Hello there! Some of you may know me as PlasticUgliness. Unfortunately I have lost access to that account. I will now be publishing from this one. This is a story I decided to write after a friend of mine mentioned that although she loved Dramione, she knew in reality the relationship. We began to list which women we thought Draco would fit with. I was inspired to write this story. Enjoy!

Luna Lovegood tossed her blonde hair out of her eyes in irritation, hunching studiously over her notebook. She had just thought of the most amazing idea for the Quibbler. She figured that since everything was back to normal, what with Voldemort's defeat, that a story on two people of opposite sides needed to be run. Harry Potter would be her first choice for Hogwarts, and unlike most newspapers who asked for an interview, he would accept her offer, due to their past. Unfortunately, Luna was stumped on who she should interview about their past of being a death eater. Obviously no one currently in Azkaban, and it would be better if it was someone around Harry's age, who regretted his or her decisions. Luna's eyes fell on the crossed of and scribbled out names on her notepad. Goyle. Parkinson. Zabini… None of them worked properly. They were never truly death eaters. They were certainly more on the side of the dark lord than on the side of Hogwarts, and the rest of the community, but they were never death eaters. Luna chewed the end of her quill in frustration. She stared bleakly at the name she had written out, despite its multiple cross outs and rewrites. It was perfect. The perfect idea, the perfect two people. But he would never accept. Luna sighed, absentmindedly twirling a messy lock of hair around her index finger. The palm of her hand was littered with ink splotches, and her finger nails were bitten to the quick and coated in dirt and mysterious stains.

Luna stood, brushing off the short flowing sundress she wore. The shop window it had occupied previously had been drab and unquestionably muggle-run. Her eyes had sailed across the window in curiosity, always interested in what things held within. As her eyes traveled from mini dress to tank top to skin tight jeans, they fell upon a baby blue dress, chiffon with an A-line skirt, daisies at the bottom of the skirt and floral crocheted straps. She knew she needed it the moment her eyes touched the fabric. It was a gown made of happiness and sunshine, and the daisies that crossed the skirt reminded her of her late father. People had always pitied Luna, what with her deceased mother and her now deceased father. She didn't blame them, for she understood the thought she was alone and sad. They were wrong, of course. Luna knew that her parents had loved their lives and had thoroughly enjoyed what they did and how they did it, which was really all that mattered in the end. Luna entered her quaint little house. She had the money for a large house, similar to her old home or larger, but she loved the feeling of living in a tiny cottage. It felt like her secret clubhouse, and she loved that feeling. It was as if the moment you stepped inside you had entered a new world. Her house was world that was uniquely hers. The home had two floors. The first floor held the kitchen, living room and washroom. It was tiny, around 350 square feet. The top floor was nothing more than a loft with a king sized mattress and lavender hued sheets underneath a large skylight. Luna sat upon a small wooden stool and focused on her patronus. She whispered words into its ear, sending the large rabbit off with a flick of her wand. The kettle whistled her favorite muggle song, Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles. She poured her tea and sat down once again, patiently awaiting a reply. There was a noise at the door and she leapt from her seat, smoothing down her wild blonde hair and checking her light mascara and lip stain in her mirror. It was acceptable. She opened her front door and smiled kindly at the wizard before her.

Draco glared coldly across the room of his large, empty mansion. His father had died in Azkaban; his mother had been murdered by a rogue death eater who realized that Harry Potter triumphed because of her lying about his death. His home had never felt like a home, rather a vast and empty cage in which his family hid him away from the joys and sorrows of the real world. As a boy, Draco had not been unhappy. However, he never had felt happy. Nowadays the wizarding community despised him, after all he was the one who betrayed everyone, who killed Dumbledore and who switched sides rapidly. Whether or not all these things were actually true didn't matter to the general public. They simply enjoyed having someone to hate. They didn't hate Draco, not really, and he knew that. They hated the war and the death eaters and they had formed him into a representation of those things. The fact that not all of the things they pinned atop him had anything to with Draco did not matter. Draco Malfoy was what had gone wrong and he still stood before them, unharmed. Draco had friends, of course. Who doesn't have friends, really? Every few weeks Blaise would come over to talk. Blaise was his friend, and yet he really had no idea why. He and Blaise would sit across from each other in the parlor and look at one another, occasionally speaking. They both wanted to talk about the so-called elephant in the room, but neither knew how to bring it up. Crabbe had died that day. So many had died. It was their fault because they could have told him not to go so far, could have warned him, could have stopped him. But they didn't, and so Draco and Blaise sat across from one another, never quite meeting eyes, casually bringing up quidditch scores, women, the ministry and shopping.

