Hey y'all! Sorry for the long absence. I was studying for a big exam (You're looking at a Nationally Certified Pharmacy Technician now!), and then this chapter did NOT cooperate. It still isn't quite what I wanted, but I didn't want to make y'all wait for another week while I over-edited. Also, I still have no beta, so if anyone is interested, pm me! Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 3 - Draco
Growing up, everyone saw Ravenclaws as uptight, by-the-book nerds obsessed with grades. Granger seemed the perfect example; I doubted I'd ever understand why the daft old hat had deemed her a lion instead of an eagle. Recently, however, I'd developed a theory - that intelligence and cunning are more closely tied than most people realize. Of course, to be cunning, a person has to be at least passably intelligent. Apparently, though, that rule went both ways, at least in Lovegood's case. While Hermione Granger was intelligent, she also possessed the subtlety of a hippogriff. Lovegood, on the other hand - the more time I spent with the girl, the more I realized how she manipulated the situations she found herself in with a subtlety that Salazaar Slytherin himself would respect. Most of the people around her never realized what she was capable of, and I had the feeling that she preferred it that way.
The most important thing to understand about Luna Lovegood is that she just doesn't give a damn. Her entire life is an exercise in metaphorically flipping off society, all while remaining perfectly polite. If the world tells her wearing a literal lion costume to a Gryffindor quidditch game is over the top, she shrugs and ignores them. If she wants to read a book upside down, she bloody well does. If she wants to attend a formal event barefoot, you had better believe she's going to do it, and if a former Death Eater looks lonely, she'll prance across the room, sit down across from him, and ask him about his summer.
And that was exactly what she'd done on September 2nd, 1999. The Feast the night before had been almost physically painful. Even the rest of the Slytherins were shunning Theo and me. My House was, after all, is known for its bloody self-preservation, and we were known Death Eaters. One could hardly blame them for wanting to avoid social suicide by associating with us in an anti-Voldemort world. The gits. That morning I'd suffered through breakfast, and made my way to Charms. I'd picked a table in the back, and of course, I remained solitary. I received my fair share of looks and whispers, but my classmates looked as if they'd sooner Avada themselves than sit next to me and risk me doing it for them.
Accordingly, the room filled, the volume rising with the tick of the clock. The scuff of shoes on the floor, the rustle of quills and parchment, the laughs and chatter of a room full of teenagers - all the normal sounds were there. The only obvious difference was my newfound status as a pariah. I'd chosen a seat next to the window, giving myself a fair excuse to look at something other than my classmates or my desk. Much the same as the castle itself, the grounds of Hogwarts had been repaired over the summer, and a fine job had been done. I knew a team of bloody famous witches and wizards had spent months piercing the place back together, and I'd bet five galleons that many of the younger students could hardly tell the difference. The rubble had been cleared, the grass regrown, the outbuildings rebuilt - one could almost believe that everything was as it had always been.
To me, however, the things that stood out were not the things that filled the space, but the things that didn't. Yes, the grass stretch out away from the castle, waves of green blowing gently in the Autumn breeze, but there were dips and divots in the ground that hadn't been healed, subtly telling stories of hexes dodged or deflected, sending them careening into the earth. Months later, the bees and bugs that could always be found floating over the grasses this time of year - for even Scotland was not immune to bugs - were nowhere to be found. It was as if the stain of dark magic was still hovering, warning the creatures away. I wondered if the same was true of the creatures in the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest - if the lingering dark magic in the air had driven them away. On reflection, I realized that while the creatures of the Forset could very well leave, the creatures of the Lake were rather trapped. Those that could not leave the water were effectively trapped, forced to stay whether they wished it or not.
She was so bloody quiet that I didn't hear her approach. Rather, I suddenly had the sense that someone was behind me, and the faint smell of roses reached my nose. Stiffening, I turned, expecting...I didn't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't a tiny blonde girl perched on the seat next to me, cocking her head to the side as she watched me like I was some interesting new pet of Hagrid's. The witch looked as if she hadn't slept in a week. No, that wasn't correct, her eyes lacked dark circles, and were far too alert for someone sleep deprived. Her uniform, however, was so horrendously wrinkled that I was certain it had spent the summer in a ball at the bottom of her school trunk, and she hadn't bothered to cast an ironing charm before donning it this morning, buttoning the shirt one button off. Her tie, rather than sitting around her neck, had been wrapped around her head and tied at the top - she'd apparently charmed the ends to form the little silhouette of a dog atop her head. Her hair was hopelessly tangled, and was that her wand sticking out of one particularly nasty snarl?
