Dean

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Two

Dean

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I was in hiding for a while. After they said Muggle-borns had to register, and me having no solid evidence of being a half-blood, I just ran for it. In the dead of night, I stole away with just a rucksack and the clothes I was wearing. I tried to do an Undetectable Extension Charm, but to no avail. I was never a genius wizard.

I hid out in the woods, as I'd heard of Harry Potter doing. I guess I'm not that great a camper, though, 'cause just a few days after I got there I was awoken to a man's footsteps outside my makeshift tent of three cloaks, a blanket, and a few sticks.

Scared witless, I lay on my bedding of blankets and pine branches in the pitch dark, just listening. "I think we've got a runaway, Ted," one man whispered in a raspy voice. "That it is, Dirk," another one replied.

Dirk? Ted? Somehow those names were familiar to me. But I just couldn't place them. I lay still, heart pounding, listening to them rustle round my campsite.

"They've got food," the one named Dirk said. "Whoever they are, they've got some food. Let's take it. I think this place is deserted anyway."

My heart surged. Not my food! I barely had any as it was, and I'm terribly useless at fishing and hunting. This was the final straw. I jumped out of the tent, brandishing my wand and shouting, "Stupefy!" The red jet of spell light missed the two tall, unshaven men, but the shock on their faces was enough. I pointed my wand at the taller of the two. "Who are you?"

"Ted Tonks, son. Don't be scared; we're just as wanted as you are."

I dropped my arm. Ted Tonks! That was it. I'd heard of him somewhere. And Dirk... Dirk must be....

"Dirk Cresswell?" I asked, turning to the second half of the pair.

He nodded. "Ted's a Muggle and I'm wanted for questioning about my family tree. You?"

I told them my story, and soon we were packing up my small amount of possessions so I could join them. They had a goblin in their party, too: his name was Griphook. But then we were captured and Ted and Dirk were tragically killed trying to save our lives. In Malfoy Manor, I spent a lot of time hiding my tears from Luna, Griphook, and Mr. Ollivander, who were there as well.

But then, Harry, Ron, and Hermione saved our lives. I don't think I'll ever forget that. It was amazing, bloody brilliant actually. They took us to Ron's brother's house: Shell Cottage. Which is where I am now, sitting at the dinner table reminiscing.

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I never paid much attention to Luna Lovegood. At first, it was understandable: Me being in Gryffindor, her in Ravenclaw, and me one year older as well. But as time wore on, I heard other students discussing a "Loony" Lovegood, and I knew they were talking about her. I really didn't want kids thinking I was a loony too. So I kept my distance.

In sixth year, I fell for Ginny Weasley. But that all ended with Harry Potter. I got over her, though, slowly. And now, when I should be in my seventh year, I'm instead helping Bill Weasley's wife, Fleur, clear dirty dishes from the table. I look over at Luna: she's standing at the window, staring out with her typical dreamy expression on her face. I wonder what she's thinking. Probably about Stampede-Horned Crumpnacks or whatever the hell it is she goes on about all day.

And yet... As a breeze from the open window wafts across her face, she looks almost radiant in the orange glow of the almost setting sun. A blond piece of hair is blown onto her forehead. I can't help but stare. Thank God she doesn't look up. She'd catch me gawking.

Snap out of it, Dean! I look away and begin drying the things Fleur has already washed. Fleur is okay, in my opinion: she's nice, a good cook, decent-looking too. But gun to my head, I'd pick Luna over Fleur. And not just because of the age difference and marital status, too.

Dean! Wait! What are you thinking, idiot? That's just Luna! Loony Lovegood! Shut up and STOP THINKING.

I do, but I know it's just a matter of time before those thoughts return.

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It's evening: late. The skies are crossed with black and blue beams of color. I'm lying in my bed in my room, hands folded under my head like a pillow, elbows sticking out. I just can't stop thinking about her. I don't know what this means, or why I'm thinking these thoughts.

I close my eyes, and the mental images cascade over me: Luna, sitting at the Ravenclaw table; Luna, reading The Quibbler on the school train; Luna, sitting at the dinner table at Shell Cottage, daintily eating peach ice cream; Luna, standing at the window, watching the sunset with a serenity nothing I've ever seen can match.

You've fallen, Dean. You've got it bad.

I nearly groan aloud. Who would have thought the day would come when I—Dean Thomas—would fall for Luna "Loony" Lovegood?

I roll over in bed, still thinking long and hard. What do I do? I've never been in love with someone so... different before. I want to spend more time with her, I do. I should, tomorrow. But what would the others say? Harry, Ron, Hermione?

But what about Luna? What if she doesn't like me back? What if I walk up to her and say, "Luna, I like you," and she just laughs and says, "HA, and they call ME loony," and walks away!?

God. I can't do this.

Yes. Yes I can. Buck up, Dean. Be a man.

Suddenly, I have an idea. A plan. Shell Cottage has a lot of beautiful scenery and Fleur loves gardening ('Fleur' in French is 'flower', after all). Tomorrow, I'll ass Luna if she wants to take a walk with me. And what happens, happens—that's it.

Finally satisfied, I roll back over and fall asleep.

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