Summary: Luna is never embarrassed, which means Draco has to be the one blushing. Neither of them really mind. (Based on a prompt by @itslittlegiggle that I’ve been hoarding in my inbox for god knows how long! Hope y’all enjoy it!)
It had been quite a surprise for Draco Malfoy to realize that he was pining after Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw girl in the year below him, and probably the most teased girl in Hogwarts since Moaning Myrtle had been alive. He felt himself drawn to her individualism, her quirkiness, and how she acted like none of the bullies made the slightest dent in her armor. Not only did she hold her head up with pride when people made jokes about her clothes, her jewelry, her beliefs, or her relationship, but she refused to change a thing about herself to make it stop
Of course, he would come to learn that the bullying did get under her skin, when he found her wandering the halls, searching for her shoes that had been stolen once again. As a Prefect, he should have given her detention. But he was going soft for her, it seemed, as he instead took it upon himself to help her look, and after they found the pair of pink shoes hanging from a suit of armor’s hand, she had given him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you.
And, well, it had sort of spiraled from there, until eventually, the halls of Hogwarts were filled with whispered gossip about how Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood were apparently going out. Most people said that Draco could do better - he scoffed at that, as if those people knew what he wanted. Others questioned if Luna had snuck him a love potion or put him under some sort of spell. He may or may not have hexed a fourth year for implying it. And despite all the rumors, Luna had no issue coming up to him in the halls and wrapping her arms around his neck, ignoring the eyes on them.
If there was one thing about Luna that still managed to surprise him, it was her shamelessness. It was as if embarrassment was simply not an emotion she was capable of. She lacked a filter, and would often say strange and taboo things. The thing that had really proven this was when Blaise had teasingly asked if they were headed off to shag, and Luna had replied: “No, but we will probably be kissing. We haven’t actually had sex yet.” and Draco had gone bright red and pulled her away while his friends laughed. She hadn’t meant to embarrass him, she just simply saw nothing wrong with announcing that.
He had spent so much of his life caring what other people thought of him, it was refreshing to be someone who couldn’t give a damn. While he tried to sit up straight and look put-together, Luna had no problem sitting cross-legged and slouched over, as comfort was her priority. And when he felt something was too silly, too un-Draco-like to do, she would gently push him out of his comfort zone and urge him to have fun.
He realized that he was actually a quite good artist when he allowed himself to doodle, and that he loved cuddling more than he ever thought he would. Perhaps Luna’s favorite discovery so far was the fact that Draco Malfoy was apparently incredibly ticklish, and it flustered him to no end.
“I don’t see why you get so shy,” she mused, her fingers trailing lightly over his neck. “Everyone is ticklish. You just happen to be more sensitive than most people.”
Shrugging his shoulders up, Draco tried to hold back his giggling to no avail. “It’s childish!” he replied, and he could feel the blush rising in his face.
Luna giggled too, and ran her fingers down his spine before moving outward to tickle his sides. “It’s not something you grow out of. And besides, I find it quite cute.”
Draco squirmed, laughing in a way that only Luna seemed to draw out of him, whether it be with this playful torment or her amusing antics. “I am not cute!” he said, trying to sound intimidating and failing miserably.
“Agree to disagree,” she replied, smiling fondly. “Besides, do you think I should be embarrassed for being ticklish?”
He shook his head, not trusting his mouth to form words as she toyed with his lower ribs.
“So then why should you be? I think you’re just being too hard on yourself. You’re allowed to have fun, and I know that you’re having fun, because you never push me away.”
Merlin, this girl was going to be the death of him. His blush had spread down his neck and up to the tips of his ears, and he buried his face in her shoulder as he laughed, hands grasping at her robes. “Please stop talking,” he said, not meaning it at all.
She laughed, a light and airy sound that still pulled on his heartstrings. “You don’t mean that. You love it when I talk. Even when I’m flustering you.”
When her hands went under his arms, his laughter reached a new octave, and he felt her giggling along with him. She was right, that it was normal to be ticklish, and she was also right that he didn’t mind when she tickled him. Maybe it was silly to be embarrassed about it, but he didn’t care. She had enough shamelessness for the both of them, after all.
When her fingers stilled, she snuggled into him and kissed one of his flushed cheeks with more tenderness than he felt he deserved.
Luna was full of surprises, and Draco loved to experience each one, even if it left him blushing like mad.
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characters: draco, luna, death eaters ensemble cast
rating: nc-17/explicit
tags/warnings: this is explicit content and it’s not that dark but it’s def not for everyone, luna is a pow, dub-con, undernegotiated kink, do it or die kind of set up
summary: Draco is given the laughable task of trying to get information from Luna Lovegood. He is determined to gain her trust, however he can.
written for the final smutty claus over on lj, cross posted on ao3
Quick Note: This is an unedited first draft. I'll definitely look over, delete, add, and adjust as necessary before this goes up on fan fiction. Be warned, there’ no Luna in this chapter unfortunately, but it was necessary to set the stage a little first. Also, if anyone’s good at coming up with titles, Please contact me!
It was supposed to be a simple mission. The objective was straightforward: send a message. Although, Draco couldn’t imagine why trashing a home required three Death Eaters instead of just one. The job would have been done quicker and with much less theatrics than it was currently taking had it just been him alone.
Draco stood with his arms crossed as he stood inside the Finnigan home, watching Bellatrix and Crabbe go at it, wrecking the home of a boy that used to be one of Draco’s year at Hogwarts. Bellatrix, mad witch that she was, was cackling and using her wand to levitate any breakable item in the home and hurtling it across the opposite wall so that it shattered into irreparable pieces.
