Dictionary
Dogmatic adj. asserting or imposing personal opinions; intolerantly authoritative; arrogant.
Chapter Five
There was something really annoying about the way people behaved in shops. Some acted as though they owned the place, muttering about how the customer was always right and criticising the products. Then there were the ones who edged around the shelves uncomfortably, feeling that the world was against them. Others knew what they wanted, handing money across the counter with an appreciative smile. These were not the real people, but the plastic covered aliens who conformed to polite society, pretending to be friends with everyone.
'Is this made from real bat hair? It's just that I have an allergy and the doctor told me that I should avoid contact… My wife thinks it's all an over exaggeration. Then again my wife has never believed me. Just like her mother I guess. This one time they both accused me of having an affair with my secretary. I mean, I told them it was all in their head, but somehow they turned it round,' the man grumbled. 'Me! Affair! I don't think so, but would they have any of it? No! And now I'm allergic to bat hairs.'
Fred Weasley raised an eyebrow, watching the little man's lips move. It wasn't that he meant to be impolite, but he really had no interest in what this man's wife accused him of. In fact he couldn't help but ask himself how a man like this ended up with a wife at all. First there was the whinging tone to his voice, then the out-of-control facial hair, which looked strange on such a bald man. Not to mention his overweight girth and pig like nose. Fred had instantly named him Mr Pig-Face when he'd seen him. It hadn't been a malicious thought, but he had to do something to pass the time of day.
'There could be traces of bat hair due to the nature of production. The likeliness of there actually being any present, however, is slim. Wizards who work with delicate materials like these tend to act with the greatest of caution.' Fred smiled his shopkeeper smile.
'So the answer to that is yes then?' Mr Pig-Face grunted unpleasantly.
'Yes sir,' said Fred with a hint of annoyance in his tone.
'Oh…'
This was one of those customers that really irked him. It was the needy, annoying customer, who believed that the person serving them had nothing better to do. Not that Fred did have anything particularly pressing. In fact Fred hardly ever had anything other then assisting on the shop floor to do.
'Well I think I'll leave it then,' a defiant Mr Pig-Face murmured.
'As you wish,' Fred grinned in what he hoped was an eager smile. 'If you just leave it with me then I should be able to check with the suppliers for you. I could probably have the answer for you in…three days.'
Having pleased another customer, and seen them on their way, Fred let himself relax. Business hadn't been booming recently, which was probably due to it being term time. The kind of customers they catered for were children, or the young at heart. You didn't find many of the older generation looking for practical jokes. Therefore, the shop was empty once again.
'Fred! Have we got any Canary Crèmes in stock?' George's voice bellowed across the shop.
'I'll check the book,' Fred shouted behind him, as he drew out a large dusty book. 'We're down to the last dozen packets.'
Silence followed that statement. Fred assumed his brother was adding it to the orders list. It was a process they went through once a month during the quiet season, where they would look at the stock levels and buy enough ingredients to keep them in supply for another few weeks. Boring, dull and unsociable didn't even begin to describe stock analysis.
Perching on a stool, Fred took a deep breath and gazed out the window. The counter was at the back of the shop, with shelves breaking up the view of Diagon Alley. People were milling about, baskets clasped in determined hands as they tried to remember what was on the shopping list. On either side of these people were buildings trying to sell themselves with tempting displays. From where he sat Fred could clearly see Hermione's window.
Hermione, he thought to himself with a faint smile. She was an unusual creature. Every time he came close to her, she would become agitated and irritable. Her skin would flame bright red, like she'd been too long out in the sun. Then her defences would become disabled; her favourite weapon being rendered incapable of speech. Hermione would temporarily lose her language whenever he was around. She'd become clumsy and foolish, which made her all the more…
'FRED!' George bellowed. 'When was the last stock list compiled?'
Marriage had changed George. Instead of being a fun, easy going character, he'd become…anal. Everything had to be perfect these days, including the paper work. It was no longer good enough that they were running a profitable business, which consumers loved. The company had to be running like clockwork.
'I don't know!' Fred shouted.
