Febuwhump 2019 Prompt Used: Imprisoned
"Even though we were never supposed to be together…I can't be with anyone else, no matter the consequences."—Nicole Gulla, The Lure of the Moon
She had always been regarded as Loony Lovegood.
Back in Hogwarts, and still inside his head when he thought he felt someone poking at the edges of his mind. His barriers were strong (they had to be, because he couldn't have them be anything less), but the thought of having to maintain them within his home because of the company he had these days still had made Draco paranoid. His home had been invaded for some time. And when he had been left with his father's choices, he had been essentially been placed into their hands. It had made Draco want to throw up for all the implications he would have to live forever, no matter the outcome from the war. However, he did not. He was a Malfoy, a pureblood that had more than enough purity to remain there.
(But not enough because Diggory had been a pureblood who had rotten luck. He had been killed. He had been an unfortunate spare.)
Yet, there had been loopholes. Standards from their blood status. It explained the categories that had been made since their divisions were made clearer.
Loony Lovegood had been a pureblood too. Yet, it had been her connection to the abnormal talks and paper that had made her a disgrace, as his father explained. When he had been a second year, and she a first year, he had heard of about her. The girl with a dotty voice, a girl that had not been dressed like a lady should have been. The rumors had been harsh; not that he had started the flame.
He saw it all. With her radish earrings, bare feet and terribly kind attitude. She had made it easy to be a target.
Draco hadn't cared then.
Still, couldn't bring himself into caring when he knew it all would rot. The world was burning, and Potter was out there. Lose in the wild. While Draco was here, back at his manor. Only with company that was either murders or victims. He wanted his childhood back. To have a life when he had been a good Slytherin and death had not been an option.
He was a Death Eater now, for some time to have made him lose parts of his heart when he looked at his arm; his father had been both terrified and proud that they were still all alive. His mother was strong. But Draco, he was slowly being driven mad. He didn't want to become his aunt. Didn't want the Dark Lord to kill his parents for any more mistakes he could make.
It seemed as if the days dragged on any longer, he wouldn't have much of his sanity in tacked by the rounds of people coming and fewer leaving.
By some standard of how his life worked, Draco should have seen it coming when more Hogwarts students came by, ones that had the unfortunate blood status or ties to certain wanted people. He had seen some come in, heard others. It had become his life. Watching the world being drawn into a pit of darkness, it had been easy to spiral. One foot in, then another until madness was all that could greet him. A numbness too.
But the sadness was more apparent for himself, his magic had been touched by their madness, the darkness and ugliness they maintained. It had been disgusting. It ruptured him, periodically.
When Luna Lovegood had been taken to the Malfoy Manor, Draco had thought it had been unfair. To have someone pure, and loony to take the fault for Potter and his gang. She had done nothing truly outlandish, yet, she had been picked up and brought to be kept and possibly be tortured for any information. He had not been present when she had been imprisoned, but he had heard of her arrival. He didn't go out of his way to see her either.
Not that he wanted to.
He had never been specifically his father, but he had learned to mimic the air of what a proper noble pureblood would emanate. When the Dark Lord came, Draco had learned to maintain a distance as best as he could, which, sadly he could not hide forever or remain somewhat elusive. His Aunt Bella had been the type to instruct his parents to get him more involved, had made his life almost a long-winded nightmare. He did not want to go out, so he made rounds of feeding those below.
That had been the only reason why Draco started to notice her and eventually talk with her. It had been his self-preservation, the reality that kept him safer than others. But it had also been the beginning when he started to not call her Loony Lovegood. That had been his mistake; why he couldn't wholly bring himself to not care about them. He wasn't his parents. He was Draco Malfoy, a boy who only wanted to survive the Second Wizarding War.
Luna just happened to be a catalyzed to let it spark. For his rebellion. And his path of finding more than what his father could have given him under the circumstances. He never did hate his father; he loved him. Draco could see that each time they all had to suppress the winces when Bella laughed as she tortured her victims. Had seen how careful his father had been to not bring Draco fully in, just enough to have people know the Malfoys did house them with protection. His mother had too as she told him how much she loved him without too many words.
