Ilvermorny Year 3
Theme - Write about something with a hidden meaning.
Mandatory prompt - [word] Dirt
Aditional prompt - [dialogue] "This is why you don't have any friends."
Word Count - 2116
Author's Note -
I used the definition of dirt as found on this link - dirt | Etymology, origin and meaning of dirt by etymonline
I've chosen to explore the theme of hidden meanings through Luna Lovegood's character. In canon, she regularly misses sarcasm and teasing from her peers. This story explores how she misses the intended meanings in conversation, namely sarcasm.
More Than Dirt
Draco picked a blueberry from his breakfast muffin and sighed. The kitchen was rife with house-elves clattering and chattering as they cooked and cleaned. It was a lot, being asked constantly if sir would like anything else, as they jumped from job to job in practised chaos. It was like clockwork—the hiss of the steel knives as they prepared ingredients, then the offer of more coffee, the clattering of wooden spoons against piping copper pans, and then the offer of more food options since sir hasn't eaten much today. After several weeks of eating three meals a day there, he was used to it.
He sipped his coffee without tasting it and fought off a shudder at the alternative of eating with the others in the Great Hall. Being in there with everyone else was akin to torture, and as much as Draco loathed himself, he hadn't quite reached that level of masochism yet.
It wasn't as if the kitchens were less noisy or less busy, but the Great Hall had become a surreal hellish paradox he couldn't face. The students laughed and argued as they ate, the sheer volume filling every space from the stone floor to the enchanted ceiling. Quite often, Draco felt like he was drowning in it.
There were sporadic bubbles of shellshocked silence, where traumatised students would clump together. They would glare their food into submission until he arrived and then unleash their hate upon him. Not that he could blame them.
He sighed once more, shoved himself away from the kitchen counter, and dragged himself towards the library.
The castle was the same as it always was. In a few short months, it seemed as if the battle had never happened. The entrance hall was pristine once again, as were the staircases. Gone were the scorch marks that had littered the stone slabs, as were the piles of rubble from whole sections of the upper floors being blown apart. He remembered when the giants had pulled part of the front wall away as if it were made of paper. As he walked up the main staircase, he could still see the tangle of injured students mixed with fallen Death Eaters, the stench of blood and magic thick in the air. He had to force himself to walk up the stairs normally and not tiptoe around the memories. He felt bruised inside as if his skin was too small, yet the world kept turning.
Finally, he pushed the heavy doors to the library open and made his way over to the usual corner by the windows his assigned study group favoured. Draco, Melin help him, was in a group with Zacharias Smith, Terry Boot, Ginny Weasley, Lavender Brown, and Luna Lovegood. As he drew closer, he could see he was the last one to arrive. Perfect. Draco adjusted his bag and turned towards the large table, his skin itching in discomfort as he kept his blank mask firmly in place.
"Finally decided to show your face, Malfoy."
Ignoring the sniggers accompanying Smith's taunt, Draco slumped into the last free chair and pulled his books, ink, and quill from his bag.
"Well, now that Malfoy's finally here, what's say we go over the feedback for the homework and then decide who's doing what for the project?"
The Weaselette barely looked his way as she spoke, not that he could blame her. He placed his homework on the table for the others, grateful that he'd managed to score an E. At least his marks were something to be proud of, unlike anything else in his life.
"Here's mine," said Brown, her scarred face still pretty despite the frown she was sporting, "although Flitwick was clearly on a power trip. Idiot gave me a P."
"Well, it doesn't look like you made a very good case for your argument for Obliviate being classed as a charm as opposed to a curse," mused Luna, giving the offending essay a glance over. "You don't seem to have researched it very well, and you're missing critical research points. You don't even mention that some mild cases of Obliviation are actually Wrackspurt infestations and not spellwork."
"Gee, thanks, Loony," said Brown, one eyebrow raised in contempt. "Now, thanks to your invaluable insight, I will finally be able to sleep at night."
"Oh," Luna beamed, "you're very welcome, Lavender. I'm just glad I could help."
Draco glared at the group as they ducked their heads to hide their grins. Luna could be odd, but they didn't need to be horrible about it. In all honesty, he was surprised at the Weasellete. He had thought they were friends.
Half an hour later, they'd gone over the homework and divided the project between them.
"Hey Malfoy," Boot twiddled his eagle quill between his forefinger and thumb as he drawled at Draco."You can start those notes on charm legislation any time now. It's not like you have your lackeys to do it for you this time around."
Draco mentally counted to ten and as he tugged a large dusty volume towards him from the pile in the middle of the table and loaded his quill with ink. He'd just pressed the nub to his parchment when the group conversation caught his attention. He paused, unaware of the ink splodge that was now forming under his quil, and listened carefully. If they were talking about the project then he needed to know what they were saying.
"Who cares about all this classification crap anyway?" Smith's nasal whinge bordered on painful. Draco winced. "A spell's a spell. A charm, curse, it makes no difference, does it?"
"Nah, they're different. They have to be," replied Lavender absently. "Otherwise, they wouldn't bother with the different classifications."
"I think you'll find there is a difference," interrupted Luna. "Do you remember in our third year when we were taught the lesson on wand movement and power of thought? It was in our second week, I think."
"Oh yes, that particular lesson has been forever fixed with my brain. In fact, I'd go as far to say I dream of it nightly."
Draco let his quill clatter to the tabletop and tried to breathe his anger away. Why was he being such an arse to Luna? She was only trying to help.
