FIC: You Stopped By; I Was All Alive
Title: You Stopped By; I Was All Alive
Author: ???
Pairing: established Draco/Luna
Rating: PG
Prompt: 50. Worst. Holiday. Ever.
Content Information/Warnings: none
Summary: Lessons learned: 1. Holidays at Malfoy manner are a bad idea. 2. First loves are difficult.
Author's Notes: Takes place in the year after Luna's Seventh and Draco's 'Eighth' year at Hogwarts. (Luna is 17; Draco is 18.) Title is Joanna Newsom's.
Luna Lovegood did not like to feel crazy.
And it wasn't because her nickname had been Loony, or because people had the habit of not believing the things she said. People could react to her any way they chose; she had no control over that.
Luna did not like to be out of control of her own feelings, or to hope for things that she knew wouldn't come about. For example, why had she agreed to spend the winter holidays at Malfoy Manor--with Narcissa, and with her own father? In what reality would that week ever go well?
Why had she thought that her father would behave himself? And why would Narcissa?
And why was she so upset about how they had behaved, at all? A person's actions were their own responsibility. She shouldn't be angry at her father for his actions; they were his, not hers.
But why could she not make herself believe this when she knew it to be true?
The problem was love. The problem was Draco Malfoy. The problem was that she loved him, and wanted him to be happy. Loving Draco Malfoy made her feel crazy.
*
Back at the house, she settled her father into bed and set a bottle of hangover potion within reach. He wouldn't take it because he abhorred potions, but she left it anyway. Perhaps this time, he would.
Climbing the stairs to her own bedroom, Luna traced her fingers along the rebuilt walls, finding the seams in the plaster. Her room was still bare and blank. She'd finished school in the spring but hadn't yet unpacked all her belongings. And all of her things from when she was little had been burnt up when her father betrayed her friends and the Death Eaters came.
What she'd lost must not have mattered much because she couldn't even remember most of it--old Quibblers, feathers, balls of string, rolled parchment. It was a blur of insignificant childish things.
Losing the picture of her mother had been more painful.
Perching on the edge of her bed, Luna rested her hands on her knees and sat very still, the whisper of her breath the only sound in her silent house. She felt as though a strong breeze would knock it down again, that no repetition of charms for knitting together broken things could save this place.
She had the impulse to take her school trunk and vanish, Apparate to Finland or Alaska or the very southern tip of Chile-some place cold and remote where the crunch of snow was the only sound. She could befriend a snow hare and learn from it until she became one herself.
*
"You will never be what my son needs; you will never be good for him. You will ruin him. My only wish is for you to see that."
"My daughter is the only good thing in this cursed house. Your son took her and tortured her and now she wishes to make a life with him. You have twisted her to love her own captor. It is you who have ruined us. We are ruined because of you."
*
Luna breathed slow and deep and found that she was fighting back tears. They threatened to choke her, clogging her throat and pressing on her chest with a terrible invisible weight. She clenched her jaw and squeezed her knees harder.
Looking up at her empty walls, at where her paintings had been, she missed her friends and thought maybe she should go find them. Maybe they would help her to feel better. Harry with his gentle smile and Ginny with her strong shoulders. Ron thought she did brilliant Quidditch commentary. Hermione was prickly as a nettle and very stingy with her friendship, and yet was as much Luna's as the rest. Neville would give her a plant and even if it was poisonous, she'd feel better.
Only, she wouldn't.
Because she'd gone and decided to love a boy who'd been just as much a prisoner in his own house as she. And his mother was bitter and spiteful, and her father was a guilt-ridden drunk.
She didn't feel ruined. She didn't think she had ruined Draco. But, strangely, horribly, she wasn't sure.
*
"We're leaving. I'm sorry we ruined your holiday. We shouldn't have come."
"Luna, it's New Year's Eve."
"And I'm amazed we lasted this long. Thank you for the Christmas gifts. You shouldn't call for awhile. I need to sort my father out. I need to sort myself out."
"You are sorted. Trust me on this. We both are."
"But how do you know that? How do you know?"
*
Reaching under her bed, Luna pulled out her yoga mat. Her mum had taught her the basics when she was eight. They used to do it in her study which faced west so the sun streamed in on their faces in the afternoon.
First she changed into her pajamas and then she began a sun salutation, nice and slow so that she could stretch her back and legs without pulling anything. It'd been a long time since she'd done yoga--this was the first she'd used the mat her father had bought her after her room was destroyed.
She'd done it every day in the Malfoy dungeon.
When she slowly lowered herself from high plank to low plank, her arms trembled and threatened to give. Her muscles had grown flabby since the war, which for a time, had felt nice. Now, she pushed herself into upward-facing dog with a shaky inhale and vowed to practice more. This always cleared her head, just as Mum said it would.
