Lysander Scamander grew up with the entire world as his personal playpen. His mother, Luna Lovegood was somewhat wild. Or perhaps wild is the wrong word to describe her unique eccentricities. She was somewhat batty with an insatiable thirst for adventure and a unique curiosity for all life forms. A respected naturalist, philanthropist, and world traveler, she took no time whatsoever for maternity leave and as soon as was safe, took Lysander and his twin brother, Lorcan, with her on her quest to see the rest of the world. They spent one summer in Budapest searching for the Leek-Handled Zieemba before leaving for Bangkok to build houses for those ravaged by a devastating flood. They spent one Christmas in London visiting their grandfather and another in Godric's Hollow with the Potters. They were welcome at these places more often than just Christmas, but Luna had a wandering spirit and staying in one place was simply not an option for too long. Their travels were certainly for the best. Luna took the Daily Prophet as a way of staying connected with home and Lysander read it religiously for reasons he couldn't quite explain. The Prophet was ruthless when it came to gossip. They followed around war hero's children from the Second War photographing their every move when they weren't at Hogwarts. They looked beaten, he noticed, every one of them. Not one seemed to enjoy the constant, never-ending attention.

Lysander could not imagine growing up under the scrutiny that the Potter/Weasley kids had endured every day since birth.

Lysander was quite close to his mother, but he never had the pleasure of meeting his father. This fact never really bothered him, for, unlike his brother, he had a perfectly adequate relationship with his mother. Lorcan, his twin, rebelled (against what, Lysander was never quite sure), so Lysander stepped up at a very young age to be the man of the family. Someone had to be responsible and his mother, much as she might love her sons, wasn't really a fit parent. Someone had to make sure there was enough food even when they lived in a hut in Barbados (five years old), an igloo (nine years old), and even a brief stint with Blaise Zabini in his mansion in St Andrews (ten and a half). Lysander never let on how the responsibility strained him and he never let on the weights resting on his shoulders. Only when he and Lorcan were spending their annual two weeks in the summers with Ron and Hermione Weasley, two worry free weeks of stability and home comforts like beds and regular hot meals, did Lysander allow himself to relax.

Lysander knew that Hermione knew that all was not well and Hermione knew that Lysander knew and Lysander knew that Hermione knew that Lysander knew, but all this mutual knowledge was kept silent out of loyalty to Luna whom they both dearly loved.

Hogwarts was bliss for Lysander. A bed of his very own, a place to put down roots, somewhere to spend more than one Christmas in a row, a spot to which he might grow attached. He never wanted to leave. Surprisingly, his favorite class was History of Magic, the class no one really liked. But while Lysander was good at Transfiguration, great at Potions, and excellent at Charms, he loved history most of all. He loved knowing where he was coming from; it gave him the stability to plan for the future. There was nothing Lysander appreciated more than stability. But while Hogwarts was a dream, Lysander found that he missed his mother. She was terrible for answering letters, never remembered birthdays, and once, in Lysander and Lorcan's Fourth Year, she forgot to fetch them from King's Cross Station.

They went home with Hermione and Ron and Lysander pretended it was all a great joke as the final bit of child in him died.

Lysander's unusual upbringing instilled in him a strange, unshakeable calm, and a cool impossible to describe. He got along with everyone from the House Elves to McGonagall, but he couldn't really be called charming. Rather, he was interested. Interested in everything from the origins of McGonagall's tartan (it could be traced back to the old clans from which she was descended), to the House Elf Winky's tattered hat (a gift from a very old, very dear friend), Lysander truly enjoyed the stories he was told, the personal histories and those around him picked up on this and responded to it accordingly. He felt a deep connection to the school and the stories the castle itself could tell. It was his ambition to return to the school as soon as he could, as soon as McGonagall would hire him.

He spent his time between school and teaching in Egypt, doing freelance cursebreaking for Gringotts, before returning to school two years after graduation, with a feeling that could only be described as relief.

