A/N: Sorry I haven't been posting anything new! I'm in summer school, retaking Algebra II, and it's an absolute bitch! Anyways, this idea just popped into my head, so it is a bit odd. I was originally going to write this as Draco and Hermione, but it would've required more tweaking, and I don't think there's enough Draco and Luna fic on this site.
Enjoy!
Grey Eyes
I've never been in this section of the castle. The towers loom majestically above the rest of the stony façade, standing tall and regal as the four corners of Hogwarts. Through the massive windows, I can see the fields and spaces of the campus, littered with debris, slightly smouldering from flames, and darkening from the imminent nightfall. I imagine that during the day, thick beams of sunlight stream through the fluttering blue curtains, dancing across the floor like lithe fingers dancing across the ivory keys of a piano.
The room is spacious, with an air of refreshing emptiness. Wide, with clean white walls decorated with numerous portraits, though most of the inhabitants are absent, no doubt spreading news of the long-awaited fall of Voldemort. Stacks of books and parchment litter the floor, and the rest of the colour scheme is a smart blue and bronze.
I lie down on one of the squishy couches, letting my exhausted body sink into the plush cushions. I couldn't bear the thought of returning to Slytherin dormitory, to Goyle and the mourning for Voldemort and the fallen Death Eaters. And I definitely couldn't bring myself to go back to my parents.
Maybe they'll never find me. Maybe I can find a way to stay here, hiding in Ravenclaw common room with the silence as my only companion as it cocoons around me, with my regrets painfully clawing their way through my mind, streaming out of my eyes, etching tracks through the grime on my face…
"Draco?"
I sit up stock-straight, ignoring the sudden rush of blood to my throbbing head and the resulting fit of dizziness. I gaze around for the source of the voice. A willowy figure with a cascade of light blonde hair stands in the doorway.
"Lovegood," I respond, devoid of emotion. My voice is somehow lacking in power and intimidation. I can't even bring myself to sneer at her. I fear scaring her off, ruining my first opportunity to prove myself as a decent human being, to display the humanity buried deep beneath the indoctrination.
"Shouldn't you be mourning?" she asks curiously. Her voice is light and airy, holding no evidence of spite or hatred, no trace of a grudge. A thin blonde eyebrow arches upwards and she cocks her head slightly to the side.
"I see nothing to mourn," I reply stoically, rising from the comfort of the couch and making for the door, bracing myself for return to the little slice of Hell that is the sickly green Slytherin common room.
"You should go to one of the dorms, before people start coming back in." She points a finger, indicating a winding staircase with a bronze banister.
She's inviting me into her House. It's not her dormitory, of course, but it's a dormitory of Ravenclaw House, somewhere I don't belong. She's inviting me to stay, to rest, to rebuild my body, my mind, maybe even my reputation. She trusts me not to hurt her, not to leave destruction in my wake. I consider leaving, fleeing her kindness before she sees the cracks it has made in my painstakingly constructed defences.
Faintly, I can hear the echoes of screams and shouts. Some are overwhelmed yells of jubilation, others are desperate howls of anguish. Incoherent, jumbled cries and pleading intermingled with joyous sounds of glee and celebration. Even in my secluded spot, the emotions are practically unbearable and I feel the instinctive need to escape the anguish the Battle has brought. A battle that I know I had a part in causing.
I turn away from the Ravenclaw and trudge up the stairs. I hear her trailing close in step behind me.
The Dark Mark reacts. The sensations vary in severity, sometimes tingling like pins and needles under my skin, other times searing like fire coursing through my veins. As if sensing my discomfort, Luna hesitantly reaches out to roll the tattered sleeve of my black robes down, hiding the Mark from view.
"I was a coward, Luna," I whisper. I hear the shame in my own voice, my reluctance to admit my faults. "I saw the error of my ways and did nothing. I didn't stop them, didn't even try to-"
"Go to sleep, Draco," she says softly.
I'm suddenly aware of a burning ache behind my sleepy eyes. My eyelids droop, feeling as heavy as anvils to my tired muscles. Cautiously, I lie down on one of the four-posters, drawing the blankets around myself. The mattress dips as she sits by my side.
"We'll talk in the morning," she promises.
Her weightless voice spins gentle words like silk, trailing off as my eyes flit shut. Her eyes are wide and grey. Not icy, silvery grey like mine. Grey like a rainy morning, with fluffy storm clouds obscuring feeble, watery rays of sunlight.
The image of her eyes follows me down into the deep recesses of sleep, floating in and out of the blurry focus of my hectic dreams. The rainy grey seeps into the colour of my dreams, covering flickering memories of my mother and father. The dullness of the grey soothes the pain of the Mark, boiling like hot tar on my skin.
Her eyes banish the outside world, shoving away cruel reality in favour of dreams, posing unanswerable questions and a desire to believe in the impossible. The foolish, even. They present an irresistible offering of hope, of a chance to redeem myself, to cross over into the light and face my demons once and for all, strip off my label as a coward and a sheep. To become myself and not what my parents have moulded me to be.
Even in my near-sleep, I can sense the grey scrutinising me, not to intimidate but to observe. She believes in second chances, in forgiveness. The grey will guide me through, until I am one of them, with and not against.