Author's Note: A Christmas present to Opalish, for whom this was originally written.

And Merry Christmas to all ya'll, too! I'll definitely get some fluffy goodness out there soon – probably as late Christmas gifts. A break from slash would be nice. (It's really bizarre that as reality gets worse, writing gets lighter. As reality gets lighter, writing gets darker. Perhaps my subconscious is telling me something?)

Anyway, love you all, love you Teri, Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays/Seasons Greetings!

The Lovegood Files

An Introduction

Hello there, parchment. My name is Luna Lorain Lovegood and these are the Lovegood Files. Hmm, perhaps I should explain you what the Lovegood Files are. I don't think that you know – do you know? My father says that all living things have a brain; we're just not able to see it.

But if you were once a tree, and the tree is dead, than I guess you must be dead, too.

I'm terribly sorry if you find me rude, parchment. Am I invading on a sensitive subject? Let's not fight. I shall tell you what the Files are and we'll be happy as hippogriffs again.

The Lovegood Files are compilation of all the information I store up from Hogwarts. I use this information in 'The Tasks', which are missions I go about on day-to-day to make things happen. This is what a task is, parchment. (I don't know how much you know, so I will fill you in when I feel you may need a hand.)

Anyway, I call myself L-3 when I am out on these Tasks. It is my codename. (My initials are L.L.L., you see.) It also confuses those around me and makes them think that there is an L-1 and 2.

Well, now that we're acquainted and you are up to Task (this is a pun, parchment; people do not usually laugh at puns, but I find them quite funny), we can begin!

I have always found Hogwarts' portraits to be quite helpful during my Tasks. They seem to find me entertaining, which is as good as it usually gets, so I consider them my friends. They seem to like this, because they always smile at me.

"Pardon me, but are you Fat Lady?" One must always remember to be polite to the portraits, because they can turn sour quite easily. I used to be rather close with the Three Friars until I accidentally insulted Friar Number One's cousin, Henderick the Knight, by calling him a 'cute sheep'. (It turns out he's really a man.) They still refuse to speak to me and throw their ale whenever I pass by.

The colossal woman gazes down at me. "Yes," she says, her voice deep and puzzled. "That's what they call me."

I smile at her, pulling out my clipboard and nodding. "And – if you don't mind me asking – what's your real name?" Her eyes widen in brief astonishment and then she grins toothily.

She ought to see the Grangers about her teeth. They're rather disgusting.

"My name is Cecilia," she states proudly, curtseying with a flourish. "Cecilia the Fat."

This is a little bit sad, because the name Cecilia is beautiful and the actual Cecilia is not.

"I'm sorry for you," I tell her with sincerity. "I think it is very rude for people to call other people names. May I address you as Cecilia?" She nods slowly, appearing bewildered.

Portraits are not the most powerful wands in the box.

"Cheers. Hello, Cecilia. My name is Luna Lorain Lovegood, code name L-3, nicknamed Loony. My father's name is Larry Lovegood and my mother was Selene Lovegood. She died when I was small, and I miss her every single day."

Cecilia blinks at me, confused. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because now we are friends," I tell her simply. "You know something about me that not many others do, and I know something about you that not many others do. So now we're friends whether either one of us likes it or not – that's what my father always tells me."

She smiles at me, slowly, and for a brief moment she is beautiful and deserving of her name. "All right, we're friends," she agrees. "But I don't think you came all the way here to meet me."

I shake my head, because it's not good to lie. Liars are eaten by Snorkelies when they die, and it's very painful and slow. "No, I didn't. I came because I need to speak with Neville Longbottom, but he's running away from me."

Cecilia frowns. "Why is he running away from you?"

I consider my answer and decide that straightforward is the best was to go about this Task. "Because he's queer and doesn't want to face it. But Blaise Zabini is also queer and wants to kiss Neville, so I think that they should both make themselves happy by admitting to their homosexuality and giving in to the passionate urges that drive them into their depression."

