having Beauxbatons students on campus is already rubbing off.

"Yeah," she agrees.

It does, in fact, mean that.

Then, she clarifies, "But I'm not French."

Luna nods her head in agreement.

"You sound like an American."

There are a good many of them here, she has noticed.

"I am."

Beat. "Sorta."

Given that there's probably no record of it, Elle's not entirely sure what the rules concerning that would be. But she answers -

"You sound British." That's about as far as she can guess.

"I'm from England," Luna confirms.

Though she spent a handful of her formative years living with Mum's family in Ireland, accounting for the bit of lilt in her speech.

"How are you 'sort of' American?"

From what Luna knows about them, Americans are very very.....American.

She takes a moment to consider this, and - "I don't think it matters very much."

Beat. "Anymore."

"And sometimes I pretend to be Canadian."

She's not sure if that makes a difference.

"I hear Canadians are quite nice," Luna offers.

And she's not even being facetious.

"They seem like most people."

And Elle's not too good at judging 'nice.'

"I don't think people would believe I'm from England."

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