When Draco climbed the stairs of her house and appeared in her doorway a while later, he watched her as she finished. He'd always refused to try when he found her doing it in his dungeon.
"You still don't lock your door," he said by way of greeting.
Luna folded down into a forward bend, pulling gently on her ankles until her nose almost touched her knees and her hair tickled the tops of her feet. "If anyone wished to harm us, a locked door wouldn't stop them," she said.
Straightening with an enormous inhale, Luna faced him with a greater sense of calm. He was all in black as usual, but his hair was wind-tousled and he looked ragged around the edges--due in large part she was sure to a miserable Christmas holiday.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
"Look," he started, hands in his pockets. "It was sabotage, Lovegood."
"No, I think our parents just really don't like each other." Deciding that, in fact, she wasn't finished, Luna began another sun salutation.
"That's what I mean," Draco pressed. "Mum knew it would be a disaster. But I couldn't talk her out of it."
"And you didn't want to disappoint her," Luna said. It was one of the things she loved about him--his loyalty to his mother. It was also one of the things she sometimes found frustrating, because parents made mistakes.
She pushed back into downward dog, pressed her heels into the floor. "I think my father knew what would happen, too. They don't want us to be unhappy. They meant well."
"Fucking parental irony."
"Yes, I don't quite appreciate their tactics."
"Finish salutating, would you?" he said, impatience creeping into his voice. "I can't concentrate when you're in triangle, or whatever it is."
"Warrior 2."
"Yeah, all right."
*
Bundled up against the late-night chill, they sat on her front steps, shoulders pressed tight together.
"It was never going to be easy," Draco said. "Or even pleasant."
Luna looked up at the cloud-covered sky and wished there were stars. The new year should start with a clear sky.
"I think it should be pleasant at least some of the time," She decided. "A relationship can't only be about hormones and obligation."
She could hear his smile when he said, "You mean to say your unquenchable sexual desire for me and holidays with Mum aren't enough? You want emotional attachment, as well?"
"I don't know what I want. I feel nervous and uncomfortable when I think about what I might want."
He didn't have an answer for that.
"I know that you're lovely. I know that you like the way I look, and that you find my company comforting. But I don't know anything else."
"We know what our parents think," he grumbled.
"I know that isn't nearly so important as what I don't know about you." She exhaled a cloud of vapor. "I just mean... what if I love you less than you love me? What if I love you more? What if loving you ends up with hurt feelings and too much whiskey?"
Draco barked a laugh. "Luna, I'm 18 with very little to go on in the way of healthy relationships--I can't reassure you."
"I don't want you to reassure me; I want to know for myself!" she said, surprised at how loud her own voice was. "Can two people love each other equally? How can they be sure they do? I don't want to do this if I can't be sure."
Once the words were out, they hung in the cold air as if they had mass of their own.
"Fine," Draco said eventually. "We won't 'do this.' You never wanted to in the first place. Mother will be thrilled."
"That's not what I meant," she said, shaking her head. "I was never like this. I hate feeling like this."
"Like what, Luna?" Draco was very stiff beside her. "Merlin, I'm usually better at translating, but you are losing me."
"Like I would do whatever you wanted so you could be happy. Like I want you to say things to me, make promises. Like I want you to have... expectations. It's maddening."
She felt his fingers in her hair a moment before he turned her face to his and kissed her. His nose was cold where it pressed into her cheek and she closed her eyes when he made a soft sound in his throat, the intimacy of the moment too much for her.
Finally reaching up to cradle his face in her hands, Luna kissed him back, lips cold and wet, nose dripping a little.
He drew back enough to say against her mouth, "You make me want to say things to you, make promises. But I'm not going to."
"That's all right. It's all right."
"If you love me less, I'll... I'll figure out a way to love you less."
"All right. What if you love me less?"
"Then you'll have already left. I know you that well, at least."
"All right." She took a deep breath. "All right. I'll leave if you start to love me less. And you should leave if I do."
"I can't promise that. I already told you I'm not making promises."
"I don't feel like either of us loves the other any less."
"Yes, I think we're all right for the moment."
She nodded and pulled back a bit, combed her fingers through his wild hair. "Did you fly here, Draco?"
"Yeah," he said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a tiny bottle and then Unshrunk it. "And I brought this. We were supposed to have it at midnight."
Smiling at the bottle of champagne, she touched the foil wrapper on the cap. "I've never gotten to kiss anyone at New Year's."
"Neither have I," he admitted, fumbling a bit to open the bottle. Slipping her wand out of her coat sleeve, Luna tapped it against the cork. With a surprisingly loud 'pop,' it came free, and they both jumped as champagne fizzed out the mouth of the bottle onto the steps.
"Happy New Year, Draco," she said, accepting the bottle when he offered her the first swallow.
"You, too, Lovegood," he said.
When they'd each taken a good three swallows of the sweet fizzy drink, they kissed again. Luna didn't feel any less crazy, but the bubbles were nice.