Draco watched Bellatrix, unable to believe that at one time he had boasted about being related to the horrid woman. Draco had at one time held fantasies of being even vaguely associated with the ‘pureblood crusade’ his father would sometimes speak of to him in hushed voices when Draco was young and Narcissa had been sleeping. Lucius had wove fantastical stories for Draco about Bellatrix Lestrange who’d had such a big role in the first wizarding war under Voldemort. He remembered sitting at the Slytherin table as a young boy, bragging to his housemates every so often when the Daily Prophet did the odd article on dangerous Death Eaters of the past.
It hadn’t been until the summer after his fifth year that he’d come home to find Voldemort and a number of other Death Eaters taking over his home that he’d actually met the woman, only to discover that perhaps the Prophet has somehow downplayed her madness. Bellatrix loved his mother, that was certain, and she certainly acted as if she cared about Draco, constantly talking to him in that insipid baby voice of hers and demonstrating her pride anytime Draco successfully completed a mission. But he also saw the way Bellatrix worshiped the very air that the Dark Lord breathed, and he knew with certainty that she would have killed both him and his mother in an instant if Voldemort had asked it of her.
As for Crabbe, a boy Draco had known since before he could walk, he was something Draco hardly recognized. Draco doubted his former schoolmate would require much encouragement to hold his wand to Draco’s neck. Vincent was becoming more and more like Crabbe Sr. by the day. Crabbe Sr. was a nasty piece of work, a darkness and violence in his eyes at all times that gave Draco chills. Vincent Crabbe was feeding off of the power he was gaining as Death Eater, the recognition and prestige that came with it in this new world Voldemort was building. Draco had long since stopped confiding in Crabbe, not trusting what he saw in the other boy’s eyes.
“Come now Dracy-poo,” Bellatrix squealed, jumping down from the table she had been dancing on. She held a vase of daffodils in her hand out to Draco, her heavily-lidded eyes staring encouragingly at him.
Draco stared at the daffodils for a moment. They looked fresh, as though they had been recently picked.
Draco turned and pointed his wand at one of the couches, muttering, “Diffindo.”
Bellatrix laughed maniacally as tears were made in the couch, and continued on her own destruction of the Finnigan home. Draco, knowing he could avoid action no longer, continued his own part in destroying the home as well.
Draco wasn’t sure how much longer they spent destroying the home. It felt like hours, but Draco had long since learned that it usually did not take more than twenty minutes to completely destroy what a family had perhaps spent months or years cultivating.
Draco felt tired when they had finished, quite different from the revitalized energy that surrounded Bellatrix and Crabbe. Draco had been tired for some time now, months if he were honest.
“Well, I suppose it is time we head back,” Crabbe sneered, halfheartedly kicking at a broken chair at his feet, as though upset the Finnigan home wasn’t bigger so that they’d had more rooms to rampage.
“Yes, let’s.”
Draco was ready to leave behind this exhausting night, but before he’d so much as taken a step Bellatrix hissed. “Stop.”
Both Draco and Crabbe froze on command. As mad as Bellatrix was, she was an excellent duelist with a killer instinct, and if she sensed something askew then it was the wisest choice to follow her lead if one wished to remain alive.
Draco looked around the home, trying to find the source of what had set Bellatrix off. He could find nothing amiss, and just when Draco was beginning to think that perhaps Bellatrix had truly lost it, the woman hissed and deflected a spell aimed right at her from outside one of the windows. Draco and Crabbe cursed and dropped to the floor, out of range from the windows, their hands searching their pockets for their wands.
An unfamiliar voice from outside shouted a blasting curse, sending rubble and bits of wood to come flying down onto the three inside. Draco coughed through the dust, a ringing in his ears that he tried to shake out before he slowly stood, the sound of dueling surrounding him.
Draco growled, this night going far differently than what he had wanted and rose his wand, throwing hexes and curses any which way, not really caring who it would hit. It wasn’t as if he cared very much for anyone on either side of this war anymore anyway.
Draco faintly heard Bellatrix cast a ventus jinx, blowing away the dust and smoke so that they could see clearly their opponents. Draco had only a moment to catalogue the faces of the their enemies, one quick sweep allowing him to take note that it was the three of them against four. Draco recognized only two faces, the first of which he vaguely remembered as Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor quidditch fanatic, and the second being the much more recognizable Dean Thomas.
It was difficult to forget the face of someone who’d spent months living as a prisoner in your basement.
“It’s the Thomas boy,” Bellatrix snarled excitedly. Draco saw how her eyes narrowed, and he knew she was likely thinking of the information the Gryffindor might have on Harry Potter.
“I’ll take him.” Crabbe shouted, ever eager to prove his worth as a Death Eater.
Draco took it upon himself to start throwing jinxes at one of the face he did not recognize, an man with a dark mustache and bright eyes. The man was older, but Draco had been trained in dueling under Snape, and most recently Bellatrix, so he could hold his own against the likely more experienced wizard.
The fighting continued, the two sides shouting hexes and curses at each other. It was few minutes before Draco finally landed a confundus charm, his opponent dropping to a crumble to the ground.
Just then there was a sharp pain in Draco’s upper arm and he hissed and lost his footing for a moment, his free hand coming up to touch where he’d been hit. Draco hissed at the feeling of a warm wetness and looked over his shoulder at Crabbe who had his wand still raised in his direction, a nasty smirk unashamedly painted on his face.
Crabbe shrugged, as if it had been an accident and returned his attention to Dean Thomas, who was now kneeling beside the man Draco had just knocked out.
Draco was fuming that Crabbe had dared to purposely throw a hex at Draco while he’d had his back turned.