On this particular day Blaise had ambled into the manor, hands in the back pockets of his dark denim trousers. Both of them had quit wearing wizarding robes, as the clothing caused uncomfortable memories and flashes of self hatred and anger. Draco had smiled slightly and silently gestured for his friend to enter his 'humble' home. Humble was of course the last word one would use to describe the Malfoy manor. Most used Vast, Grand, Extravagant, Empty, Lonely, and Dark. No one ever described his house as humble, because his house was the opposite. Ceiling stretched above him, murals were casually splattered upon walls, as if to say 'we have so much money a million galleon mural is but a coffee shop artist's painting. Blaise sank down onto an elegant chaise lounge, sloppily swinging his puts atop the extravagant satin embroidered detail. This was what Draco loved about Blaise, why he kept him around. To Blaise, Draco would forever be the stuck-up prick with repulsive hair and a shitty attitude. Blaise delighted in calling Draco 'ferret', a reminder that he could be put in his place, that Draco Malfoy was as average as any other wizard, plus some galleons. Draco sat down on a throne-like seat a few feet away, sitting up in a regal fashion. Blaise quirked and eyebrow at this, and Draco sighed, rearranging himself so that his legs swung over an arm and his spine slouched comfortably.

"Draco. How've ya been mate?"

Blaise's tone was light and playful, as was his usual demeanor. Draco glared at his own hands, struggling to keep his own face open and care-free. Anxiously he tapped his heel into the floor.

"not too well"

Blaise's eyes surveyed his friend for anything new or out of the ordinary. Taking in the facial scarring from battles long gone his eyes fell upon a large scar on his friends collar bones. The face of the pale man darkened slightly, removing his nonchalant mask and letting his friend see how defeated he was. The images on the walls gave Draco looks of pity before leaving the room, as if they did not want to interrupt anything of importance that may go on in the next few moments. Blaise frowned.

"what went on?"

Draco attempted a patronizing smirk but his demeanor broke once again, his posture falling apart and his spine hunching without a fight. The shoulders of Draco's ash coloured t-shirt closed in on his neck as the body it sat upon's shoulders squished themselves in defensively. Draco never wore suits anymore. He opted for casual tees of mute tones. He had on a loose grey top with the sleeves rolled up and a breast pocket. His form fitting jeans highlighted the weight loss that had occurred in the past few weeks and his bare feet showed that he had either not remembered to find shoes or not cared.

"Attacked." Draco's voice cracked at the end of the word.

"Again? Twice in one week?"

Draco nodded.

"Fuck."

Blaise had also endured the hate crimes committed against former death eaters and people who had not been on the side of Harry Potter. Unfortunately, Draco got the worst of it. Of all the death eaters, Draco was the worst in the eyes of the public. He was viciously cursed and attacked in the manner of Germans beating a Jew. The previous day a half-blooded wizard had performed a sectum-sempra on him, leaving him to die. His life had been saved by a muggle shop keeper nearby who could not recognize the villain of the wizarding world.

Draco's mouth opened as if about to speak, but his words were cut short as a charismatic silver rabbit bounced towards him, trailing glistening smoke behind it. Blaise's face twisted into a surprised look. Neither of them had other friends, neither of them were likely to get mail from a witch or wizard with such an adorable patronus. Draco waited patiently for the patronus to do something. An airy and sweet voice came from the spirit like animal. Draco looked shocked. Blaise looked intrigued. They both knew the voice well enough.

"Hello Draco! I hope you aren't too lonely, as I know hard it is to be alone, growing up as I did. I was hoping I could interview you for the quibbler. Contact me if you have any questions or answers for me. Don't forget to hide your fortune from the nargles… okay? Yours, Luna Lovegood. "

Draco smiled in a confused fashion. He had always written the woman off as completely mad, but now the eccentricity of her words were amusing and interesting. Blaise's eyebrows were raised once more.

Shall we go?"

His voice rumbled questioningly.

Draco looked at him in thought, his brain still processing the now vanished hare's request.

"certainly".

Blaise grinned, the first real grin Draco had seen in some time. Blaise and Draco were about to embark on an adventure, and Draco promised himself that this time he wouldn't make the wrong decisions. This time, he would show the world that he was, in fact, a decent man, and then he could be kind. Blaise grabbed his tan trench coat from the dark wood floors, motioning towards the large oak wood doors that marked the exit of the manner. Draco held up a finger, apparating to his bedroom and snatching up a cobalt coloured hooded jumper. He shrugged it on, leaving it unzipped and apparated back down. Leaving his feet bare, he stepped outside, reaching for Blaise's forearm and quickly transporting himself to a place he had been once previously. It was no longer a hulking black cylinder, rather a miniature yet modern cottage. The door lurked ahead of him, begging to be knocked upon. Blaise curled his fingers in a ball. Knock. Knock. Knock. There was a flurry inside, the sounds of someone who had been waiting in earnest scurrying towards the door. The door swung open, missing hitting the men by a hair.

"hello"

Thank you so much for reading it… ALL THE WAY TO THE END YOU BADASSES. I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope to update asap. Farewell, my little pygmy puffs 3

-gemma