Ron let's out a stream of colourful expletives. I must say as far as cursing goes, I much prefer Draco's vocabulary. It's leagues more original.
"What in Godric's flaming bollocks Luna!" He yells through the panting.
"I had to kill any lingering infection, Ron. You wouldn't want me to trap some kind of flesh-eating disease into your brand new arm, would you?"
"You could have bloody well given a bloke a heads up!"
"I told you it would most likely hurt."
I tune him out for a moment while Draco stifles a fit of giggles behind a snort. I use his tiny smile to give me the strength to cast the spell I need.
Conjuring is much like drawing - or sculpting rather. It's about creating something out of nothing. I make my imaginings like I remember them from my textbooks: fortuitous, strong, resistant enough to take a blow and come up swinging. I envision all the muscles first; the tiny fibres - tight and strong - knitting together to form the larger parts. Then the longer lines - the tendons, the ligaments, the pieces that will allow it to move. Next, all of the soft connections, the shading, the goo that will protect it from collapse. A smooth layer of fat to cover it; adhesive to keep the skin in place. The hardest part is the skin. It goes on a shade off-clear, just enough to protect the new tissue. I imagine nerves allowing him to feel every sensation, new blood vessels growing to bring nourishment to each part. Ron winces a bit as the feeling comes back to it.
"Try it out." I tell him
He raises his arm, rolls it in circles, nods his head. Good, it works. Now for the fun part.
As snow crunches underfoot in the distance, I pause to look up. By the light of the fire, I can see Hermione and Harry lumbering through the trees, carrying a bucket between the two of them. I suppose that's what happens when you send two Muggleborns into the forest alone, they forget about levitation charms. Maybe they wanted a bit of exercise.
I busy myself with painting Ron's new skin the same creams and browns as the rest of him, keeping in mind the colour change from the blood rush. I splatter light brown specks all along it, mindful to keep to a similar pattern as his other arm. I regrow the hair, crimson and copper, tipped in gold, curved and tapered on the ends. I take my time, getting lost in the work of it, making sure each piece matches the last.
Harry and Hermione approach us, dropping the heavy bucket to slosh onto the cold ground. Hermione rubs her wrist, telling me they got their fill of activity on their fishing excursion. I wave to her, and she waves back. I infer that Draco nodded because she nods in his direction.
"Luna. Malfoy." Harry greets Draco and me
"Oi, don't call him that!" Ron mockingly chastises
Harry squints his eyes in an expression that falls between confused and unnerved. Hopefully, this is a conversation we can have after dinner when everyone is less testy. Apparently, Harry has the same thought, as he begins to prepare the fish they've caught for cooking. Draco gives a stoic "Potter" before going back to sipping firewhiskey and chatting about something boring with Ron. Quidditch, probably, by the sounds of it. The sun goes dark and the wolves begin howling. The smell of fish burning over wood fire reminds me of my hunger. Draco lights a Lumos for me as I put the finishing touches on Ron's arm. Once I'm satisfied my work looks like a believable part of him, I check to ensure it's satisfactory.
"Good as new?" I ask
Ron looks down, rolling his shoulder before throwing a punch in the air.
"Bloody hell witch! It's better than the original!"
He gives me a too-tight hug, and I return the sentiment. I'm glad I was given the first embrace with his new arm. It's something of a reward.
Hermione, who has been watching in interest for some time now, looks at me with the kind of smile you give someone who just shared their last loaf of bread with you.
"What spell did you use for that? I didn't hear you cast at all! That was amazing! Think of all the things we could create!" she pours, elation cracking her face in an ear to ear smile.
I respond -
"My imagination."
This leads us into an in-depth discussion on the particulars of conjuration. She asks an exorbitant amount of questions, most of which are answered similarly.
"You have to break it down into parts, Hermione. Imagine the smallest piece you can think of. Then fit them together. Before long you'll have something you can use."
We start by working together to conjure plates for the fish. She takes to it easily, as I knew she would.
"Can we conjure food this way, or does it fall under Gamp's law?" she asks after she determines the plates to indeed be real, physical objects
"I'm not sure," I respond
Eating transfigured food is incredibly dangerous. I've never tried it with conjured parts, but I don't see why it wouldn't work. A body is made out of food and water after all. I suppose it would be like drinking from an augamenti. She tries it, of course, and we end up with fried potatoes to accompany the fish - or the boys do, at any rate. Hermione and I forgo dinner to spend the next hour creating a mattress for the Trio. Then she conjures one on her own along with a tent for Draco and me.
She sheds her outer robes as we both start to sweat from the exertion of the spells.
