Not Sleeping Alone Again Tonight
Summary: Luna Lovegood has also had a problem fitting in. Draco Malfoy has always fitted in. Two worlds collide without restraint and chaos ensues.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter etc does not belong to me!
Chapter One: Coffee and Caramel Milkshakes
Luna Lovegood was not overly fond of people. Well, no, it wasn't necessarily the people she disliked; it was just when there were a lot of them in one space. Luna felt very out of sorts in crowds.
It had just been her and her father growing up, her mother having died when Luna was very young. Luna didn't believe her father had ever gotten over her. He often told Luna of how they met and how beautiful she'd been. It had been a classic beauty and the beast fairytale, her father always ended his stories.
But Luna didn't believe that. Although she believed in many weird and wonderful phenomenons, fairytale love stories were not one of them. Crumple horn snakes, three winged sputniks – yes. Happily ever afters – No.
Anyway, the independence and reliance on the peace and quiet that she'd always known since she were six years old had been difficult to maintain once she'd started at Hogwarts five years previous.
She had been sorted into Ravenclaw without hesitation by the sorting hat. In fact it had screamed the words before she'd even placed it on her head, and it was the perfect place for her to be. Luna had always had intelligence on her side. From an earlier age she had solved math puzzles and read her father paper, The Quibbler, at an alarming pace.
However, even in the most education conscientious house at school she often felt left out.
You see although she fitted the stereotype of having an I.Q of higher then one hundred and forty, she was considered to be ever so slightly odd, by her peers.
For instance the other girls in her house often made snide remarks about her choice of clothes or the way she wore her hair. Silly, trivial things that Luna often felt were too superficial to take notice of.
Having grown up with her father's influence, Luna had often had hobbies and interests as a child that were thought to be more boyish activities. She had for example a perfect shooting aim, could fish extremely well and loved quidditch, which most girls she knew preferred to watch and leer at the players legs. She'd also gotten into the habit of wearing long baggy cords, frequently tucked up into her boots or overly large shirts or waistcoats.
They were a far cry to other teenage girl's outfits she'd realised when she arrived at Hogwarts. In a last minute attempt to appear more feminine, she had raided her mother trunk which still lay at one end of her parents bed and had mixed the items she'd found with her more masculine trends.
This had not had the desired effect, but by now Luna was branded with her "weird" label but she found she didn't care as much as she used to. This way she felt connected to both her parents throughout the day and she was always reminded of home.
Even today, in Diagon alley, where the majority of the crowd were wearing pointed hats and long robes, she was still receiving the strangest of looks, in her mans shirt worn over a short blue dress of her mother, yellow gardening boots, worn over a pair of her own flowered tights and a stream of tiny white daisy's were plaited through her long blonde hair. Luna adored her hair.
Her mother had had hair exactly the same – in fact it was the only thing Luna remembered about her. She'd always brush and whisper, "princess hair, my sweet".
She often received comments on her hair and complexion, both being extremely pale in colour and her eyes being a faint lilac shade, which was what gave her her dreamy expression.
However, now was not the time to be dillydallying about her appearance she mused as she meandered through the bustling streets of Diagon alley towards the small coffee shop at the end of Wickton Street, where she needed to meet her father in half an hour's time.
Reaching her destination, she slipped inside and ignored the glance she received from two teenage girls sitting in the window seats, and made her way over to the quiet bar and its tall metal stools.
Hoisting herself up onto one, next to a boy with blonde hair, she arranged her skirt so that she didn't flash too much leg at the poor fellow and then once she'd ordered a drink, she turned to speak to him. This was another of Luna's traits that regularly made others feel uneasy. She had no problem with starting up conversations with random people she met and today was no different.
"Hi, im Luna, would you like another coffee?" she asked, indicating to his near empty mug.
The boy jumped slightly and now Luna could see he was reading a magazine on quidditch, or more precisely, on the Dorchester Eagles, who just so happened to be Luna's team.
"That magazine's terrible for information on the Eagles. There's barely an ounce of truth in it. For instance, Johnny Treton told me he doesn't really drink a cup of olive oil before every match." She added and the boy turned to face her this time, a look of surprise and recognition on his face.
He smiled slightly, which for some reason looked peculiar on him, as if he didn't do it very often, and it was then that Luna realised just how attractive he really was. She was going to say that it wasn't in an obvious way, but paused as he actually was very obviously handsome. But it was to a point where it controlled a sense of uniqueness.
"So, you've met the Eagles then?" the boy was asking Luna and she quickly zoned back in
"Well, yes, only Johnny and Clive. We had them round for tea and cake the other day. Very nice people" she replied and the boy looked suitably impressed.
"Well you know father could arrange a meeting with them any day, if I wanted" he said cockily and Luna raised an eyebrow.
"Its not really the same if they don't come entirely out of their own choice though is it?" she replied, dreamily and the boy flushed slightly and fell silent again, his arrogant demeanour gone.
Luna downed the rest of her drink and sat their fiddling with the edge of the placemat.
"Another drink?" the boy asked suddenly and Luna smiled sweetly.
"Yes please" she replied as he beckoned to the man behind the counter.
"One black coffee please and a …..?" he turned expectantly to Luna.
"A caramel milkshake please"
Draco Malfoy was thinking. It was not a sport he particularly enjoyed partaking of when he was on holiday but he deemed it called for today.
His thoughts collided and fell over one another as he lay on his back and stared up at the emerald canopy of his bed. Everything in Malfoy manor seemed to be green, he though suddenly. Green or black. How annoying, he mused hostilely.
Rolling over onto his front, he reached under his bed and pulled out a stack of letters he'd received over the holidays from his girlfriend, Daphne Greengrass.
Daphne was a fellow Slytherin, a pureblood and exceptionally beautiful. He had been so sure of what he wanted when they'd first decided to date. He liked the fact that she looked good on his arm and didn't bother him with any sort of conversation that made him question himself to much. Well, In fairness, she wasn't intelligent enough to provoke him that much. He found he could often leave her with her giggling friends and then pick her up later, when it suited him more.
The letters she'd written him were endless drivel about holidays, her new clothes, shopping and her social engagements, which were of no interest to Draco but which usually he would have tolerated. But not now.
See, this is why he had deemed it important to think.
Ever since he'd met the blonde girl in the coffee shop, daisy as he liked to call her in his mind, due to her rather spectacular headwear that day, he'd been worried.
He'd forgotten what it felt like to be called on something. Especially by a girl, and one that he didn't know very well at that.
Draco liked to be challenged. He lived for it. It was the reason he was late for classes, why he booked the quidditch pitch at the same time as other teams and why he provoked anyone he possibly could. He loved the thrill that came with trying to win an argument.
Except that he hadn't won.
In fact quite he opposite and that was what worried him more.
Not only had he lost and been humiliated by this scrap of a girl; he hadn't minded.