Plurk paste

Remus is indulging in a bit of nostalgia when Luna comes across him, sprawled across a couch in an empty common room, music drifting through the room from the setup in the corner. He doesn't notice her at first; his eyes are closed, a handful of old memories clammering for attention in his mind (his parents doing a slow waltz around the kitchen while he watched from the counter, until Mum turned and picked him up, drawing him into a dance that was infinitely more clumsy but no less cozy for the intrustion; Mum humming along in her bed, holding Dad's hand, too weak to get out and dance anymore; teaming up with Lily to introduce James and Sirius and Peter to Muggle music, good Muggle music as he used to tell Sirius, not just whatever's loudest and will piss off Mrs Black the most; James making a face too comical to really be annoyed when Remus steals Lily for a dance on the front lawn of the Potter's newly-purchased home).

When the song winds to an end -- when he opens his eyes for a check in to reality, a break from the memories, nice as they are to lose himself in for a bit -- he sees Luna, sitting in a chair, and offers her a smile that he tries very hard not to let look embarrased when she looks his way again.

"Do you like this sort of music?" he asks her, pushing himself upright, swinging his feet over to set them on the floor.

"I think so," Luna says, in her dreamy tone, and smiles. "I haven't heard very much of it."

They fall quiet for a moment, strains of the next song's opening the only interruption to the silence, before Remus finds himself saying, "My parents loved this sort of music. Big band, swing -- they both had a lot of Muggle family, and they both liked Muggle culture better than Wizarding. Mum said magic took away a lot of the need for imagination in the Wizarding World, and that's why they never came up with movies." He laughs, his rambling trailing away as he looks from the stereo back to Luna again. "Sorry. I'm afraid you've found me reminiscing a bit."

"I don't mind," Luna says, and there's a truth to the statement that would almost surprise him, except that it's Luna, and it's hard to imagine her lying.

He doesn't keep talking; he feels enough like an old man around her and Harry and Hermione, despite only being a few years older in truth, without indulging in unasked for one-sided remembrances. Instead, he listens to a few more lines as the song rolls past, before getting to his feet on a whim, and offering a hand to the girl.

"Would you care for a dance, Miss Lovegood?" he asks, even bowing to fit the part as Luna takes his hand.