Hey! Sorry was a little busy! I post few chapters to make up for being little behind!

September 1992

Her first day Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Luna Lovegood was sorted in Ravenclaw (and the hat deemed her blue, blue, blue, because like to like was the way of the world) .

On her second day someone called her Loony (and everyone agreed it was brilliant).

By her third day people started whispering when she passed them in the halls (and she suspected that they were infested with whispniks because everyone knew that the small, bulbous creatures caused such occurrences).

On the fourth day no one was available to be her partner in Potions (this held true for Charms the next day).

The sixth day marked the first Saturday of the term so she slept in and dreamed (of friendly faces, and company for dinner, of her mother with her warm, warm smile). When she woke up her trunk was empty.

The seventh day was busy (because nargles must have gotten into her things she was finding them everywhere the library, in the kitchens, in abandoned classrooms). But despite all her work her trunk remained half full.

Days passed. Then weeks.

The whispers became less quiet (and more loud).

It had rained many of the days she'd been at Hogwarts (almost a month, three and a half weeks, 23 days-) No one seemed to like rain (but it wasn't mean. It was constant and steady and bit by bit. It was-)

She'd heard some places hardly every got rain (she'd heard, her dad had said-)

Rain wasn't mean (but sometimes people were, sometimes-)

They told her she was different (and strange and crazy). They didn't like different (didn't, couldn't, wouldn't). And they didn't like (her).

Luna had always loved the rain (always). She loved how it was wet and bit by bit (and late into the night when she didn't want quiet). Luna loved the rain because it was steady (and there and heard).

There was never a Quibbler cover that didn't catch the eye (and her eyes were caught, held as she watched the most recent edition sink into a rather large puddle, but she wasn't going to cry because she wasn't going to. She didn't have a lot of pride, but she didn't want to cry in front of them, but they were already gone, so maybe-) She did not like crying. In the distance she could hear the laughter of the girls who had thrown it in there. She could feel the rain hit her as it fell drop by drop (cold and wet).

Different.

Before (when it was just Luna and her Dad) different had just been a word (that meant something to other people). Before different hadn't meant anything to her (hadn't, hadn't, hadn't).

But sometimes she wished she was a bit more the same (a little less different). Sometimes she wished (sometimes, sometimes, sometimes she wished that-)

Different, different, different.

To them (the Ravenclaws, the Slytherins, the Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs) different meant she was not like them. And so no one sat by her at meals (or during class or in the common room). And her quills (and books and shoes) kept disappearing. She figured she was attracting nargles somehow (someway). Nargles were well known for their kleptomaniac tendencies (she'd known since she was small). It was the only logical explanation (but the Silver whispered other ones, but it was wrong because-it was).

And so she continued to be different (and they continued to be the same because unlike from like was they way of the world).

She went on different, different, differently because she didn't mind being that way (much). Her dad always said the best she could be was herself (herself and she was different, and her dad wasn't often wrong so-).

But the rain it just kept falling (falling, falling, falling down).

(Because falling is what rain does.)

Drip.

"Is Loony going to cry?"

Drop.

"Ha! She doesn't have enough sense to cry."

The strange thing about cruelty was that it could happen anywhere (it could happen on the way back from Herbology, it could happen to her).

She heard them laugh and laugh (as they walk, walk, walked away).

But her eyes were closed (and all she could see was Silver).

The Silver didn't like it when the others were mean (she didn't either, but the Silver-)

The Silver wanted to hurt (and maim and kill, but she didn't, didn't, didn't want to do that, and it couldn't make her except maybe, maybe it could and-)

"Do you actually believe in those ridiculous creatures?"

Luna's attention snapped up to find a boy with bright blond hair standing on the other side of the puddle. She thought his name was Draco Malfoy (she knew no one liked him).

"Yes," she replied as calmly as she could. She wasn't really feeling up to defending her beliefs right then. (Sometimes, when the world was very quiet, she wished they could defend themselves.)

But contrary to her expectations he didn't laugh (or show his teeth) he just asked another question: "Why?" His grey eyes narrowed. (Why people do: the question of the world.)

"Because," and the word felt stiff and fragile (like glass on a window sill), "My father told me and I believe in him." Fathers were to be believed (forever and always, even if sometimes-).

She tenses her shoulders and her neck (and her fingers and her toes because she knows what most everyone thinks of her father).

But no, he doesn't start mocking her father. He doesn't say that nargles can't exist. (That her mother was crazy and would have killed herself one way or another so-). He doesn't say anything (not anything but-): "Oh."

She blinks once (and then again for good measure). "Oh?"

(And she wonders how he kept his hair so nice even though it was raining.)

Malfoy snorted. "My father always told me I was better than everyone else because of my blood and how much money we have." The blond boy shrugged. "I think that sometimes fathers can be wrong."

The words ring through her (and they cut and ache and hurt), but he's looking down at the Quibbler disintegrating in the puddle between them. She stiffens as he takes out his wand, but he just uses it to levitate the fallen paper to he hands. Quietly, he murmurs something and suddenly the Quibbler he's holding looks to have never fallen (or been near destroyed).

Draco Malfoy. He was in her house (but he wasn't). He never seemed to be at meals or in the common room (but he wore the blue and bronze tie, he wore the Ravenclaw crest, surely-) He was different too.

(The Silver told her so and it-).

But she'd only ever seen him from a distance (blond hair, pale face, in the distance). The other Ravenclaws didn't like him though (she could hear them say, and so did the Silver).

They said his parents were bad people who should be at Azkaban (because that was where bad people belonged). But they also said her dad was crazy (but he wasn't. They were just-they were just). They said a lot of things (said and told and laughed).

"You're not going to cry, are you?"

Luna's attention snapped up to reclusive blonde. "No," she told him (even though her eyes burned a little and her throat felt tight).

"Good," he murmured, but it seemed more to himself than her (he wasn't looking at her, he wasn't looking at anything).

"It's Luna, right?"

The shock of hearing her first name (she hadn't heard it since she'd been sorted) surprised her. It was like the sun breaking through clouds.

"You can't just let them do that to you," he said (and his voice is soft and angry and true). "It will come out." And his eyes were Silver (just like hers). The Silver it was burning (because it understood cruelty and wanted to- it wanted to).

And he was right (the Silver would come out, but she didn't know what else to do, they weren't logical and they didn't need a reason). "Then what should I do?" Perhaps if he told her (she could just listen and perhaps-)

He shrugs. "Hex them."

"No! I don't want to hurt them!" She didn't want to hurt them (she couldn't help it if they didn't feel the same way towards her).

"Well, that's just dandy, but we both know that it does."

And again, he spoke no lies (because the Silver did want to hurt them, it wanted to hurt).

But.

"I can't." She didn't understand being mean (and cruel and hurtful) and she did not want to.

And Draco sighed.

Luna did not understand cruelty.

But the Silver (it did, she could tell from how it burned brighter, colder, stronger).

"But only a bit," she whispered, "So it stays away."

His eyes widened (and she knew he knew).

And she wondered how it had become their secret (she'd never told him, she never told anyone). They'd never met before (but his face was familiar, like a dream, like a memory of before-).

She wondered (wondered, wondered, wondered), but she did not want to know.