"This is fantastic, Luna!" she pants "We won't run out of anything this way!"
She props her hand on her hip as she admires her work inside the tent she created. It's quite a bit more spacious than the one she is sharing with the boys.
"Why don't you, Harry, and Ron take this one?" I ask
She looks at me with wide chocolate eyes and the ghost of a smile on her lips.
"No, it's quite alright. Malfoy's taller." she returns
Harry props open the door to the tent -
"Hey 'Mione, food's getting cold. Nothing worse than burnt fish aside from cold burnt fish." He turns his head to me "The chips were delicious by the way."
His boyish smile isn't the same. Hope blossoms pink in his cheeks, but the light in his green eyes is all but gone. Draco peeks over his shoulder to speak to me.
"Come, lovely." he says, unabashed "You've spent enough magic today to last the week, and we still have a flight to make tomorrow."
Hermione bites her lip in worry as she glances from me to Draco and back.
"Don't you want to stay a bit longer?" she asks, and I know endless questions are swirling around her mind about the situation she undoubtedly did not expect to end up in today
I take her hand in both of mine, staring into her anguished eyes.
"I'll answer you tomorrow Hermione. I promise. Let's eat, okay?"
xoXOXox
Firewhiskey is a brilliant invention. Why was it I didn't prefer the taste again? Oh yes, my Father. Fuck him.
I take another swig from the bottle, musing that it tastes much better this way. The burn is so pleasant, lighting my throat with courage and valour.
"Easy, Draco." the Weasel intones, interrupting my musings "Save some for the rest of us! That's the only bottle we have!"
Yes, boldness flows from me more smoothly than ever with this drink.
"It's alright, Weasel. When Luna and Granger are done with their chat I'm sure you'll have enough to stay sloshed to your heart's desire."
The git-who-refuses-to-shut-up interjects -
"Granger, huh? Not my bushy pet anymore? And Draco?" he eyes the Weasel with a squint of betrayal and ice in his tone "When did you two become so chummy?"
"Ah, come off it mate." the Weasel responds, leaning sloppily on Potter in his inebriated state, "You said he's shagging our mate, that makes him family, yeah?"
The Weasel looks back at me with a goofy grin on his face. He stage whispers to scar-face -
"Who'd have thought we were given the most colouring of the relatives, yeah? We're practically brown against our ghostly cousin over there." he tisks and shakes his head "Poor bastard."
Potter does not seem so amused. Although I probably shouldn't in our delicate situation, the whiskey gets the better of my tongue as I engage in a cherished pastime of mine, one I haven't partaken in for far too long: taunting Potter.
"Right, Potter. I lament to agreeing with the Weasel. We're closer kin than I'd like to admit."
He sneers a borderline snarl. Excellent. I've struck one of his many frail nerves. He spews venom as he retorts
"My father may have been a pureblood, but I'll never be a Malfoy."
"That makes two of us, then." I reply chipperly "Cheers to our relation, Potter. I'll ensure you receive an invitation to the wedding, if you can ensure me you'll wear something suitable and tame that unruly blackbird on your scalp."
The confusion that crosses his features is titillating. Absolutely superb entertainment as the disgust and shock hit him. He does a piss poor job of occluding.
"What? Why?" he stammers
"Why are we related? Should I recount our family trees together, Potter? Or do you not yet understand where children come from?"
The Weasel claps me on the back as I shoot him a triumphant grin. I find I quite prefer him to Crabbe and Goyle, as he's not being paid to indulge in my clever wit, but appreciates it nonetheless.
"I mean, why won't you be a Malfoy? Are you not Draco Malfoy?" He asks incredulously, emphasizing my name. I see his hand twitch around his wand, and subsequently grip my own in preparation.
"Draco Malfoy died two days ago, Potter." I inform him "Nasty bit of fire at the Manor. I've heard a hostage girl burned to death as well." I look directly into his eyes, hoping the two knuts in his empty head can rub together to form a spark at the implication.
"You faked your death?" he asks. Delightful. The idiot isn't quite as simple as he looks.
"Precisely. And Luna's, although I don't expect hers to garner much attention seeing as she was being used as leverage to control the propaganda flowing from the new Ministry, as well as bait to entice a certain saviour. Not that you were actually looking to save her."
The bitter hate from earlier flows back into my chest, tempered only by the warming effect of the whiskey. I go on.
"I'll have to assume you were aware, however, seeing you didn't so much as lift a finger to aid in her rescue."
"I knew that… yes." he replies with a hint of shame.