Before Crabbe could so much as raise his wand, Draco had already thrown a spell at Dean Thomas. “Incarcerous!”
“Brilliant, Draco!” Bellatrix laughed, not missing a beat as she danced around Wood and the other wizard.
Crabbe glared at Draco, clearly upset at the praise he had just received from one of Voldemort’s closest confidantes.
Draco looked over to Dean Thomas struggling against the ropes wrapped around his body. Draco frowned, suddenly regretting what he had done. He’d already had the Gryffindor as prisoner in his home once, and he wasn’t looking forward to history repeating itself. If only he’d cast a confundus charm, as he’d done to the other wizard who was slowly coming back to his wits. Then at least Thomas would have had a chance. Draco had inadvertently rendered the boy defenseless, all because Crabbe had made Draco’s anger get the better of him.
Draco cursed quietly, knowing that there was nothing that could be done. He’d have to take Dean Thomas prisoner, again. It was too risky to not do so.
Draco had just taken a step forward when there were several loud pops, and suddenly there were at least half a dozen figures in the distance, quickly advancing towards them.
Bellatrix cursed in anger, the woman at the very least smart enough to realize when they were outnumbered. “Let’s go! Now!”
Draco wanted to sigh in relief and without waiting a moment, apparated away.
oOo
Draco, Bellatrix, and Crabbe apparated in front of Malfoy Manor. There was an eerie quietness in the air, a stark contrast to the sounds of battle they had just been surrounded by.
Bellatrix skipped ahead and cast the necessary spells to grant them entry, and together the three continued down the gravel road that led to Draco’s childhood home, now headquarters to Voldemort and his most trusted Death Eaters.
Bellatrix hummed a silly tune that was giving Draco a headache, and wished desperately that he could just snap and shout at her to shut up, but he knew better.
Just as they were making their way up the stairs, the tall oak doors opened slightly to reveal the tired and nearly haggard visage of a man.
It was Lucius Malfoy.
Draco paused only for a moment at the sight of his father, but then continued on up.
Ever since Lucius had been released from Azkaban, the older man had made a point to await Draco’s return anytime he went out on a mission. They weren’t usually too dangerous, as Draco was good at successfully completing his usual missions, but still Lucius still insisted on waiting.
And just as Lucius insisted on waiting, Draco insisted on continuing to have nothing to do with the man.
“Draco,” Lucius whispered weakly, his hand coming up to rest on Draco’s shoulder, but Draco quickly brushed it off and continued walking as if nothing had happened, as if Lucius had not once been a man Draco had idolized. Draco did not stop or bother looking back but continued onward alongside Bellatrix and Crabbe.
Bellatrix giggled and skipped over to Draco to breathe into his ear. “Your mother would be so proud Draco.”
Draco’s chest tightened and he wanted nothing more than to kick and scream, to ask how Bellatrix could possibly bring Narcissa up so casually as if nothing had happened. But once again, he could do nothing.
Bellatrix laughed and skipped ahead, raising an errant hand to wave. “See you at dinner boys!”
Draco continued ahead, wanting nothing more than to jump into his bath and try to get some sleep.
Of course though, Crabbe had to open his fat mouth, clearly still upset at the inconsequential praise Draco had received earlier.
Crabbe picked up his pace so that he was in step with Draco, obviously having nothing better to do than still follow Draco around like he used to back in Hogwarts.
“Confundus charm Malfoy? A bit of a weak move isn’t it?”
Draco mentally rolled his eyes.
“Got the job done, didn’t it?” He asked dryly, though he wasn’t really searching for a response. He just wanted some rest.
“Still weak.”
“Not as weak as throwing a hex at a man with his back turned.”
Crabbe snorted, “I’d hardly call you a man, Malfoy.”
At seventeen, Draco secretly agreed, but he taunted Crabbe anyway. “I’m more a man than you are.”
“You wish.” Crabbe growled, unable to come up with any better comeback.
“If you’re upset about Bellatrix liking me better than you Crabbe, you really should grow up already and accept it will always be so. Not only am I better Death Eater than you, I’m also Bella’s nephew, and I’ll always have more favor with her than you.” Draco knew his calling his aunt ‘Bella,’ a nickname reserved only for family, would really get Crabbe’s anger going. “As for that cheap shot, you better watch yourself Crabbe. You’re lucky Bella saw me get Dean Thomas and not you raising your wand at me.”
“Yea, well, all I know is you better keep watching your back Malfoy. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and if your father is anything to go by, looks like you’ll only eventually grow to be a weak and broken coward who’s all talk, just like Lucious turned out to be.”
Draco glared at Crabbe, his hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of his wand. Crabbe looked Draco up and down before sniffing and continuing on his way.
Draco waited until Crabbe was out of sight and around the corner before he undid all the locking charms he’d cast on his bedroom and stepping inside, slamming the door behind him.
Draco practically tore his clothes off on his way to his personal bathroom, casting a warm bath and slowly sinking his tired body inside. Before Draco laid back, he reached over to dig around in his discarded pants pocket to retrieve a spare cigarette and his every trusty cigarette. After the first inhale, Draco sighed and laid back in the bath, resting his hand over his tired eyes.
Crabbe had a way of getting under Draco’s skin. For all his foolery and inane desire to get ahead, Crabbe had become a very annoying and sometimes dangerous thorn in Draco’s side. Annoying because of Crabbe’s jealousy over Draco’s standing amongst the younger Death Eaters, and even some of the older Death Eaters, as well as Draco’s impressive successful record on missions. But Draco was also becoming increasingly aware of how much more dangerous Crabbe was becoming. Not just because of the “stray” hexes that were being occasionally directed at Draco recently, but because it seemed Crabbe was beginning to realize that perhaps Draco’s heart wasn’t really in it, in being a Death Eater.
