Draco/Luna. I don't own Harry Potter, or Draco or Luna. Alas. Ah well, here's some romance between our favorite loon and anti-hero. Enjoy.
She is a year younger than him, and she is a Ravenclaw. She is blonde and she has wide eyes that he might almost think are pretty. Her fingers are long and slim. And she is utterly insane.
That is the extent of Draco's knowledge of Luna Lovegood.
It's more than enough. He's content to snicker at her with his friends when she wanders down the hall in a long dress that looks like a wedding gown. He points and teases, but she won't even look at him.
It irks him to no end. But she doesn't notice that, either.
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He corners her after her unfortunate bout with Quidditch commentary (he'd enjoyed it more than—well, more than he should have).
She is wandering the Arithmancy corridor on the sixth floor, and technically she shouldn't be there. He shouldn't be, either; but he doesn't really care.
"Hello, Draco," she says as he approached her from behind.
He blinks in surprise. "You know my name?"
She smiles. "Of course. Remember? Your father used to work in the same department as my mother. We used to play together at office parties."
Draco's jaw drops. "That was you?" he asks, dumbfounded. "You've changed a lot."
She finally turns to face him, and tilts her head. She looks surprised. "Not at all," she says. "You have."
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Draco does remember Luna, now that he thinks about it.
He'd met her at an office function hosted by the head of their parents' department. She was four and he was five, and they were the only two children present, stuck together with the adults' certain knowledge that all kids magically worked together.
"I want to play house-elves," Draco had said. Luna had agreed without saying a word, and played absolutely perfectly. Draco had been the head elf, and Luna was the newly purchased elf. She had been perfectly obedient to everything he said, and not spoken a word herself.
"Why aren't you talking?" Draco asked, frustrated.
She blinked. "I'm thinking," she said. "Do you ever wonder where house-elves first came from? Did they have their own world, with their own cities and their own schools and their own Ministry? Do you ever wonder if they miss it?"
Draco turned red. "No," he lied.
She looked disappointed. "Oh," she said; and that was that.
He wished, for some time after that, that he had answered, "Yes."
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She comes into the bathroom once when he is talking to Myrtle. "Hello, Myrtle; Draco," she said dreamily.
Draco blushes a hot red from the roots of his hair to the bottom of his neck. "Luna," he says curtly. She smiles distantly, and he concentrates on not noticing the dimples in her cheeks.
Myrtle perks up immensely when she sees Luna. "Luna!" she says excitedly. "Have you been teased much lately?"
Luna tilts her head from side to side. "It's been better lately," she says, and Draco feels his stomach drop. Maybe it's been better because he's stopped.
Myrtle visibly deflates. "Well, Draco here doesn't have it so easy," she says in a simpering voice. "So much pressure."
Luna looks at him with the concern of an old friend, and Draco feels guilty. "It's okay," she says, and touches his wrist. Her hand is warmer than it looks. "I understand." Draco doesn't know whether she's talking about the guilt or the pressure or both, and she can't possibly understand, because she'd hate him if she did.
But—all the same, it's hard to doubt the honesty of her wide gray eyes.
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He doesn't try to talk to her again, after that; but he does watch her in the corridors. He notices things about her.
The way she walks on the balls of her feet; her heels in the air and her toes bouncing as she walks.
The way she smiles and stops whenever she walks in front of a window and touches the glass and leaves fingerprints there.
The way she tucks her hair securely behind her ear every time she rounds a corner, even if it's already there.
The way she lifts her robes when she walks down stairs, like she's wearing a long, elegant gown (he almost thinks she is, sometimes).
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The next time he sees her it's after a late night Astronomy lesson. He's stayed behind the rest of the class to watch the sky for a bit longer; it's a clear summer night, and he doesn't know how many more of these he'll see at Hogwarts.
He hears a creak as the door opens behind him, and even though he thinks he knows who it is, he turns before he says her name. "Luna."
"It's beautiful out here tonight, isn't it?" she says dreamily.
He swallows and walks towards her. "Yeah," he says. What else can you say to that kind of thing?
"Dance with me," she says.
Maybe it's the night air that's gotten into his lungs and made him just a little bit crazy. Whatever it is, he puts a hand on her waist and the other on her back and waltzes her around the top of the tower. She throws her head back, and the moonlight on her bare neck makes her look like something from another world.
"I want to kiss you," she says. "And I don't think it's the nargles."
"Then do," he answers.
She does, and now he's sure she's not from this world. She can't be.
He thinks about everything he's ever learned in astronomy, and says the names of them as he kisses her. Nebula, nova, pulsar, quasar.
"Luna," he says as he kisses her hair.
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After Dumbledore is dead, and all the students sent home, Snape tells him to go to McGonagall for protection. He says she won't turn away a student.
Draco doesn't want to listen to Snape, and he doesn't care much if he dies at this point. So he goes to Luna's house in Ottery St. Catchpole.
She answers the door, and he father is behind her. "Mr. Malfoy," he says gravely, nodding his head and stepping away.
She touches his hand. "You're cold," she says simply. "Come inside."
She makes him hot cocoa even though it's June. They sip it in her bedroom. She sits on her bed, and her feet don't quite touch the floor. She swings them through empty space, and he counts his heartbeat to that rhythm.
"You aren't okay," she tells him, instead of asking. "But you will be."
He looks at her and for the first time he believes that maybe she's right. "Yeah," he says. "I think I might."
She puts her cocoa down and come to be near him. She touches his shoulder and doesn't ask questions. Her fingers stroke across his cheekbone. He closes his eyes and pretends that everything is alright.
She kisses him and wraps her arms around his neck. "Someday," she says, and that means absolutely everything (even if there never is a someday).
If you review, I will PERSONALLY kidnap Draco and Luna, package them up, and send them to you. There: if that's not incentive enough, I don't know what is.