Disclaimer: Don't own HP.
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Banana Nut Muffins
They said that Luna Lovegood was nuts. That she was bananas.
Draco agreed; he thought she tasted rather like a banana nut muffin.
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Not Really
He heard things, but not really.
He heard his mother sobbing hysterically.
He heard his aunt yelling at him.
He heard people's whispers.
He heard their laughter.
He heard things, but not really.
"Huh?"
"Listen to me!" screamed Aunt Bellatrix, and slapped him. Her nails grazed his face and ruptured the skin there.
He most certainly felt things, he thought wryly, wincing as the damp rag stung his bleeding cheek. Really.
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Ferret On Edge
She was leaning closer and closer in and he was starting to sweat but she just kept coming until her lips were inches away and he couldn't help but stare at them with a mixture of wonder and anxiety and he hated her for making him like this although it wasn't completely her fault as he was the one who had been stupid enough to have brought the situation upon himself but still she was the one making the moves and it was rather strange how his train of thought was going going going but time was slowing slowing slowing because her lips still hadn't quite reached their destination which was hopefully not where he thought it was but a part of him did kind of hope it was and it was all ridiculous anyway because HE DID NOT FANCY HER, HE DID NOT HE DID NOT HE DID NOT-
A quick kiss, and that was it.
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Reverse Psychology
Draco was sitting on the curb, staring at his shoes.
"Draco?"
A bug-eyed girl with tangled hair and mismatched clothes stood behind him, eying him with mild interest. "What are you doing?"
"Go away," he snapped.
She plopped down beside him.
"I said go away!" he shouted.
Luna stared at him, not comprehending.
"DID YOU NOT HEAR A BLOODY WORD I JUST SAID?" Draco roared.
She didn't flinch, didn't wince, didn't blink. She merely looked on.
He switched tactics. "Fine then, stay," he muttered.
It was then Luna got right up and walked off.
Draco watched her. Funny. A teensy part of him had actually wanted her to stay.
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Picturesque
Draco pressed his face to the window. Inside was a family, with a father kissing a mother on the top of the head, a daughter quietly eating her peas with red ribbons in her hair, and a boy who was fiercely hugging a drooling dog.
He looked a little while longer, and then limped home, wondering whether there was any ice in the fridge to put on his black eye.
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Pickled Griffin Claws
He was blandly perusing barrels of pickled griffin claws outside the apothecary when someone tapped him on the shoulder and spit in his face. "Why don't you rot in prison like your father?" The hooligan ran away.
Draco stood there, the gobbet dripping down his cheek. Another person tapped him on the shoulder and gently wiped the gobbet off with a cloth.
"Luna…?"
"Pickled griffin claws aren't very interesting, are they?" asked Luna.
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Nutty Ferrets
She pulled away and surveyed him with amusement.
"What the bloody hell was that!" he exclaimed.
"A peck on the lips," came the prompt reply.
"I must be insane," he muttered.
"Join the club," she said cheerfully.
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Very Clearly
He saw things, and very clearly.
He saw his mother's deadened eyes.
He saw his aunt's flashing ones.
He saw people's dirty looks.
He saw their stares.
He saw things, and very clearly.
"Luna?"
"Yes?" Those large, pale eyes threw him right off so he stumbled, "I-I like y-y…your, er, socks. Well, I don't hate them."
She looked him over affectionately, kissed him crookedly on the nose, beamed, and skipped away. "I don't hate your socks, either," she called over her shoulder.
His cheeks reddened as she became a blurry figure in the distance. He most certainly didn't say things very clearly.
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Regressive
For Draco had made a run for it and managed to throw up only in his auntie's shoes.
"I long to be free again…joining my master in his work. Muggles are naught but filth. I've taught you that. They are dirt on your shoes; worthless. When I escape, I will ask the Dark Lord for his consent into letting you become a Death Eater as well. It is high time you become a man-Draco? DRACO!"
"I-"
"Don't play stupid. Of the Dark Lord's deeds! How many has he killed…?"
"What?"
"So tell me, boy."
"…"
"I may be in these rags and in this prison cell, but I am a human of the best quality, Draco. I have my pride, and that is all that matters."
"N-nothing."
"You look frightened. What is there to be frightened of?"
"…"
"Father?"
"Draco. I have not seen you in quite some time."