None of this had the chance to properly sink in, however, because when I met her eyes, the memory of her song slammed into me with the force of a bludger. It filled my head, so loud it hurt, and I felt my chest start to close in, trying to cut off my air. Was this a bloody practical joke? What the hell was she sitting next to me for? I scrambled to force it back where it belonged, summoning a wind to push that horrible melody deep into the recesses of my mind, surrounding it with fog until it was impossible to even know it was there. It was gone. The pressure in my chest loosened, and I was able to meet her stare. Her eyes were wide and round, and a small smile played on her lips.
"Hello, Draco Malfoy," Her voice sounded odd, almost as if she was half asleep. "Did you have a pleasant summer?"
I stared at her for a few moments, still trying to figure out the joke. Someone thought they were hilarious, clearly, I just couldn't figure out their point. And she was sitting there, head cocked, waiting for a response. "Are you serious?" I finally asked, shifting back into the role of Draco Malfoy, the school bully. I turned in my seat, draping one arm across the back of my chair and resting the other on the desk. I leaned back, relaxing, and my hair fell into my eyes as I raised an eyebrow at her, daring her.
Her smile looked like it sounds when someone speaks underwater - slow and a bit warped. "Well, apart from the obvious, of course," I resist the urge to bristle at that. Yes, my summer had been plastered across the front pages of the Prophet, thank you very much. "Surely not your entire summer was spent at the Wizengamot. I was there rather a lot myself, and I still was able to find time for a trip to Devonshire with Father." She looked at me expectantly, like I was supposed to respond to that.
I blinked at her "Why are you sitting here, Lovegood?" She had been tortured in my home, for fuck's sake. She had to know that I'd been there, she knew I'd done nothing. She knew I'd been a Death Eater - the whole bloody knew, and they were all avoiding me accordingly. Of all the people in the school to decide to let bygones be bygones, she seemed rather unlikely. She had to have a motive.
She smiled a bit wider and bent over, digging through her bag to find her text, which she dropped on the desk with a thud before continuing to dig for a quill and parchment. She looked up at me from under a curtain of hair. Upside down, her eyes seemed even bigger, if that was possible. "It's rather odd to be sharing a class with people from your year." I blinked. She'd just blatantly ignored the question. "Your year is rather famous, of course, and normally we just hear about the goings-on in your classes second hand. I must confess I'm interested to witness some of the dynamics for myself."
"Dynamics?" I find myself asking. She was completely changing the subject, but her subject change was so random that I found myself following, trying to piece together her train of thought. I picked up my quill, rolling it between my fingers as she straightened back up to look at me.
"Of course, Draco Malfoy," Her wry expression so clearly conveyed that I was supposed to be keeping up better than this. "The animosity between yourself and the Gryffindors, Hermione Granger's legendary enthusiasm for classes, Neville's skills at Herbology, that sort of thing. Though I suppose it will be different this year than it has in the past, it is still something I wish to see."
"Luna." Somehow that word conveyed anger, reprimand, horror, and disbelief all at once. I looked up as a shadow fell across our desk, and of course, it was Granger. There was a brief flash across my mind of brown curls on the parlor floor, blood on the carpet before I sent a wall of fog rolling across the memory, and I was left staring up at her in challenge. I knew before she opened her mouth what this was.
Lovegood, however, seemed clueless. "Hello, Hermione," Her smile was so obliviously happy, her joy to see the other girl written across her face. "Draco and I were just discussing you."
We were?
"Draco?" Granger was vibrating like a teakettle about to whistle. Her eyes darted over to me so briefly I would have missed it had I blinked, then she was zeroed back in on Lovegood.
Lovegood blinked sleepily. "Why yes. It must be odd to be sharing classes with people who have always been a year below you. Though of course, you could probably teach the class, so you're accustomed to your classmates being a bit behind you." I raised an eyebrow at that.
