They always said it was easy to become lost, but Luna Lovegood found it to be more tedious the older she became. What a curious thing it was though — to desire being lost. Her imagination was hungrier than any of Hagrid's beasts, and often it got her into trouble. While those who wandered into forests, caught up in the trees, Luna somehow found a way to become not only lost in the trees, but the dirt as well. The damp mist and the air. The sky, night or day, was an ocean of endless pretty possibilities. And even then, that wasn't enough.
But being lost in someone's eyes was more terrifying than not knowing up or down. She likened in it to walking down a black cave. Without air to breathe and lacking a sense of direction. Luna felt as though she had little freedom when she caught Draco staring at her. When he stood over her.
She didn't like it one bit, but she embraced how it made her feel.
She tiptoed around the halls until Draco caught her wrists, tangling her up into his arms within a nook large enough for the both of them. Where the candlelight barely reached, Draco's lips crashed into hers hurriedly. Her fingers crawling up the crispness of his white shirt and snaking under his collar and then she couldn't feel her legs. Then her head became dizzy and he inhaled all the air she had left until she felt like nothing but a ghost. Lost in a limbo that could not be charted. As she pulled away he drew her back in.
And when Draco decided that he would free her , she refused to look at him with shame on her cheeks.
"You've done this many times before me right?" Her voice came before her senses.
"Not many times. No. Why?"
"Because you're my first."
And wishfully her last.
x
x
x