He stares into the fire for some time, saying nothing. No sooner than I think I've tied his loose tongue do my Fates cuff me on the ear with his response.
"Listen, Malfoy; Draco... I... I'm sorry, I…" his voice is becoming choked "I wanted to rescue her; I wanted to storm the Manor and take down snakeface for myself, but there's a cost to everything and…" a silent tear sparkles as it falls down his cheek "I can't save them all, Malfoy. I have to save us all, and yet I can't save everyone."
If someone had asked me at any point of my existence, earlier today, five minutes ago, if I would find myself feeling miserable for Harry Bleeding Potter, I would have laughed in their face. What does he possess to stoke pity from me? He's a nuisance par excellence, adored and untouchable.
Much to my astonishment, I find there's something in the way he says it which sounds very much like my voice saying "Mother, won't you come with me?". It sounds like Godfather wagering his life to cast an Imperious curse to save Luna. It sounds like Pansy screaming my name as the wolves tear her flesh from her bones. The tears in his eyes hold the reflections of all the people I've failed to save.
I stand to my feet, more unsteadily than I would like.
"Well, Potter, you focus on saving us all, and I'll do my part to save those you have to leave behind. Two is a start, wouldn't you agree?"
I reach my hand to help him to his feet. He stares mutely for a moment before taking it.
"Thank you, Malfoy." he says, that disgusting Gryffindor valiancy shimmering in his overlarge eyes
"Don't call me that." I command "It's Draco."
From now until the stars fall.
I set off with Potter in tow to find my beloved and force her to take her meal. I hadn't completely hashed out the implications of having her and Granger in the same living space. Those two have been gone for hours conjuring this and that, and probably would have forgotten to eat or sleep whilst conversing had I not intervened. The Granger girl is no slouch when it comes to acquiring information, and my lovely is nothing if not curious. By the time I find them, they have created a tent nearly as large as my bed, complete with a mattress for sleeping.
She's all the more beautiful through whiskey and firelight. Her hair sparkles beneath the moon as the orange glow of embers dance wildly in her eyes. I'm fervently attempting to hold onto the thread of conversation as she tells me what she's taught Granger, but my mind keeps wandering to the way her lips wrap around the words, how her sing-song voice floats soothingly to my ears.
"...and I asked her if she wanted the tent she created for her and the boys. I found it odd that she only conjured one mattress for the three of them, but then I thought it quite assumptive of me to suppose they sleep separately. At any rate, she said no because you're taller which was quite gracious of her, and I really think you ought to apologize for calling her names while you were angry."
This sobers me slightly. What Luna heard in the woods this afternoon is nothing compared to the tirades I've lambasted on Granger over the years. While I was angry, no doubt. Angry that her kind stole my family's magic. Angry that she constantly out-performed me in school. Angry that she hardly ever fought back, and when she did, I ran. Ultimately, I was enraged that a mudblood could be twice the wizard I ever was.
Anger is like fuel to a fire, it can create new beginnings, or it can destroy everything in its wake. I find myself in need of a bridge at the moment, one that will lead to allies as I sleep in my enemies' camp.
I stop fast, turning to halt Luna and Granger as they walk side by side. This is the first time I've truly looked at her. She has a soft sort of beauty, not one that comes from endlessly scrutinizing herself over the whims of others. Her eyes are a honeyed sort of brown, with freckles wisped across her nose. She's a bit taller, a bit darker, more round in the hips, but as our shadows parade before us in the firelight, she could have easily been my Luna.
I risk her wrath to reach for her hand. She allows me to take it, so I place a kiss to her knuckles.
"My apologies, Granger."
"For?" she coldly responds
I knew she wouldn't let me out of this easily. I find it enjoyable to be in the company of those who challenge me rather than pander relentlessly. I gather every whiskey-soaked bead of my sensibilities to string together a formidable apology.
"For allowing my envy to dishonour you." I say "I can't reasonably list every offence, or ask you to forgive me for them, but please know I understand your brilliance, and applaud you for it."
She scoffs -
"Envy? For what? Because I made higher marks than you?"
"No." I tell her, although it's a half-truth "It must take an enviable amount of courage to risk your life to keep these two alive as long as you have." She opens her mouth to retort. I speak louder. "Before you argue your point, I've no doubt it was you. Potter would have done something brash to end our kind long ago if not for your prowess, Granger. The whole world owes you a debt of gratitude."
The argument is still there, poised on her lips even as she looks on at me in uncertainty.
"Harry can take care of himself." she says, but the frailty in her speech causes me to think she doesn't believe her own words
"Hmm… That wasn't the point, was it? I'm sorry for using the wrong words to tell you I admire you, Granger. Or some of your traits, at minimum."
