A little bit hesitant to post this hot mess, but enjoy!
Reviews are always appreciated.
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me.
They tell him that she's crazy but he doesn't quite believe it.
Draco Malfoy knows better.
And, well, it takes one to know one.
She isn't crazy. (She isn't him.)
She is free.
And he hates her for it; hates her partly because he is suffocating underneath his million painted faces and she is breathing. But mostly, he hates her because her words are soft and quiet, and sting in the most unexpected ways. And because when she smiles, it is real and it reminds him that he is human too.
And so every time he sees her, he mutters the words under his breath over and over like a curse:
"I hate her."
Except, of course, he doesn't.
Fourth year
They're still just kids now, but he doesn't know that then.
So he walks around the school with lazy, confident steps and a smug smirk on his face, and he tries to hate what's different and love who he pretends be and hide the fact that his entire life is built on nothing but coin and lies.
Because that's what Malfoys do.
They hide behind their expensive things and that perfectly practiced purse of their lips and hope that it's enough to fool the right people into thinking that they are just like them.
Even when, really, the Malfoys would much rather just be left alone.
But Draco plays his part perfectly.
Because when he's young, the game seems fun.
And months pass by and people learn to (hate) fear him and all is as it should be.
That is when he meets her:
some strange girl he's never seen before sitting by the lake and reading The Quibbler upside down and humming to herself, wearing all the colors that he hates the most. (A blur of cotton candy pink and soft purple and pale, sky blue and candy apple red and yellow). And it is this new intrusion of color in his world of black and gray that offends his senses more than the fact that she is an outsider.
But then, he walks by, and she doesn't run away or glare at him or cower behind her magazine in fear.
In fact, she doesn't even notice him.
The fourteen-year old boy has never had his pride wounded quite like this before and he clenches his fist and vows revenge.
But before he can open his mouth to make some snarky, smart ass remark, she suddenly looks up, smiles at him, and says in the most beautiful voice he's ever heard,
"Hello."
One sentence (barely).
And Draco Malfoy is lost for words.
Fifth Year
He refuses to be curious; because if he were curious, that would mean he just might find her more intriguing than actually irritating.
And yet, he finds himself looking for her whenever she isn't around.
He tells himself that it's because he's a prefect and she's involved with the D.A. and it's his job to expose each and every member of the group.
But if it's obvious to everyone else that, for some reason, Luna Lovegood is the only person he ever really tries to make miserable (aside from Potter), nobody says a word.
He never feels guilty about what he does until after;
When his friends are snickering at her (pathetic) lone figure and he is watching her go; all the while wishing it could be easier for him to ignore the fact that it is his fault she is skipping around the school with bare feet and only one (ridiculous) radish earring on instead of two.
But he is Draco Malfoy and she is Luna Lovegood and he can't ever admit, not even to himself, that he hates (what) who he's become.
So he sits pretty in his place of power and watches as Luna Lovegood suffers. People pull tasteless tricks on her: they push her around and call her names and then, one day, her things begin to just "go missing". First, it's her butterbeer cap necklace. Then, her Potions book (which Snape gives her detention for "losing") and then it's that essay she spent two hours writing followed by the star chart that took a week to finish drawing and so on.
But somehow, Luna smiles and manages without her things anyway because she knows nothing will make people angrier. She also knows, however, that her enemies are not forgiving.
And so, when Draco's friends finally get bored of her, Luna walks into Divination one morning and is surprised to find the small, neat pile of belongings on the stool where she usually sits.
Her book bag, her text books, a stack of old essays and notes, a pair of sneakers, her cap necklace…
She searches and searches for the one thing that isn't there and finds instead, a short strand of silver hair almost the exact same color as her own.
Luna Lovegood holds the hair up to the light, and blinks at it curiously.
And then, her thoughts fall into place and she smiles.
Luna never finds her dirigible plum earring.
Draco Malfoy cannot give that back.
He keeps it always in his pocket, though he isn't sure why, and the earring lives there in the dark and never sees daylight again.
(Because how on earth would it look if Draco Malfoy were caught with it?)
But every once in awhile, he does find himself reaching into the folds of his robes and smiling just because the thing is there.
And when term is over and he is back home and his father starts telling him about everything that's going to make Draco's life all wrong, he finds that having the odd little trinket in his hand helps the words to burn just a little less.
Sixth Year
Nothing is right anymore.
Nothing is right and the games have lost their fun and all Draco Malfoy wants to do is let himself fall apart. Because he is slowly losing his mind anyway and feeling nothing is harder than it's ever seemed to be before.
But it's do or die, and, more than anything, Draco wants to live. (Even if not in the way she always made him wonder about.)
So in the dim silence, Draco's task consumes him, although not nearly as completely as the knowledge that his every move is being weighed and measured and watched.
Always watched.
Every time he tries and fails, Draco knows that someone, somewhere is marking it. Many hope for his failure.