George had dreams of having a chain of joke shops, all in his family name. He wanted to build an empire that everyone would be proud of. The stigma attached to the Weasley's was slowly beginning to fade, and that was the way George wanted it to remain. This business was no longer a selfish venture, but a determining factor in his future child's lifestyle.
'Will you look for me?' shouted an irritable George. 'Will you just this once pull your finger out and do something useful!'
Fred sighed heavily and reopened the book. He loved his brother very much, and he wasn't too much of a man to admit that. This man had made something out of his life. Inadvertently though, George had disconnected himself from his twin. Fred no longer felt like he knew his brother – there was a woman shaped gap between them.
'Nineteen days ago!'
Silence again followed this statement. George was probably contemplating on whether this was too long a period to pass, Fred thought with another sigh.
His thoughts went back to Hermione. This had been happening a lot lately, making him lose his concentration. There was something about the way she fawned over him that was appealing. Of course he'd never been oblivious to the power he seemed to hold over her, but only recently had he begun to feel…
'You really should do this ever ten and a half days,' George said. He had moved from the stock room and was now stood behind Fred, his eyes surveying the shop. 'I'm worried that we may be leaving these things too late.'
'How is the lovely Katie then?' Fred asked with a tired smile.
The grin that broke across his brother's face could have cracked the world in half. 'Mrs Weasley is amazing thank you.'
The wedding had been a couple of months ago, with Katie Bell becoming the newest Mrs Weasley of the family. Having been on the Quidditch team as a Chaser, George had made great friends with her. There had been a time when she would have scorned anyone for even suggesting more between them, but now they were practically inseparable. She'd left Hogwarts with good qualifications and gone on to coach there for a living.
There was one problem with Katie though – she'd never been able to forgive Fred for giving her the worst nosebleed known to man. It hadn't been his fault that she'd eaten the wrong end of a Nosebleed Nougat. He'd even gone so far as to justify himself in the Best Man's speech at the wedding. Katie had laughed jovially with them all, but he could tell she wasn't overly happy with the situation.
'I thought you'd say that,' Fred beamed. 'You're a lucky man.'
'Mark my words, I know what I am,' replied George with a far off look in his eyes. 'You could be the same if you just stuck to one girl.'
Fred fiddled with a button on his shirt aimlessly. 'You know I have problems sticking to just one girl at a time. Life is too short after all, not to window shop for the perfect person.'
'Maybe, but I wish you'd just settle down for at least a month.'
'I'm sure I will one day.'
'What about Hermione?' George said with a sly grin.
'What about her?' Fred asked panic beginning to rise in the back of his throat.
George smiled knowingly and walked round to the other side of the counter. Casually he lent his elbows against the surface and faced his brother. 'We both know she is absolutely crazy about you. She can hardly speak whenever you're about.'
'It's just a school girl crush George. I'm sure she'll grow out of it eventually,' he paused with a smile. 'Not that I can't see why she'd want me so badly.'
'Your problem is that you have too big an ego. Remember that you look exactly like me! So if you're such a sex god, then so am I.'
'I don't think so brother,' Fred laughed.
'Anyway,' he said seriously. 'Hermione isn't a school girl anymore. Maybe you should just take her out on a date. You might find that you like it.'
'She isn't my type.'
'Fred, every woman is your type,' he deadpanned with style.
Fred eyed his brother suspiciously. He hated it when people tried to couple him up with girls. It never worked out when he didn't call them back. Hermione was something different though. She was his friend and a date would change everything between them. It would crush her if he realised too late that he wasn't interested. No. There was definitely no use in shagging too close to home. Ron would never forgive him.
'I don't think it would work,' he said defiantly.
George looked a little uncomfortable. 'It's just that Katie is set on finding you a girl… We're having some guests over for dinner, and she thought it would be a good idea if Hermione were your date for the evening.'
'Your wife has set me up?' Fred asked with a pained expression.
'There's nothing wrong with that is there?' George said indignantly. 'I think it's a good idea.'
'No George. A good idea would be world peace. Fixing me up with Ron's ex-girlfriend is asking for trouble. Not only would it get her hopes up, but increase the likeliness of me hurting her more then I already have!'
'Well it's too late. We're expecting you at seven and Katie told Hermione that you would pick her up.'
