Draco was beyond appalled.
For some unfathomable reason, his father had accepted an invitation to visit Mr. Lovegood, editor of the batshit Quibbler, and his daughter for lunch… and he was dragging Draco along.
Draco could not understand why his father had decided to commit social suicide on a lark, but Draco desperately wished that he'd been left out of it.
Pansy had been forced to play with 'Looney Lovegood' before, and she'd come back with horror stories. The girl was absolutely certifiable.
His father had made him promise to play nice, though, so Draco had resigned himself to nodding along to the insanity and hopefully gathering some funny stories to share with Harry later.
Merlin, this would be so much more bearable if Harry were here.
"Lucius!" Mr. Lovegood said jovially, ushering Draco and his father inside. "Welcome, welcome. And my, Draco, look how much you've grown! You remember my Luna, don't you?"
"Not really, Sir," Draco replied with a shallow bow, unaware that he'd ever met the little blonde girl with large watery eyes before in his life. Maybe Mr. Lovegood had imagined it, along with the crumple-horned whatever-they-were that he liked to write about.
"It's nice to meet you, Draco," Luna said dreamily. "We have some snapdragons in our garden, if you'd like to see them."
Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, yes, his name meant 'dragon'. Well spotted. Still, outside sounded better than this stuffy, structurally questionable excuse for a house so he nodded. "That sounds lovely, Luna. Thanks."
Luna grabbed his hand and ushered him outside.
The garden really was lovely, he supposed, but there wasn't much to do.
He tried to be an attentive guest and gentleman, but Luna kept going off on tangents that Draco did not understand and could not follow.
Her assertions that he had an infestation of nargles nesting within his immaculate hair was the final straw.
He let Luna talk and allowed his mind to wander.
Stand firmly on the heel of the board. With confidence, lean forward and stomp down on the front end of it. Lean into the momentum. No fear.
Even in Draco's imagination, he flinched. He hesitated. He leaned back.
Why did he have to be such a coward?
"Don't you think so, Draco?" Luna asked, her big eyes so earnest and beguiling that Draco felt guilty for tuning her out.
"I'm sorry, Luna. I got distracted. What were you saying?"
Luna picked a snap-dragon and handed it to him. "Just that the nargles seem to be driving you to distraction. What were you thinking about?"
Draco plonked himself down on a patch of grass. "Skateboarding. It's a muggle sport, and I'm rubbish at it."
"It must be very complicated, then," Luna said, gathering her skirts to delicately sit down next to him.
Draco shook his head. "Not really. It relies on instincts, and I haven't got any."
"Here," Luna said, picking a small bouquet of colorful flowers. "These will keep the nargles away. You don't lack instincts, they're just in hiding right now. For their protection."
"Thanks," Draco said slowly, then took a closer look at the flowers he'd been gifted. "Wait, these are potion ingredients. This one relieves stress. This one improves focus. This one's poisonous unless… yes, unless you combine it with this! That nullifies the poison and stimulates blood circulation to the brain. Luna, are you a herbologist?"
Luna laughed. "Oh, no. My mother was a potioneer, and she used to show me how she worked, but I honestly don't remember much of it. My father has taught me to be intuitive, instead. I have instincts too, you see, but they needed to be trained, to be coaxed out of hiding. They're very handy things, instincts. You should keep yours safe. You'll need them."
"Your instincts tell you that?" Draco asked, his lips quirking into a fond smile.
Pansy was off her rocker; Luna wasn't crazy at all. Not in the ways that mattered.
She just saw the world a little differently, that was all, and Draco had come to appreciate the value of grappling with a different perspective.
Harry had taught him that.
Luna just smiled at him and shrugged.
"My friend and I are going to be potioneers, you know," Draco said. "You should hang out with us, once school starts. You'll be a first-year, right?"
"I will," Luna confirmed. "My father has been worried about me. He thinks people will find me too odd, I think. He's been worried that I'll be a Slytherin; is hoping that I'll sort Ravenclaw, instead. He thinks it'll be safer there, but I'm not so sure."
"Your instincts tell you you're a snake?" Draco asked.
"Oh, I think I could wear and shed many different skins, if given the choice," Luna replied airily, "and that fear is a poor reason to make a hasty decision. Things can be dangerous and beautiful and delicate all at the same time, after all. It's all in how you handle them. Like flowers."
"Well, for the record, my friend and I are both Slytherins, and we wouldn't let anything bad happen to you. I think Harry will be fascinated by your instincts, and I know he'll want to know about your mother's work in potions."
"He's lost his mother too, hasn't he?" Luna asked, not giving a single indication as to whether she knew they were talking about famous orphan Harry Potter or not.
"He has. I know he likes it when people talk with him about her. It helps to keep her memory alive."
"That's a lovely notion, Draco. I'm very glad to have met you, today."
"Me too, Luna. No matter which house you get sorted into."