Given his circumstances, Lysander was well accustomed to surprises. In fact, after a certain point, nothing really surprised him at all. He could almost always anticipate people's reactions and in special circumstances, the situations in which he would find himself. It was an ability uncannily reminiscent of the old Divination, a subject, he was told, in which Hogwarts even used to teach a class. Of course, Lysander, like all of his generation, found the science behind the Divine to be bunk, and considered Divination little more than guesswork, and simple-minded guesswork at that. Still, Lysander's ability to read people was extremely sensitive to say the least. However, he never read anyone as wrongly as he read Lucy Weasley. Although he was two years ahead of her at Hogwarts, he'd thought he'd known her fairly well. They'd spent many holidays together, and she always spent time at Hermione's whilst he and Lorcan visited. And Lysander, who tried his best not to pass judgment on anyone, found himself passing a verdict on her. She was quite pretty, and seemed content to bask in and rely upon that fleeting prettiness, her circle of shallow friends, and her temporary popularity at Hogwarts. Still, he was kind to her, like was to everyone, for Lysander was of the opinion that he had no right to be rude or cruel towards anyone. It wasn't his place, and it was a waste of time and energy. She did try his patience, however, with her vacant, cooler-than-thou glares and her icy one-liners.

Finding Lucy Weasley, in a crumpled heap in the empty charms classroom, blathering on about the futility of her own life and other such Nihilistic ideas, was the biggest shock of Lysander's life (and that is saying something).

To this day, Lysander is not quite sure when it was that he fell in love with Lucy. It wasn't something he'd planned, certainly wasn't something he'd expected, but being the son of Luna Lovegood, Lysander has always known that the things you don't see coming can be the most lasting and incredible, so he never really questioned it. It did, however, bother him a great deal that he was completely mad for his student, however mature, otherworldly, and absurdly wise said student might be. Still, he promised himself when he came to the startling realization that the friendship built upon long talks in his office and walks over the grounds and late night snacks in the kitchens, had turned into something much more, that he wouldn't say anything, wouldn't do anything until after graduation. He wasn't even sure Lucy felt the same way. She was young and bright and surely didn't want to be saddled down with a dull history teacher. She enjoyed his company, sure, but she'd been searching for a lifeline and he'd offered her one. She would have latched onto anyone.

His suspicions were confirmed when Lucy informed him, just before graduation, that he had inspired her, that she would be leaving to travel the world, and that she had no idea when she would return. Lysander had a hard time catching his breath as he recalled his mother saying nearly the same words every day of his childhood. He should have known better than to hope she could ever want the stability that he needed. He was certain that he would never see Lucy Weasley again.

However, Lucy never failed to shock him. Mere days after her departure, he received an owl from Budapest describing the incredible things she was seeing and feeling and experiencing. Reading her words was like being there with her, and he had a hard time catching his breath again, for a different reason this time. He lectured himself for hoping again, assuring himself that the letters would taper off, just like his mother's. He shouldn't hope to hear from her again. But every single day, without fail, he received an owl, sometimes long and flowery, sometimes as short as a 'miss you' scrawled on the back of a paper napkin. And he replied, keeping her up-to-date on the Weasley family (who, he quickly gathered, had little to no contact with Lucy), as well as the daily-goings-on of Hogwarts.

He'd thought she might grow bored with his anecdotes, stories of House Elves named Winky and the origins of McGonagall's tartan, but if she did, she never let on. Instead, she wrote back with questions of the utmost fascination, and Lysander found he never grew tired of hearing her odd and often wise and illuminating opinions on every subject.

Still, even after all the letters, Lysander doubted. He doubted Lucy would return anytime soon, doubted she would want to see him when she did, and doubted she would ever want him. Lysander, in all his calm, and his cool, and his unwavering self-confidence, was confused and conflicted, and hopelessly in love with the mad little Weasley girl he'd never particularly liked. So, he did the only thing he could do. He threw himself into his teaching and found that he quickly amassed quite the rapt audience, once he assured everyone that he would retire long before dying and certainly wouldn't continue teaching the class as a ghost. He took a step back from Goblin Wars (although they were important) to discuss Wizarding, Muggleborn, and Magical Creature rights over the recent centuries. It was a fascinating and time appropriate topic. He even had Hermione Weasley, a lobbyist in Magical Law, come to speak to his Sixth and Seventh Years, and he thought they'd really gotten through to them.

