Either Way I'll Break Your Heart (Someday)
By Sister Grimm Erin
A Harry Potter Alternate Universe Fanfiction
Author's note: This is not set in the same universe as my other fanfiction featuring Draco and Luna, You Are the Moon. I must issue warnings for implied adultery, canon character death, and some cute creepiness. Please use your discretion if such material is offensive or triggering for you.
The girl comes over once a week or so, and Mumsy always sneers when she does, but Draco Malfoy all but adores her.
She's always fun to play games with. Luna Lovegood is always chasing invisible fairies or giggling about wandwood or telling even more ridiculous stories with absolute and complete sincerity, one Draco shares. It would be impossible to call what they have a siblinghood-but when Draco finds out the truth, he will not be puzzled, but more than a little shaken and angry, his world tilting several ways he should have imagined it might.
She giggles, a high laugh that lasts far too long to be considered girlish, practically wheezing with laughter, when he makes even the slightest joke, and ever after, Draco will be convinced he is hilarious and have the sort of confidence that women will fall languishing at his feet.
(And some of them do, but very far from all of them.)
They went down in Daddy's basement once, searching for a cauldron to play games with, because Draco was the first person to steal his father's wand, not the man he called 'Lord.'
They ended up breaking the cauldron in half and finding a trapdoor in the bottom of the floor. Because they were seven and emboldened by the fumes, they journeyed down and down until they found a hidden room.
The collection of masks on the wall holds less interest for the children-and later, when he understands, Draco will thank his lucky stars that he refused Luna's request to try to put one on-then an old, worn diary Draco had never seen before in his life.
Draco scoffed at it, but Luna shook her head and got out an old quill and ink bottle-very dusty and wrote something in it.
What are you doing here?
That's a very good question. I don't know myself. What is your name?
My name is Luna Chyrssa Lovegood. Who are you, Mr. Diary?
Oh. I know you. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle.
"Hey!" Draco whines, grabbing the quill and splashing ink on the diary. "Let me have a turn!"
When Draco's father-and Luna's, too-finds them squabbling, Luna's drab blue dress spilled all over with ink and Draco's starched white playclothes utterly ruined, Mr. Malfoy turns sheet white and takes them into his study.
Luna throws herself down on a white leather chaise, reclining. Lucius Malfoy tries not to think of what Narcissa will say about ink-spattered white leather and worn Mary Janes on the furniture, and to focus on the matter at hand.
They must never touch the diary, or go into that room again, or Daddy will be in trouble. More importantly, they must never, ever mention what they'd seen to anyone in the world. The room will be warded with strong spells, and if they go near it, their hands will burn.
And Draco should know better than to use Daddy's wand.
But there is, Daddy explains, another thing.
Would Luna stay over tonight? Her Mummy isn't feeling that well and would like her to play with them some more.
And Luna says, Of course, Mr. Malfoy. I know my Mummy will be okay.
Lucius gives a razor of a sad smile and nods (false) agreement.
The next morning, Luna starts hearing ghosts, too, and screaming in genuine fright to go back home.
Draco goes with her, sitting in the back seat, and holding Luna's sweaty hand.
For once, the chatter dries up and she doesn't talk at all.
Daddy is looking anywhere but at Mummy, and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
Luna's Daddy greets Draco's Daddy warmly-and, Draco will look back and scoff, what a fool-and then take Luna inside to "show her something."
Luna will not scream, but she will come out very wooden, and ask, "Why isn't Mummy moving?"
And Draco will not think anything-ever ever ever-of the cold, satisfied look on his mother's face.
Lucius, however, takes Luna's Daddy aside and whispers coldly, "Surely you didn't show her the body? I thought even you would have more sense, Xenophilius."
"Luna wouldn't understand otherwise," insists the brown-haired, short, potbellied man. "You know how children are-,"
Draco is crouched in the bushes, listening, but Luna is merely sitting on the ground, motionless and deaf as though she were as dead as her mother.
For days after, Luna will not move, insisting that she wants to be like Mummy.