Title: Figment of Her Imagination
Summary: He wasn't real, just like the rest weren't. He was a part of her mind she wished was real, but she knew he wasn't. No matter how much he begged her, held her, she knew it wasn't real.
Warnings: Repetitive use of the word "Real" and some angst.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I wished I did since the romance didn't turn out the way I would have liked it to.
-0-0-0-0-0-
Her life was simple. Wake up around six to watch the sun rise before she start breakfast for two. After she finished making breakfast, she would remember her father was on a long term journey to search for her mother, and she would spell his meal to keep it fresh until later. Then she would wander the house, cleaning, greeting her magical friends, and finally, settle down to write. Luna never remember what she wrote, only that her hand would move on its own, words would appear onto the parchment, and by noon, the parchment would be gone, and her soul felt just a tad lighter.
With her soul just a tad lighter, the world appeared brighter, more colorful than it did when she watched the sun rise. Her steps, light and flighty, Luna Lovegood would exit her rook shaped house and wander the grassy fields. For hours she would wander, exploring the familiar lands and discovering new life. Hill after hill she skipped around until she arrived at the tallest hill in the area. Her light mood slipped away when her silver eyes found a house towards the west. It used to be a bright beacon of light for Luna as a child. It used to be a place she felt safe and loved. Now, after Death's visit, the house deteriorated to rubble. The beautiful queen left first, to the land of paradise, while the prince never returned from battle. The lonely king turned away from his kingdom, from his allies, and disappeared into the night, never to return to his palace again.
It was a sad story, and Luna would always remember it for they were a part of her imagination. They weren't real, only created by her wish for family to love her again, like her own mother did. They weren't real, just like there was no savior, no castle of learning, no fiery knight, and no bushy hair advisor. They were not real, for she knew it was too perfect. The Savior saved the day by sacrificing himself, the Knight won the hand of the Princess who was impressed by his deeds, the Advisor married a man who respects her wishes, her independence, and everyone lived happily ever after. It was too perfect a story. Too perfect for reality, too good for her.
Towards the east was the house that was once full of life. Now, it was quieter, softer. Luna knew the Knight's family lived there once upon a time. It was always lively whenever she thought about it. Full of laughter and life. Nowadays, it was dim, darker, and too quiet. It turned into a shadow of that it once was.
A shadow overlapped her shadow from behind. A pale arm wrapped itself around her shoulders, and she was pulled into a lean chest. She didn't turn around, didn't say a thing, and closed her eyes. Luna didn't want this figment of her dreams, of her wishes, and nightmares, to be there with her. He always appeared whenever he wanted. At first, he would visit only early in the morning, to see her for a moment before leaving. Then he visited later during the day, sometimes accompanied with the Savior or the Advisor, most of the times it was only him. His pale golden hair tickled her neck as he gently leaned down onto her shoulder. His weight was comforting to Luna. Even though he wasn't real, Luna liked the stable feel it gave her. After a few weeks of visiting her, he started to talk to her, stories and apologizes. She knew why he apologized to her, but it wasn't real, for he wasn't real, so what happened to her was only a nightmare. Since he wasn't real, his promises of comfort, of care, of love, they weren't real either. No matter how much she wanted the comfort, of the care, of the love, she couldn't have them, since he wasn't real.
He wasn't real, he was only a figment of her imagination, just like how the Advisor always called her magical friends a figment of her thoughts. Another arm wrapped itself around her waist, and she was embraced from behind. He smelt of spice, the softer kind, with a sharp underlying scent of expensive alcohol. She liked what she thought he would smell; it was alluring.
He whispered her name, sad and full of want, but he respected her when she didn't do or say anything. They remained there until the sun set. He pulled her gently towards her rook shaped house. He always took her home if she wasn't already there. No matter where, he would find her, even when she was all the way in Wales or down by the channel, he would find her and take her back to the safety of her house.
When she cooked dinner, she made him a share as well. Even though he was a part of her imagination, a constant reminder of a person she couldn't have, she still made him something to eat. Whether he ate it or not, she didn't care. He told her stories about the Savior, of the Knight and his Princess, and the Advisor who became a Queen. He told her about himself, about his mother, and the castle of learning. She smiled as he talked, happy to hear his voice but devastated when she remembered he wasn't real. He was a beautiful man with a face worthy to be a King, a Prince, or even a Knight, but Luna knew he wasn't any of those. He was the Angel who fell from grace, who wanted to repent for the sins he caused, for the hurt he did, and want to feel the warmth once more. If he wanted that warmth from her, even if he wasn't real, she shared her warmth with him.
Like every night, as she lied in bed after a shower and change, he lied on top of the comforter with her. She stared at him, he stared at her. Then he started to whisper to her, of his love for her, of his dreams for the future with her, of their future children together. He whispered of how she seemed to be getting better, of how she was his love, his only love, and how he knew she loved him too. She loves him, even though he didn't exist, she loved this fallen angel. As she fell asleep with a smile on her face, she felt his lips on her forehead, on her eyes, on her cheeks, and finally the lightest of touches with her own lips.
As her dreams of times past sweep her away into their arms, he left her with a sad smile. She wasn't ready yet, but she will be eventually. Draco Malfoy was a patient man when it came to Luna Lovegood. He loves her and willing to wait for her. No matter how fake she thought he was, how he was only a part of her imagination, he loves her.
-0-0-0-0-0-
A/N: I know this is very late, but HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY KAT DUCAT! I hope you enjoyed this a little.
I wasn't expecting to write an angsty Luna/Draco, but this just came out at the last second. Luna and Draco reminded of star crossed lovers. True love pulled apart due to things not under their control. In this case, after the war, Luna fell deep into her mind. Her father's dead, the Diggorys are gone, the Weasley spread their wings and left the nest, and she was lost. Draco visits the girl at first to repent when he started to fall in love with her.