'Great George! That's just great.' Fred hung his head and squeezed his eyes tight. 'I hope you realise what you're putting us both through…?'
'Hopefully a relationship with sex involved?'
'I don't think so.'
xXx
Take deep breaths, Ginny thought to herself. Remain calm and don't say anything you might regret. You know what Malfoy's like. He probably didn't mean any of the things he said. All you have to do is rise above his petty attitude and remain aloof. This is your home. You will not be intimidated within it. Just remember, deep breaths!
It had been five hours since she'd decided to storm out of the office, being unable to handle the testosterone flying around the room. Since her sudden exit she hadn't known where to go. If Malfoy were to have a sudden flash of guilt, then he would look for her at home. That meant she had to go somewhere where he wouldn't even think of.
This train of thought had led Ginny to a Muggle library in the heart of London. It was comfortable and quiet, allowing her to do some work on her report. The silence of this place had not taken away the voices in her head however. No amount of work could silence her own thoughts. They danced a harsh tango in her head, forcing themselves into connection with everything she did to hush them.
Draco Malfoy was to blame for this. Usually Ginny wouldn't allow herself to be so wound up by him. It was in his blood to be devious and unfeeling and there was nothing she could do about it. Today though, he had managed to push all the right buttons. Seeing her at her most vulnerable, moved to vomiting by her worst fears, he had warmed to her. Something about the way he's tried to be nice had comforted her. Draco had patted her back reassuringly, making her feel almost special to have such attention. Then regret must have kicked in, the inbred poison that made her want to beat him over the head, because he had lashed out.
Again, usually this wouldn't have mattered to her. She would smile sweetly, knowing that it would really get up his nose, and ignore the fact he was treating her like filth. It had been the tenderness that made it all worse today. He had seemed so…
Ginny took a deep breath, steadying her frayed nerves.
All she'd wanted to do was help him. It was bad enough that Ron had punched him. If he'd only known what Ginny knew, then maybe her brother wouldn't have been so heavy handed. Maybe he would have stepped back, respected Draco for having the grit to keep going, and shaken him by the hand. Ron was never going to know though. Ginny only knew because she'd seen it first hand; the horror of Azkaban.
Azkaban had this way of breaking you down. It was almost as if it could sense life, and then wouldn't stop until it destroyed it. Hands seemed to leap out from the brick work, tearing through the exterior and gripping at your heart. Even breathing became laboured when faced with this colossal prison. "Bricks and mortar, with a splash of magic", Draco had informed her on her first visit. "If you make it more then it is…it will consume you".
That had been the day when her perception of everything had been warped. The men that sat here were dead. Their pulses may still beat, their mind still ticking over slowly, but there was nothing about them that said they were living.
Lucius Malfoy was just one of these men, whose lives had become waiting for death. It was this man to whom Ginny had paid the honour of her first trip to Azkaban. It was because of this man that Ginny never allowed Draco to go alone when the occasion arose. This was a man who had made the lives of everyday people a living misery – he'd brought forth a war and destroyed their families. Most of all though he had driven his own son to maturity long before it was due.
Ginny had been nervous that day, even now she could recall the butterflies that had nibbled at her insides. It was her first assignment and she was eager to be a professional. There had been an escape from Azkaban, leading the entire system into uproar. A very dangerous man was on the loose and there was no telling what he would do next. So the D.O.I. had been called in to question all the prisoners. It seemed a simple enough task, but Ginny hadn't realised how emotionally taxing it would be. Not only were the occupants of Azkaban zombies, but unwilling to answer anything asked. At least that's how it was at the beginning…
That had been the day that Ginny had realised how dangerous Draco really was. Initially she'd considered him to be cold, but that was the complete opposite to his true nature. The only thing that masked it was his patience and control, otherwise he was highly reactive. Slowly his questioning had picked up pace, he was bombarding the prisoners with question after question. It had been an amazing process to watch. Draco would begin off slowly, with easy questions related to the crimes. Slowly this would move on to more personal questions – he would begin to get under their skin, forcing some of them to tears. What surprised her most was his total lack of…she couldn't place what it was exactly he lacked, but it was something. It was as if he was the judge and jury, inching his way into their mind and leaving nothing unturned. The tone of his voice was the thing that had scared her most. Cold, sharp and unforgiving it had haunted her memories.