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Momentary Relapse
He closed his eyes and pointed his wand out, the deadly words forming on his lips. Just like that, he reassured himself. Just like that.
Nothing to it. Don't think about it. Just do it.
An image of an elderly man with sunken eyes and a haunted smile floated across his thoughts.
You are not a killer, Draco…
He threw up, only this time in his shoes.
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Scapegoatmakers and Rubbish Bins
Draco was in an alley, furiously kicking over empty rubbish bins. He glared up at the lunatic quietly perched on the fence before him, swinging her legs to and fro whilst licking an orange lollipop and humming a cheery sort of tune. "You! Why have you been following me?"
Luna looked down at him. "What have those poor rubbish bins done to you?" She clucked her tongue, looking at all the bins laying haphazardly on the ground.
"They got in my way!" Draco shouted furiously.
"No they haven't," said Luna matter-of-factly. "They were all sitting so quietly until you came along, loud and stupid and blundering, and knocked them right over. You didn't have to do it, you know."
"Maybe I felt like it," he spat.
Luna shrugged. "Suit yourself." She hopped over the fence. Now Draco could only see patches of her through the holes in the rickety wood. "But if you ask me," she said quietly, "you do it because something's making you, and you need to stop taking it out on everything." She slipped away.
Draco looked at the fence for a moment. Then he uprighted the rubbish bins, stuck his hands in his pockets, and dragged his sorry self home.
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Love-lies-bleeding
She was indescribable.
She was a burst of flame, fiery and full of passion. An explosion.
She was rain in the summer, scarce but welcomed grudgingly into his world. A splash of color in his dreary life.
Sometimes she drooped like she had the world's weight on her back, carrying nothing but burdens, his along with hers.
But that was just ridiculous, Draco thought. Luna had too much spring in her step and light in her tone. He suddenly fell over. "Oompf," he uttered a groan.
"You weakling!" Luna accused, laughing. "Another piggyback ride!"
So then why did she bloody weigh so damn much?
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Drip Drop
He needed to get away. So he came here.
He trudged over the rocks and slipped, scraping his knee. He cursed himself for being so clumsy, got up, and brushed his clothes off.
He stared out into the sea, its still waters dark and placid. Something was burning behind his eyes and blurring his vision. He blinked.
"Draco…?" A soft, melodic voice drifted over to him.
Draco turned and saw Luna, quietly sitting on a rock jutting out into sea. Her robes were sopping wet and a wreath of seaweed adorned her head.
"You're crying." Her voice wasn't accusing, pitying, or inquisitive. It was just…there.
He could have told her no, he just had something in his eye. He could have changed the subject. He could have told her to go away. He could have walked away, even. But something made him do it.
He walked stiffly over to where Luna was sitting. Luna stood up, barely reaching his chin and looked up at him, her eyes holding secrets. Draco longed to unlock those secrets.
She wrapped her frail arms around him and as Draco returned the embrace, droplets splattered Luna's right shoulder.
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Progressive
"-humiliating, that is. I thought you hated the wrinkled bloke. You were all confident about it on the train, but then when push came to shove, you didn't even have the bloody nerve to do it. If it had been me, I would have been able to follow through-I suppose it takes a right amount of daring-"
"You have no idea what it's like to be me," Draco snarled, watching in satisfaction as Blaise coughed up blood.
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The Clouded Yellow Obstacle
They talked about a lot of things. Clouds, why people weren't green, improbable creatures, the purpose of life-enthusiastically on Luna's part, although Draco begged to differ.
"Crumple-Horned what now?" he snorted.
"Snorkacks," she said earnestly.
They were lying in the grass, side by side. Luna looked at the sky; Draco looked at her.
They talked about a lot of things. The pressure to become a Death Eater, how from childhood a person was taught that Muggles were vermin and blood traitors were worse, how people were influenced to be narrow-minded and have clouded judgment-namely it was Draco confiding in Luna, who listened thoughtfully.
"To follow in steps that lead to nowhere, one might retrace such steps and start anew again," she quipped.
"Hmph." His lips twitched, and he quickly bit back an oncoming smile.
Luna pulled Draco closer to her; he leaned in.
She suddenly turned her head and pointed, her eyes dancing merrily. "Look! A Mulking Bloinkloboyf!"
Draco missed his target; his lips fell on Luna's ear instead.
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