And as days pass, the long hours spent alone in silence, save for the measured ticking of the clock, begin to haunt him.
No matter where he goes, he hears it.
tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…
In the classroom, the courtyard, the quidditch field…
A constant reminder that every second that passes in which Draco has not succeeded, is a second that should be spent trying again; trying harder.
No time to talk or laugh or even study.
His life is his task.
His life is his task.
His life is his task.
tick…tick…tick…
He hears it everywhere.
But nobody else can.
That is how Draco Malfoy realizes he really has gone mad after all.
He finds his only moments of peace at night in the prefect's bathroom because it is quiet, but not too quiet and he can close his eyes and count the drip, drip, dripping of the faucet until his mind is all just numbers and he is fast asleep.
And by day, he hides desperately in company.
It doesn't have to be good company, so long as he isn't alone.
But no matter where he goes or who he goes to, something about it feels wrong. And one day, it suddenly becomes very clear to him that he has become an outsider, too.
And he wakes up and drowns and dies every day because it hurts and he deserves it.
That is what he believes.
And nobody says a word about it; nobody except for her.
She sits beside him, ignoring the shards of broken mirror scattered around the cold, damp floor and the ungodly sounds of weeping emanating from his, Draco Malfoy's, own lips. (God, how far he's fallen…)
And he doesn't even notice her there until she speaks.
"The weather's been rather gloomy of late, hasn't it?"
Draco bristles at first, but when he lifts his head, he sees that it is only Luna Lovegood smiling at him serenely.
She holds his gaze for just a second before blinking her pale blue eyes up at the ceiling, giving Draco the chance to hastily wipe at his tears and salvage whatever is left of his pride.
"Get out of here, Lovegood." he mutters darkly.
But his voice breaks and his words are weak and empty because really, he would give anything to never have to be left alone with only his thoughts for company again.
For a moment, Luna says nothing and Draco starts to worry that she really will go.
But then she speaks: her voice light and unaffected as air- as if Draco had never said anything to her at all.
"I used to be afraid of the dark, you know. The neighborhood children locked me in a shed once when it was storming, you see. It was all in good fun of course, but being just four years old, I was quite frightened…"
Malfoy feels a small pang of guilt then, despite the situation, but says nothing.
Luna doesn't mind. She just smiles to herself because she can tell by how still Draco is, that he is listening.
Because somehow, with Luna around, his mind has gone so blissfully silent.
"But...being afraid of the dark is nothing to be ashamed of really, is it?" She steals another small glance at him (Draco's spine begins to tingle with warmth), then she adds as an afterthought, "Neither is being afraid of the light, you know, though others may tell you differently..."
Draco knows what Luna assumes and even though she is right, on any other day, he would deny it with his life.
But today is not a normal day and he is content to stop hiding and let her in (just a little) provided she continue to chase the ghosts away.
"Would you like to know something?"
Per his usual curtness, Draco tries to ignore her but Luna just lets the question hang in the air until he feels uncomfortable enough to answer.
"What, Lovegood?" he finally grumbles, because she might have tricked him into playing along but he'll be damned if she thinks he's doing it willingly.
"I think," she murmurs, smile growing brighter. "that no one should really be afraid of either. Because that would make one feel much lonelier than they really are, and that's exactly what he would want. Wouldn't you agree?"
And Draco suddenly realizes that she knows. Draco gets the feeling that she's known all along.
And somehow, that...that helps him to breathe again. For the first time in years.
For a long while, they sit in silence.
And she says nothing.
And he says nothing.
And she might have blinked and put her hand over his.
And he might have blinked back and let her do it.
But he can't remember now.
But he does remember this: when he is finally calm again, Luna Lovegood wipes away a stray tear in his eye, smiles at him, and drifts away as easily and silently as she walked in, expecting nothing for the undeserved kindness.
And Draco Malfoy can't help but brush his fingertips over his cheek so he can hold on to any of that blessed warmth that he can.
7th year
This is how it happens every day:
Pulse pounding, heart sinking, gripping the edges of the tray with shaking hands, he walks down the steps and into the basement.
He cautiously steps closer to the rusty cell that so stubbornly keeps her from him and him from her and then, she emerges from the dark corner of her prison, all beautiful eyes and silver hair, and takes her meager supper from him.
"Thank you." she whispers, because her throat is dry and her lips are cracked and bleeding.
Draco Malfoy swallows nervously and stuffs his clenched fists into his pockets then, and he stands there for a few more long seconds, frowning and trying to force himself to open his goddamn mouth and say something; anything.
And Luna Lovegood waits for him to speak because she knows him better than he knows himself.
But what can he say?
(I'm sorry?)
(Forgive me?)
(I never wanted this...)
He chokes on the words and everything he wants to tell her strangles him into silence; gets lost in that accursed inch of empty space between them, in his guilt and his fear and his shame. And in the end, he can't do anything but turn away from the knowing but bittersweet smile she gives him because it makes him feel just that much worse.