Personally, I have never had a passionate urge towards another person and I doubt either boy is going to jump off a cliff from melancholy, but it makes the story more romantic and Cecilia looks to me like she's the mushy sort.

"It's very romantic," I add, in case she didn't get the message. Portraits can be quite slow.

She presses her hand to her chest. "That's such a sweet story!" She cries. "Neville's such a good boy, always very kind. Well, of course I'll let you in, Luna dear. You keep me posted on how their love affair goes."

"I will, Cecilia," I promise, and step inside the portrait hole.

There is no one in the common room, and this is lucky. I smile cheerfully and ascend the steps to the 7th year boys' dormitories.

They're not very pleasant, with too much gold and not enough maroon. I find Neville's bed and begin to go through his trunk.

Now don't get me wrong – I don't think that people should invade other people's privacy, but it is time that I take matters into my own hands and this is the only way. And I'm sure Neville won't mind too much once this is over. He's very sweet and I like him a lot. He's one of the few people that tolerates me and feels vaguely indignant when my things are stolen.

I also quite like Harry Potter, but he's a bit too straightforward for me. I am a woman of subtlety and need a man to match this trait. Harry's also a little emotionally retarded.

"Luna? What are you doing?" I turn, startled, and see Neville standing in his boxershorts (I quickly jot this down on my clipboard; it is important to know if a man wears boxers of briefs, because it tells a lot about their character). He is holding a half-eaten Sugar Quill, and I remember that he once told me eating Chocolate Frogs felt too much like a betrayal to Trevor. I write these things on my clipboard as well.

Trevor and I are good friends. She is Neville's frog, but we've had long conversations about the pros and cons of being blonde.

Trevor wants to be a blonde, you see. But I really think she'd be much prettier as a redhead. (Neville has, unfortunately, mistaken Trevor for a male. I assure you, she is female and she doesn't like being thought of as manly.)

"I am going through your things," I explain. Neville's quite smart, but he has a problem with always stating the obvious and asking questions he already knows the answer to. "In order to find out more about you."

He blinks. "…About me?" He echos, asking another one of his signature pointless questions. If I were a sarcastic person, I would have said, 'No, about the other Neville Longbottom,' but I'm not so I didn't.

"Yes," I agree simply. "I have here that you wear boxers – " as I say this, he seems to realize that he is inappropriately dressed, and lets out a squeak, diving for Seamus' bed and wrapping a towel around his waist. "like Sugar Quills but not Chocolate Frogs; enjoy stating the obvious and asking pointless questions, Herbology, and Blaise Zabini; you also very shy, but still quite brave. Am I missing anything?"

He stares at me and then asks, "You're trying to get more information about me?"

It is lucky that I am very patient, otherwise I might have gotten annoyed by now. "Yes, Neville," I scold with a sigh. "Have I forgotten anything important?"

"I don't fancy Blaise Zabini," he says. I don't write this down, because I know he's lying. "And – I like going to Hogsmeade and eating mashed potatoes."

I write this down, thankful, and then nod happily. "All righty. Thank you very much, Neville. I'm sure you'll be hearing from me, or Blaise, quite soon."

I think that I probably have enough information to endear him to Blaise for the Slytherin to actually feel something more than physical. (He's a darling at heart, Blaise, but somewhat sadistic if you don't know him well.)

I tuck my clipboard into my bag and smile as I exit the portrait-hole. ("How did you get in here? The Fat Lady's my favorite portrait and she never lets me in!" he calls after me, but I ignore him because he's being difficult.) Neville will be very grateful that I'm doing this in the long run. I nod at Cecilia and she winks conspiratorially at me (you know, I never mastered the art of winking. I have great respect for anyone who has). "Thank-you, Cecilia," I intone solemnly. "I will come tell you as soon as there is an update."

"All right, Luna. Take care."

In order to get information about Blaise, I have to be much more stealthy. He's not quite as easy to talk to as Neville is, so this means that I'll have to do it in secret.