Of course they had had to interview Lucius. There was no escaping it. Draco knew this, but nothing could have cracked him, or made him leave one stone unturned. Lucius had entered, rough as anything. There was no sparkle of life to his eyes; that was often the first thing to leave them. His long pale blond hair was straggly and hung over his face like a veil. Drool slipped slowly down his chin, disgusting and unruly. His eyes twitched this way and that, searching out the hidden enemy that only he could see. When he sat down Ginny could see that his whole body was shivering, like he was too cold.
'Where were you last night?' Draco had questioned, not looking anywhere except at his papers.
Silence.
Draco flipped over a sheet of paper, scanning his fathers files nonchalantly. 'You and Honky used to get on quite well before you turned him in to the Ministry, didn't you?'
'Draco, I've told you not to play with Mudblood lovers…' Lucius snarled eerily, his fists clenched.
'Mother wouldn't have liked you to be keeping secrets from me,' Draco had offered as a threat. He leant forward on his elbows and looked straight into his father's face. 'Where were you last night, daddy?'
'Draco…' Ginny had whispered cautiously. 'We can leave it here.'
'Are you going to take orders from a Mudblood loving woman?' Lucius challenged slyly. 'I thought you would have learnt by now to treat women as they deserve. A regular smack in the face until they understand who is boss and maybe a curse or two to teach them a lesson. It's the only way to make them understand. Only way.'
'I know how you work,' Draco whispered. 'It isn't going to work this time.'
'Do you want to have sex with her? Is this why you're pretending she's your equal?' Lucius murmured, his eyes flicking between Draco and Ginny. 'You'll never be my sons equal. You're nothing but a dirty little Weasley, who should have died in the Chamber of Secrets helping our Lord free!'
With that he lurched forward like a maddened dog. Draco reacted quickly and brought his fist out, punching him hard on the nose. Lucius fell back, clutching his face and whimpering.
'WHERE WERE YOU LAST NIGHT?' Draco shouted angrily. 'Answer the question!'
'Like father, like son. Like father, like son,' Lucius crooned, chuckling. 'You tried to deny it but I know who you are…I know who you are!'
Lucius had been quickly removed from the situation and taken back to his cell. Ginny could remember the shaken feeling that had erupted from her body. She had been unable to stop it and Draco had grabbed her hard.
'Look at me!' Draco demanded.
Ginny covered her face with her hand, her eyes beginning to fill with uncontrollable tears. 'Why me? Why me? Why me?' she had muttered almost unconsciously.
'Look at me! Now!'
So Ginny had looked at him. His eyes had been stony, but somehow had centred her. There was a tiredness that echoed through his entire body. Somewhere from the back of her mind, she could hear his voice soothing her…
Ginny shook her head and ran a hand through her hair. This was not the time to be remembering this. In fact she wished she could erase that memory from her mind. It had been more disturbing than the others. It had made her feel like she was back in the Chamber, lying half dead on the floor. She had been so incredibly lost and yet in that moment she had pitied Draco. Privately she had sworn to never let him go through that alone.
Sitting on her couch, a glass of wine in one hand, she felt far removed from the pale terrors of Azkaban. Here she was safe from everything but her own foolish emotions. Desperately she wiped at her eye, willing herself not to cry again. This was not the time, nor the place, she reminded herself.
The front door opened with a crash, making Ginny turn her head sharply. Looked like Draco was home and he wasn't happy. Quickly she finished her glass of wine and placed it empty upon the carpet. She scooped up a book that had been lying idle, and turned to a page.
'Weasley?' Draco called from the hallway.
'I'm in the sitting room,' she replied, reminding herself that she was angry with him.
A couple of seconds later and he was at the door. She glanced at him quickly. With his robes open, shirt hanging out of his trousers and tie half undone, he looked quite vulnerable. Pushing this thought away, she looked back at her book. There was no way she was forgiving him so easily. No. There would be a fight.
'I realise that you're…' he paused, as if seeking the right words. 'I know what Azkaban is like.'
