Kismet is a word derived from Turkish and Hindi-Urdu, meaning Fate or Destiny, a predetermined course of events.

Disclaimer: All characters from the Harry Potter book series belong to JK Rowling.

His hand reaches out, trembling ever so slightly as he brushes her dirtytangledbeautiful hair away from her face. Stormy grey meets icy blue.

He opens his mouth, tries to speak, and finds that he doesn't have a clue what to say.

"You're beautiful."

The words hang in the air between them, his hand still pressed against her face. She gives him a small smile, her small hand reaching up to cover his larger one, pressing it harder against her cheekbones.

"You don't know me," she says.

"I know you're beautiful," he replies.

"I see," she tells him, her hand making its way down his arm, tracing it back to his shoulder, up his neck, and settling on his lips. "I think you're beautiful too, Draco."

His hand flits over the cut on the corner of her eyebrow, little bits of dried blood flaking off at his touch.

"Does it hurt?" Draco asks, his hand falling back to his side.

Her gentle hand moves away from his lips, taking his hand in both of hers. "I watch the stars every night," she informs him, not offering an answer to his question, her eyes gazing steadily into his. Draco wants to look away, but he doesn't.

He swallows. "I watch them too."

She releases his hand, takes a step back and tilts her head to the heavens. "Ever been in love?"

"For eight years, I have."

Draco can never forget the day he met her; he was ten. The sound of her bare feet on the earth, her laughter ringing in the breeze, the promise of the world in her eyes. When he had told his father that he wished to marry her, it had been dismissed as nothing more than a mere childhood crush. For a while, even Draco believed that had been all there was to it. But every night, snippets of their time together haunted him. A wind chime, a flash of golden, her hand in his. Even now Draco sees the little girl he fell in love with everywhere he goes.

("Wait!" Young Draco calls, "What's your name?"

"Luna!" She yells back. "My name is Luna!")

"Her name was Luna," Draco tells the girl standing before him, "I loved her; I still do."

"My name is Luna," she says.

Draco only smiles. "I know."

And their game of pretend comes to an end.

"Kismet," Luna murmurs, hand stretching out to point at two stars shimmering in the night sky.

Draco's eyes follow the imaginary line emerging from the tip of Luna's finger, although he already knows what he is supposed to be seeing. Luna remains in that position, a wistful look in her eyes.

Suddenly all Draco can see is the little girl from his past.

("Father says I can't see you anymore," Draco tells the girl. "I'm going to Hogwarts soon, you see, and he says I have to keep up the Malfoy reputation."

Draco falls silent, afraid that Luna will get angry at him, but she only smiles at him with a silent resignation – an expression far beyond her nine years.

"Kismet," Luna murmurs, hand stretching out to point at two stars shimmering in the night sky.

"There's no such constellation," Draco informs her.

Luna turns to him, her eyes twinkling. "It's our constellation, Draco."

"No matter what happens, as long as Kismet continues to shine –")

"I'll find my way back to you."

Luna's gaze shifts from the sky, meeting his eyes. She seems surprised that he remembers.

"You remember," she breathes, as if speaking too loudly will shatter the magic that fills the air. It doesn't matter; she's all Draco can hear anyway.

Draco's lips curl into a smirk, a habit drilled into him from years of pretending to be someone else. "Of course I do," he reaches out again, grabs the same lock of hair he had tucked behind her ear earlier and twirls it around his finger, "I love you."

"You love that little girl from all those years ago," Luna bites her lip, looks down at her feet. "I'm not her anymore." She takes a deep breath, and gathers her courage to look Draco straight in the eye. "And you're not the little boy I remember."

Draco's hand drops limply to his side once again. He thinks of Luna, sitting alone and getting picked on year after year at Hogwarts. He thinks of Luna returning from Harry Potter's brainless stint at the Ministry of Magic, and how he had been ready to kill himself had she not returned. But mostly, he thinks of her locked up in his cellar, the small glimmer of hope in her eyes growing smaller and smaller every time he was unable to meet her eyes, too cowardly to take her away to a faraway place where she could never get hurt. Although Draco supposes she would have wanted to stay and fight, and would have refused any offers he made to run away with him anyway.

Without thinking, Draco holds his hand out to her. "Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy."

The ice in her eyes melts, and she takes his hand gratefully. "I'm Luna Lovegood. It's nice to meet you."

Draco still isn't thinking when he pulls her into his arms and presses his lips against hers. She is surprised at first, but is soon returning his kiss, pressing so far into him that Draco feels as if they have merged into one. It feels so right, the way their bodies mould into one another, the way their lips move in sync, the way her small hands run through his hair.

"I want to love you," Luna gasps, out of breath when they pull apart, but Draco doesn't miss the look of determination in her cool blue eyes.

"What about Potter?" Draco is equally out of breath, "he hates me."

Luna doesn't respond to his question, simply pressing her index finger to his lips before taking his hand, leading him away from the battlefield. They have no idea where they are going, but neither cares. As Kismet shines brighter than ever in the night sky, they are finally together again and that is all that matters to them.

Their love is a secret, even from themselves once upon a time; but as they walk through the deserted corridors hand-in-hand towards a new beginning, they know – they have loved each other all along.

A/N: I adore this pairing, because I always felt that Draco and Luna balance each other out. Despite not believing in 'love at first sight' and all that, I am extremely fond of the idea of destiny, especially when it's about love – the knowledge that someone somewhere out there loves you, isn't it a nice thought?