AN: I've got another account here, but I decided not to bog myself down with stories I wrote when I was thirteen and start fresh instead. PM me if you want to know my other account, because I'm not posting it here - much embarrassment. This story has been in my WIP pile for months. I'm trying to finish it, but odds are I won't be finishing it soon due to exams and such in a few weeks.

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Harry was confused. The cocktail of anger, sadness and disappointment he thought he'd feel upon his break up with Ginny never came. Instead, he was left with a vague feeling of relief mixed with regret it hadn't happened sooner.

Harry knew his relationship with Ginny wasn't perfect; something had always felt slightly off. She never inspired that all-consuming, flaming desire in him he had read about in one of Ginny's many romance novels.

At first, Harry had thought that was because maybe he and Ginny just weren't like that; they showed their love through playful banter and friendly competition. Then he had realised that, rather than being in love with Ginny, he just, well, loved her. Like a sister.

And wasn't that a punch to the face.

His childhood sweetheart, with whom he'd once dreamed of marrying and probably having kids with, invoked no more than a simple feeling of fondness and familial love.

It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive. Hell, she had almost all of the qualities most attractive to Harry – she was fiery, ambitious, strong, stubborn; she had long legs and shapely, Quidditch-honed thighs that he admired often.

But, for some reason, he just wasn't in love with her.

He remembered how calmly Ginny had accepted this fact when he'd finally grown the balls to tell her. It seemed like she had expected it. Harry figured their non-existent sex life probably tipped her off

As it was, Harry was currently sitting in a café with Luna, his gaze resting on bustling crowd that swept by just outside the window, all completely unaware that the blank stretch of wall they were walking past was, in fact, the window to a wizarding café.

'Do you think dragons dream, Harry?' Luna asked distantly, her eyes fixed on the Quibbler laid out on the table in front of her.

'To be honest, I've never really thought about it. I suppose they wouldn't,' Harry said absently, quite used to Luna's odd questions.

She hummed softly, tracing her fingers over a rune circle on page twelve that, apparently, made the person inside the circle immune to hiccups. Harry thought it rather pointless, as the effect was lost as soon as the caster stepped out of it, but he wasn't about to tell Luna that.

'Why not?' said Luna, frowning slightly.

'Well, what use would a dragon have for dreams?'

'We don't have a use for dreams,' Luna pointed out. 'Yet we still have them.'

'Well then I don't know.' Harry sipped his tea, his eyes returning to the window.

They sat in silence a while until Luna spoke. 'I like to believe that they would dream,' she said. 'Even something we think is fierce, dangerous or evil wants happiness. They just want someone to look past their hard, scaly outside and see the real them.'

Harry simply nodded, his eyes never leaving the window as he hummed noncommittally.

'Luna!' a new voice said, startling Harry. 'Thank goodness. I started brewing the Aurealis potion, but I need one of your hairs to tune it into you. Can I – Potter?' Draco Malfoy did a double take, his eyebrows rising until they disappeared into his long fringe.

Harry wasn't surprised at the reaction. The papers had been spouting some wild nonsense about Harry's apparent absence from the Wizarding world, ranging from him being killed on a secret mission for the Ministry to being clinically insane and locked up in Saint Mungo's.

'Malfoy. Long time, no see,' Harry said politely. The blond seemed to recover himself, and, after one lingering look at Harry that did odd things to Harry's stomach, he returned his attention to Luna.

'Of course you can have one of my hairs, Draco. I knew you'd need one.' She reached into one of the large pockets of her multi-coloured jumper and pulled out a small vial.

'Thank you. It should be ready by tomorrow,' he said, slipping the vial into a pocket in his long, black coat made of dragon hide that reminded Harry of a cross between a Muggle scientist's coat and a character from The Matrix.

Luna smiled at Malfoy and, to Harry's surprise, Malfoy offered a small but genuine smile back.

'I'll be off then. Luna, Potter.' He nodded to Harry and strode from the room with efficient grace.

Harry's eyes were fixed on the blond until he disappeared from the room, at which point Harry snapped his attention back down to his tea. There was an odd fluttery sensation in his stomach that he attributed to the distinct absurdity of seeing Malfoy, of all people, smiling.

Luna didn't seem to notice Harry's sudden fixation – if she did, she didn't mention it – and Harry was left feeling relieved that he wouldn't be seeing Malfoy and his stomach-flutter inducing facial expressions again soon.

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AN: How was it? Okay start? Let me know! :)