Luna regarded her reflection in the silver teaspoon, turning it in her hand and watching the image twist and contort. She winked at her reflection, then repeated the action, slower this time, and watched her eyelashes lower and the skin around her eye be pulled downward a bit by the motion. The sparkly neon-green maskara made for a nice picture, she thought. But it made her wonder: how would golden maskara look with her seaweed dress? Luna tried to imagine it. Maybe she could use painted fish tails for her earrings? She'd have to try that out first chance she got. Neville would love it, she was sure of it.

She put the spoon back into her half empty cup of coffee and pushed it around in the cup a little, she was trying to find the most esthetically pleasing position for the item. Luna didn't really like coffee, but she drank it none the less. There was something about coffee, she'd always thought. It had also been her mother's favourite beverage to accompany breakfast, and Luna preferred to drink it with her hair up, because the thought of resembling her mother gave her a sense of refined calm. And certainly the bitterness held a metaphor for growing up, somewhere beneath crushed beans and steam rising from a hot cup.

The door creaked open behind the girl who had been staring at a half empty cup sitting on the kitchen table for about three minutes now. Steps like fingernails tapping on a wooden tabletop dug imaginary ditches into the floor as the person approached. Luna was convinced that people who could wield such pointy shoes should have to get an official license for it. Not that she couldn't see the appeal behind wearable weaponry. It just didn't appeal to her, exactly.

Pansy Parkinson stopped to stand beside Luna and watched her nudge cutlery for a little with a confused, but decidedly polite expression. The two didn't speak much, even now, as they lived in the same house, but Pansy had always seemed to make an effort to respect Luna. Luna herself didn't really know what she was being respected for, but it was still nice to be treated at least mostly normally.

"Luna, you wouldn't happen to have seen where Hermione went with my helpless undergarments?"

She had indeed seen Hernione pass waving a frilly pair of, in Luna's opinion, rather untasteful black panties tied to a stick in an interesting approach to a flag. Luna had spent ten whole minutes debating whether that was a subtle statement about the significance of white flags to society and popculture today or a commentary of the deplorably sexist undergarment-on-stick industry.

"She took them to the living area. And." She pulled a piece of folded paper out of a pocket covered with black seaweed and held it out for Pansy to take.

"I am to give you this."

Pansy Parkinson took the paper from her with a frown. She gave Luna a thank-you-smile and exited the room, heading the same way her girlfriend had mere minutes ago.

Luna looked after her, and decided she could not miss Hermione's plan unfolding pointedly mercilessly. She picked up the cup and saucer, then paused, contemplating whether they would be an eyesore if she placed them in the sink. Most likely they would be, she thought. But Harry would have her behanded if she left used dishes on the kitchen table, so she settled for a compromise.

Luna set down the saucer, cup and spoon neatly on the cupboard above the sink.