Draco Malfoy
I'm not ashamed to say I was crying in the bathroom stall when she found me; I've much to be ashamed of from that time, my tears are inconsequential in comparison. She floated into the room, it's funny how she gave off that impression, maybe I saw her that way because her life seemed so carefree at the time. It wasn't till later that I learnt she was far from carefree, she wouldn't be carefree for years - no thanks to my family. But the weightless contentment that I saw in her was something I envied and was drawn to like a Niffler to a shiny Sickle, when Luna Lovegood asked if there was anything she could do to help, I was lost immediately. I say I was lost, perhaps I was found, perhaps in that moment, that show of strength from a stranger, defined me as the man I've become.
People, Merlin, I, had always written her off as this bouncy, odd witch, untroubled by the day to day. A little thick - as if she weren't capable of realising the gravity of life - but I've always thought since that she did realise she just, unlike the rest of us, understood it and coexisted with it, rather than swim against the stream she accepted it as life and retained her happiness - she didn't try in vain repeatedly to fight the unfightable. Loved ones died and she accepted it, her ability to love went beyond the veil so death was merely a parting to her, not a finality. We could have all learnt from Luna. I say she didn't try to fight the unfightable, but she fought in the war, and it shows. I never thought I'd say it but I hate that she lost some of that eccentricity she had before the war, not much but enough, enough to show the strain, enough to prove that even she had been near beaten like the rest of us.
While Myrtle gawked, Luna stood in front of me and asked me if I was okay, if she could help. She didn't query why I was in a girls loo crying, she just offered help. That was so unreal to me. Help? I don't believe I'd ever had help in my life. But looking up at her, a tentative smile on her bright, ethereal face - I honestly believed she could save me.
So I told her all of it; every single word.
I told her about my task, the Dark Lord in our dining room, the Death Eaters, my father's scorn and she just sat and listened. I started sobbing again at one point and she tentatively wrapped an arm around my shoulder and it nearly broke me all over again. She was offering me comfort. Me, who'd bullied and teased, mocked and humiliated her. She was so wary of me but that didn't eclipse her glorious sense of kindness and so, as I poured my soul out to the first witch who'd ever offered to listen, I realised two things : one, I'd never hurt her again and two, this stupid war needed to stop.
I'd always thought Luna's problem, when I thought of her at all, was that she wasn't concerned about what people thought of her; in hindsight, I realise she was more concerned with what people thought of themselves. So here I was, the ultimate dilemma for her, I clearly thought that I was dirt and that didn't sit well with her. The thing is, I was an arsehole, but she wouldn't accept me as just an arsehole, I was an arsehole with potential, potential to become better than what I saw in the mirror.
"Draco," she said it softly, my harsh name transformed to something delicate from her lips, "we need to talk to Dumbledore."
The shock written across my face must have been comical, it was something I couldn't fathom, never had I considered approaching the man I was to kill, never had I considered help, I'd never considered Luna though either and that seemed to be working well at that moment.
"Dumbledore?" My voice croaked, my throat dry from sobbing and recounting the horrendous truth.
She squeezed me again, her arms enveloped my torso and my head was resting on her shoulder, my face in the cascade of silver blonde hair, a softer colour than my own. "Draco, talk to Dumbledore."
"How? Luna, I have to kill him, how can I talk to the man?"
"Easily, Draco. I'll go with you."
And she did, she helped me up - my legs buckled, numb from the cold tile - she was still holding my hand, it was a reassurance I could hardly comprehend, the warmth radiating from her dainty palm rejuvenated my entire self. Dropping my hand she reached up and brushed my hair into place with her slender fingers, my eyes following her movement amazed, she cupped my cheek with her palm, wiped the remaining tear trails away with the pad of her thumb, and leant in close to press a small kiss to my cheek. She had to go on tiptoes, she was so small, "come Draco, we'll do this together," and she led me from the stall.
"Would you like me to walk ahead?" she asked, "so we're not seen together, it would be strange." There was no accusation in her voice, no resentment towards our social differences; she would have only done what I was comfortable with in the halls of Hogwarts.
She left the room and I followed behind, she didn't really give me the option of walking with her, and I was grateful - I'm ashamed of it now but I couldn't have coped with the school revelation of my socialising with Luna as well as talking to Dumbledore in the same day.
Luna Lovegood
Draco Malfoy was kind of silly. It wasn't a personal slight against the boy, I thought most people were silly (myself included); silliness, I'd decided, was a human trait, a natural nuance of life and the more you fought silliness the sillier you became and the harder life got. So to embrace silliness, like I chose to do, was to embrace a certainty of life. Which seemed rather sensible to me.
