Misunderstood
"Deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance."
- Oscar Wilde
It all starts when you give him your wrist. Like most children, you were taught to fear things that resided in the dark, lost in the shadows. You remember, when you were a little girl, you always heard how vampires were bad and you should always stay away from them. You don't believe that now. He is anything but evil.
When the snatchers bring him down to join you in Malfoy's basement, you realize he looks familiar. He is pale, with dark circles beneath his topaz-blue eyes. They push him forward and he collapses at your feet, with a groan. You fall to your knees beside him. "Are you hurt?" you ask. "Is there anything I can do for you?" You cradle his head in your hands. You don't see any blood. You know he was probably tortured for information, like many of the other prisoners who have come and gone.
At first, he does not respond. He only examines you with a pained expression. "There is nothing that you can do for me that I would feel fit to ask of you." His voice is soft, melodic.
"You're hurt. I wish I had my wand. If I did, I would be able to heal you." You can't stand the idea of watching anyone suffer, especially another one of the Deatheather's captives. You know that if he is a prisoner, he is your ally. You run your fingers over his skin, looking for wounds. You are surprised to find that it is as cold as ice. You shiver.
"There is nothing you can do for me." He recoils from your touch. He slowly rises into a sitting position. Your chest aches when you notice the pained expression on his face.
"What did they do to you?" you finally ask. You aren't sure if you really want to know the answer and you're not quite sure why you asked.
"Nothing that I have not already suffered," he replies, his eyes scrutinizing you again. His pale, pink lips are pursed as he observes you. A shiver suddenly runs up your spine and you try not shudder.
"Did you fight in the first war?"
"No, no. I was in a faraway land. I did what I could, to assist the survivors, upon my return, of course." His eyes glide over you again, focusing on your neck. "Why have you not run from me?"
You find his question strange. "Why should I run from you? If you are a prisoner, that means you are not a Deatheater. Why would I fear my ally?" You try to remember where you've seen him before.
He rakes his fingers through his shaggy, ebony hair. "There are very few who do not fear me." He sighs, mournfully. "I would expect nothing less of you."
You gaze at him, pondering, and then you remember. You met him at Slughorn's Christmas Party last year. Your heart begins to race as understanding overwhelms you. You know he can hear your heartbeat, because his eyes shift toward the floor. You inhale deeply. Surely, if he wanted to harm you he would have done so already. "You're a vampire." Your voice is barely a whisper.
"Yes, I am." He reestablishes his gaze, his crystalline eyes meeting yours. "Do not fear me. I mean you no harm."
You nod. There is something about his gaze. You know you should not trust a vampire. Aren't they known for manipulating their victims? Yet, you trust him.
"What did they do to you?" You ask again, suddenly feeling braver.
He turns his head away, turning his eyes toward the floor. You observe him, the pain in his eyes, his ashen complexion, and his composure. Your stomach clenches when you finally put all of the pieces together. "Did they—" It's all you can manage, as you slink closer to him.
"You are a very intelligent young woman," is his reply and you know you are right.
"I'm so sorry."
"It is not your fault. As I said before, it is nothing I have not endured before." His lips twist into a half-smile. "Thank you for your kindness. It is rare for anyone to be so compassionate to someone like me."
"You haven't done anything to deserve something other than kindness."
He chuckles. "I am certain you are one of a kind."
You watch as he lies back against the cold, stone floor. He closes his eyes. You notice, in the dim light, that he is rather beautiful. His features are perfectly chiseled, a long, straight nose, firm, masculine jaw-line, and high-cheekbones. He's trim but solid. His arms are folded over his stomach and his legs are together, stretching out in a straight line. You inch your way closer. You know he can hear your movement, but he doesn't stir. His face is still knotted with discomfort, but he looks oddly beautiful, like a tragic hero or ill-fated demigod.
You know what you have to do and you are terrified. Why wouldn't you be? It is dangerous, scary.
Maybe you've lost your mind, but all you know is you can't let him suffer.
You pull the sleeve of your sweater up to your elbow and cradle his head in your hands once more. You pull him gently so his shoulders rest against your thighs. You hold your wrist out to him, "Drink, please," is all you manage to say.
He asks if you are certain and you simply nod.
You wince as sharp fangs penetrate your flesh.
"Do not be upset. They do not understand." He whispers in your ear. His arms are snaked tightly around your waist. You can feel the toned muscles of his chest against your back. He places tender kisses across your shoulder as his fingers trace small circles on your stomach. "This is something far beyond their comprehension." He places a kiss on the top of your head as his fingers still.
"I know, but I love you. That should be enough for them." You turn to face him. He was your comfort while you were captive. The bond only grew stronger while you both rested at Bill and Fluer's cottage by the sea. You could talk to him without him giving you strange looks or saying sarcastic comments. He didn't care that you were different; on the contrary, he embraced it. He was different too. You fit together, like to misshapen pieces of an overly-complex puzzle. You saved him, physically and he saved you, metaphorically. Without his companionship you would have lost your mind.
You bring your head to rest on his bare chest and his fingers tangle themselves in your hair. "I know Luna, I love you too," he assures you. He hooks his finger under your chin and turns your face to his. His lips overtake yours in a passionate kiss. "I always will. They do not understand what brought us together, maybe someday; it will become clear to them. Until then, you must be patient, my love."
You find yourself smiling, regardless of how broken you feel. "I will be. You know I will be."
He brushes some hair away from your neck as he trails kisses down your skin. "Yes, I do; because your patience is one of the many things I love about you."
an. I think I officially ship this. I hope I did the pairing justice. It's very AU, I know. Don't hurt me canon-heads.
Word Count: 1255
Challenges/Competitions:
Camp Potter: Obstacle Course (CrackPairings) Week 2 – LunaSanguini. / prompts: in the dark, shadows, by the sea & the Oscar Wilde quote under the title (loosely).
Hogwarts Classes Category Competition: Charms (write about a Ravenclaw) – Luna.
Minor Character BC – Sanguini – Shadow(s)
Your Favorite Hogwarts House BC (Ravenclaw Collection) – Lost.
Disclaimer: I am not JKR and I do not own Harry Potter. I proofread everything, but I am not perfect. I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes I might have missed.