Author: Masqued

Title: A Painter's Nut

Pairing: Blaise/Luna

Rating: G

Disclaimer: Sorry, I don't own Harry Potter folks. Sad, I know.

Summary: Luna reminisces about how sometimes the charmer becomes the charmed.

A/N: I have to dedicate this to Becky, because she was my muse for this entire endeavor. Love you, Becks!

A Painter's Nut

A Tale of the Charmer's Charming

The trees were quiet – that's what Luna Lovegood had decided. They were tired of whispering secrets about who was where and doing what to anyone and finally decided that they all deserved some peace and quiet and a chance to rest their leaves. She enjoyed their leaves; really, as they nearly bathed her in a way she felt most at peace. There were long, softly wafting strands of leafy vines that completely hid Luna from view from where she sat atop a branch on the weeping willow tree perched just behind the lake. The squid, in its infinite wisdom, was basking out on the surface of the lake, the sun gleaming serenely off of its smooth, slick surface. Small birds were nesting on a nearby branch as the young girl twisted her legs beneath her and set her head against the trees stock, her hair brazenly rubbing against the thick, cracking bark.

Sometimes she chose to sit outside of the school, in this particular tree, to dream or to watch other people. Sometimes she just chose to fall asleep in the tree, as her roommates had long since locked here out of her room. And then sometimes, she just let her feet do all of the leading and she simply found herself sitting on the branch with an upside book in her hands, or a notebook, or an essay and quill. How she ended up in the tree on certain days amazed even her, as she hadn't always intended on voyaging outside and up and into a long, lanky tree with flourishing branches. It just happened that way, and Luna would never complain.

So there she sat, comfortably resting against the tree, as one leg slid over the edge to gently hang and swing in time to her mild, obscure humming. Sunshine flitted through the breezy vines that swayed back and forth contemptuously, beating against the branches in a lofty, light-hearted sort of way. Angelic blue eyes were hidden behind frail and pale eyelids as she reveled in the feel of the cool wind drifting up and over her bare feet and toes. A soft squirming laugh emitted her throat as her eyes slid open again. The breeze tickled her and she squirmed a bit, batting at the air playfully.

A laughter sat on the wind as it floated around in the air, reaching Luna in the most delightful of ways. Someone else was being tickled by the breeze, she surmised, before closing her eyes again, enjoying the feeling of the bark against her back and her head. She loved the way nature felt beneath her feet, beneath her fingers, surrounding her at all times. Her entire life was centered around the soft nature of comfort and the love of comfort in trees and smells of grass. No one else had ever really discovered such an interesting obsession with nature like Luna.

That was, until Blaise Zabini rolled around.

The Italian was soft-spoken, yet stubborn and an artist at heart. At least, in Luna's heart he was. There was an aura that floated around him, that emanated the fact that he could paint anything without any trouble whatsoever. The comfort that it took to watch someone paint was difficult to find, but Luna could sit and watch Blaise Zabini paint until they both died of old age, or of some mysterious spell that they were experimenting with. Luna's soft humming dizzied her as she lolled her head back and forth, watching in her memory the way Blaise would swipe and stroke against the canvas, his eyes alight with fire that was rarely found in the often quiet Slytherin. It was never that he was shy, but that he was contemplating; he was witty, intelligent, and as suave as any other gorgeous Italian. His smile lit up any girls fancy, and once he murmured her name with an Italian accent, he had her heart.

Well, again, there were always exceptions. Luna wasn't swooned by Blaise; she found him attractive, of course, but nothing worthwhile that overtook her emotions. When he spoke Italian, all she would do was listen and nod, as more times than most, he was mentioned the lack of lucidity in the girl he was trying to swoon. Blaise didn't want women because he wanted to feel whole; he wanted women to feel pleased, and once he had them, he was through. It was a vicious cycle, and Luna had watched it for a while before, one day, completely confronting him about his ways in front of a young girl.

"Prego, il signore, ma lei l'ha chiamata appena un idiota?"

Blaise's face paled for a moment and a choked, nervous laugh emitted his throat.

"Excuse me, Marilyn, for one moment," he charmed, the girl nodded with a bemused yet sated smile as Blaise guided Luna into a hallway. "What in Merlin's name was that, Loony? Have you lost it more than usual?"

Luna's eerie gaze penetrated Blaise momentarily and he halted, taking a step back in confusion. "You need to stop lying, Blaise." Luna flipped a few strands of her hair over her shoulder. "These girls are girls, and at the end of it all, neither of you are getting anything but further disappointment from all of this." She nodded her head knowingly.

Blaise continued to seem confused for another moment before smiling. "Come be a sitter for my art sometime this week, and we'll see who it benefits the most."

Luna stopped to think about it for a moment and then nodded her head before disappearing from the hallway completely, leaving a confused Blaise.