Crabbe wasn’t completely aware yet of course, his dim brain not quite able to wrap itself around the signs that Draco was getting by soley on his ostracisation of Lucius and his uncanny ability to get by on doing on the absolute minimum and weaving it to appear as if he’d worked wonders.
Crabbe was dim, but he wasn’t completely stupid. And if the boy were to mention this to someone as scary and dangerous as Crabbe Sr., Draco wasn’t sure how much longer before others started to notice, and he knew he’d have to step it up soon. It was that or die.
Draco dozed in the bath for a little longer before finally forcing himself up. He wrapped a towel around his waist and lit another cigarette on his way back to his bedroom.
Once there, Draco nearly jumped out of his skin and raised his wand at Blaise Zabini, his best friend who was regally stretched out across one of Draco’s favorite couches.
“You’ve got an awful lot of post, mate.” Blaise said casually by way of greeting, rifling through the pile of countless unopened letters Pansy had been sending the past few months.
Draco sighed, lowering his wand and reminding himself to remember that Blaise was the only one he’d taught the counterlocks to his bedroom.
“Yes, well, I haven’t really had the time to go through it.”
Blaise looked up at Draco, a perfect eyebrow raised at him and the cigarette between his lips.
“You’re still on with that disgusting habit?”
Draco sighed and looked for a fresh pair of pants. “Do you want to try one?”
“Of course not. I may not want to kill innocent muggles but I also don’t want to partake in their disgusting habits.” Blaise rose his nose in perfect impression of the aristocracy he had been raised in.
A year ago, Draco might have been saying the same thing. He’d never been one to partake in anything that could be deemed even remotely muggle, and he knew his aunt would have a heart-attack if she were ever to see him smoking a muggle cigarette. But it had become Draco’s only small act of rebellion in many ways, secret rebellion, but rebellion nonetheless. Besides, Draco found he would sometimes get headaches if he didn’t have one every so often.
Draco shrugged, “Suit yourself.”
Blaise was silent for a moment, allowing Draco some privacy as he pulled on his pants before he spoke. “I thought you were supposed to be on a simple trashing mission. I passed by Crabbe not too long ago, covered in dirt and mess.”
Draco suddenly remembered the small wound on his arm and rose his wand, quietly muttering a healing spell.
“Circumstances changed.” Draco explained simply. “Thomas, Wood, and two other wizards I didn’t recognize, before six more came and we were forced to retreat.”
“Your old pall Thomas do that?”
“Crabbe actually.”
“Crabbe?”
“Wasn’t the first time actually.”
“Wasn’t the first time?” Blaise waited for more but Draco refused to say anything, not wanting to think on the memory of what had occured the first time Crabbe had “accidentally” raised his wand at Draco.
Blaise shook his head. “We need to keep a careful eye on him. The track he’s on now, it won’t be long before he turns out to be a stupider version of his father, and he’ll be much more dangerous.”
Draco nodded. At one time, he would have been shocked that a boy he had once played countless hours with as a boy would want to hurt him, but this was the world he lived in now. Everyone was trying to get ahead, and all for the praise and recognition of a sick bastard who wanted to take over the world.
“Do you ever return any of these letters?” Blaise asked, changing the subject and motioning to the letters in his hands, all signed to Draco in Pansy’s favorite purple ink.
Draco shrugged, his memories of days and nights spent with Pansy feeling like they were from ages ago, almost like they belonged to another.
“Used to. They’re all the same, all about the latest gossip and how lonely she is without me and when am I coming back to Hogwarts and why can’t I be a Death Eater and still get an education. I don’t think Pansy understands yet what exactly it means to be a Death Eater, or even how much everything has changed for that matter.”
“Pansy’s not as dim as you think Draco. She just doesn’t know how to show you she’s worried without annoying you and cutting her off. All she thinks about is your safety.”
“She writes to you?”
“Nearly every other day, asking after you. You know she’s not stopped loving you.”
Draco had nothing to say to that. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Pansy anymore, and hadn’t for some time. Things with Pansy had begun falling apart early in his sixth year the more Draco fell deeper and deeper into worry and plans on how to kill Dumbledore. And then the summer had come and Draco had not been allowed to return to Hogwarts his seventh year, the Dark Lord deciding he was more useful on the field. It was difficult to feel anything after all that had happened to him.
Blaise seemed to realize he would get nothing more out of Draco regarding Pansy, and changed the subject once again to more important matters.
“Are you sure you still want to do this?”
Draco paused in his search for a clean shirt, knowing exactly what Blaise was talking about as his eyes straying to his bedside table where a portrait sat. It was a portrait of Narcissa Malfoy, his dead mother, killed at Voldemort’s hand, and it was all Lucius’ fault.
All the Death Eaters, and Voldemort, thought Draco was ostracising Lucius because he was a pathetic excuse for a Death Eater. They thought it was because of the shame that came from Lucius’ failed missions in the past and his current negative standing under the Dark Lord. They thought he hated Lucius because he was a pompous coward who was all talk and no action.
That’s not why Draco hated Lucius.
Draco hated Lucius because not only did his failings get Narcissa killed as a punishment, but because Lucius did absolutely nothing to stop it except cry and sniffle on the floor at Voldemort’s feet like a child.
Draco knew without a doubt that Narcissa would have raised her wand against the Dark Lord himself had it been Draco or even Lucius in her place. All she had done in the past two years was do everything in her power to ensure that he and Lucius were safe, and Lucius had thrown it all away like it had all meant nothing.
