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Chapter 1 : Honestly Speaking
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Discliamer: I'm not J.K. Rowling, nor do I pretend to be (at least, outside of my mind) so as much as hate to admit it, I own nothing of the Potter-universe. Sadly.
Draco, despite telling himself that he had, had never really forgotten about their strange yet eventful encounter last year. In fact, if Draco were being completely honest with himself, he might have admitted to even treasuring the memory over everything else. But quite honestly, Draco Malfoy was never honest. At least, about things that really mattered.
The encounter itself had occurred in Draco’s fifth year—what he considered his final year of ignorance before he had been branded with the Dark Mark and all of the misery it entitled. Dolores Umbridge had been the High Inquisitor that year and had somehow wormed her way to the position of Headmistress after finally disposing of Dumbledore.
Draco, a month or two into the first term, had been unsurprisingly appointed to a position on the Inquisitorial Staff, and that that itself was enough to make Draco a little antsy. After weeks of little-to-no progress on the Potter front, that anxiousness blossomed into something of an obsession, and that was not exactly something Draco had appreciated at all; especially not if it was over someone such as Harry Potter.
It’s like they always know when I’m around, he mused irately to himself, walking aimlessly down the corridors of Hogwarts to blow off some steam. It seemed as though every time he was even near one of the DA members, they (meaning Potter and his friends) would somehow find a way to run off and disappear from right under Draco’s nose. It was highly frustrating and Draco felt like punching something so badly that it almost physically hurt him.
Running a hand through his stark blonde hair, Draco breathed a sigh and rounded the corner. When he suddenly caught a flash of color out of the corner of his eye, he somehow felt the urge to run after it thoughtlessly. Following his instincts, Draco’s legs moved from under him subconsciously and he soon found himself sprinting after the figure he wasn’t sure he even saw. It was only after he found himself near the Room of Requirement that he finally saw whom he had been chasing after for the past five minutes.
The body itself was almost petite in stature, with straggly blonde hair the reached all the way down to its waist. It had small, delicate curves and pale, creamy skin that contrasted slightly with its dark, formfitting robes. The figure was no doubt a girl and the name Lovegood suddenly flashed through his mind though he wasn’t entirely sure of her actual identity. After a moment of reviewing the girl, however, he finally recognized her as a part of Potter’s merry little band of friends and without thinking much about it, Draco called out her name in a voice that sounded very much unlike his own. Consequently, Luna, who had heard him, turned around breathlessly, and though her eyes a bit surprised at the sudden sound of her name, they gave away nothing of her previous intentions.
After a minute of silence (for Draco was silently regretting calling her out so soon) Luna was the first one to speak. He was almost surprised at the sound of her voice, though it was same as it always is; dreamy, far-off but not quite irrelevant. She had uttered his name through from her rose bud lips and it did not sound as malicious or hateful as he had formerly expected. What was more; Luna had called him by his first name! Throughout his entire school years, only his parents and Professors ever referred to him as ‘Draco ’ and even then, it was more out of politeness that his teachers called him so than anything. When his father, Lucius, referred to him as such, the syllables that escaped his mouth could only come out sounding disgusted and entirely disillusioned.
It was only when Luna began humming tunelessly to herself that Draco finally snapped out of his sudden revelation. Clearing his throat and in the most haughty and self-arrogant voice he could muster, he told her snarkily, “In case you haven’t noticed, class is thiat way.”
Luna tilted her head sideways, and slightly widened her eyes. Without even hesitating for so much as a second to think of a lie, she responded serenely, “My usual route to Divination was infested with Nargles; I was forced to find a different way to class.”
Draco scowled and retorted, “That is a sorry excuse, Looney, and you know it. You’re just trying to hide—”
“The fact that you’re a part of Potter’s little army.”
“And what makes you draw this particular conclusion about me?” she asked him rather airily.
Draco sneered with as much conviction as possible. “You’ve never had a single friend before in your entire life and now, all of a sudden, you’ve gotten chummy with holy Saint Potter? I wasn’t born yesterday, Lovegood, if that was something you were trying to insinuate.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call him that,” Luna regarded him dreamily, her lips pulled imperceptibly into a pout. “He is a really pleasant person—” Draco felt a stab of displeasure at hearing this—“Ginny too, though her brother can be a bit rude sometimes.”
A second elapsed before Draco interjected. “You’re actually sticking up for those Potter and those bloodtraitors?” He paused to sneer. “But I suppose that much is expected of you, with your father being what he is.”
“And what exactly is my father?” Luna asked him curiously. There was no sarcasm, or anger, or even hurt in her voice and Draco, taken aback by her tone, could only mumble out words that only resembled bloodtraitor and loon; something bubbled inside him, and it certainly wasn’t hatred. He replaced the feeling with a sneer.
“You’re not exactly a very pleasant person, are you Draco?” Luna let out a laugh— mirthful and blithe and sounded almost slightly like wind-chimes; Draco felted tempted to smile at her happiness but caught himself at the last possible second. In fact, the corner of his lips began to twitch before Draco finally regained composure over his face.
“And what the hell are you laughing at, Lovegood?” His voice was venomous, but not as malignant as he hoped it would be. Damn her.
Luna merely smiled and shook her head, brushing back a few strands of blonde before she turned the full force of her eyes upon him. Draco, caught unexpected, took a step backward at the intensity of the color; pale blue, almost white, and eerily resembling the melting ice on top of a river. He shivered at the thought and slipped into his usual, icy persona, refusing to be the one that walked away first.
It seemed like a lifetime that the two of them just stood there, staring at each other. It seemed like the distance between them was a canyon and Luna was on the other side. They danced with their eyes and every smirk and grin expressed was like another challenge issued, each daring the other to make the very first move.
Standing there for an eternity, Draco realized something he hadn’t ever noticed before when it was just mere glances (on her part) and sneers (on his) and at this realization, he almost broke away. He wanted Luna, in the way that a man would want a woman. Draco wanted to feel those lips of hers against his own. He wanted to feel the way her hair would be wound around his fingers if he ever got the chance, too. He wanted to admire her delicately curving figure for as long as he desired and he most certainly wanted to feel her soft, pearly skin against his own. His body lusted for her own and for some imperceptible reason, Draco didn’t want it to stop. However, it was when those thoughts had evolved into something more that he finally stopped, face flushed and breathing hard. He was almost pleased to see that Luna had reacted in quite the same way. Almost.
With a lump in his throat, Draco Malfoy allowed Luna Lovegood a terse, meaningful nod before swiftly turning away, his heels clicking sharply against the stone floors as he scurried off toward the Slytherin Common Room. He was a coward, he knew, but Draco could not handle the weight of the situation in such a short amount of time, and certainly not in her presence, so he had been correct in thinking that running away was a perfectly logical method of handling things. At least, that was what Draco had told himself afterwards. Whether he believed in it or not was entirely insubstantial.
Despite his wishes, several months had elapsed since his last encounter with Luna and even now, standing in the exact same place, he couldn’t forget about it. In fact, he had gone out of his way to take this specific route to the Room of Requirements every day, even though he had convinced himself that it was only out of convenience for himself. Even though he convinced himself that she was not really worth his time. Even though he had convinced himself that it was not longing on his face when looked her way. Because, in the end, he had already convinced himself that he was not in love with Luna Looney Lovegood. But then again, Draco Malfoy was not an honest person. At least, not about things that really mattered.
Author's Note: Wooh. This was a doozy to write. As you can see, it's just pure fluff and it wasn't meant to have a point. But then again, when do most of the things I write actually do? Have fun with this little one-shot; hope you liked it!
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