Luna smiled in the memory as her feet continued to dangle through the air. Blaise had sat her down, started to paint, and would bate Luna softly in Italian; telling her she was a fool, and telling her that she would succumb to his charms. Luna would reply just as easily, telling him that his charm wasn't working; at least, not the charms he intended on using. His brush strokes became slower as the conversation lolled into intelligent disagreements about what was taught better and why, and suddenly, Blaise had forgotten his intent on wooing Luna Lovegood into his bed for the evening just to prove her wrong. Instead, he was listening to her speak softly of Ms. Sprout and her teaching skills, and the soft affability the woman had with nature; she rambled on about trees, and grass, and somehow, molded the conversation to tilt it to his aura. He'd never been told he had a nice aura. At least, Luna was pretty sure he hadn't, as an aura was so hard to see, let alone compliment someone on. And for some reason, once she told him he had the beautiful aura of an artist in love with his art and nothing else, he felt awkward and unsure of himself. He thanked her for sitting, walked her too her dorm, and then sat in his room with his new painting, staring at the soft complexion of her skin, the haunting experience he was proud of himself for painting in her eyes.

Suddenly, or so Blaise had told her, he'd been charmed by Luna Lovegood, and had every intention of stealing the blonde beauty's heart. He asked her to sit for him, asked her to watch him paint, asked her to just sit and talk with him despite the disgusted and confused glares he would receive. There was a nature in Luna Lovegood that made him a kindred, soft spirit that he wanted to hold onto as long as he could. She seemed content with their relationship as well, as she always gave him a smile when she saw him – a smile he was fairly certain was created just for him to love.

Love. Luna had never assumed she would fall in love, or that anyone else would fall in love with her, but when a fumbling and stuttering Blaise Zabini asked her to Hogsmeade and then proceeded to pull her to him when he shivered, the content, complacent friendship she'd grown to be very fond of. Luna continued to hum softly as she remembered the way he'd pulled her shivering body to his, the both of them caught in a whirlwind of snow as it whipped around them. He'd turned her around to hold her close, something she'd never done with anyone other than her father, and she could smell him. There was paint, snow, Slytherin and something solely Blaise that, without warning intoxicated her, and when he turned to stare into her eyes, she didn't even have to hear him whisper – she felt her entire being become immersed in the words she could just feel seeping from his heart.

"L'amo, Luna, con tutto il cuore."

As she recalled, she couldn't remember if he'd been crying or if it was the snow flakes on his eyelashes that had melted, but suddenly, his appearance, his heart worn on his sleeve, pulled her to his lips and for the first time ever, Luna Lovegood was kissed. It was soft, gentile, confused, wary, and cautious all at once, and Luna felt her entire heart explode as she broke from him and buried her face into his scarf. She could feel his warm breath against the shell of her ear and his laughter brought her eyes back to his.

"Blaise Osiris Zabini, thank you," she muttered softly, her eyes fluttering closed before she pulled away from him and began to spin around in the snow, her head tilted back, taking the snow onto her tongue. Blaise laughed, the tears of snow still melting from his eyelashes as he watched the one girl that had charmed him seduce the snow. He didn't know why she thanked him, and to that day, as she sat swinging her leg in the air over the branch, she had yet to tell him.

"Oh Ms. Lovegood."

Luna's eyes snapped open and she hopped from her branch effortlessly, her bare feet resting on the soft dirt and grass. Blaise stood with his soft half-smile, eyes ablaze with a love he nor Luna thought they deserved to feel, and he dropped his bag and box of paint and paintbrushes as the blond rushed to him and leapt into his arms, her body tangling around his. His arms draped around her as he began to spin around in his spot, the two laughing ceremoniously. Luna's soft blue eyes landed on his as she pulled back ever so softly, smiling brightly.

"Blaise Zabini, your aura is with you today." Her smile grew as she clutched at him, placing the softest of kisses on his shoulder. She felt her boyfriend's nose nuzzle against her neck and into her hair where he placed the most gentile of kisses.

"I know she is," he told her before pulling her to face him and kissing her gently. "She always is, right here," he said, pulling apart from the kiss and taking her hand to his chest. Luna smiled and nuzzled her nose to his before kissing him again.

"Well, that's always good to hear," she said before capturing his lips in the softest, most chaste kiss, a giggle behind it as he tickled her sides, causing the two of them to topple over and roll around. Grass leapt up and clung to the two rolling students as they giggled and muttered sweet nothings to each other before stopping so Blaise was on his back with Luna over him and resting against his chest. Luna nuzzled his chest and gently tickled his stomach, causing him to chuckle.

And that's just how Luna and Blaise would sit, every day after classes or after lunch, or all day on Saturday if the weather was nice. Sometimes she'd sit back and watch him paint the squid, and other days he would swing her around or transfigure and blanket for them to have a picnic on. No one questioned why the two were in love – she was a nut, he was a painter – is there any other explanation needed?