The Malfoys took care of family, and Draco had learned from them.
But Luna Lovegood, she wanted to protect all. That had been her difference, her hope that had made him a terrible companion when all they felt was trapped. She was light, goodness and all parts Draco couldn't fully grasp when the mark burned him. She didn't judge him. Never yelled at him or spit at his direction.
Luna simply understood.
She knew what the war meant, what people had to do to stay alive; and that itself had made Draco's own heart feel trampled against the current news hitting him. Repeatedly, until he couldn't hold much food. He saved the scraps for her, for the people he did not like personally, but still felt the need to lessen their hell inside his manor.
His home used to a lovely place, but now, it had shattered him. Created nightmares he couldn't escape. And had made him see how wrong his father had been. His love for him and his mother had blinded him. Had done crimes and now they were all paying for it.
It had made sense now, why Potter and his gang didn't like him. (Why he didn't shake his hand.) Draco was stuck with his mistakes and with fewer places to seek redemption. He didn't know why Luna forgave him. Why she didn't look repulsed when his sleeve was tightly hiding its mark. It had made it harder for him to look at her. With her dirty hair, and clothes rumpled.
She could still smile. Even if some of the ends were a little wobbly; Luna Lovegood was strong. Stronger than him when it came to hope. She never gave up believing that she would be rescued. That Potter would win. She always had that strength about her to remain positive.
It countered his on worries. Had made him weary when she smiled each time, he came with food and a hidden extra blanket when he could spare them. As if, she knew who he really was. Because, she didn't. Not really. Guilt did not mean he was a good person.
It just all added to the fact that he had made a lot of mistakes to even be able to breathe normally. He made due with his limited days, when the war had its slow days. He had used them to sleep, to talk to his mother without much fuss, and to see if Luna was not going any madder. She didn't. Her eyes, though, had always picked up his emotions. She always knew when he needed a pickup with her silly stories.
They used to be boring. Ludicrous even; but, when the manor was taken and all the company, he had nowadays been with despicable people Luna was an upgrade. She gave him a few laughs, had made the air breathable. And that—that had scared him. With her innocent smiles giving him ideas. He wanted to escape the manor, wanted to denounce the Dark Lord. But he knew he couldn't. It would mean a painful death.
But she had been the one to start it. With her pale skin glowing even when it had been dark and the fire barely gave them warmth. She never used to have been a beauty in his eyes during Hogwarts; when Draco had other thoughts to busy his mind. Yet, when she was there now, imprisoned and staying so positive he could see it, a type of beauty he was enchanted with. She was more than those old rumors suggested. Luna was a fighter.
Unlike him, who was a known coward.
She would never care to date someone like him that had a past as bad as him. Befriend yes, but never willingly date. She was kind, but she also had been a longtime friend with that Weasley girl. Which meant, that even if he ever changed sides, nobody would ever fully trust him, let alone give him a second chance.
The days inside his manor had always been limited, he knew that, but it never did occur to him that it would stagger to Potter and his two friends to really akin up his life's mess when they had been captured. His parents and Aunt Bella all had been present to it. Having him standing next a hexed Potter, and seeing their lives hanging by his words. He hated it. Hated how much power he had and couldn't stop seeing what his family become. He didn't tell them that it had indeed been Potter.
Not that it didn't stop them all, both sides to start throwing hexes, jinxes and curses. He gave up his wand, had watched His Aunt Bella really scream. And Luna—she had looked at him when she left. With one glance, he saw his heart wilt.
He didn't see her until Hogwarts. The train ride had been quieter, with few Slytherins that he wanted to look at, and barely socialize with. Nobody could afford to say what they meant. What they really wanted without looking like traitors, and traitors of what, that depended on which side won. With Hogwarts been taken from them all, Draco had hated how it felt now; colder. Emptier. And sad.
There still had people that went and defied all the wrongs the war gave them. It had been noticeable that it had been hard. Eventually something had to snap, and within the Slytherins walls it had opened to a silent civil war the longer the tension built up. One gamble of a prideful person did it. And it had not been Draco.
