Winter had engulfed the castle of Hogwarts, white sheet of snow blanketing its grounds. It sparkles against the beams of sunlight casting down on its layer top and Draco feels almost reluctant to break its perfectly clothed sheet. Still he takes that step forward and imprints one shoe mark, added another soon enough as he begins to make his way to the astronomy tower. One would think of it last place to where he could be on about but with all the chaos finally burning down in his life, it was the only place he felt in control of the thoughts that continued to spiral down his mind. Finally pushing through the tower's doors, he begins his ascend up the stairs and shoves all unpleasant memory past him.
He used to feel sorry and ashamed whenever he came up here. This was, after all, where he had disarmed Dumbledore.
This place marked the beginning of an end.
The past six months hasn't been easy either as he worked to regain his status as a Malfoy in the pureblood community, let alone in Hogwarts. His saving grace had been his lie for Potter, and his mother's silent alliance when Harry did her the favor of assuring her of her only son's safety. He can't find the will to feel entirely grateful for it because its unconsciously thrown him into owing his once sworn enemy a favor yet at the same time, he couldn't gather the nerve to be burdened. If it had not been Potter, he probably would have been excluded from a second chance in life.
It was not easy to get rid of everyone's distrust towards him, specially not when many lives had been sacrificed at prior. He and his whole family had taken part of The Dark Lord's plans, executed everything he wished for the great uprising. Not only that, the physical mark of once being a death eater imprinted against his flesh didn't make it easier for him, with curious eyes always casting glares upon the small chances of the mark being visible to the naked eye.
But it had gotten better.
His group of friends, or at least those who had remained alive, fell back into his circle and had been most ready to accept him. He'll never say it out loud but he'll always be thankful for Blaise, whose loyalty to him had surprised him the most. He's never had much friends in Crabbe and Goyle but with Zabini, there formed a silent alliance to which he never expected. And Pansy, who had a falling out with Draco for the most part but still showed her homage when he needed company.
Eventually, most fell back into place, with both the castle and the people who decided to return for Hogwarts. And eventually, people's weariness of him faded until there was nothing but a trinket to it.
Still, he hated it— he hated remembering and he hated being weak enough to never stand up for his own self and for what he believed in. He hated being reminded of who he was, of what he's done, and of what he's made up to be. And even now as he settles amongst the tower's balcony he thinks of how much he wants to desperately be done with school, for him to start a life that consists of new chapters, new people, new beginnings.
He begins to tug up on the sleeves of his jacket as he leans forward and inhales the morning breeze, the place devoid of any other students. It usually was in chilly weekend mornings like these where the students opted to stay in and sleep an hour or two longer. His gaze falls down to the faded black ink etched to his forearm, tongue darting out absentmindedly in thought.
"Ah, hello Draco."
The airy tone in the woman's voice draws him back from everything he's been thinking and he turns his head to Luna Lovegood, making her way to the other side of the small balcony. He silently wishes to himself that she doesn't stand next to him, just because he'd prefer his own space. One would think he'd scowl away to make the obvious apparent but he can't get himself to do so; instead he looks off elsewhere and scoffs, pulling down on his jacket sleeve to hide the ugly tattoo on his skin.
"Lovely morning, isn't it?"
He doesn't reply and she soon takes up the other end from where he stood. Damn it, Luna.
Aside from the brief glimpses of her from the war, the last time he really saw her was when she was held hostage in the Malfoy Manor, and even then he didn't really talk to her. He had no business in the dungeons of his home and all business that the Dark Lord had he had no intention of meddling into. Aside that he had important missions of his own, errands tasked for having the privilege of serving Voldemort. Yet he remembers her then from the few moments they'd torture her, loud and shrewd screams coming out of her mouth whenever she was hexed or hurt. He remembers the fear reflecting through her electric blue eyes, the very same that's dulled to his metallic grays.
