Draco Malfoy walked through the streets of a small town in southern England. He didn't know the town's name, nor did he care. He had seen so many like it in this one in the last five years, which he had spent travelling throughout Europe and North America. He had used the time to do some soul searching, but had yet to come to any of the revelations he had hoped he would. Feeling more disheartened than ever, he had decided to return to England.
He had started on this journey shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts. With Lord Voldemort defeated and his family more or less ruined, he needed to decide what to do with his life and, more importantly, he needed to sort through his now confused loyalties.
A gust of wind made him pull the collar of his robe tight around his throat. He had forgotten how cold it could get in England on winter nights. Draco didn't know what day it was exactly, but he figured it was the middle of December as every building was decorated for Christmas, which didn't help his mood at all. Being back in his home country after five years of soul searching with absolutely nothing to show for it was depressing enough without the constant reminders of everyone else's happiness.
As the temperature continued to drop and snow began to fall, Draco began to look for a place to get out of the cold. Spying an open pub down the street he made his way to it, dodging a group of Christmas carolers, cursing at them under his breath and repressing the urge to "accidently" trip one of them with his cane.
He entered the pub and walked to a table in the far corner, away from the Christmas decorations and people. At this point, he just wanted to be alone-but he'd settle for limited interaction. He removed his hat and coat and laid them across the table along with his cane. Then he sat down and waited to be served.
After he had his drink (a bottle of scotch, something he had grown quite fond of in his travels) he simply sat back and observed the people in the pub with him. There was a couple at the bar in their mid-twenties who were loudly falling all over each other. In the opposite corner from him, by the Christmas tree, a little old lady was sitting with a cat who was drunker than she was. Then there was a man who was passed out over his table, his beard smoldering from where the table candle had ignited it.
But the person who caught Draco's attention was a blonde haired young woman who was sitting at a table in the middle of the room, scribbling in a notebook. He was a little surprised to see Loony Lovegood here partly because she lived much further north of here and partly because, quite frankly, he expected her to be in the woods somewhere looking for creatures that didn't exist, or writing for that pile of dribble her father published. Or both, since he understood the two were not mutually exclusive.
As he sat there and watched her, she simply scribbled away. She never looked up, not even when the bartender came over to collect her tab. She simply reached into her pocket and pulled out the money to give him, all the while scribbling into the notebook.
Draco shook his head and chuckled to himself as he took another sip of scotch. This girl was an oddball, no doubt about it. She always had been and always would be. Just as it appeared he would never find out anything about himself outside of his family and the destiny they had in mind for him.
A little while later, Luna stood to leave. In what Draco could only assume was a lapse in memory, she walked out without her notebook. A strange curiosity crept over him and, after taking a quick look around to make sure no one was watching him, he pulled out his wand and, keeping it under the table, pointed it at the notebook. "Accio notebook," he muttered and the book flew across the room to him.
The notebook was thicker than it had seemed when Luna had been writing in it. The cover was brightly colored, though very tattered. There were loose pages sticking out of it and it looked like it had been repaired on numerous occasions. Shaking his head, Draco flipped it open and began to read.
Mother died last night. It's very sad, but at least she's no longer hurting, so I shouldn't cry. That's what Father told me, but I'm not so sure. Not about her not hurting, I'm sure that's true. I'm not sure about the part about not crying. It seems to me a very good reason to cry. I know that Father means well and that he's trying to be strong for me, but I know he can't. He tells me not to cry so that he doesn't cry. But he cries anyway. He thinks I can't hear him at night, that I'm asleep, but I'm not and I can. I'm going to be strong for him. I'm going to make him smile again. And the best way to do that is to let him see me smiling. It's not going to be easy as I can barely keep from crying myself, but I'm going to do it.
Draco stopped reading for a moment. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose his mother or father, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to smile through it. Even Harry Potter, for all his shining achievements, hadn't been able to do that. Surely her plan wouldn't work…would it? He flipped ahead a few pages.
I did it! I finally got Father to smile! We were taking our Sunday afternoon walk when I saw a field of sunflowers. I began ran over to them, picked one and put it in my hair. Then I made up a dance right there on the spot. As I danced, I saw the smile creep over his face and soon it was as big as it used to be. He pulled me close and hugged me. It feels so wonderful to help people smile. Maybe I'll make a living out of it. Maybe.