Her stare has grown cold, years of pain and rage enveloping it to break the softness of her eyes.
"But you don't envy my blood, do you Malfoy?"
To remember those outside of Luna and I can only see the facade I've built is sobering. I can't contain my laughter. It rolls out to shoot jagged pieces of regret into the night sky before I bury it under my hand. Luna's right about this, it's an unhinged sort of response, to laugh in the face of these emotions. What else should I do? Let my sorrows kill me in earnest?
I return to her eyes, the soft brown marred by toil, hardened by distrust.
"Granger, I've seen enough blood lately to last a lifetime. Enough to fill all the moors in all the country."
I open my palm to her, tracing the scars that are visible even in the dim light. I walk closer to her, getting just in distance to look down at her bushy curls. She stares directly up at me in defiance.
"If you must know - and being the swot you are I know you must - it all looks the same on the ground."
She continues her defiant stare as if she could level me with her gaze alone. I take a step back to give her ire room to breathe.
"Being the pretentious git you are, I'll assume you didn't give willful consent to those gashes on your palm." she says, reaching her hand out to shake mine. I accept her offering, not in the least surprised at the firmness of her grip.
"Hermione Granger, but you can call me Hermione, and if you ever put your lips on me again a bloodied nose will be the least of your problems."
The smile splits my face before my cocksure new ally.
"Draco, just Draco, and you may rest assured I'll keep my mouth otherwise engaged while in your presence."
Luna tugs at my shirt, pulling me down into her.
"Ooh! Can I help?"
xoXOXox
Hermione and I have a go at the fish and chips while the boys continue to get sloshed and talk about nothing of importance. They sit across from us, erupting in laughter every so often. Even Harry cracks a grin now and then at his best friend's foolishness. The fish has quite a charred, smokey taste I enjoy. It cuts the fishiness of it a bit. I look up as I hear my name from across the fire.
"Oi, mate, can you bleeding believe it? Luna and this one! Can you imagine the spawn? Little cotton pouffes with her weirdness and his temper?"
"She's not weird, she's brilliant." Draco interjects
"Yeah yeah, mate you know what I mean. But can't you imagine it? 'No mummy I said the insipid nargles stole my homework! Fed it to the blasted plimpies! My daddy will indeed hear about this!'"
Even Harry laughs at his bizarre show. Ron feeds off the approval.
"And you have to name them something weird; you know Luna will insist." Ron continues "Apple or Blueberry or Exotillius Barnoby."
"Yeah, give them an odd Muggle name like Ronald." Draco slurs
Ron sighs in mock longing, pulling his hands to his heart. "Ah, the highest honour. Ronald Apple…"
A thought must have occurred to him. He looks as serious as a sloshed ginger can. "Say, mate, are you going to take her family name since you're a proper bastard now and not just a right one?"
"Shhh! Shh!" Draco hushes frantically, fumbling to reach for Ron's mouth in his drunkenness. He looks back at me, grinning like the child who's been caught in the biscuits.
"Merlin, Weasel. No wonder you don't have a witch!" he whispers loudly "I just got her to be my girlfriend! Keep talking like that and you'll scare her away!"
"I'll never be scared of you…" I chime in, at the same time Ron begins to bellow in surprise.
"Godric's soggy bollocks mate! You just got her to be your girlfriend and you're already shagging her?"
Harry cuffs him on the back of the head.
"Ron!" He hisses "Must you prove yourself an idiot again and again? We're in mixed company, you know."
Hermione shakes her head as if to say "We're always in mixed company, which in no way dulls Ron's mouth." I give her a nod of solidarity. Ron continues -
"All I'm saying mate is I could have very well saved my galleons on that book I gave you for your birthday. Coulda just asked cousin Drake over here to lend us sad blokes a piece of advice."
Harry rubs the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses, shaking his head, while Draco's voice goes high pitched.
"You bought him a BOOK Weasel? Dear Salazar help us all… And I don't see why you're suddenly concerned Potter, you're the one who told him." Draco gives me what I assume is supposed to be a look of apology, his bright grey eyes bloodshot and dreamy from the liquor. "I'm sorry, love. Your friends are distasteful brutes, and this one," he points forcefully at Harry "has a dangerous penchant for voyeurism paired with a loose tongue." He tries to sneer at Harry, but the acid of it is lost through the slurring. Like a kitten who's had a bit too much catnip.
"Quite alright, he's apologised." I say, dismissing him to return to my nearly finished plate.
