Chapter Four

Draco knew what this was. He was older now, not by much, but in just a year's time he would go be off to Hogwarts, and he knew what funerals were. He knew the house and the name and the pond, but most importantly he knew the girl.

His father tugged on his arm which hurt the bruises that sat beneath his coat. His father and mother and he wondered around the room, giving condolences. His father was there because a pure blood had died; his mother was there because his father was here. Draco was there to be the perfect son, but he just couldn't seem to live up to the expectation.

Draco saw a pond outside the through the atomic tangerine tinted window, he also saw a shadow of blonde hair and a shaking shoulder.

He snuck from his father's view and crawled under the table, near the kitchen, and finally stood again at third door strangely placed in the middle of a window, tinted a blue called "tardis", whatever that meant.

Draco became very good with colors after meeting Luna, he liked many things in life, but was fascinated with few; some things didn't deserve as much time as others, simple as that. He was captivated by magic, even with his limited ability and knowledge, he adored Quidditch though he never played in his life, he was captivated by the stories in muggle books that his mother would sneak to him, and he was obsessed with color, though he never dressed colorfully himself. He wanted to know every color there was and what it meant and why and how he could use it. One magical color was called Dying Rose; not found anywhere besides rocks inside of the Theta Dragon Mountain, and if replicated perfectly (very tricky), or mined (which was much too destructive), caused lovers hearts to break upon contact. Another magical color was called Coat of Castiel, it was found in the blood of the Ligierio fish and when turned into a pastille cream treat and ingested caused unusual markings to appear on the skin, which would vanish in a year or so, sometimes they would return, but more often than not, they would simply die and be forgotten.

The point is he knew colors, and he blamed Luna; the girl who inspired greatness in him.

There he was, about to sneak out to see a girl whose mother had just died. He turned back to check if anyone was looking, and in the sea of black, he found his mother's eyes. His expression was poppy cocked and frightened, but she just gave him the slightest of smiles and turned her head back to the conversation and Draco knew he was loved. Just like Luna had been loved.

He slipped through the door and was met by a gust of wind and a biting chill. The familiar silhouette was still leaning against the large willow tree next to the mossy pond. Draco trotted over to the pond while sticking his bare hands in his coat pockets.

The wind swept up her long hair in all sorts of directions making her face nothing but a blonde fog, he bet he looked rather ridiculous too, his flop of blonde hair moving side to side like a cockatoo's feather.

He was going to say something; something that would be smart and make her feel better, nothing funny, just comforting and unique, because he'd bet she was sad and had enough sympathy to be sick and he wanted to be original for her.

She pulled her hair with her small hands to turn and look at him properly, he was shocked by her muted expression, she still had a wanderlust and curious look in her eye, but it the exuberance was gone and replaced by a wave of reservation and calculated cleverness. All the smart words fell from his head and he stuttered.

"I-I'm s-sorry for your loss," was all he could manage before turning his eyes to the ground to find her bare, grass-green stained feet, and puckered-cucumber painted toes.

"Me too. Draco?" her voice was further away than it had been the last time they spoke, it was like she was lost. Who wouldn't be lost, who wouldn't be joyless, and who wouldn't be curling inward?

He finally looked up to her and was afraid of the next words.

"Did you develop a stutter since the last time we spoke?" She tilted her head in bit to the side as she awaited an answer.

"No," he cleared his throat, puffed his chest out a bit, and spoke in a stronger voice the second time around, "No, I haven't. Luna. I wish-"

"If wishes were horses, then… actually, you know what? I don't know what would happen if wishes were horses," she looked deep into this young boys eyes as if looking for an answer, then turned her head towards the sun, in that way she always does, "though I doubt it would bring my mother back to life," Draco turned his stare away again, feeling ashamed of himself and not understanding why.

Suddenly she grabbed his hand and started dragging him away into the woods a few meters away from the pond. Draco looked back at the house and gave it a wary look, Luna noticed, she always the one to notice.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," there was no malice or sarcasm in her voice, a child's voice; sweet and young, but underneath that there was something touched by darkness, something that came with age.

"I'm not afraid," and he wasn't as he followed her head fast into the trees and over grown weeds and mushrooms, hand in hand.

They walked a short distance till they got to Luna's desired destination.

It was a circle of flat grass, the grass a shade deeper here, and thicker, and more watered. In the grass were small flowers or weeds, Draco couldn't tell, but the popped up, rebelliously, through the grass. The clouded sky spread a slight bit more light on this ground than it did the rest of the tall woods around them. Luna let go of Draco's hand and slipped to her knees a few paces away from him.

Her hands buried in the thick grass, playing with the small flowers. Draco didn't know what to do, he thought he should say something clever, maybe cheer her up, but sometimes Draco just wanted to be sad. Like when he returned to his room with his father's bruises, he wanted to be left alone to feel. So he said nothing and stood a few paces away. He was in company, yet completely alone, so was she, he figured.

"I've changed," Luna said while still looking down, now apparently trying to catch a tiny creature that Draco couldn't see.

"I know, but not that much, and not for worse, or better. I still think great, and I'm sorry," He didn't know why he was sorry, he just was.

"So you'll be my friend then?"

"Of course I will. I'll be your friend," he was young, but he knew today wasn't for smiling, but he just couldn't help himself.

It was better than any words he could have stuttered, so she smiled back, small and curious and absolutely Luna, this new Luna, his friend; Luna.

She stood up and kissed him on the cheek and his face burned pink, like an Arabian Sunrise Pink, he guessed by how the warmth spread across his face from the epicenter that was her lips that were dry from the cold and soft from childhood. She backed away, much less shocked than he, and turned to walk back. It took Draco a few seconds to walk again, but when he did, he followed her; and, he guessed, he never really stopped.