Chapter 8: Fireflies

It was so dark that Draco could barely see as he wove and ducked through the hanging limbs and trailing leaves of the surrounding trees. He didn't light his wand however, for it would most certainly give him away. Luna walked a few dozen yards in front of him, her pale skin glowing white in the shadows, making her easy to follow. There was no moon, and few stars were visible, the patchy cloud cover that had lingered for so long drifted across the sky.

Luna glided, ghost-like through the shadows, humming a quiet tune and carelessly picking her way through the tangles of thorns. She had wandered aimlessly like this for the past ten minutes, and Draco had wondered if she had any destination at all.

Another few minutes and she stopped, and Draco slid into the darkness. She gazed around, her wide eyes taking in every detail. She dropped to the ground and wrapped her arms around her knees, humming. Draco stepped forward, and a twig snapped under his foot. Luna's head snapped up and she looked around, hurriedly standing. Draco tried to remain still, but his hastily stifled curse had not gone unnoticed.

Her eyes widened when she recognized him. His face flushed with a mixture of shame and humiliation.

"You followed me?"

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but Draco flinched as if she had shouted. He bowed his head in shame, refusing to meet her gaze, not wanting to see anger there. He heard the crackling of leaves and frost underfoot that meant she was moving closer to him. He raised his head, unwilling to look at her but doing so anyways.

It was worse that hate. It was worse than anger. She was looking at him withpity.

"Draco, I know how hard it is for you to trust me, but we escaped together, we are fighting Voldemort together. We're friends."

Pity.

"Friends?" he whispered.

The word felt unfamiliar on his tongue, for he had never used it before concerning a person in relation to himself. Crabbe and Goyle had been mere muscle, not real friendship, and Pansy's unfathomable attraction to him had been irksome.

"How can we be friends if I can't trust you? You sneak away at night, doing who knows what at god knows where!" His voice was rising, and echoing in the stillness of the night. All the pent up frustration and horrible doubts and fear that he had been feeling ever since the first time she had left was streaming out of him like a tsunami.

He thought he saw tears in her eyes, but he couldn't be sure. He felt his heart lurch, he could not bear to see her in pain. He realized this without conscious thought. She reached for his hand, but he flinched away. She withdrew slightly, then took hold of it. Her skin was warm and smooth, and Draco felt his anger drain out of him replaced by regret.

She guided him toward the trees, and now they were thrown in total darkness. She pulled her wand out, and she waved it a few times, shooting out tiny jets of multicolored sparks. Tiny fireworks. She directed the sparks at a stunted tree overrun with nettles and moss.

At once, dozens of tiny little glowing creatures emerged from the apparently hollow tree, swarming into the night sky, circling them, weaving in and out of the branches and swirling between them. They lingered for a moment, and then spread through the trees.

Luna turned to face him, and Draco saw her slight smile, drawing strength from it. One of the glowing things landed on Draco's hand, and he examined the tiny bug. It was a firefly. It took flight quickly, disappearing quickly like its fellows.

"Blibbering Humdingers." She said.

Draco almost laughed.

"Luna," he said,

"They're fireflies."

Her smile widened.

"No, those are definitely Blibbering Humdingers. They have tiny little purple spots on their wings that you can only see with Spectre Specs."

Draco shook his head deciding it was best not to argue with her.

Now things were quiet, peaceful. They had talked a little about going to Luna's father's house, but somehow, they had never left. Draco had been reluctant to leave this quiet clearing by the lake. It had been a kind of home. But the snow was getting thicker and heavier, and the thin tents conjured by Draco did not help much against the cold. So they had decided to move, and Apparate outside the Lovegood's house and hope that the Death Eaters hadn't been there.

It was a chilly morning with weak sunlight filtering through the empty branches when Luna took hold of Draco's arm, and they cast a last glance around their sanctuary, which had felt more like home to him than Malfoy Manor ever had. Luna smiled fondly as they passed by the little blue flowers she had grown with the stolen wand. The lake had frozen over and the snow was a foot deep. It was time to leave.

Luna took tightened her grip on his arm, and they turned into the crushing darkness together. Draco's lungs filled with the cold clean air of moor, and the first thing his eyes found was the silhouette of a cylindrical building. Luna smiled in the building's direction, and started forward. Draco followed, eager to be out of the cold.

It was only when they reached the gate that Draco knew something was wrong. There was a gaping hole in it, and he pointed it out to Luna, whose face had turned as white as the surrounding snow. Draco transformed into the wolf, and Luna into the barn owl. They skulked amongst the bushes and low-hanging limbs of the surrounding gnarled trees.

Draco tread carefully on the crunchy frost below him, trying not to make a sound. Practically invisible against the snow, he stalked closer, keeping low to the ground. Loud bangs were issuing from the cylindrical building, and he thought he saw a flash of light from an upper-window. His keen ears then picked up on a strange noise, that sounded like something speeding toward them—

He flattened himself into the ground, fear coursing through his veins like ice, the sharp feeling pricking his heart and freezing his limbs. Luna seemed to sense his distress and pressed her feathery body closer to him. He leaned into her, and he felt himself thaw slightly. Two figures on brooms had landed near the door, two figures Draco recognized as if from an old nightmare. They were arguing, but even Draco's keen hearing couldn't pick up the words.

Just then, a flash of red light flared out the window, and Draco felt a sensation of being thrown backward, of knowing nothing and feeling everything, of hearing only the sound of destruction and the long piercing cry of a bird in pain.