'I'm sorry,' Ginny frowned. 'Was that an apology?'
He regarded her in the dismissive way he usually did. 'You know what it is.'
'I don't think I do, Malfoy,' she lingered on his name menacingly. 'You'll have to explain it to me seeing as I'm obviously not intelligent enough.'
Draco pulled his robe off and slung it over the arm of the couch, before slumping down next to her. Slowly he removed his tie completely, and then with meaning threw it onto the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, elicited a sigh and leaned back wearily.
'Oh so you agree with me then?' Ginny said irritably. 'I'm not intelligent enough! Well it's nice to know what you really think of me.'
'Shut up Weasley.'
'Oh, so now you're just going to avoid this conversation! Coward!' she slammed her book down with a force. 'Not only do you accuse me of not being good enough for the job, but that I'm not even good enough for a conversation.'
'I never said you weren't intelligent enough,' he sighed. 'I simply don't want to have an argument with you right now. I'm sure anything I said now would be twisted round to suit your mood anyway.'
'So you're not even going to apologise for being a complete arse?' Ginny ranted, beginning to feel hysteria edging into her words.
'I have already expressed how I feel on the matter.'
'How does "I know what Azkaban is like" constitute an apology?!'
'You know very well what it means,' Draco looked at her. 'It means that understand.'
Ginny scowled at him and pulled herself up from the couch. Turning to face him, she placed her hands on her hips. 'You really don't value me at all do you? Even when you know that you were wrong, you can't bring yourself to say sorry to me!'
Draco regarded her with a lazy smile. 'Oh so you think this is personal?'
'Of course it's personal! It always is with you!'
'Hmmm,' he leaned forward and looked up at her.
'Don't…' Ginny started.
'Have I ever told you that you are incredibly annoying?' he asked slowly. 'I mean I'm here trying to keep the peace, and all you want to do is have an argument.'
'Well if I'm so annoying, you know where you can go!'
'I believe it has something to do with where the sun doesn't shine?' he smiled. Suddenly his hand shot out and pulled her back onto the couch. He gave her a quick shove so she was sat back and patted her thigh gently. 'Calm down.'
'Don't tell me to calm down!' she went to stand up, but was quickly pulled back down.
'Ginny,' he said turning to face her. 'I'm sorry. Happy now?'
'No,' she growled, crossing her arms across her chest.
'I didn't think you would be.'
'What's that supposed to mean?!' Ginny screeched indignantly.
'You know what it means. You're never satisfied unless there's a fight. Which, I would like to add, I'm not in the mood for,' Draco said with the slightest of smiles curling his lip.
'Well what are you in the mood for?' Ginny threw back, only realising its connotations once it had left her mouth.
There was defiantly a smile there now. It was a cross between humoured and predatory, Ginny decided as she felt her heart begin to race. Possibly that had been the wrong question. Slowly he leaned forward, until their noses were almost touching.
'Are you sure you want to know the answer to that one?' Draco said softly. 'I possibly think you're a little out of your depth.'
Ginny gulped visibly. She could feel her cheeks begin to go red. Why was it that he had turned this round so she felt she should be apologising? How did he manage to make her feel so…uncomfortable?
'Well you would, wouldn't you…' she said softly.
'Is that a challenge?' Draco asked, his eyebrows arching.
Looking into his eyes now, she knew exactly what he wanted. The question was whether she was willing to ruin everything by letting him show her. He was probably right – she was out of her depth. Her eyes took in his open face, pondering whether in fact it was a challenge. Did she want to be seduced? No. Yes. No. Yes…
'Hmm…' Draco pulled back. 'I didn't think it was.'
Standing up he stretched. Throwing her a sideways glance, he smiled slightly. 'Don't worry. I won't mention it again.'
Ginny swallowed and nodded absently. Bollocks.
xXx
Bitter End was pulsating with life when Luna arrived. The music was pumping so loud it made her body tingle with bass. Bodies were, yet again, crammed into the small nightclub like sardines, each one moving to a different beat. Some people would have looked upon it as beautiful chaos, but Luna wasn't so certain.
