His father had not exited his chambers for so long, Draco was sure he'd fermented beneath the dust and comforters of his bedroom. At least that's what it smelled like last time he visited Wiltshire.

With that House Elf gone, the entire place had gone to the dogs. Elves never left their Masters' sides, meaning Father had likely given her ownership over to Luna. And now that she had gone, the creature had no reason to stick around.

Draco tried to talk reason into him, but the point was moot. Lucius Malfoy wanted nothing to do with anyone, apparently convinced that he would never be needed again. No visit from Draco disproved this theory.

So when Astoria finally lay down her sword at the alter of 'dad and son bonding time like two grown-ass men' and decided to take Draco by the hand and intervene on his behalf, Draco let out a long sigh of relief. Astoria always knew what to say and what to do and coaxing his father out of a self-inflicted depression would be no exception.

"You're sure this will work?"

«Draco Lucius Malfoy-»

"Yes my love?"

Astoria rubbed her temples, exhaling long and deep, and knocked on the bedroom door. "Go on."

«Father? Astoria and I are here to see you,» Draco mumbled.

«Leave,» came the weary reply.

"Let me do the talking," Astoria said firmly and walked into the room, drawing open the curtains. "Good morning!"

Draco glanced at the heap of quilts and blankets that at present hissed and squirmed about the bed. Of course, his old father was no stranger to the theatrics of suffering, but this time...it felt different. It felt like the time when Mother had died and Draco had grown sick of seeing his ghastly figure floating around the corridors if the Manor, so much so that he had to leave the Manor and rent a room in Hogsmeade.

Lucius lay in bed, week-old greasy hair trailing on the pillow beside him that would have made even Severus Snape, the nasty bat of a Potions Professor roll around in his grave. Pop and Pippin the Nifflers lay at his feet, huddled in a sad little heap.

«Mr Malfoy, you haven't even touched your miniature boysenberry-jam tartlettes," Astoria began, settling herself on the comforter.

Lucius let out a disgruntled moan like a shattered horse laying in the feild with his master's gun towards his head.

Not buying into the theatrics, Astoria fetched her wand, tapping it against his forehead. "Healthy like an ox you are." She opened up her satchel and fetched out a package. "You'll never guess where we were," she said with a giggle. "That's right! Borgin and Burkes! Your favorite! And look...we got you a present." She waved the item in front of Lucius' nose. "A wittle, tiny, awtisan Woldemort wax candwle...just like the old times! To add to your ...collection...of odd little things!"

One weak glance at the candle of the noseless creep was enough to send Lucius back into a state of impossible listlessness. "Leave it...over... there..." he mumbled pointing to a growing pile of potions bottles and giftshop wands and woven replicas of Nagini the Snake.

"I know!" Astoria said, coming over to the old gramophone, "a little music to cheer you up! How about this?" She pulled out a record, "Farewell, John Lennon-Greatest Hits ...ah! Doesn't that sound nice!" She put the record it and started the player. "We'll make an day of it...light a candle, draw the blinds...the whole package!"

Lucius pulled the blankets over his head, stuffing corners of the pillow into his ears.

"Okay, no music." She clapped her hands together, her voice glitching, "Right! Let's get you rolled over and I'll charm you clean. Then maybe a walk outside. Get some fresh air! Draco?"

"No."

"Draco."

Draco, no longer sticking to the scenario, blurted out, "Father it can't go on like this."

"Draco!"

"What?"

Ignoring Astoria's massive side eye, Draco continued. "You look pathetic."

To this, his Father mumbled what sounded like "I am pathetic" from beneath the fabric.

"-Mr Malfoy, if I may." Astoria said, giving Draco a warning look. "You did the right thing letting her go. It was a brave thing indeed. Not many people would have made that choice."

She rubbed the hump of sheets and slowly it came to life, unravelling a pile of sweat and stench as Lucius' forehead popped out of the abyss. "Brave?"

"Yes," Astoria said, keeping a straight face. "And an act of self-love."