To see him, foetal position and rocking lightly, you'd never recognise him as the Pureblood prince he acted, gone was the swagger, the rudeness, the insensitivity; replaced with a vulnerability that radiated from him. I knew Draco's reputation, I spent enough time with my Gryffindor friends to have no delusions there, but - and I felt this quite resolutely - reputation held no place in the fifth floor girls toilet. Before me was a boy, vulnerable and wrought, that was all that mattered and helping him was all that I could do, it was my nature.
The incredulous look he gave me when I offered was almost worth it all, the poor, silly boy, I could tell he thought it was a trick, it was written across his normally schooled face and, his lack of self-discipline and the verbal tide that was let lose found me propped up against the cubicle wall with him.
He told me of Voldemort, his family, his vow, his mission; it shocked me, I can't say I expected that and it left me conflicted. What would my friends do if faced with this situation? Harry's response would be laughable, Ron's too, perhaps even Hermione's as well - would the witch be able to rise about the bullying and Malfoy's prejudice to help him? I wasn't sure. I had to though, I had to help him in his task, he had to succeed - I knew this, even if he didn't.
I said nothing, his remorse was palpable, I wrapped my arm around him, hesitantly, I may have been accepting of him at that moment but I wasn't a fool, contrary to popular belief. He collapsed into my arm and that was acceptance enough, I held him as he sobbed on the bathroom floor and I accepted him in return.
His face was a picture of grief, a boy so schooled in keeping his emotions in check had broken in front of me. His blonde hair out of place, tear stained and flushed cheeks, red rimmed eyes and the expression within them: this was a whole different boy. His eyes almost broke me, that was the moment for me when I knew I couldn't let him do this alone, the sheer unabashed hope in them was heart-breaking, the steely grey softened with emotion they rarely displayed. I brushed his hair from his face, it was softer than I imagined it to be and wonderfully fine, cupped his cheek - watching with humour as his eyes followed, scared by the alien interaction and disbelieving, I wiped the tears from his cheeks with my thumb, gently stroking his soft skin, and, raising myself higher on my toes, pressed a kiss to his cheek aware of his need for affection in this vulnerable moment. Affection I realised he'd rarely had without agenda.
I led him out the door speaking quiet assurances every now and again, he rarely responded and when he did it was in a hoarse, tired voice. I led the way, it wouldn't help him to be seen with me so I'd dropped his large, broom callused hand as we left the loo and continued on ahead, hoping he'd follow.
Draco Malfoy
"Murray mints, please," I heard her say to the gargoyle ahead of me; she spoke as if to a friend rather than an animated statue, a concept that fleetingly bemused me. She hesitated as the stairway opened up, waiting for me to join her in the ascent to the office I'd visited rarely. I could have sworn that I saw the gargoyle raise a non-existent brow, no doubt questioning her company. She just smiled that dreamy smile that people always dismissed her for; it was only then that I considered the dreamy smile to be a ruse to avoid unwanted conversations. Nobody would question her or argue if she appeared vacant enough, clever girl.
We climbed the stairs in silence but it wasn't strained, just relaxed and quiet, we stood close, the closest we'd been since the bathroom - a time that already felt like an age ago.
"Luna?" I asked, but not sure of what I was asking, yet she seemed to understand. She entwined our hands again, a comfort, a weight, an anchor. Her being by my side was reassurance enough.
I didn't realise the time when we'd left but as the headmaster rose from his chair to meet us, jaunty nightcap in place, it occurred to me that it must have been late in the evening, almost curfew, I'd been in the bathroom since the end of lessons.
"Miss Lovegood, Mr Malfoy, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked with a genuine look of surprise on his face, I suppose we were the last pair he expected to see of an evening.
Luna looked to me, expectantly, but reluctance had found me on our trip across the school and I hesitated, despite her warm hand in mine.
"Professor, Draco has some things that I think you should hear." Her tone was insistent and I wasn't sure who that was directed to. Was she speaking to Dumbledore, asking him to take me seriously, be patient with me, despite my reputation and behaviour of late? Or me, was the insistence there to reassure me and encourage my tongue?
The headmaster considered me over steepled fingers, the blackened five contrasting with the pale white of the others, his glasses had slid to the point of his nose and I was struck by how tired the elderly man seemed. "Very well, Draco?"