One boy even asked if anyone had tried to free the Hogwarts House Elves. Lysander thought Hermione might cry.

Seeing Lucy again was like seeing the sunshine after a long rainstorm. It was late March when she finally walked into his office, closing the door behind her quietly and leaning against it while she waited for him to notice her. He looked up from the book in which he was engrossed and found he couldn't breathe once again (this was becoming an unfortunate habit when she was around). She was there, standing in front of him, leaning against his door, with a lovely tan and a smirk playing about her wide mouth. Her big, blue eyes sparkled in a way they never did when she was still in school, and her expression was no longer flat, but vibrant. Lysander was proud of her and in awe of her and in love with her all at once. He stood slowly while really wanting to leap to his feet. He wanted run to her, to scoop her up tight and never let her go. But he made himself smile (or rather, beam, for his self-control did have limits) and stand still, just soaking her in like a parched man. She stared at him and he stared at her. He opened his mouth to speak, though he had no idea what he wanted to say (I love you, I love you, I love you), but she stopped him by surprising him once again and running toward him with blazing determination. She vaulted herself into his arms and he caught her.

And then her lips were on his and he felt like a superhero, he felt like he could take on the world if she would only kiss him like this every day for the rest of their lives.

When his feet finally touched the ground again (for he was quite certain he'd floated up somewhere much higher than he'd ever been), and he finally let them both up for air, and she finally slithered down in his arms till her feet actually did touch the floor, he tugged them both down to sit on his thick Turkish rug, him with his back to the wall beside the tall oak bookshelf, and her facing him with her legs wrapped tight around him, her face just far enough from his to stare into his eyes like they were memorizing every shade and colour in them. 'Missed you,' was all she said, almost shyly which made him want to laugh just to see her flush. She was the furthest thing from shy around everyone but him and he found if not charming than at least endearing. Still, he couldn't help saying, 'I could tell,' just to see her mock anger, her blushing face, and the way her eyes lit up affectionately. Twirling a strand of her hair around his finger, he asked 'how long?' She just shook her head and buried her face in his chest mumbling something indiscernible. At his query, she lifted her face and said quietly, 'too long,' before confirming that she'd loved him ever since their Hogwarts days together when they were both in school. Lysander had hardly dared to hope for that much. He'd hardly dared to hope at all. Even in his bliss, he wondered if it was all too good to be true, if she was going away again. He didn't ask, couldn't ask, how long she was staying. Living with his mother had taught him that much. But she was speaking again, before he had time to worry or fret any further. 'I enjoyed travelling, but it's good to be home,' she was saying, gazing around his familiar office. I'm going to see my parents after this.'

And he felt a swooping his gut when he realized that he was not just on her list of people to see, not just her owl buddy and willing correspondent, but the very first person she'd wanted to see. He was her home.

Lucy put her flowery descriptions and brilliant writing skills to good use and, compiling her letters to Lysander and diary entries, she wrote her first book, a memoir about growing up with the Potter/Weasley family from her flat in Hogsmeade. It was published before her twentieth birthday. That was just the start of an illustrious career, or rather, two illustrious careers in which Lysander researched and Lucy wrote. They interviewed their parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, about their experiences in the war and wrote the preemptive and only Potter-sanctioned book on the Second War. They researched and wrote a history of House Elf rights (and lack thereof) culminating in a philosophical essay on the ethics of the enslavement of fellow sentient beings. The book became a surprising bestseller, though that was perhaps due to their names on the cover. Still, the book was widely read and spent seventeen months on the Daily Prophet bestseller list.

It proved to be a catalyst in the fight for Elfish welfare for four years later new legislature was passed illegalizing the utilization of an elf without proper registration. Six years after that, a minimum wage was put into place, and two years after that an Elf was appointed as a representative on the Council of Magical Creatures.

Over the next ten years after her first book, Lucy and Lysander published seven more works of nonfiction. After that, Lucy turned to writing novels and Lysander continued to teach History of Magic. Three years later, Lucy deemed it appropriate to begin writing a children's book series in honour of their first child, a girl called Lora.

While Luna did arrive ten minutes late to Lora's christening, all that Lysander remembered about the day was that she arrived.