"I don't believe I am capable of anything so pure," Lucius mumbled.

"Oh don't say that," Astoria cooed. "You have your whole life ahead of you! So many places to travel to, wizards to meet, adventures to go on."

"Travel." came the weak reply. "The ton, the art, the fashion..."

"You love that!" Astoria reassured him. "We've been thinking." She pulled Draco over. "Draco and I want to help you take care of the Manor. We won't ask for anything at all in return. An act of kindness. We want you to do what you've always dreamed of doing. "

Lucius rolled over, lazily staring off into the distance. "I don't care for Europe."

"But that was your dream! Spain, Italy, Greece.."

"I'm not going."

"Then what was this whole thing for?" Draco yelled.

"Stop talking over me-"

"I said-"

"Draco-"

"No," Draco flashed his eyes at Astoria, an act that was sure to earn him a scolding after, but that would be after. To his surprise, her eyes lit up in what can only be described as a mixture of attraction and fear. "You will let me finish." He pulled the blankets off his father and pointed his finger at him, like a parent over a disobedient child. "Now you listen here. I've been coming here for days, all nice and caring, but it's gone too far. I'm SICK of your behaviour. What do you think is going to happen? "

Despite Lucius' protests, he waved his wand over the sheets and had them tuck in the bed by themselves. "Luna isn't coming back."

A zing of energy flittered through the room, the unspoken name finally coming to light. The moment he heard her name, Luna, his Father's eyes flashed with something hot and curious.

"You're acting like you've lost her. But you didn't...you let her go. It was entirely your choice."

"Ihadnochoice."

"Don't mumble."

"I had no choice," Lucius' voice rumbled deep within the pit of his stomach.

"If you loved her so much, you wouldn't have let her go."

Summoning over a set of fresh robes, Draco smacked them into his father's lap. "You don't let someone you love go that easily. So don't sit there and act like you made your decision at wand point."

Opening anouther drawer, he pulled out a fresh bar of soap and a hair comb, tossing them into the mix. "It's ridiculous really. This grovelling. You care about Looney Lovegood? There are millions of silly little girls like her who would accept your silly little offer."

Lucius brows furrowed. "Her name is Luna."

"So it's like that then." Draco laughed, short and sharp. "Luna. For a moment there, it sounded like the two of you were close."

"We weren't .. close."

"That's right," Draco said coolly, "Because if you were , you'd have known that she cares for her little beasts more than anything in the world." He glared at Pop and Pippin, at present huddling behind the pillows. "And the only reason she would leave those two behind was to put a foot in the door."

He laughed, "But of course that's just a testament of how little you care for her. If you had, you'd be at her house asking for her to come back and take on your offer. But you won't do that, because you'd rather grovel in self-pity than man up and do the right thing."

Lucius really got a fire in his arse that time around and slid to the front of the bed, sending Astoria back in a pile of old laundry. "The audacity with which you tell me to man up, like I haven't seen you in your soiled britches-"

"Then why don't you do it?" Draco cried, nearly standing on fours like a jungle cat, attempting to fight. "Go on then. Go to that ugly old house and tell old Xeno what you think about his precious little plum.'

'oh, you won't? Because you don't want to lose face and get turned away by that pathetic old crumpet. Sinking to his level. The Muggle Sympathizer. Or maybe, because you don't care for her enough to face the potential of her turning you down. Because deep inside, you know your entire treatment of her had been shoddy at best. You tricked Luna, you lied to her, you pretended to care for her beasts and her rags and her ideas and her dreams because you wanted a free housekeeper. But Luna isn't as stupid and naive as she looks and sooner or later, she was going to catch on to your schemes. You aren't as clever as you think you are. In fact, you got caught.'

'Well what can I say, Father dearest, you are a Malfoy through and through. The apple doesn't fall so far from the tree."

"Enough." Lucius bellowed. Suddenly upright, he paced about the room, sending even Astoria into a flush. "Yes I did trick her. But that doesn't mean I didn't ever care for her."