Nightclubs had never been a big favourite with Luna. Ever since she had been a student, she had felt an inert fear of being trapped with so many people. It wasn't that it was a fire hazard – which it was – but because she didn't like to feel that everyone was judging her. She had been perfectly aware what people were thinking when they saw her, and she had tried to pass it off as individuality. However it still made her feel ever so nervous, even now when she was considered something of a celebrity. People actually wanted her to be quirky now!
Tonight was important though. Too important to worry about what other people were thinking of her. What Luna needed was Dwayne Oarlocks. This was all she needed to get a pay rise and the respect of other journalists at the Daily Prophet. Her readers deserved such an exclusive and so did the paper itself.
The only problem Luna had with this was the fact that Dwayne had termed the interview as a "date". Even that word had had the effect of giving her butterflies. Or wind, she thought, one or the other. If it had simply been an interview, then Luna would have felt much more comfortable. Her position would have been clearly one of a business nature. The word "date" implied something a lot more personal. It implied affection, lingering looks, blushing, kissing and sex.
It wasn't that Luna had a problem with sex, but the thought of someone wanting her in that way made her squeamish. Why was it that people had to be so consumed by nature? Why couldn't they just rise above it?
'Hey,' a voice suddenly caught her attention. 'I was wondering when you'd get here.'
Looking up, Luna was greeted by the half-smiling face of Dwayne Oarlocks. It was quite amazing how tall he really was. Possibly it was the nest of jet black, scraggly hair that attributed to his height, she considered as she gazed up at him. Or maybe it was just because she was short. She had once read an article about a rock star that used a potion to make him appear tall when in fact he was 5 ft tall. Apparently some men used it on other places for…
'Are those for me?' Dwayne continued, his smile lifting another fraction up his face.
'Oh…yes…' Luna said with a bright smile, holding up a bunch of bright red poppies. 'It's to say thank you for offering me more time for the interview.'
'I believe the pleasure is all mine. It isn't everyday an attractive girl such as you allows herself to be bullied into a date with me…even if it is on the pretence of an interview, which I'm aware it is,' his teeth glinted slightly, whilst shadows played about his face. 'Don't worry though. I won't bite.'
'Biting is the least of my worries,' Luna breezed.
Dwayne raised an eyebrow and Luna observed that every part of his face inched into position. There was no case of instant emotion, but a slow calculated curl of lip, or twitch of nose. It must be the constant exposure to photography, Luna contemplated as she watched his face carefully.
'Shall we go sit…eat?' he asked with an inclination of his head. 'It's just that I haven't eaten all day and I'm famished.'
'You're the boss!' Luna squeaked looking around her wearily hoping no one would bang into her.
When they were seated and had browsed the menu, Dwayne ordered for them and leant back in his chair. He regarded with a critical eye, as if trying to work something complicated out. Luna thought it might be her choice of dress – today she'd gone for a long skirt, slash-necked top, both black, and a purple robe. It probably made her look like she had no body in all this darkness and was in fact just a floating head. The thought made her snort gently.
'What's so funny?' Dwayne questioned, his face systematically moving into the correct positioning.
'I was just thinking how I must look like a floating head from where you're sitting,' she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. If she let rip with her laughter she would surely lose the interview. Some described it as bordering insanity itself.
Dwayne gave a slight nod, making sure not to make too much movement. 'Well I guess the same could be said for me.'
Nodding vigorously, she bit on her lip to suppress the bout of hysteria about to take over.
'You fascinate me,' Dwayne suddenly said, his eyes searching her face. 'I'd love to get to know you better.'
Luna frowned slightly, allowing her forehead to crumple. 'That's very nice of you to say, but my readers would much rather hear about you. After all I'm not the celebrity!'
'I tell you what,' Dwayne said softly, leaning forward in his seat. 'Why don't we make an exchange? I'll give you an exclusive, if you let me find out a bit more about you. After all I feel that if we're going to be working together, we might as well know the basics.'
'That seems fair enough.'
Leaning down, Luna scooped her bag up from the floor and rummaged around in it. Within this bag were the contents of her life, from her note pad to the antiseptic ointment she used on her hangnails. If ever there was a crisis, Luna was fully prepared. This though was not a crisis. This was a job. Already she could feel herself becoming uncomfortable by the crossed situations.
