Chapter 1 : Reality and Reverie
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The blonde in power tossed a bowl of slop to the blonde forced to abide by his rules.
Her voice, though rough from misuse, floated towards him with a silken quality, all the while harassing him with sincerity.
“Don’t you dare speak to me, you filthy blood traitor” his voice spat at her, venomous and raw, and she all but soaked in his poison without the slightest quiver. Rage teemed through the young Malfoy at the sight of her unbroken spirit. In a wild attempt to tarnish the girl’s countenance, he kicked the bowl of inedible slop, sending it flying towards her, tainting her face with the aftermath of wood against flesh.
Luna’s grey eyes looked up curiously at the sanguine liquid bubbling up from the newly formed wound on her forehead. She brought her hand up to the cut and then down to eye level to observe. Rubbing finger against finger, the red fluid smeared into the tired filth that seared itself onto every crevice of her body and, after a beat, she ceased to notice the wound.
Her grey eyes met his and apologized without words and without blinking.
Draco stormed out of her chamber in fury. Two weeks at the Manor and he had been broken more than his captive. He reflected in disgust at his outburst, and with even more revulsion at how unfazed she remained.
It had only been a fortnight and the gloom of dungeon duty was wearing him raw. He felt his mask of power crumble under the sinking routine of slop and cruelty, and perpetual glares of tragedy. The murky grey filth had adhered itself to nearly every inch of his consciousness rendering him blind and fumbling in action.
Finally, his legs found him at his bedchambers and threw his body onto the silver-laced bed. There he remained, feebly sprawled in his thoughts, only letting the surrounding walls view him in his state of weakness.
The girl had been grateful for his presence.
While others had cowered and trembled at his appearance, she had lightened from her solitude and welcomed his contact, no matter how fiendish his actions.
Her composure remained light and dreamy even amongst the decay that had attached itself to her pallid skin. She retained a glow of hope where other prisoners had only a craving for freedom.
If she had hoped for his aid, she would be sorely let down.
No, not even before the war would he have treated her with the faintest glimmer of kindness, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now.
And still, her alabaster gaze crashed over him with warmness. Whether it was from the friction of frustration or the embers of remorse, he couldn’t tell.
Luna lay, absorbing the icy temperature of the room. She knew she would be soon be defrosting in the heated trails of the Heliopaths that raced outside of Hogwarts. Yes, she was on the chilly, dirty platform waiting for the train to carry her back to that sacred place, the place where she had formed connections with the most brilliant people. Today she would visit the Castle as she often had in her escapist fashion.
Only a gossamer of reality held anchor in her mind as the cold invaded her body, both in reality and reverie.
Thank you so much for reading! This is my first fanfic and reviews would be GREATLY appreciated. Sorry for the brevity of this chapter, but hopefully there will be more to come. Don't be shy, leave a review :) -soft and sweet
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