Author: ???
Pairing: established Draco/Luna
Rating: PG
Prompt: 50. Worst. Holiday. Ever.
Content Information/Warnings: none
Summary: Lessons learned: 1. Holidays at Malfoy manner are a bad idea. 2. First loves are difficult.
Author's Notes: Takes place in the year after Luna's Seventh and Draco's 'Eighth' year at Hogwarts. (Luna is 17; Draco is 18.) Title is Joanna Newsom's.
Luna Lovegood did not like to feel crazy.
And it wasn't because her nickname had been Loony, or because people had the habit of not believing the things she said. People could react to her any way they chose; she had no control over that.
Luna did not like to be out of control of her own feelings, or to hope for things that she knew wouldn't come about. For example, why had she agreed to spend the winter holidays at Malfoy Manor--with Narcissa, and with her own father? In what reality would that week ever go well?
Why had she thought that her father would behave himself? And why would Narcissa?
And why was she so upset about how they had behaved, at all? A person's actions were their own responsibility. She shouldn't be angry at her father for his actions; they were his, not hers.
But why could she not make herself believe this when she knew it to be true?
The problem was love. The problem was Draco Malfoy. The problem was that she loved him, and wanted him to be happy. Loving Draco Malfoy made her feel crazy.
*
Back at the house, she settled her father into bed and set a bottle of hangover potion within reach. He wouldn't take it because he abhorred potions, but she left it anyway. Perhaps this time, he would.
Climbing the stairs to her own bedroom, Luna traced her fingers along the rebuilt walls, finding the seams in the plaster. Her room was still bare and blank. She'd finished school in the spring but hadn't yet unpacked all her belongings. And all of her things from when she was little had been burnt up when her father betrayed her friends and the Death Eaters came.
What she'd lost must not have mattered much because she couldn't even remember most of it--old Quibblers, feathers, balls of string, rolled parchment. It was a blur of insignificant childish things.
Losing the picture of her mother had been more painful.
Perching on the edge of her bed, Luna rested her hands on her knees and sat very still, the whisper of her breath the only sound in her silent house. She felt as though a strong breeze would knock it down again, that no repetition of charms for knitting together broken things could save this place.
She had the impulse to take her school trunk and vanish, Apparate to Finland or Alaska or the very southern tip of Chile-some place cold and remote where the crunch of snow was the only sound. She could befriend a snow hare and learn from it until she became one herself.
*
"You will never be what my son needs; you will never be good for him. You will ruin him. My only wish is for you to see that."
"My daughter is the only good thing in this cursed house. Your son took her and tortured her and now she wishes to make a life with him. You have twisted her to love her own captor. It is you who have ruined us. We are ruined because of you."
*
Luna breathed slow and deep and found that she was fighting back tears. They threatened to choke her, clogging her throat and pressing on her chest with a terrible invisible weight. She clenched her jaw and squeezed her knees harder.
Looking up at her empty walls, at where her paintings had been, she missed her friends and thought maybe she should go find them. Maybe they would help her to feel better. Harry with his gentle smile and Ginny with her strong shoulders. Ron thought she did brilliant Quidditch commentary. Hermione was prickly as a nettle and very stingy with her friendship, and yet was as much Luna's as the rest. Neville would give her a plant and even if it was poisonous, she'd feel better.
Only, she wouldn't.
Because she'd gone and decided to love a boy who'd been just as much a prisoner in his own house as she. And his mother was bitter and spiteful, and her father was a guilt-ridden drunk.
She didn't feel ruined. She didn't think she had ruined Draco. But, strangely, horribly, she wasn't sure.
*
"We're leaving. I'm sorry we ruined your holiday. We shouldn't have come."
"Luna, it's New Year's Eve."
"And I'm amazed we lasted this long. Thank you for the Christmas gifts. You shouldn't call for awhile. I need to sort my father out. I need to sort myself out."
"You are sorted. Trust me on this. We both are."
"But how do you know that? How do you know?"
*
Reaching under her bed, Luna pulled out her yoga mat. Her mum had taught her the basics when she was eight. They used to do it in her study which faced west so the sun streamed in on their faces in the afternoon.
First she changed into her pajamas and then she began a sun salutation, nice and slow so that she could stretch her back and legs without pulling anything. It'd been a long time since she'd done yoga--this was the first she'd used the mat her father had bought her after her room was destroyed.
She'd done it every day in the Malfoy dungeon.
When she slowly lowered herself from high plank to low plank, her arms trembled and threatened to give. Her muscles had grown flabby since the war, which for a time, had felt nice. Now, she pushed herself into upward-facing dog with a shaky inhale and vowed to practice more. This always cleared her head, just as Mum said it would.
When Draco climbed the stairs of her house and appeared in her doorway a while later, he watched her as she finished. He'd always refused to try when he found her doing it in his dungeon.