"Remember, Professor Flitwick said that Charms are more focused on wandwork and intention than other subjects, much like Transfiguration is more about wandwork and magical core strength."
"Honestly, Loony, why don't you just shut up?" Brown's smile was tight and her eyes cold, giving her a dangerous edge. "No one asked you to butt in, and frankly, no one cares."
"Lavender," chastised the Weasellete, finally speaking up. "You're being a bit harsh. Luna's—"
"A weirdo, Ginny. Don't try and say she isn't."
"She's not, she just doesn't get things sometimes."
"How about all the bloody time? I feel like I need to wave a sarcasm flag every time it's used."
"You have a sarcasm flag?" Luna asked. "What does it look like? Can I see it?"
"See?" demanded Brown, waving her hand in Luna's general direction in frustration. "She's mental. I've no idea why she's not a permanent resident over at Janus Thickey."
"Will you just give it a rest?" It wasn't until the entire group turned to look at him that he realised he'd spoken out loud. The Weaslette was staring blankly at her notes as if nothing was happening, but the others' expressions ranged from amusement to annoyance.
"Hold on, everyone," Smith's voice seemed extra loud in the stunned silence. "It seems Malfoy has something to say, perhaps about the project? Or maybe he's finally thought of getting the stick out of his poncy backside."
"Yeah, Malfoy," agreed Boot, "what spell would someone use to remove objects from one's butt?"
"Well, I would have initially suggested Accio, but that might cause a rectal injury," answered Luna seriously, her intelligent eyes round with thought. "Perhaps a vanishing spell would be best?"
"Oh, for the love of the Founders; she's bloody relentless."
"Leave her alone, will you?" Draco's stomach dropped at the incredulity on Brown's face coupled with Boot's muffled gasp, but if anyone deserved kindness in the world, it would be Luna. "If everyone in the world was the same, it would be too boring to get out of bed every day. Can we just agree to keep our opinions to ourselves and get on with the work?"
He clenched his fists on top of his notes as the group, except for Luna, glared at him with varying degrees of venom. Finally, Smith pushed himself out of his chair and braced his hands on the tabletop.
"Like you're one to talk about celebrating differences in the world. You were practically the poster boy for exterminating all the…what did you call them again? Oh yes, Mudbloods."
He paused to send a sly smile at Boot, who returned the sentiment.
"Agreed," said Boot. Merlin, Draco had never realised how smarmy the git sounded before. "Hark how the mighty have fallen, eh? This is why you don't have any friends. You're nothing but dirt."
"I think it's clear the only one around here who's mud is you, Malfoy." continued Smith. "You're lower than the dirt on my shoe. Why you haven't already off'd yourself is beyond me."
"Zach, that's enough."
Draco glanced at the Weaselette at her unlikely defence and the look of pity on her face physically hurt. A Flobberworm would be more respected and liked than he could ever hope to be.
He remained still, his fists becoming sticky with sweat as he fought to keep his mask in place. He willed his breathing to remain as even as possible, counting to five on the inhale and seven on the exhale, but his eyes began to burn regardless. There was no way he would cry in front of these people. Quickly, quietly, he scooped his things into his bag and walked away, resolutely ignoring the taunts and jeers being called at his back.
"Draco?" Luna stepped into the barren room and sat next to him, her arms folded on her knees. He kept staring ahead as she settled herself, watching the dust float in a shaft of dull light from the small window.
"Are you alright?"
"Of course," he said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I always sit on the freezing floor in an abandoned classroom crying when I'm fine."
"Okay then," she replied, a gentle smile lighting up her face.
"Sorry, Luna, I was being sarcastic." He sighed. "I'm aware I'm not okay, and I'm also aware that I'm being a little dramatic."
"Ah, I never did get the hang of sarcasm." She scooted slightly closer to him and nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "I don't see the point in it. Is it not better to just say what you mean? It saves time that you can use for other things, like hunting blibbering humdingers."
Draco looked at her and smiled for the first time in years. Strange though she may be, Luna truly was one of a kind.
"They seemed upset with you, didn't they? The others in the study group, I mean."
"I know." He ran his hands through his hair and leaned his head back against the wall. "I don't know what to do. I suppose I could always apologise—"
Luna burst into melodic giggles that cause Draco to smile once again.
"What's so funny?"
"Wasn't that sarcasm?"
"No," he said with a quick laugh before sobering once again. "There wouldn't be any point anyway. They would just think I was up to something."
"Why would they think that?"
"Because I'm dirt, that's why."
"Dirt?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion. "No, you're not. You're far more sentient than dirt. Or are you referring to the Muggle idea that God made man from dirt?"
He managed to resist rolling his eyes through sheer force of will.
"No, Luna. I mean, I'm useless. Tainted. You can't blame them for treating me the way I treated them all those years."
There was a moment of silence, and Draco went stiff with tension as Luna closed the last inch of space between them both, her robes rustling against his as their sides settled against each other. He hadn't realised how cold he'd gotten until he felt Luna's body heat begin to seep through his robes as if they were suddenly sitting in a small patch of sun.
"I don't see you like dirt, you know." Her voice was low but clear, chasing away Draco's melancholy effortlessly. "Even if you were, dirt isn't as worthless as you think. There's goodness within it. Lifegiving. Plants can't survive without it."
She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he felt himself relax as the tension began to bleed from his body.
"Do you know what, Luna? You're something special."
He leaned his cheek against Luna's hair, the light citrus of her perfume wrapping comfortably around him. He closed his eyes and sighed, grateful he had one friend and feeling for once that perhaps he was worth something after all.