Un Café, a harry potter fanfic | FanFiction
A/N Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter
Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) Muggle Studies (Assignment 8)
Word count: 1,350(ish)
Thanks to chocolatecheesecakes for the French translation, I am immensely grateful! (I know like two words in French)
Draco could feel someone watching him and he turned around, trying to figure out who's attention he had caught. He noticed a pretty blonde woman calmly staring at him. That in itself was not unusual, but she was wearing a bright red floppy hat, long brightly coloured earrings and a vacant expression. She had not removed her blue patchwork coat and was drinking from a tall mug. She appeared to be reading an edition of The Quibbler. Draco tried to ignore her gaze and looked for somewhere to sit down. The small café was crowded however, and when she waved at him and gestured at the empty seat at her table he could see no way of avoiding her. Reluctantly he went over to the small table by the window and sat down.
For a while she said nothing and simply continued reading her magazine. Draco was grateful for that and watched her carefully wondering what to say.
"Hello Draco." Her calm, quiet voice confused Draco. She sounded almost sane, a far cry from the old Loony Lovegood.
"Hi... Luna."
She smiled brightly at him.
"I was wondering when you would notice me. You come here quite often don't you? But usually you're in such a rush."
He was shocked. Had she been watching him? He had though he was safe here, thought no one knew where he was.
"It's so nice here isn't it? I like to sit and watch everyone outside. They're always so busy, always hurrying to be somewhere or do something."
She was right, it was lovely. The coffee was always good, and the view beautiful, but before he could think of anything to say a waiter came up to their table.
"Bonjour mademoiselle. C'est bien voir tu."
"Bonjour Francis. Ça va? Il s'appelle Draco Malfoy, un vieux ami de moi."
Draco smiled and shook the man's hand, trying to conceal his confusion. Old friend? He was Luna's tormentor, and then later, the murderer of her friends.
He listened as they chatted in French. He was impressed by Luna's accent and extensive vocabulary and surmised that she had been living in France for some time. Perhaps she, like him, left England when the war was over.
Finally the waiter left and Draco turned to Luna.
"C'est une charmant jour. Voudras-nous promenade avec moi, près la rivière?" His French was flawless, as a Malfoy it had been considered necessary from a very early age.
She laughed and held out her arm. Bowing slightly he left money on the table and took her arm. Together they left the café and stepped out into the beautiful sunshine.
Sitting by the river they exchanged life stories, beginning after the war began. Draco learnt that Luna had spent some time travelling before settling down in Paris. She giggled when she confessed she's an artist (so very cliché) and blushes when he told her that he'd love to see her pictures.
He didn't tell her about he time he spent in Azkaban. The weeks that felt like years, when he didn't know if he would be charged, if he would even get a trial. He didn't tell her about his trial, about his fear and the tears his mother cried. He told her instead about his job as a wizarding lawyer and about his favourite restaurant and his new owl.
When it was time for him to go he realised he was reluctant to leave her. She was the first person from Hogwarts whom he had met in years and she had treated him more kindly than he deserved.
The next few days, whenever he went to the café he looked for her but she was never there. He had almost given up hope of seeing her again, but one rainy afternoon when the café was less crowded than usual he saw her come in. She was dripping wet, without a raincoat or umbrella and she went over to him immediately.
"Bonjour mademoiselle."
She smiled at him and sat down.
"Hello Draco."
"Where have you been? I haven't seen you since last week." As soon as he asked he felt silly. He hadn't seen her in years so a week without her was nothing extraordinary. However she didn't seem to notice.
"I've been working on a new picture."
"Oh? I'd love to see it."
"Perhaps you will one day." She smiled teasingly at him.
"Perhaps if you took me to that restaurant you told me about I would be happy to show you."
He grinned. "Well then, how about I pick you up on Friday, at 6 o' clock? I'll make a reservation."
"That sounds lovely." She scribbled her address on a piece of paper and handed it to him.
"Now, you must try a brownie, they're awfully good."
The restaurant was as good as Draco had promised. He had laughed at her when she confessed to being a vegetarian, but other than that the meal went smoothly.
"Now, Luna, you did promise me that I could see your pictures."
"Did I? I don't remember promising."
"Come on." He grabbed her arm and they apparated to the doorstep of her house.
She unlocked the door and switched on the light as they entered. She lead him through the house and out the backdoor. They crossed her garden and entered the large building at the end of her garden. Inside was cluttered with easels and paints, half finished paintings propped up, empty frames hanging on the wall and half full, long cold coffee cups.
Draco walked along the room, admiring the paintings. Most were of people, strangers with swiftly drawn faces who could be anyone. Some he recognised; several of the waiters from the café, one of his clients. Mounted on the wall was a collection of faces he recognised from Hogwarts; mostly Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, but a few Hufflepuffs as well. The most recent picture, still drying on it's easel was incredibly detailed. He looked at Luna, expecting her to blush but her calm eyes met his defiantly. He was there, on her easel. His eyes were incredible, filled with emotion and he realised this was how she saw him. It was an honest picture, not showing off his attractiveness or the smirk which so often graced his face but the whirlwind of emotions he faced on a daily basis. Unnerved, he continued walking around the room.
In the darkest corner he noticed piles of unframed pieces. Realising that Luna wasn't watching him he sneaked a look at them. Suddenly he was filled with horror. These pictures were her memories, her memories of the war.
Dead eyes stared up at him from Colin Creevey's hollow face. Fred Weasley lay, surrounded by his family, soaked in blood. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were together, limbs twisted in a final embrace. He saw Fenrir Greyback's mouth open in a twisted smile and his father, grinning as a wall of glowing orbs crashed down. Some of the pictures were just scribbles, outlines of people in black and white with red running through them. Some were incredibly detailed Hermione Granger's arm dripped with blood, a word carved into her flesh. His aunt cackled gleefully, her hair loose, eyes wild. Giant spiders tore Hogwarts apart and flames consumed the building. He saw his friends die again, captured in her quick brushstrokes.
A scream brought him back to the present and he saw her run over, push him out the way, and throw a covering over the pictures. Then, sobbing, she fell to the ground, lost in herself. He wrapped his arms around her, held her as she tried to break free and didn't let go until her sobs had subdued.
It had taken him a long time to realise it, but the war had damaged them all, and only together could they handle it, and begin to heal the scars that had ruined each and every person that the war had touched.