Now Narcissa was dead, and the most important person in Draco’s life was gone.
“Yes, I’m still sure. At dawn, before anyone in the house is awake.”
Blaise left soon after and Draco retired to his bed, his body feeling older than its years as he turned on his side and caught sight of the hideous mark on his lower left arm.
His fifth year, all Draco had thought about was how the pureblood crusade was happening again. How now, Draco might get to be a part of it as his aunt had once been, but he’d be better, smarter. He’d dreamed of how he would go down in Malfoy history, as well as that of the other families. He’d imagined riches and fame to be bestowed on him, he’d thought only of the end result and not what it would actually take to get there.
Coming home after his fifth year and meeting the Dark Lord in the flesh had been a different matter entirely. Just the sight of the snake-like man had turned Draco’s stomach. It was undeniable the danger this reincarnated man promised, the destruction he could cause, and soon Draco found himself tasked with a mission too great, to kill the most powerful wizard of all time. He did not know what would have become of him had Snape not been there to protect him.
Since then, Draco had learned that he could no longer afford to not fight his own battles. So Draco had dedicated himself to prove his worth to the Dark Lord, or at the very least demonstrate that he was of some use, good enough to keep around but not so good as to have to be included in his inner circle. The trick was to survive, not thrive. It was how one remained alive.
oOo
The next morning, Blaise and Draco made their way over to the extensive Malfoy gardens, making their way amongst the winding tall hedges. It was early still, the sky only just beginning to lighten with the start of day. There was still dew on the grass and a cold sting in the air, a sting that would soon be burned off with the summer sun. Draco led the way, long ago having memorized every turn, until they arrived to just the spot he was looking for.
The two Slytherins had both sneaked out of their respective sleeping quarters to meet outside Malfoy Manor’s vast gardens, much the way they had when they were young boys on summer holidays. Only this time, Blaise and Draco were not meeting to wreak havoc on their practice brooms. They were selecting the most hidden and private area of the gardens that they could find to create a headstone for Narcissa Malfoy and hold a few moments of silence in her honor.
They came, finally, to one of his mother’s favorite nooks in all of the gardens, and Draco was fairly sure that she would had deemed this an appropriate place to have her grave placed.
Draco slipped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves while Blaise transfigured a long stick into a shovel and handed it to him. There was nothing left to do but dig.
Narcissa had been killed nearly two months ago, but it was only now that Draco and Blaise had finally found the time to create a grave in Narcissa’s honor. They had both been either too busy with missions or the manor had simply been too crowded with Death Eaters. While what they were doing wasn’t necessarily forbidden, it would certainly raise questions on their loyalty.
Now there was finally time, and Draco had insisted that even though they had no body to bury, he could at the very least take the time it would take to dig a grave without magic.
When Draco was finished he allowed Blaise to offer him a hand out of the hole and stood straight, a pain in his lower back. There was sweat on his face, mingled with tears Draco hadn’t even noticed had escaped him. He was grateful Blaise did not comment on them and simply handed Draco a bouquet of narcissus flowers.
Draco levitated them down to the bottom of the grave and then he and Blaise allowed for a few moments of silence. Neither knew what they could say that hadn’t been said already.
“I think I’ll try that disgusting muggle habit now.” Blaise said quietly.
Draco looked over at his last friend and smiled slightly. He pulled two cigarettes from his pocket and helped Blaise light his first cigarette before lighting his own. In true Zabini fashion, Blaise coughed only for a moment before he seemingly mastered the art of smoking and together they sucked lightly on their cigarettes and stared down at the empty grave in silence.
“We should go now. Before anyone starts asking questions.”
Draco didn’t want to go, but he knew Blaise was right. The sun was rising and soon the rest of the manor would start with the morning bustle.
Draco began to shovel the soil back into the grave, and when the job was done, they made their way back into the snake pit that was Malfoy Manor.
oOo
It was a regular night at the dinner table at Malfoy Manor.
As always, Voldemort sat at the head of the table, a place Lucius had once sat in. Nagini was perched on the floor by his side, the Dark Lord completely at ease as he stroked the great snake’s head.
Draco calmly studied all the occupants of the table. There weren’t too many in attendance that night, for it had been a particularly busy time for Death Eaters that week.
The table had a few of the senior Death Eaters present, Lucius, Dolohov, Yaxley, and a couple others. Although, Lucius was sitting at the very end far from Voldemort, even further than many of the newer Death Eaters closer to Draco’s age, still new and proving their worth. Both Blaise, Theo, and Draco sat closer to the senior members more so than the other fresher members, a clear sign of their standing amongst the ranks.
Blaise was a skilled duelist, Draco knew. Clever and fast, Dolohov had taken to him lately, training him to perfect his skills. But Draco also knew Blaise, Slytherin though he may be, wanted nothing to do with getting his hands dirty as a Death Eater. The boy had wanted nothing more than to graduate from Hogwarts and take over the family vineyards, wasting away warm Italian summers in luxury. That had all changed of course when Dolohov had visited the school and seen Blaise’s skills, not to mention when Voldemort had gotten wind of the endless fountain of gold the Zabini family owned and had considered how that may prove useful in their cause.
Blaise was one of the only people left that Draco trusted. Blaise was like him in many ways, branded with the Dark Mark not because he had wanted it but because he’d been left with no other choice.