With a reassuring look from Luna I opened up telling my story just like I'd told Luna mere hours before, but the second telling was harder than the first. I wasn't as comfortable recounting my tale to the headmaster as I was Luna. She had an air of uncompromising approachability while the professor didn't give all his emotions away in his personality, he was withdrawn, he didn't react, while Luna accepted above everything else.
When my tale had finished, I raised my head to meet the professor's gaze, in that moment I was scared. Scared he wouldn't have a solution, scared he wouldn't help and scared he'd persuade Luna to abandon me as a hopeless case of pure blood breeding that couldn't be cured of its bigotry. Instead he smiled at me; it was a tired smile, apologetic too, like he acknowledged the weight on my shoulders wouldn't lighten with any solution he had to offer. "Draco, I do believe you're going to have to kill me."
I stopped breathing. The shock of his statement hit me like a wave to the gut. A poisonous wave of bitter emotions, destructive, it stung and I struggled to breathe air into my lungs. Tears swelled in my eyes, this wasn't fair, I'd come to him! He was supposed to have a solution! He was supposed to make it stop! I looked at Luna accusingly but she was in a similar state to me, flabbergasted, she looked like she'd been struck across the face.
"He can't, professor! He can't kill you!" It was the first time I'd heard Luna raise her voice all day, of all the things she could have objected to, of all the admissions that could have sparked such passion, I was shocked that it was in defence of me that she yelled.
"So the pair of you think, but I'm very sure that if Mr Malfoy put his mind to it he would succeed." He was so calm, infuriatingly so, how could the man be so insouciant in the face of his demise?
"I don't want to, professor! I don't want to have to kill you!" How could he not understand? I'd come to him for help but he was enabling the Dark Lord instead.
"And I am grateful for the sentiment, my boy! But I am dying and you have been told to kill me by Lord Voldemort and your killing me will be a solution to both of our problems!" He said it like it was a joke, he seemed genuinely happy that 'solutions' could be found so easily – as if it was easy.
"But, I can't-"
"Draco, you can. It's what your father has raised you to be-"
"But I don't want to-" I raised my voice, trying to get the foolish man to comprehend that killing him, fulfilling the Dark Lord's wishes, was my last intention.
"Good! Now you're getting there, Draco. You can kill me, you're very capable, but that you don't want to is an admirable notion that you clearly haven't considered. Your desire to not kill me will be your redemption in this. Your unwillingness is vital to your humanity - never let that unwillingness go. However you'll still have to do your task, otherwise you'll have a much harder fight towards the light you've now chosen."
The room was hushed save for light, faked snores from the portraits of headmasters past. Luna had recovered, and I was envious of her ability to adapt for a second time that evening. I was speechless, not only was he encouraging the task I was so adamant not to complete, but he claimed it was necessary for me to do so before I could fight for good?
"How? Professor, how should Draco kill you? How can I help?"
"No!" I said breaking out of my silence, adamant that Luna, perfect Luna, should not be an accessory in whatever dirty work my past had signed me up for. "Leave Luna out of this. Please. She's too good, professor."
She laughed at me then, not a cruel laugh, but it broke the tension. It actually made me doubt her sanity for the first time in the evening, perhaps they were both mad and perhaps I was mad to enable the pair. Her laugh though, it reassured me, that she could laugh in the face of this, it allowed me to conceive a way out of this storm, a promise of sunshine if I just sat it out. I think in that moment Dumbledore realised how I had changed and how willing I was to right myself.
"A simple killing curse will do the trick, my boy. No need to toy with riskier covert attempts anymore. I'll let you know when and pass your name on to some people, let them know you were doing good. That I'd asked you to intervene."
"I don't want recognition-"
"No, you don't, do you? But you may need it, it may save you and the contacts may prove useful in the future. I fear this won't be the last time you'll have to act for Voldemort before this war's out, Draco. Don't worry though, you have love, already I can tell. Luna cares for you, she'll help you through. Hold on to her."
He smiled at the pair of us, my cheeks flushed at his acknowledgement despite the gravity of the situation. Was this love? Already! It couldn't have been. Looking back I wish it was - for sentiments sake - but, in actuality, I think it was more of an awakening. Luna awoke in me a conscience, a sense of right and wrong that had never been taught to me, her faith in humanity gave me a sense of morality I'd never known but that I strived to realise even after a few long hours.
A.N. - Okay so this is a three-shot that I'm writing, it's been sitting in my phone for a week or two (or three) and I've finally finished up this first installment. The following two will come around eventually but it's my intention that they stand alone so there wont be any cliffies to contend with.