Suddenly he's swarmed with anger towards his cowardice to save a fellow school mate from the hands of his aunt. He doesn't know what to say to her as he recollects of these memories, an unfamiliar feeling of guilt flooding him.
"I like mornings like these." She continues on as if they were the closest of friends to be chatting.
He remains silent, just because he doesn't know how to respond to her. It wasn't of his character to apologize so easily despite the words burning at the tip of his tongue yet at the same time, what would change consist of if not for him saying he's sorry? Yet would it even change anything? It isn't like he can take time back or change history—what's done is done, she's suffered enough already and perhaps there isn't a point in opening up old wounds.
"Do you often go here during the weekends? It's the first time I bump into you. I'm usually up here during this time of the day during Saturdays. I like watching the sunrise from here. It comes rather late because of winter."
He hadn't even realized or come to think of sunrise every time he's here. Usually he's too busy mulling in silence. "I usually come here an hour earlier before classes start." He doesn't feel the need to share too much, a simple answer should do.
There's a small part of him that wishes for her to stop talking and go away, just because he isn't so accustomed to socializing those he's ostracized in the past. Usually if it was someone like the Weasley siblings or Granger, he'd just walk past them with a slight nod of the head and carry on his day. With Lovegood he isn't quite so sure.
"Come to watch dawn then." She brings up a finger to point at the rose-lit sky, a small smile blossoming over her cherry tinted lips. "I promise it's really pretty."
He releases a heavy sigh he hasn't been aware he's been holding. "Doesn't it bother you to talk to me?"
Finally, the question he's been holding in is cracked free, finding himself staring at her in curiosity for the first time. "I reckon you'd be angry or something, I dunno– indifferent to my presence, I suppose. You really don't have to make small talk for your sake or for mine, you can go on about the rest of your morning like the way you usually do without worrying about me."
"But I'm not angry." It's the only clarification he needs to feel relief washing over him, unaware that he's needed it since she's arrived. Yes, he's been worried of her hating him for what his family's done to her and her father. Yes, he's been worried that she's just talking to him out of pity and because he's seen as weak and wounded. Yes, he cares what she thinks despite her being a resident lunatic. "Should I have a reason to be angry at you, Draco?"
Yes.
"You've always fascinated me. I hope to be friends with you." It's a quick and stolen glimpse but he manages to sneak one in. There's flakes of snow lightly glued to her dirty blonde locks, its curls catching them captive. Her blemish free skin radiates even amongst the 5am light and for someone deemed crazy, she didn't look so much the part. Before he can even say anything though, she continues. "May I ask you a question?"
"What is it?"
Anxiety suddenly envelopes him. Surely it isn't anything that he can't answer?
"Can we start on a fresh page? I don't think we ended too well on a good note the last time we saw each other."
There's a small part of him that feels too dumbfounded to even speak, her words still registering in him. Her straightforwardness and bluntness isn't something he's expected but he supposes he really should get rid of the habit of judging a book by its cover. Luna seemed more capable than she lets on, stronger than how she appears.
It's the first time anyone's asked him anything like it since the war ended and he's never been aware of his need to hear it until now. A pang of comfort crashes him in waves of reassurance that someone out there wants to embark on new beginnings with him.
Finally he replies, "I'd like that."
He feels the grin that blooms wider on her lips, beautifully tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Do you have elsewhere to go after then?" The dreaminess in her voice sucks him back into reality and he finds himself glancing up her way for the nth time this morning.
His calloused fingers wrap around his opposite wrist, shaking his head as he looks away to focus on the horizon. "I'm right where I need to be."
Hello there! It's been years since I've written anything and consider this my attempt to break through a massive writer's block. I've fallen back into my superior ship Druna, please let me be as delusional as I want to be haha. Anyways, just want to mention it again that this story will be a collection of Druna one shots, working into the progression of a budding relationship and romance. I won't be necessarily following the book's ending and HHr and Ginny/Blaise will be mentioned in future chapters just because I'm trash for them. AU and semi-au will probably exist too, sorry not sorry xx