Draco’s eyes roved over to Theo, the slender and quiet curly-haired boy. He’d once been one of Draco’s good friends, Draco having always enjoyed the other boy’s wit and ease with sitting in silence. But Theo had also always been very private and reserved, not to mention he was the son of the petrifying and vicious Nott Sr who had raised Theo alone after his mother had died. Neither Draco nor Blaise could determine properly where Theo’s true loyalties lay. It was too risky to simply ask, and so while Draco had remained civil with Theo, he most certainly did not mention to the boy how his main goal as a Death Eater was to merely survive.
Draco had gotten incredibly good at controlling his emotions over the past year. He’d become a perfect compliant and uncomplaining Death Eater, skilled at concocting lethal potions and particularly good at spying and gathering information. It was Draco’s prefered job, one he was good at and it allowed him leeway in that he was rarely forced to have to fight anyone, or worse, kill.
He worried though, the better he got at what he was doing, the more potential Voldemort saw in him. And Draco worried he would soon be sent on more and more missions where he would be forced to raise his wand.
Draco sighed, wishing Snape was here, the one other person Draco trusted besides Blaise. But Snape was always busy with being Headmaster at Hogwarts lately, and he’d done all he could for Draco already. He’d protected Draco in his sixth year, and he’d taught him occlumency as well. There had been little else he could do but vouch for Draco. So now Draco just focused on surviving.
Narcissa would have wanted Draco to survive. It was what she had dedicated her life to, and Draco would be remiss to throw it away.
It didn’t matter that Draco was tired and had felt stagnant for months, just going through the motions since his mother had died. All he had to do was survive.
“Are you ready for tomorrow, Draco?”
Draco congratulated himself on not shivering at the sound of the Dark Lord speaking directly to him.
“My lord?” Draco asked politely, genuinely not knowing what Voldemort meant.
“Have you not told the boy, Crabbe?” Draco knew Voldemort was not speaking to Vincent, and his eyes shot to Crabbe Sr. There was barely restrained anger in the older man’s eyes, and Draco only just noticed the bruise on the man’s cheek. He’d been on a mission recently, and if the bruise was anything to go by, it had not gone as planned.
Crabbe Sr. swallowed his pride and spoke. “Tomorrow, you, Bellatrix, Lucius, Crabbe, and I are to go on a mission.”
Draco’s eyes widened only marginally at this interesting bit of information. Crabbe Sr. must have fallen out of favor with the Dark Lord if he was being sent on a mission with the disgraced Lucius and the children Vincent and Draco.
“We’re to get rid of a lovely family of muggles,” Bellatrix laughed.
Draco’s heart sank then as he realized what was being asked of him.
He’d have to kill.
oOo
Draco walked at the back of the group, trying to contain his anger as his aunt and Crabbe Sr had betted about whether or not Lucius would find a way to fuck up such a simple task set by Voldemort, clearly jabbing a crack at how low Lucius had fallen in Voldemort’s favor. The two laughed, Vincent joining in on their laughter at his and his father’s expense. Draco personally saw no reason as to why Crabbe Sr. should speak on it, as clearly he was slowly falling out of favor as well. But he supposed the older man had to pick on someone, and Lucius had become an easy target.
The group had arrived at the muggle home, a quaint cottage a little ways off from most muggle residences. It took not more than a few moments to note that all the lights were off, the family likely sleeping.
“How are we doing this then,” Crabb Sr. asked then. If there was something that could be said about the man, it was that he at least understood the benefits of having a plan and not simply going in wands blasting.
“You and Lucius surround the house just in case. Vincent will go behind while Draco go on ahead.”
“Why is it always you Bellatrix?” Crabbe Sr. growled.
“Not me.” Bellatrix grinned then in a way that made Draco uncomfortable when she set her sights on him. “Snape took care of it for Draco last time, but not tonight. My dear nephew of mine will be making the kill.”
Draco felt his breath catch at Bellatrix words and his palm became clammy as he grasped his wand.
It was happening, what Draco had been afraid of.
Bellatrix laughed and before Draco could process what was happening, she had taken Draco by the hand and was leading him into the house. In moments, Bellatrix had cast a spell to silence their steps, unlocked the front door by magic, and had led Draco upstairs until they were standing outside what Draco assumed to be a bedroom.
Bellatrix was drumming her fingers on Draco’s right shoulder, her chin resting on his left as she whispered in his ear. “Ready Draco? You’d better not turn out to be a coward like your father. Lucius never did have the stomach for dead corpses.”
Draco’s heart was beating a mile a minute, and it was with some difficulty that he put up his mental defenses so that Bellatrix would not know how he was truly feeling. He was terrified, and he wanted nothing more than to run away. Draco wished his mother was still here, or damn it all even Snape. He would save Draco again if he were here.
But there was no one to save Draco now.
From behind Bellatrix, Draco could hear Vincent quietly snickering, and he knew he was taking too long. If he waited another moment he risked showing that he truly wanted no bloodshed, even that of a muggle’s. He had to move now or risk his own life.
With a deep breath, Draco steeled himself and turned the doorknob, praying to Merlin for strength.
“It’ll be a night you never forget.” Bellatrix whispered quietly.
Draco closed his eyes, opened the door, and raised his wand. Before Draco could only so much as cast a spell Bellatrix was cursing and Draco’s eyes snapped open to reveal an empty room.
Bellatrix ran up and down the hallways, blasting open every door before screaming and running back downstairs, screaming Lucius’ name. Both Draco and Vincent ran after her just in time to see Bellatrix slap Lucius across the cheek with so much force the older man fell to the floor.
Draco struggled not to show any emotion at the sight of his father on the floor.
“You were supposed to have been keeping watch on this house! Where are they Lucius? Why is no one here?”
“I-I don’t know Bella!” Lucius cried.