I quite like secrets. They're very … mystical. I imagine secrets are like dust, so many of them floating around in plain view, but no one sees them unless they're looking.

I've always found the portrait to the Slytherin dormitory quite disagreeable, so I'll have to get in some other way. I've always wanted to try correctly disillusioning myself, but last time I did I couldn't illusion myself back and Dumbledore had to do it for me. It was very embarrassing.

"Lovegood? What are you doing down here?" I glance up in surprise, only to find myself staring at Millicent Bulstrode.

"Hello, Millicent," I greet cheerfully, glad that I've found my way inside. "I need the password for the Slytherin Common Room. You see, Blaise and Neville are in love and I need to find out whether or not Blaise wears boxers so that they can date."

Millicent stares wordlessly at me for a moment, and then laughs. "You're taking the mickey, aren't you?" She splutters. I shake my head. "That's so funny," she manages between bouts of laughter. "Blaise Zabini, wearing underwear!"

I frown. This must mean that Blaise is in a constant state of commando. That would be very interesting to note. "Thank-you!" I cry. "And what about candy? Does he like candy?"

"I don't know. I think he said something about Cockroach Clusters once."

"Any pets?"

"No."

"Favorite food?"

Millicent pauses, appearing to think about it. "I think he's into Chicken Pot Pie, actually," she tells me. "I remember him telling Draco about it. Why do you want to know all this, anyway?" She asks abruptly, turning to stare at me.

I roll my eyes. "I already told you. So that he can date Neville."

"Blaise doesn't date," Millicent says automatically. "And I thought you were kidding."

"As a general rule, I don't," I tell her honestly.

She frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you really think Blaise is into Longbottom?" She asks, rhetorically I'm assuming, because she doesn't appear to be waiting for an answer. "You know? I an actually see that. It's surprising but not totally shocking. Blaise is always into what he can't – or isn't allowed to – have."

That's interesting. I write it on my clipboard. "Thank you, Millicent," I say with a bright smile. "You've been most helpful."

She arches an eyebrow at me. "No problem," she returned, almost cautiously. "I'll see you later, Lovegood."

"Yes, I imagine." Millicent laughed and shook her head, muttering the password and slipping through the Slytherin portrait-hole.

I corner Blaise in the library with the information on Friday, and by Saturday he's acquired a strangely feral look in his eyes whenever he sees Neville. The plan seems to be going quite well.

I give it a few more days to build the tension and then seek out Blaise once more, this time by the lake. "All right, Blaise?" I greet easily, taking my seat beside him. "How are things?"

"'Lo, Lovegood," he responds, almost friendly in his love-driven madness. "I see you've stopped bothering me about Nevi – Longbottom."

I grin cheerily and shrug. "You seem to have it all figured out," I tell him. He looks over, startled, and then starts to grin.

"Yeah," he says, "Yeah, I do. I mean, I'm a bloke. Longbottom's a bloke. We're just not – "

"At the same place right now," I agree sagely, nodding my head. He blinks, looking startled. "He's a bit more shy than you, and you're finally realizing that. It'll take him a bit longer to come to terms with this."

"You misunder – "

"At the beginning, I did misunderstand," I allow benevolently, waving his statement away. "I thought it was you who was too chicken to make a move. Now I'm starting to see that it was Neville all along. I mean, you're not a cuckoo. Right?"

Blaise shakes his head but protests, "Look, Lovegood, I don't have any feelings for – "

"Yes, yes," I sigh. "I know. I thought I fancied you a bit at the beginning, too, but now I see it never would have worked. We're simply too alike, Zabini. We're both quite clever and good-looking. You need someone who appreciates that and doesn't take it for granted, like Neville. Someone who's actually impressed when you use big words and say funny things. We never would have worked." I pat his arm comfortingly, because it must be very difficult for him to hear. "And anyway, I could never have loved you the way Neville does."