Every night, this happens.
Every night, Draco Malfoy proves that he is a coward.
And still, every night, Luna Lovegood watches and waits for Draco to speak, though he never does.
"Draco?" his father pleads.
And suddenly, all eyes really are on him and he hears the words, but he can't force himself to move.
Because everyone is watching him and waiting for him to prove that despite what they may have thought, he is on the good side after all, and she is right behind him, still waiting for him to quit playing it safe and just say 'no'.
His answer was 'no' 7 years ago. But no one cared to listen then.
And he is tired and afraid and has seen things worse than anyone who blames him can imagine.
Because sometimes, despite what people think, being the unwilling enemy is terrible too.
But this is when his answer will matter.
This is when the people will listen.
The only chance he'll ever have to save the man he could have become…
And he can't do it.
He is a coward, and he can't say 'no'.
"Go, Draco." a voice whispers into his ear so quietly he isn't even sure he's heard it.
A small, familiar hand finds his in secret and gives it a light squeeze.
He doesn't have to look to know who it is.
And suddenly, he is ashamed; ashamed that he is so bad a man that Luna Lovegood, of all people, doesn't doubt, even for a second, which decision he will make.
Draco Malfoy lingers for another moment. Then, he takes that first slow, heavy step.
And he tells himself that he can't ever look back.
From his mother and father's side, he can see clearly the angry, hateful looks his schoolmates give him.
He always thought he'd be used to it by now…
So he is surprised to find that it, despite everything he's done over the years to dull this pain, still hurts more than he ever thought it would.
He picks out faces from the crowd.
Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, Cho Chang, Susan Bones-…
And Luna.
Out of instinct, he turns away.
He is afraid of seeing himself reflected back as a monster in her eyes.
But suddenly, he remembers that this is a war and that he may never be able to catch another glimpse of her again and that is a much more frightening thought altogether.
So he forces himself to lift his head and memorize every detail of her that he can (But his hands shake all the while. Because cut lips, bruised cheek, black eye...And all of it is partially his fault.)
Suddenly, Luna's eyes are looking directly into his.
And Draco's heart almost stops.
But then, Luna raises a hand to her earlobe and he notices that she is wearing only one dirigible plum earring. A small smile plays around on her lips.
She knows he has it. She wants him to keep it.
He knows he doesn't deserve it, but he's glad for it all the same.
It takes all this and more for him to finally realize what he needs (who he needs) to keep himself from drowning.
Only, there is nothing he can do about it now.
Draco Malfoy reaches into his pocket and finds the trinket he's kept all this time.
And he knows he could take it with him; have his heaven-sent excuse to see her again sometime after everything is over.
But he also knows that his name is beyond all hope of redemption now.
So he works up the only bit of courage he's ever had in him.
And he leaves it behind.
Later that night, Luna Lovegood wanders through the ruins of what used to be her school's courtyard, stepping over crumbled stone pillars stained with blood and dodging the gnarled branches of leafless trees burnt and blackened by fire.
Her presence disturbs the layer of fallen ash on the ground and the wind picks up, swirling debris around her in the night air like snow as she passes.
The smell of death is everywhere.
But even in these silent moments after the storm, Luna tells herself that there is still goodness to be found in the world.
She believes it.
The others don't. Not yet.
But she has always been the one to believe in impossible things first.
She thinks back to what was left on her bedside table earlier just that day.
Yes. No matter what the others may think, she knows she is right.
She pauses to look up at the dark, starry sky. Then, she smiles and continues on.
It is nothing but a single earring and a hastily scrawled note. She isn't sure how or when it got there.
And all the scrap of parchment says is:
'To: Lovegood'
But it tells her everything she needs to know.
3 Years Later
It is the middle of the night and Draco Malfoy is nearly sound asleep when he hears it: a light knocking at the front door.
He tries to ignore it, of course.
He is warm and safe where he is and the world is a harsh, cold winter.
But the knocking doesn't stop.
Finally, he lets out what sounds like a snarl and throws himself unwillingly out of his bed, muttering profanities under his breath as he heads down the stairs of his home.
Nine times out of ten, it is a reporter or a stranger at the door; here to harass him because he is still branded a traitor.
He stops at the bottom of the stairs and says it to himself again: he hates people anyway, so what does it matter?
Then he yanks the door open to get rid of the visitor in the foulest manner possible.
But before he can speak, he sees the silver hair and the raddish earrings and the blue eyes against the flurry of white snow and black sky. And he smells the soap and spring flowers on the cold, crisp winter air.
And then he hears that maddening
"Hello."
It's just one word (barely).
But Draco Malfoy is lost for words.
And she smiles.
And he stares.
And she steps closer and takes his hand.
And he stares.
And she presses her lips to his cheek.
And he finally blinks and smiles back.