Disclaimer: I'm not JKR.

First time writing Padma, and this wasn't written on a computer so if you spot any errors let me know, though I did proofread it twice, please still do. Written for The 'Easily Bruised' Competition. (There's also a slight SPN shoutout - I couldn't help it.)

"So, let me get this straight," Padma grips the mug of hot tea in her hands tightly, fixes her erstwhile housemate with a stern look, "you have travelled from Canada to here - Sioux Falls - in search of your missing father, alongside a... circus."

Luna Lovegood smiles slightly from her seat on the worn sofa across the motel room, her own mug drained and cupped in her hands. She'd played with it a little during her explanation. "Essentially, yes."

Loony really did join the circus - some of their housemates had differed on whether there, or St Mungos, was the best place for her. She would have been called the Gullible Girl, Padma recalled, holding obstinate beliefs in whatever crackpot conspiracies she heard. And she'd repeat them to anyone with ears.

"You do realise that they think you're dead?" Padma, seated on the edge of the single bed, maintains eye contact with the younger girl - something she'd rarely done in her years at Hogwarts.

"Well, judging by your reaction when I came to your door, I'd say, yes, that's what they do think." But not you, Padma imagines are the unspoken words, hidden between the lines, you hardly cared.

But perhaps she's simply overanalysing the matter...

There's a twisting sensation in her stomach that she knows is guilt. No one had known what to make of Luna's disappearance so soon after her own father's prior to his trial.

So Padma hardly thought she could be blamed for her own reaction to Luna's appearance at the door of the motel room she's staying in this week.

After opening the door at the rather persistent knocking she'd been taken aback by the sight of the blonde witch. Who looked her in the eyes and said, "Hello, Padma," like it hadn't been six months since they last saw each other.

Padma's first thought had been that Luna always did seem to be able to tell the difference between her and Parvati, when the twins weren't in school robes (and even then there had been that time in third year when they'd swapped robes and ties just to know what it was like being in another house, being someone else entirely - it had been an eye opening experience, to say the least).

Then Padma came to her senses and asked, "How did you find me?" after ushering the blonde inside. Then she answered her own question, "Cho." The Asian Howarts Alumni was holidaying in British Columbia with a muggle 'friend' of hers. When Padma made her trek up to Canada, she hoped to see Cho again before moving west to PEI, and then home. Padma wondered if Luna had been to Prince Edward Island with the circus before she made herself focus on the matter at hand.

Then came the inquisition. A volley of questions and answers.

Luna thought her father had been kidnapped (or wizardnapped as she'd put it. Padma couldn't deny the twitch at the corner of her mouth at that).

Luna had come with the circus as far as the borderlines of Dakota before they went their separate ways. And she'd bought nothing but the clothes on her back (wizarding robes beneath a dusty, weatherworn cloak) and the papers in her cloak pocket. Maps and handwritten notes, they were, held together by paper clips, with colourful pins marking her journey across the continent.

To be honest, if someone had told her that Luna Lovegood, of all people, would knock on her motel door during Padma's road trip around America, her first thought (which was always the least logical) would have been that the younger witch was on an expedition, looking for those elusive creatures of hers (momentarily ignoring the fact that Luna had left England shortly after her father, so was, most likely, looking for him).

Padma underestimated Luna. The other witch was more obstinate than Padma, that was true, but she had no less sense. No less Ravenclaw Reasoning that could have gotten her into the house in the first place.

And Padma could almost envy Luna's faith in the unlikely (it felt too rude to say 'impossible'). Not in her conviction that there were Nargles floating around, or that Heliopaths were under the control of the Ministry, but just her ability to believe in things like that.

Padma was quite certain that Luna believed Harry Potter when he seemingly professed Voldemort's resurrection after the murder of Cedric Diggory. And not simply because her and Diggory had seemed to be good friends either.

Padma herself, like most others, had turned to logic for the basis of her own denial (He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been vanquished that Halloween night so many years ago, and hadn't been seen since so it couldn't be true. It just couldn't!). She wasn't proud of it, but she thought those were the facts.

Still, the Luna who came to her door was different to her erstwhile housemate. Her face was serious, her eyes piercing. And she only looked as if she'd been hit by a mild confounding charm as opposed to a strong one. Padma barely recognised her.

Her distinctive silvery-blonde hair, though shorter, had been some help. Though when Padma scanned through some of Luna's notes she'd seen the word Malfoy scrawled in hasty ink. Their characteristic platinum blonde hair wasn't too different from Luna's, she thought. Though Luna's was more eye catching, turning to spun gold when hit by the sun, and looking pure silver by candlelight.

When she asked Luna about it the other witch said she had an idea, that the Malfoys were suspects. At Padma's bemused look Luna elaborated, said, "They're family, related to my father through his mother."

Padma couldn't have said she was very shocked. After all, British Pureblood families were all related in some way. Some were just closer than others. She said as much when she met Luna's wary gaze (and dismissed the warm feeling in her chest at Luna's almost relieved smile. Even so she found herself almost breathing easier when Luna said she knew she'd come to the right place).

Luna, with very little money of her own and no other place to go, ends up staying late into the night, and when Padma walks out of the bathroom, hair still wet and dripping onto her pyjama top, she sees Luna stretched out across the sofa. Her feet dangling just over one armrest, her head pillowed by the other. The papers she bought with her are scattered in front of her, on the floor, on the coffee table, and there's even one still scrunched up in her hand.

Padma's mouth tightens and, after drying her hair, she levitates a folded blanket over from her bed and settles it over Luna. She tucks it under the younger girl - woman's chin.

"Goodnight, Luna." She whispers, sparing the resting witch one last look before crawling into bed.

Padma thinks its the wind when she hears a quiet murmur that could have been, "'Night, Padma." But maybe she's just imagining things.