"So you do care?"

"Of course I do!" Lucius threw his hands into the air. "I do."

Draco surprised at how well his last minute plan worked, almost collapsed with joy. "Then prove it. Go and tell her."

"She would never accept me. Not after how I spoke to her."

"If you never try-"

"It isn't so simple."

"Is it?" Draco shrugged. "She did come all this way to the Manor to see you. Perhaps it's time for you to return the favor."

Lucius nodded, Draco could practically see the wheels turning in his head. And then Lucius smiled, really smiled. "I believe a shower is in order."

-x-x-x-

Even with the greatest compassionate honesty a father in rage could possess, Luna still sobbed a great deal upon having him lecture her, which Xenophilius hasn't done since she allowed her school housemates to steal and hide her belongings and did not tell any professors about the act. Even though she was not at fault, allowed herself to be guilted into thinking she mistreated 'that poor Longbottom boy-hasn't he enough problems on his own'. Because she loved her Papa and she didn't want to upset him.

So she appoligized to Neville for leaving him stuck with her uncontrollable beasties for days on end. And Neville, who in truth did not need any apologies , simply schooled his expression into one of forgiveness to appease to Xenophilius. He was asked to care for the beasts, which he would have done anyways because he liked creatues and he liked Luna. He had not asked to be tugged into family drama.

Though the endless lecturing on her father's behalf, the worst feeling of all was returning to her old bedroom. It wasn't that she disliked her home or her comfy bed, but after living in the dorms at school, then travelling, then staying at the Manor which would have become her new logding, returning to her childhood bedroom felt like one big step back. Luna slumped into her bed. This was her life now.

Mr Malfoy was right. The Manor had left her dissapointed. It was the best of places and simultaneously the worst. But the greatest disappointment of all, it turned out, was being rejected once again. She had opened her heart and trusted someone from her past, considered him her friend, believed he wanted the best for her. She thought she understood his intentions. Turns out, she didn't understand him at all. In spite of their budding friendship and understanding he sent her away and went back on his offer.

And Luna beleived that offer meant something concrete. Turns out her Papa was right - few wizards were so steadfast in their word.

She should have been, in Papa's words, brassed off at Mr Malfoy for being so flaky and spineless, but she wasn't.

In spite of it all, she found her mind returning to the memory of him more often than it ought to. Stuck all alone in that big, old Manor with no one to care for him. She hoped Twinkle would once again have resumed her loyalties to her previous master, but knowing Elves, decided that since the official transfer of ownership had not been reversed, Twinkle was not around to care for Mr Malfoy any longer.

And Luna knew how he hated hated being alone. She had left Pop and Pippin in his care, hoping the creatures would cheer him up until she could return and speak to him once more. But he didn't owl her any more letters nor come in contact with her since that final day. She was not sure if he wanted to see her again. She thought of perhaps taking Neville with her as backup when she returned the the Manor once more and collect the Nifflers...and to make sure Mr Malfoy was faring well. She was certain if she looked him in the eyes, the intial rush of embarassment would once more poke its ugly head out of the woodworks.

Papa had something to say of that as well. "This decision is for your own good."

Luna was certain he was just saying that because he was sorry she'd gotten her feelings hurt-a sign of his solidarity.

One more step into the outside world and this is what it had come to. Life was easier behind her quill at her writing desk.

Penpals were easy. You could think the best of someone without the chance of being proven wrong. You could orchestrate the most perfect responses to each other, put your best foot forwards, and always come out sparkling in the end.

Real people were not like penpals. Real people rough and messy. Real people had moods that could not be rewritten in a second draft. Real people left. Letters stayed forever.

But letters did not keep swimming up in her imagination when she was cooking dinner with Papa, or cleaning the Thestral pens or editing an article. Letters did not have lovely blond hair, and a wide smile and laugh that made her feel all bubbly and warm inside. Letters did not seem so real.