'I'm a great believer in ladies going first. So tell me something about yourself. Anything… Just something that will help me figure out what's going on in that head of yours,' Dwayne said with a slight smile. 'By all accounts it seems fairly complex, so please spare the fool a thought when telling me. Long words were never my forte.'
'Well…' Luna scrunched up her face in thought. 'I went to Hogwarts, where the amazing Harry Potter saved the world. He had this friend called Ron and he was also amazing. In a different way of course… Ron was always getting things wrong, whereas Harry couldn't put a foot out of place. Anyway I liked them both very much. I was never keen on Hermione, but I'm sure she had her place…somewhere.'
'That doesn't tell me anything about you…'
'These are the important people though. The people whose stories mean something to everyone. No one is likely to forget a good tale or heroic action, but they are likely to forget mine. Sometimes I even forget mine, so doesn't that show something?' she gestured with her hands. Why couldn't he see that her life was nothing when compared to some of the things she could say about her friends?
'Here's where the dilemma lies,' Dwayne leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. 'I don't want to know about them. If I wanted to know about Harry Potter I could pick up a newspaper or book. What I'm interested in is finding out about you. You're life is far more real to me then any demon or monster.'
Luna sighed. 'Then you are obviously deranged.'
Dwayne laughed. It was a laugh that implied being completely laid back, whilst at the same time rejecting that he was deranged. 'You've spent too long writing about other people that you've forgotten who you are.'
'I know who I am. I'm Luna Lovegood, reporter for the Daily Prophet. I live in Diagon Alley above a printing shop. I have a large family. My father owns…'
'Yes, but what about the bits in between?! I want to know your opinions, your views. I'll even settle for knowing how you take your coffee!' A grin lit up Dwayne's face. 'Please?'
'I still think you are deranged and possibly need some psychiatric help.'
'Indulge me.'
A sigh escaped her lips heavily. Why was this man insisting on being so difficult? Wasn't it enough that she was here with him? There was no need to get so personal just because he didn't understand the way she thought. People could hardly ever accept the different – the personality that didn't fit their own norm. If she wanted to engross herself in the lives of others she would. If she wanted to be open, friendly, kind, honest and understanding then she would. Right now what she wanted to be was a journalist.
'I don't like the way people judge me,' she said after some consideration. 'If you must know I find it rather rude.'
'Don't you judge people in your column?' he questioned with interest. 'Don't you ever see something you don't like and share your opinion with everyone else?'
'I also don't like silly questions,' Luna replied, taking a sip from her glass of water.
'What do you like?'
'I like what I like,' she said with a half smile. 'I would have thought that was obvious.'
'Which is…?' Dwayne asked, confused.
'Getting a job done right. Making no mistakes. Providing my readers with what they want,' she reeled off on her fingers. 'Also spelling. Spelling is very important to me.'
They lapsed into silence. Luna was under the impression however that there were many things left unsaid. She didn't like that people could say nothing when they had at their fingertips a beautiful, curvaceous, expressive language. Instead they would sit in silence, allowing themselves to become disconnected with the world. That's what the society was suffering from – a total lack of communication. It would be so much easier in life if people said what they wanted instead of some half truth. Surely it was better to have the truth out there rather than pent up?
'I think I have the perfect headline for you,' Dwayne finally said. 'I think you've deserved one for letting me delve into your mind.'
'Was that sarcasm?' Luna questioned wearily. 'Because that is another thing I loathe.'
'Not at all,' he said with a sincerity that touched her heart. 'Your company has been refreshing. You've treated me like any other person and for that I thank you. It's not often that someone can make you feel like you belong in this world, rather then high up on a pedestal.'
Luna smiled, feeling something inside her begin to twinge. It was a familiar feeling and one that took her by surprise. It wasn't often that the butterflies got the better of her…
'Are you ready for this?' he leaned forward secretively. 'It's a good one…I'm part vampire.'
Pursing her lips she regarded him for a couple of seconds. 'Yes, I can see that.'
'You're not shocked.'
'It would take a lot to shock me.'
