"Don't you get tired?"
"Whatever do you mean, Harry?"
Luna spun around. Glitter shaking from her hair and the sharp ends of her earrings tangling in her pale curls. She prettily mirrored his curiosity– he had yet to learn when she was feigning ignorance. Perhaps, he were simply projecting his own concerns onto her. Maybe she wasn't distressed at all.
"Malfoy..." Harry didn't want to believe that she were that clueless. As a matter of fact, he was pretty damned certain she was smarter than the oldest man in the silkiest of vests attending the party.
And Luna retained her bright eyed daftness. Her glossed slips slightly parting, shaping into a small 'O'.
"Draco Malfoy," She hummed, dragging her eyes across the room. Away from his glare, "He's quite the slug– isn't he?"
Harry's lips wrinkled. His eyes dimming in disappointment. Luna smiled, her gaze locking onto Sanguini.
"Worrying will make you old," She said before fluttering away, leaving Harry with the weight of his own sneaking suspicion– something was terribly wrong. And whatever it was, it's darkness wrapped itself around his throat, casting an eternal twilight that mapped the distance between them both.
He meandered, mingled, but didn't let his conscience wade away from what he saw days ago.
And Luna finally looked at him from across the room,taking a sip from her glass. And for the first time ever, Harry caught a fleeting bleakness in her eyes.
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