He jumps, turning to face me so quick I think he pulls a muscle. "What?" he shrieks, leaping to his feet. "What did you say, Lovegood?"

I smile, pretending to be surprised at his reaction. "I said 'I never could have loved you the way Neville does'."

"Longbottom loves me?"

"Of course! Didn't you know? You're practically all he talks about!" This is a little white lie. (A white lie is a lie that's okay to tell because it's for the greater good and not personal gain.) Neville, in fact, is a very private person when it comes to things like this and generally doesn't like talking about his problems. He's quite difficult like that. But I'm sure that inside, Blaise is all he thinks about, which amounts to pretty much the same thing.

Speaking of, the Slytherin is gaping at me like a Crunkle out of water. (A Crunkle is a little fish-sized mermaid that feeds on the toes of children.) "But – but, has he said that? That he – well, you know – has he said it straight out?"

"Not to my face," I admit with a shrug, "but I did hear him saying to a wall that 'I can't fancy Blaise, I can't … love … him. Right? Right?' Which means, in Neville-speak, 'I love Blaise Zabini!'" This is another white lie, because Neville's comment doesn't necessarily mean 'I love Blaise Zabini!' It could just mean that Neville's trying to deny that he fancies another bloke. Still, it's for a greater cause, and Blaise's face is sweetly jubilant. "Well, I'd best be off. I just thought I'd check on you."

Before I leave, though, I add, "By the way … I think it would be quite romantic to meet Neville to confess your feelings right in this very spot. Tomorrow at noon, perhaps?" I skip off, feeling quite proud of my subtlety and tact, and make to find something to eat.

At eleven forty-five, I climb into the willow that Blaise and I sat under yesterday and conceal myself in the leaves. Right on time, I see Blaise hurry from the castle and approach, his face worried. "What if he doesn't come?" He mutters to himself. "To Hell with that – what if he does come?"

He paces back and forth nervously. "All right, Zabini. Get it together. You are Blaise Zabini, not some stuttering fourth-year Hufflepuff girl." This comment seems to hit a chord, because he falls back into his suave, I-am-the-lord-of-all-things persona just as Neville starts towards him.

Their conversation is short, but sweet, with both boys agreeing to a Hogsmeade trip and a date. I watch dreamily from my perch, feeling quite proud of myself. A little happiness is always a good thing.

I might have to make a business out of this.

My first order of business is to talk to Cecilia again. She's quite pleased with my progress and compliments me on my stealthiness. She promises to let me in whenever I'm on a mission, but I'm not to tell anyone else about it, as she could get fired. I tell her that I'm an excellent secret keeper, because I have no friends to tell them to.

She says she'll be my friend, which is very kind of her.

Project: Slythindor

Subjects: Neville Longbottom, Blaise Zabini

Goal: Bring the Slytherin and the Gryffindor together in order to realize their true feelings of passion and lust.

Neville Longbottom

Likes: Trevor, Drooble's Best Chewing Gum, Sugar Quills, stating the obvious, asking pointless questions, Herbology, Blaise Zabini, Hogsmeade, mashed potatoes, and portraits (but especially Cecilia the Fat Lady)

Dislikes: Chocolate Frogs, Voldemort, Draco Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange

Boxers of Briefs?: Boxers

Personality: quite shy, brave, not very funny but can appreciate others' jokes, kind

Blaise Zabini

Likes: Cockroach Clusters, Chicken Pot Pie, Neville Longbottom, things that he can't have, Draco Malfoy

Dislikes: pets, dating, Gryffindors (as a general rule; but I think he's all tongue and no teeth), fourth-year Hufflepuff girls

Boxers or Briefs?: Neither!

Personality: somewhat sadistic, sarcastic, suave, arrogant, sweet on the inside, insecure (because generally when people are mean to others its because they're insecure)

Mission: Accomplished! Neville and Blaise are officially dating now. I am quite pleased with myself, Parchment, as should you be.

Difficulty Level: Three Norbles.

Project: Slythindor is complete!