"Oi, Draco - how'd you and Luna end up together in the first place? I thought you were seeing the Parkinson girl last I saw you? Seems like a bit of a jump if you catch my drift."
The camp goes silent. No raucous laughter, no snide comments, just firewood burning and wolves far away in the night.
Harry speaks -
"Ron, you've had too much to drink. You need to turn in."
"No, it's fine." Draco says, in a tone implying it is definitely not fine. "I was seeing her for a time, but she was betrothed, and when her father failed a mission…" I can see his Adam's apple bob around the memory "She died. She was murdered, actually. On my front lawn. Thrown to the wolves, if you will."
The silence drags on again as Draco awaits a response. None is forthcoming, and just as I begin to break the darkness, he speaks -
"As you know, Luna was abducted and brought to my home. I'll let you fill in the details on your own time."
"S-sorry." Ron stammers "I didn't know."
"Quite alright, Weasel." Draco says, standing up for a stretch. "As much as it pains me to say this, I think Potter's right. It's about time to call it a night, and what's a night without a few terrors to make it interesting?"
Harry gives a mirthless sort of snort.
"Yeah. Interesting." he says flatly.
"Luna," Draco calls to me "Have you finished your dinner, lovely? Did you get enough to eat?" He walks around, trying to brush away the curls which continually fall in my face. I don't understand why they bother him so, but let him do it to soothe his nerves.
"I did. Ready for bed? It'll be like we're camping." I say with a smile, attempting to cheer him up
"I am." he returns, nearly missing my mouth to pull me into a kiss. He tastes like whiskey, smoke, and seared off regrets.
"You'll have to lead the way, lovely. I'm afraid I'm not much use on my feet at the moment." he says through a lopsided smile
"Maybe if you didn't decide to wear those swanky shoes into the middle of bloody nowhere you'd be a bit more useful. Constant vigilance, Draco." Ron interjects, slapping him on the back so that he nearly falls into me.
"Night, mate. Night, Luna." he says as he wanders off
We say our goodnight wishes to him, Harry, and Hermione as we go off to our tent. He's impressed at the size of it and tells me again and again how brilliant I am for being able to conjure. I get nearly as many "I love yous" and poorly-aimed kisses as I transfigure some pyjamas for him and implore him to lay down. His head hits my chest, and with a muttered "You're my world, you know." he's out.
I'll never be able to sleep.
xoXOXox
I awaken in the dark with a throbbing headache and severe urgency to piss. I don't feel Luna underneath my arm, or tucked into my back, or any of the myriad ways she tends to pin me in place for the night. I light a Lumos, and as expected, she isn't there.
"Don't panic, Draco. This is the absolute worst place to lose your wits."
I fling the door to the tent open and see my beloved sitting next to Granger by the fire. My heart can beat again. She's safe. I can hear muffled speech, but I'm not near enough to make out what they're saying at this distance. As I move closer, the muted sounds begin to form words in the darkness.
"So you think it's just a torture spell then?" Luna asks
"Most likely. The problem is going to be finding out what it's attached to. If we cut too deep, it could damage his nervous system or his magical core. If we don't go far enough, the pain will come back every time. I've heard trying to outrun it can drive a person mad, or worse."
"Bugger. So how do we do it, then?"
Granger… Hermione, shakes her head.
"Trial and error will be the surest way." she says
"He won't like that much."
I walk up to them, pulling Luna into my arms from behind. She has the unique ability to sense me, so I don't worry she'll hex me for the affection. I'd like to believe this is due to our closeness and unparalleled bond, but realistically it probably has to do with her aura reading abilities. It's a pleasurable circumstance I find myself in, that she has gifted me with a copious supply of enigmas to keep my mind occupied for the rest of my life.
"Did we wake you?" she asks, her dreamless eyes sparkling in the golden light of the fire
"Not at all." I respond, kissing every tinge of worry from her lips
Hermione looks away, surely blushing.
"Why are you awake then?" Luna asks "You aren't having night terrors are you, kitten?"
Hermione mumbles to herself while commanding a quill to jot down a refill of Dreamless Sleep for Potter.
"No. Just up for the loo. Where is it, by the way?"
Both witches burst into laughter at a joke I was sure no one told.
Hermione speaks
"We're done conjuring for the night Mal… Draco. Pick a tree." she points into the distance "I'd steer clear of that one, it's Ron's."
It takes my mind several moments to catch up to her implication. As soon as I do, I feel heat rush to my face, and I'm certain it's not from the fire.
"Don't mind him, he's modest." Luna consoles her friend as I wander off into the treeline.
Fuck.
xoXOXox