“You don’t know?” Bellatrix was livid, and she slammed a pointed heel into Lucius’ stomach. “Can you do nothing right? You were tasked only with watching the house, find out their routine to be sure they would be here!”
“They must have gone on holiday.”
Bellatrix screamed and used her wand to blast a hole into the ceiling.
“Calm yourself Bellatrix. There’s no use in torturing him now, we’ll leave that to the Dark Lord. At the very least we can burn their house.”
Bellatrix breathed heavily for a few moments, thinking over Crabbe Sr.’s words before she nodded. “We trash it first.”
They wasting no time in tearing the place apart. Draco only halfheartedly kicked at furniture and swiped his arm across tables to knock off the objects that sat upon them. He personally thought it a waste of time and energy to trash a house if they were just going to burn it afterward, but most Death Eaters thought that the boring route and insisted in trashing as much of a house as they could if they weren’t even being allowed to spill blood that night.
Tearing things apart relaxed Draco in a way it never had before, and he suspected it had to do with releasing all the tension he had been feeling only minutes ago when he’d thought he was moments away from having to kill a family of muggles.
Soon, Draco decided to step out around to the back of the house to light a cigarette. He inhaled deeply and then buried his face into his hands, trembling slightly with the thought of what had almost happened that night. Merlin was smiling down at him for once, and for the night at least, he’d been allowed to avoid spilling blood.
A particularly loud crash was heard from inside the house then and Draco rolled his eyes, flicking his cigarette away from him and figuring it was time to step back inside.
Draco walked round the house quietly, hands deep in his pockets, dreading being in his fellow Death Eater’s company again. Draco froze however when he heard unfamiliar voices coming from inside.
“Believe me Bellatrix, nothing would give me more satisfaction than killing you right here and now, but I’m afraid tonight is not the night,” a calm and steady, and vaguely familiar voice sounded from inside. It was a voice Draco had not heard in some years.
It was his aunt who confirmed the identity of the new voice, “Still upset about my cousin then, Lupin? I think you’re just making excuses, you’re not man enough to kill me. You’re not man at all really, disgusting half-breed!”
“No Remus,” another unfamiliar voice hissed then in warning, presumably stopping Lupin from nearing his aunt who was laughing maniacally.
Draco ignored his pulsing blood rate and made sure to stay in the shadows as he crept silently closer until he could see the almost forgotten figure of his ex-professor, but he was not alone. Arthur Weasley, a broad-shouldered man with bright red hair Draco assumed was another Weasley, a woman with purple hair, and a dark skinned young man stood in a half circle around Bellatrix and the others, their wands drawn.
It may have looked like Bellatrix and the others were outnumbered, but Draco knew that any moment now Bellatrix would whip her want out lightning quick, a battle quick to follow Death Eaters against members of the Order of the Phoenix. They were evenly numbered against each other, it would be difficult to determine who would win the battle, who would end up with the most casualties.
Draco’s drew out his own wand in preparation and let his eyes stray to the unknown Weasley, suddenly recognizing him as the eldest Weasley who had gotten married months ago. The wedding had become the first battle following the fall of the Ministry to Voldemort. Draco had been there, disguised in a mask of course, fighting alongside Death Eaters, throwing hexes and curses at witches and wizards, many of whom he had recognized.
Draco’s eyes then strayed to Remus Lupin’s face and his step faltered, wincing at a memory.
Bellatrix’s laughter turned to a chuckle and when Draco glanced at her he knew that she had spotted him hiding in the shadows behind the Order.
“Don’t worry Lupin, you can join my poor cousin soon,” Bellatrix goaded, her chin nodding slowly, almost imperceptibly. It was a signal.
Draco knew Bellatrix wanted him to throw a curse at one of the Order Members, throw the unexpected first move that would distract the Order long enough to allow the Death Eaters to draw their wands and gain an upper hand in the battle that would ensue.
It was a moment that could prove to Bellatrix and Crabbe once and for all where his loyalties lay. Draco knew he would not die in this fight, for he doubted Remus or Arthur had the will to kill him, and he knew Bellatrix would protect him. He could use this moment for months, another way to avoid being sent on other missions that would force him to raise his wand if he garnered enough praise for this moment.
This was a moment that could change everything with how the battle could end, and it all lay in Draco’s hand.
Draco felt his heart quicken as he raised his wand and threw the curse that would give one side the upper hand. And almost before he knew he had decided which side to give the upper advantage to, Draco had thrown a curse at Crabbe Sr, the older man’s body shooting back into a wall.
There was a moment of shock from both sides, but the Order reacted quicker, Death Eaters too distracted by Draco’s impulsive act of betrayal thereby losing their upper hand.
“Draco!” Lucius shouted in fear and shock at the same time that Bellatrix roared, “Blood traitor!”
Bellatrix wasted no time in raising her wand to her nephew but Lupin and the oldest Weasley boy were already blocking her path, throwing hexes Bellatrix momentarily stumbled to deflect. Draco was breathing heavily as his eyes momentarily connected with his father’s, the elder Malfoy’s wand still raised in stunned shock as he stared at his son. Lucius did not have much time to dwell on it however as he was soon distracted blocking jinxes from Arthur Weasley, the purple haired woman facing off Vincent Crabbe.
Draco too was forced to put his wand to use as Crabbe Sr., having recovered from his fall suddenly stood with a roar, rage on his face as his eyes focused on Draco, wand raised. The two dueled and the next minutes were a blur for Draco as he attempted to hold his own against the older and more experienced wizard intent on killing him, memories of Draco visiting his home for play dates with a younger Crabbe long forgotten.