Luna vowed she would not look at Mr Malfoy's letters anymore since returning home. they would only bring up memories she did not want to have again. She was good for a week, but after a week, she began to stir and pace like a caged animal, her fingers itching to re-read those very words that had once drawn her to the Wiltshire Manor. She longed for that giddy feeling of finally having a place of her own.

One night, after dinner, she did go back up to her room. She drew in a breath as her fingers clutched the cold knob of the drawer. One peak, she'd only have one peak and that was all. It didn't mean she wanted to see Mr Malfoy again or hear his voice, if only as a figment of imagination in her head.

Then with a swift motion, before she could change her mind, pulled out the stack of letters. Hungry, wanting, she flipped through them, remembering the contents of each one. Here, they had first talked about Mr Malfoy's plans of travelling more and Luna had encouraged him to go off to see Europe and the Americas. In this one, Luna had confessed that she had in fact helped Neville with finding the specific plant needed to breath underwater during the Triwizard Tournament, but allowed Neville to take the bulk of the credit. She had just felt it was good to let Neville shine, even at her expense. And here, she had confessed that she had not enjoyed her first kiss, not at all, and she had wished she and Neville had never done it because it made her feel like she was cheating him out of a special moment. And in this one, Mr Malfoy confessed that he had missed the way his relationship was with his wife when they were younger, and that he wished they could have stayed that way forever and never have inherited the Manor, gone on with serving the Dark Lord or enrolling Draco into Hogwarts.

It seemed an awful private thing to tell a stranger through a letter, Luna thought at the time, but she was secretly extremely honored Mr Malfoy had chosen to impart such private information to her because it meant that he trusted her enough. And she wanted someone to trust her that much.

Sometime in the middle of looking over the letters, Luna had a humbling realization. It had then occured to her that her want for someone's attention and trust had in fact made her act the naive little girl her father thought her to be. And it had always made her act a bit foolish.

When she had wanted to earn Neville's friendship so badly, she allowed him to take the credit for the Gillyweed discovery. And when she had allowed her peers to hide her clothes around the school and didn't want Harry to see her upset so made up a story about the Hinkypuffs stealing them. Or even when she had overlooked the very obvious fact that Mr Malfoy was not comfortable in her presence.

Because deep down, she knew he wasn't. But she wanted so hard to believe that he could change. That he could care for the House Elves, and redocorate the dark parts of the Manor, and make a whole party out of her whole menagerie. That she could live in his home while he travelled the world. She should have known darn well that Mr Malfoy was not going anywhere, he was just bored and needed a pleasant distraction-and that naive little distraction happened to be her. And she played her part well.

Her entire body tensed, her fingers clutching at the letters with a rage she wasn't sure she understood. The signs had all been there. Draco pointed them out, Ponoamicus and the other sellers at Little Wilt, her father, and Mrs Narcissa Malfoy, the mistress of the Manor herself. Nobody understood why she held out a candle for the man who had no intention of caring for her.

Mr Malfoy did not care for her. He never had, not really. That's why he shut her out of the Manor at a drop of the hat. It was time she believed that truth herself.

She wouldn't read those letters anymore. Those letters were written by a Luna who was kind and sweet and naive; the kind of girl who could be used by others. Well the old Luna was gone. And all the better.

Scrunching up the letters, she marched over to her fireplace. She brought out the wand and cast a burning hot flame among the logs, and then, all at once, tossed the letters inside. As the smoke rose through the chimney and the flames licked up the inked words, Luna wiped her eyes and allowed herself to really greive.

Her mother would have understood. She would not judge her for being so callous with Mr Malfoy's hard written letters. She might have even congratulated her for doing something for herself. She wrapped a nearby throw around her shoulders and imagined her mother hugging her very tightelly and telling her how proud she was of her. How strong she was.

And when the last of the letters had finished burning, she went downstairs and told her Papa very proudly, "Remember that trip to Mexico we were planning? To photograph the Llorona?"

And her Papa said, "of course, but it is so very far away."

"Well, I think I'd like to go there. And as soon as possible."