- Draco -
It is scandalous, the dress that Luna is wearing - an a-line dress with a strapless bodice with bishops sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. Embroidered tulle, vines of roses float around Luna's tiny body.
He pulls her closer. His arm is around her waist, holding her perhaps too close to be proper, but Draco doesn't care. Luna looks magnificent, and her scandalous dress is turning Draco's wedding into a scandalous affair. Those who thought they were too good to accept an invitation to a Malfoy wedding will regret their life choices.
It's a beautiful, white, one must admit, wedding dress that Luna is wearing. A typical wedding dress, with regular diamond earrings and a dazzling diamond necklace in the shape of an elaborately cursive G.
He smiles and looks deep into Luna's blue eyes and imagines just for one step, two steps, three steps… that she's the bride.
But His wife tires easily and has decided she'll dance a few dances only and only with him. Draco must dance, though, she had said, and Draco is grateful because he loves dancing.
Luna grins broadly, and his stomach drops.
Draco glances over at Astoria to see if she can tell of his momentary lapse of imagination. When not swung around the floor by Draco, Astoria entertains their guests with endless excellent small talk and gently rejects hopeful dancers.
But Astoria is not busy dodging requests for her hand. No, she's staring at , that's not right. Her would-be partners are jabbering on, ignored, while Astoria stares at Luna with open-mouthed wonder.
"I think my wife likes your dress," Draco mumbles to Luna, thinking he does too. Thanking Americans and their penchant for terminology for that sweetheart neckline. Thanking the alphabet for the G that lets his eyes rest there.
"Of course she does; she picked it," Luna laughs, and something goes terribly wrong because Draco finds himself nose-first on the beautiful ballroom floor. Such a beautiful wooden floor. He had it refinished for the wedding, and now his nose hurts, and there's a taste of copper in his mouth, and sudden flashbacks to the war and the room is dark, and he has to stop himself from throwing up.
Luna is here, a hand on his shoulder. She says nonsensical words about love and forgiveness. "The war is over, Draco Malfoy. We all did terrible things."
And Astoria is here, touching his other shoulder, saying, "Oh Draco," and "Oh Luna, darling, are you all right? Did you get hurt too?"
"Draco," she says rather quietly, "I thought you had better manners! Stepping on a lady's dress? Making a scene? How could you?" But his wife is smiling at him. Tender eyes flit from him to Luna, then back.
And it's true. It's a scene. Everyone is staring at them, and the music has stopped. A flash and the snap of a lightbulb and Draco Malfoy sitting on the floor with Luna Lovegood and Astoria Malfoy in their identical wedding dresses standing over him will be on the front page of every publication that can afford the photograph.
And he can't help but throw his head back and laugh as he waves at the orchestra to please continue playing. What will they make of Luna wearing the Greengrass family's crest? The orchestra begins another waltz, something ancient, he thinks, something proper. Astoria magics away the blood from his face and shirt, and Luna giggles when she episkeys his nose.