"I'll be damned," Draco muttered. "She actually did it." He was actually impressed. Yet, on another level, he was not surprised at all. Luna had always been different. That was obvious to anyone who met her. Maybe her being different was her way of coping with everything life threw at her. His curiosity aroused, Draco flipped to the middle of the book and continued to read.
Hogwarts is amazing but the people here aren't very nice. I try to fit in, but all of my attempts are shot down in fits of laughter and looks of disdain. I don't mind really, but I can't help but feel alone at times. Then I remember the friends I have: Ginny Weasley who was the first person at school to be nice to me, her brother Ron who means well even if he is a little insensitive at times, Hermione Granger who seems to know what it's like to be called names, Neville Longbottom who helps me realize that there is good in everyone, and Harry Potter who is much more sensitive than most people believe.
I love them like they're my family and in many ways they are, though they likely don't realize how much they mean to me. I try to tell them in my own way, but sometimes they don't understand that. I guess I'll need to find a way to tell them that I know they'll understand.
Draco stopped reading as a small group of people entered the pub. After they were seated at the table Luna had left he returned back to the notebook, flipping ahead another two dozen pages or so.
Ran into Draco Malfoy again today, and again he was completely horrible to us. The others were talking about it after he left, saying things about him and his family. I just sat there and listened. I can't help but feel sorry for him. He is clearly carrying a burden that is weighing heavily on his mind. I wish I could help him somehow. I wish he would let someone help him before he does something he will no doubt regret later on. That's where he's heading if he doesn't get help. I'd like to help, but I know if I try, he'll just insult me some more. Sometimes I really hate this rotten war and the way it makes people act.
At that Draco shut the notebook. He had read enough. He refilled his glass and sat back slowly sipping it. Someone had cared about him before he cared about himself. Part of him wished she had tried to talk him out of it, though he knew that if she had, he would have reacted exactly the way she predicted. He had been a far different person then, desperate to prove himself among the ranks of the death eaters, even to the point of agreeing to murder Albus Dumbledore, an act that, even though he had been unable to complete it, created a hole inside him that he had yet to fill in. He hated himself for it and he hated the war for turning him into who he was now.
And it was at that moment that Draco found what he had spent the last five years searching for: The reason he had done what he did, and the ability and will to move past it. He smiled as he downed the last of his scotch and, blinking back tears, stood and waved the waitress over. After paying her, he picked up the notebook. "The young woman who was sitting at that table left this," he said. "Would you happen to know where she's staying? I'd like to return it to her."
The waitress looked Draco over, decided he was trustworthy, and said, "She comes in her a lot. She has a small house just outside of town. It's the only one with flowers growing on the walk. How she does it in this weather, I'll never know."
"She must be magic," Draco said, allowing himself a small chuckle. With a nod to the waitress, he put on his coat and hat and made his way to the door.
He found the house with no trouble and, after taking a moment to admire her flowers, knocked on the door. When she answered, she met him with a look of surprise.
Draco removed his hat. "Miss Lovegood, I don't know if you remember me. I'm Draco Malfoy. We went to school together."
"I remember you," she said. "What do you want?"
"Right," he said as he reached inside his coat and pulled out the notebook. "You left this back in the pub and I thought you'd want it back." He held it out to her.
The look of surprise on Luna's face quickly turned to one of gratitude. "Oh, thank you!" she said, running out onto the porch and throwing her arms around him.
Now it was Draco's turn to look surprised. He had never been hugged like this before in his life. It was an amazing sensation and one he didn't want to end.
But end it did. Luna pulled away and took the notebook from him. "Thank you so much," she said. "You're a lifesaver. I don't know what I'd do if I had lost this."
"It was nothing," Draco said as he tipped his hat and started to turn to leave.
"Wait," Luna said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Won't you come inside for a minute? You look like you have something on your mind. It would probably be good to get it off your chest."
Draco turned back and offered her a small smile. "No, thank you. You've already done more for me than you know." Before Luna could say anything, he tipped his hat again. "Good-bye, Miss Lovegood," he said before turning and walking away, smiling to himself as he thought about what she was going to write in that notebook now.