"You still don't lock your door," he said by way of greeting.
Luna folded down into a forward bend, pulling gently on her ankles until her nose almost touched her knees and her hair tickled the tops of her feet. "If anyone wished to harm us, a locked door wouldn't stop them," she said.
Straightening with an enormous inhale, Luna faced him with a greater sense of calm. He was all in black as usual, but his hair was wind-tousled and he looked ragged around the edges--due in large part she was sure to a miserable Christmas holiday.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
"Look," he started, hands in his pockets. "It was sabotage, Lovegood."
"No, I think our parents just really don't like each other." Deciding that, in fact, she wasn't finished, Luna began another sun salutation.
"That's what I mean," Draco pressed. "Mum knew it would be a disaster. But I couldn't talk her out of it."
"And you didn't want to disappoint her," Luna said. It was one of the things she loved about him--his loyalty to his mother. It was also one of the things she sometimes found frustrating, because parents made mistakes.
She pushed back into downward dog, pressed her heels into the floor. "I think my father knew what would happen, too. They don't want us to be unhappy. They meant well."
"Fucking parental irony."
"Yes, I don't quite appreciate their tactics."
"Finish salutating, would you?" he said, impatience creeping into his voice. "I can't concentrate when you're in triangle, or whatever it is."
"Warrior 2."
"Yeah, all right."
*
Bundled up against the late-night chill, they sat on her front steps, shoulders pressed tight together.
"It was never going to be easy," Draco said. "Or even pleasant."
Luna looked up at the cloud-covered sky and wished there were stars. The new year should start with a clear sky.
"I think it should be pleasant at least some of the time," She decided. "A relationship can't only be about hormones and obligation."
She could hear his smile when he said, "You mean to say your unquenchable sexual desire for me and holidays with Mum aren't enough? You want emotional attachment, as well?"
"I don't know what I want. I feel nervous and uncomfortable when I think about what I might want."
He didn't have an answer for that.
"I know that you're lovely. I know that you like the way I look, and that you find my company comforting. But I don't know anything else."
"We know what our parents think," he grumbled.
"I know that isn't nearly so important as what I don't know about you." She exhaled a cloud of vapor. "I just mean... what if I love you less than you love me? What if I love you more? What if loving you ends up with hurt feelings and too much whiskey?"
Draco barked a laugh. "Luna, I'm 18 with very little to go on in the way of healthy relationships--I can't reassure you."
"I don't want you to reassure me; I want to know for myself!" she said, surprised at how loud her own voice was. "Can two people love each other equally? How can they be sure they do? I don't want to do this if I can't be sure."
Once the words were out, they hung in the cold air as if they had mass of their own.
"Fine," Draco said eventually. "We won't 'do this.' You never wanted to in the first place. Mother will be thrilled."
"That's not what I meant," she said, shaking her head. "I was never like this. I hate feeling like this."
"Like what, Luna?" Draco was very stiff beside her. "Merlin, I'm usually better at translating, but you are losing me."
"Like I would do whatever you wanted so you could be happy. Like I want you to say things to me, make promises. Like I want you to have... expectations. It's maddening."
She felt his fingers in her hair a moment before he turned her face to his and kissed her. His nose was cold where it pressed into her cheek and she closed her eyes when he made a soft sound in his throat, the intimacy of the moment too much for her.
Finally reaching up to cradle his face in her hands, Luna kissed him back, lips cold and wet, nose dripping a little.
He drew back enough to say against her mouth, "You make me want to say things to you, make promises. But I'm not going to."
"That's all right. It's all right."
"If you love me less, I'll... I'll figure out a way to love you less."
"All right. What if you love me less?"
"Then you'll have already left. I know you that well, at least."
"All right." She took a deep breath. "All right. I'll leave if you start to love me less. And you should leave if I do."
"I can't promise that. I already told you I'm not making promises."
"I don't feel like either of us loves the other any less."
"Yes, I think we're all right for the moment."
She nodded and pulled back a bit, combed her fingers through his wild hair. "Did you fly here, Draco?"
"Yeah," he said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a tiny bottle and then Unshrunk it. "And I brought this. We were supposed to have it at midnight."
Smiling at the bottle of champagne, she touched the foil wrapper on the cap. "I've never gotten to kiss anyone at New Year's."
"Neither have I," he admitted, fumbling a bit to open the bottle. Slipping her wand out of her coat sleeve, Luna tapped it against the cork. With a surprisingly loud 'pop,' it came free, and they both jumped as champagne fizzed out the mouth of the bottle onto the steps.
"Happy New Year, Draco," she said, accepting the bottle when he offered her the first swallow.
"You, too, Lovegood," he said.
When they'd each taken a good three swallows of the sweet fizzy drink, they kissed again. Luna didn't feel any less crazy, but the bubbles were nice.