Granger was still cutting her eyes to me, shifting on her feet. "Come on Luna," her inability to keep her voice neutral was really rather pathetic. Hadn't she been the one to get Potter and Weasly out of all the scrapes they'd gotten themselves into over the years? How she'd managed to do so when she wore her thoughts so plainly across her face was truly a mystery. "Let's go sit up front."
"What, you're afraid the big bad dark wizard might do something to hurt her?" I couldn't have kept the sneer out of my voice if I'd wanted to, which I didn't really. I leaned forward over the desk, steepling my fingers as I stared her down. She'd testified at my trial. Her testimony about that awful night had been significantly influential in the Wizengamot's decision to drop all charges against me. She'd apparently thought I was innocent then.
She balled her fists and crossed her arms, stiffening even more, which I hadn't thought possible. She looked ready to snap in half. "I may not have wanted you in Azkaban Malfoy," she bit out, "But that doesn't mean I want you anywhere near my friends. Especially Luna. If you have a decent bone anywhere in your body, you won't subject her to anything else." The threat in her eyes admittedly makes me uncomfortable. This is Hermione Granger, after all, and I've seen her skill with a wand firsthand. As much as I'm confident I could hold my own in a dual, I'd much rather not. But hell, I hadn't lured Lovegood over here or even been particularly welcoming. She had sat herself down and started blithering at me, and I was the villain? Apparently making assumptions based on the blood in someone's veins was only reprehensible if it was muggle blood, not Malfoy blood.
Before I could retort though, Lovegood was...sort of doing it for me. She leaned forward, reaching out and grabbing Granger's wrist. She pulled it towards herself until she was holding the other girl's arm an inch away from her eyes. There was apparently something very interesting about the veins on Granger's arm because Lovegood sat there staring at them for several seconds, while we both watched her, surprised. Finally, Lovegood looked up, her face a picture of placid concern. "Hermione," she hadn't let go of her wrist yet, "It might be wise to take a dip in the lake after class. You seem to have stumbled into a nest of cantankeries. The cold water should scare them off."
"What?" Granger looks bewildered, then her shoulders slump in resignation. She runs her hand through her hair, sending fuzzy strands in ten directions. "Luna," The condescension in her voice is impressive. She could give my father a run for his money. "You know cantankeries aren't actually-"
"But that aside," Lovegood gently interrupts her, "Draco isn't a dark wizard. He never was. You know that, or you wouldn't have testified at his trial."
"Yes, but-" Granger looked pained.
"And I sat down next to him. I don't think he's particularly comfortable with me being here, actually." She shrugs like she couldn't care less.
"Luna-" Granger tries again
"I think Professor Flitwick is preparing to begin the lesson, Hermione, you really should go find a seat." and the innocent smile she sends Granger is utter bullshit.
Granger huffs, looking over her shoulder at the microscopic professor, who did, in fact, look as if he was about to call the class to order. She whipped her head back around and leveled a glare at me. "This conversation isn't over." She was glaring at both of us now, and all I could think is that this was a bloody weird day. So I do the only thing I can think to do. I smirk at her.
"Can't wait, Granger," I lean back in my chair, the picture of ease. She huffs and storms away, sending one final worried look back over her shoulder at Lovegood.
Flitwick began the class, and Lovegood settled in next to me, preparing to take notes. She acted as if this was the most normal thing in the world. As if this was normal, and she hadn't just defended me to her angry friend. I wanted answers but knew she most likely wouldn't give them to me right now even if I did have the time to ask, so I allowed myself only to ask the most pressing question in my mind.
"Cantankeries?" I didn't turn my head to look at her, instead watching her out of the corner of my eye.
She didn't even react, just kept arranging her desk, eyes scanning the upside-down page in front of her. "They're small, invisible creatures that cling to a person's pulse points, putting them in a bad mood. they hate the cold though, so they're rather easy to rid oneself of." And she turned her focus on Flitwick. She didn't look at me for the rest of the lesson.
Let me know what you think! Reviews mean SO much! I really appreciate feedback, encouragement or criticism.
I borrowed my approach to Occlumency from Chasing The Sun by Loten. Her description of it is just so perfect, I had to borrow it. I was going to find something other than fog for Draco to use, but fog seemed so Draco that I just used it. If anyone has somehow not read that fic, you need to, it's incredible ;)
I'll do my best to update soon!