It soon became clear that Draco was going to be killed by Crabbe Sr. Already Draco had been hit with more than a handful of spells, his shirt was torn and his arm was bleeding, and he was certain he could feel a bruise forming on his hip. The man was brutal, and it didn’t help that Bellatrix and Crabbe Jr threw hexes at him whenever they could as well as the ones they threw at their opponents. Draco could hear his father alternating between shouting at Crabbe Sr to leave Draco alone and begging Draco to stand down.
Draco was being forced to step backwards as Crabbe’s curses got more intense. Finally, Crabbe threw one too powerful for Draco to deflect and he was sent flying backwards into a wall.
Draco thought he had lost consciousness for a moment, his body weighed down by broken brick and rubble, his hand still holding on to his wand, but only barely.
Crabbe Sr. walked closer to him, the anger on his face reminding Draco briefly of many years ago when he and Vincent had accidentally broken one of the outdoor statues of the Crabbe residence while riding on their brooms. The memory was positively ridiculous considering Crabbe looked fifty times more angry than he had then. Whereas before Draco had thought Crabbe might kill him in his rage, he was now positive that he would die at his hand.
Draco closed his eyes in resignation, prepared to feel one last painful curse before he moved on, wondering if Crabbe was getting his revenge for that incident so many years ago.
The curse never came though as he heard someone shout, “Stupefy!” Draco opened his eyes to see Remus Lupin standing over him, his wand held in front of him and Crabbe knocked out on the opposite side of the room.
Lupin waved his wand muttering ‘wingardium leviosa’ relieving Draco of the weight on his body. Draco was vaguely aware of being picked up by the arms and the distant shout of his father before the familiarly unpleasant feeling of apparation.
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Title: Dancing on My Own
Couple: Draco Malfoy/Luna Lovegood
Rated: K+
Summary: Just a dance won’t hurt, will it? (AU fic)
When the music plays inside the ball, Luna walks aimlessly at the balcony while twirling herself. Her friends are all inside, dancing with their respective partner, even Ron has finally able to gather his courage to ask Hermione to dance. Luna chuckles at that. Why, of course, it’s so obvious that the Weasley guy has been interested with her friend for so long, but never able to speak it out.
Luna looks at the couple, who‘s currently dancing inside and smiles. She wonders if she didn’t reject Neville’s offer, would she be dancing inside with him too? But Luna did decline his offer, to everyone’s surprise (because they all think they know her)
“You said no? Why?” Ginny asked her that evening before they went to the ball.
“Maybe because I just want to be alone for a while?”
Ginny looked at her like she just said the most obvious answer in the world. “Neville is nice,” her friend tried again.
“And so does Harry, but we wouldn’t want Harry to invite me to the party, would we?” Luna asked, a little bit higher in her tone without her intention. That being said, Ginny finally stopped asking questions and let Luna did the former’s hair. Feeling a bit guilty, Luna said again, “I think Neville asked because he’s being kind. He didn’t really mean it - asking me.”
“But you wouldn’t know. Luna, this would be our last year in High School and you might probably not meet him anymore. Who knows that you’ll regret this?”
(Oh, if only Ginny knows her only deepest regret). Luna only smiled and did Ginny’s hair. The conversation changed to other subjects like who would come with who or what food would be there.
“There is no fairy in this area, Lovegood.” A voice she recognizes so well, one very deep, but teasing.
Luna turns around. “Draco, I don’t know that you are now interested in fairy.” She says softly.
Draco just ignores that statement while walking closer to Luna. In his black two-button suits covering the white shirt inside, Draco looks stunning, as how he always looks like in the school. After all, he is Draco Malfoy, the most popular guy in the entire school.
“You’re not dancing?” Luna asks. “Shouldn’t you be with Pansy or someone?” With them being so close, Luna realizes that she’s far shorter than Draco and she has to raise her head to meet his eyes.
"Because that someone apparently declined my offer because she said that she didn’t want to be seen with me. Because she said that she didn’t want her friends to misunderstand.”
“That person must be lucky and brave enough to say no to you then, Draco.” She smiles sweetly, a hint of tease in her tone.
“Yes and she even dared to make me look around the place just to find her. If you happen to meet her, please give her my regards.” They stare at each other for a while, before Luna reaches for his cheek.
If people inside the ball are not too busy with dancing, they would probably be surprised with the view in the balcony right now. For standing there are the most popular guy with the outcast. Sometimes, it only happens in the fairytale, but sometimes, maybe the fairy do exist to let it be true in real life.
"Well since you’re alone and I am in a good mood today, I would accompany you for a dance. How about it?” Luna chuckles before nodding. His hand is already on her waist, pulling her closer, the other hand reaches for her hand and so they dance, under the moonlight.
“I am sorry to let you go here alone,” Luna whispers.
“But I am not sorry that you reject that Neville’s guy.”
“He’s nice though,” Luna giggles which receives a groan as a reply from him. “Ginny said I should be with him.”
“That Weasley girl really needs to stop bothering someone else’s business. She and Potter are just the same, always prying to everyone’s life.”
Luna leans on Draco’s chest, listening to his heartbeat that always calms her heart. “They are kind.”
“And I am not, I know.” Luna laughs, a sweet voice that captures his heart, when, he doesn’t know. And so they dance, at the balcony, feeling complete with each other and doesn’t care with anything.
Or perhaps a guy who looks at the couple with a shattering heart.
(For if fairytale comes true to one, it doesn’t happen to other).
Author’s Note:
I hope you enjoy it! I want to write something angsty, but it turns out to be a bit fluffy. So yeah. Haha. Anyway, this is inspired by Dancing on My Own by Calum Scott that keeps repeating in my head.