It had been an acquaintance of his, Millicent Bulstrode, the same girl that had often felt alienated by her status as a half-blood in Slytherin. They weren't rare people, just not as welcomed as purebloods and the very small percentage of muggleborns that had slipped in the past. She had always been shy, but had strong opinions, she defended herself well enough, but if anyone got close to her, they would have known that she was a nice girl. The walls she kept were some that Draco had used when he grew up. Until now, Bulstrode had kept most of her mouth shut, the war had barely allowed her in Hogwarts.
He thought that she would have been smarter to lie low, but apparently, she risked herself for the muggleborns that hadn't been able to come this year. For the unjustness of half-bloods that couldn't come back like herself. He didn't envy her then, but Draco had also been awed that she could stare back at the other vocal people Draco had once agreed a hundred percent ago.
That had been its own wonder, that he had changed since the Dark Lord came back to terrorize the world.
He didn't remember that day, when she started it all as causally one could be. With clear intentions that she couldn't lay down and bow to a mad man. Snape had not been there, but most of the Slytherin masses had been, with her as an older student, it had eased for some younger ones to step by her corner. It had come to the same arguments, the same conclusions of stalemates. But the numbers, they had changed.
And he had changed too. When he moved to the middle, Draco knew that his answer would matter. Between the walls, Draco silently moved closer to his decision. He did his best to silence the words of traitor and hypocrite when he left later that night for perfect duties.
Facing Luna was rather, quiet, in some ways Draco had wondered if they would ever be able to pass that day without suffering any blows. Metaphorically in their case for that day, Hogwarts had been bleak, dusting happy memories away as if they had been decades ago. He had not brought down his shields. Not that he wanted to, some part of him had always been practical as he was realistic; when the war fully emerged, he had known that he would have to be careful of where he went, who he talked to and how he treated his allies, foes and those in between. Fishing any time for Luna meant that too.
He couldn't outright sit next to her, couldn't smile without fearing others would think he would hex her. That had frustrated him. Made him lose some of his control over himself, but he had been a simple guy when he wanted to be. She understood that, had done her own version of making everything simpler. And Draco had appreciated that, it made it coming to his own terms to be breathable. He didn't mail his family as often, and couldn't brush his worries when he did his hair every morning. However, he did find something kind in his steps when Luna passed him. She had brightened the hallways when she had been able.
She was a hidden moon, bright, having him fascinated by her devolution for peace. That had made sense when he asked for him. She had seen what pull he could take when he spoke to some more willing Slytherins when they spoke to Bulstrode before in quainter hushes. If own voice, though controversial in some circles, had given them an edge when the prouder and louder Gryffindors waged their own war with the Dark Lord's teachers. Of course, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws did their own parts, but everyone knew how split the Slytherins were. They had more families in both sides. Some were vocal, others neutral and others, they had been silenced by thorns of rejection.
Even in the space of war, the Slytherins kept their secrets and fights in private, by tradition and reflex.
On most stands, at least.
Until they couldn't. When it proved that death was far too real, to permanent. Then, the last stand came. It had been a less than dreary day, when Luna had spoken to him. They had slowly morphed with Longbottom and the Weasley girl chaperoning them from time to time. It had been a compromise that he could do, just as long as Luna was there, happy to be by company. He wouldn't complain entirely.
The sun was not visible, and the clouds were thick as always. His lungs were somewhat clogged by the magic that came out of nowhere coating his body. It had been distinct, like a ghost feeling within his gut to say, be careful. Luna own face had said something too, like she had wanted to say another thing, but then, she didn't. She crossed arms below her chest as a gust of wind passed them.
"Draco."
He knew. Without risking a second glance, he made his way to the door for her. "I'll be careful so long as you are too."
He could hear her smile. And just before she went inside, kissed his cheek before welcoming the Potter gang. He closed the door and went straight to find the rest of the Slytherins.
He wouldn't think about their brief exchange yet, not until the day was over and when he was able to breathe without fear of what his gut meant. Draco would survive, because he was a Malfoy. A proud Slytherin that would protect his own, Hogwarts (, his parents, and now, including Luna Lovegood).