Since I've been having such a hard time writing, I decided to try writing some short pieces based on some prompts from a livejournal community called alphabetasoup, where each prompt starts with a letter of the alphabet. I'm not affiliated with the group in any way, just doing this for fun. I decided to try my hand at some Harry Potter fiction after I saw the sixth movie(!).
And I like Draco and Luna. I just take my favorite characters and smash them together.
Allurement : fascination, charm; the means of alluring
It starts with the hair.
He knows that she can sense him. That's why she does it at that moment, because it's so un-Luna-like that it still sends a shiver up his spine. She tosses her head in a slow, deliberate fashion, and her hair scatters like pale sunbeams through the corridor. Others walk around her, because that in itself isn't unusual - Looney Lovegood doing something odd in public. But when she looks back at him with that look in her eyes (not spacey, absent, or bemused) that makes him want to drop his books and follow her to her room and barricade the door and keep her there for hours on end, it is so out of her normal self that sometimes he wonders if someone is using polyjuice potion to mess with his head.
But who in their right mind would transform into Luna Lovegood if that was their objective? No one, because no one would think they had anything in common.
Well, they actually had a lot in common. Especially each other.
So after a gruelingly long transfiguration class (it's not like he's going to need his education much, considering that the mark searing the inside of his forearm has sealed his fate irregardless), he ditches his lackeys (because Draco Malfoy has no true friends) and makes his way to the roof of the astronomy tower - their roof, as he refers to it in his mind.
And of course she's waiting there, with that crazy hair swirling in the breeze. He's tried to take a brush to it many times, but in the end his efforts would always prove futile. Luna Lovegood's hair was meant for tangles, and however much that drove him crazy, he had decided months ago that crazy wasn't that bad.
Her kind of insanity is incredibly appealing, considering it makes more sense than anything in his life as of late.
She turns slowly, deliberately, because they both know this game and they both play it well. "Why, hello Draco. It's a beautiful day, don't you agree?"
And he notices that she's missing her leggings, but decides to ask about it later. "I suppose." He approaches and she turns her eyes back to the grounds. Silently she removes her shoes and pulls herself into the crenel and hangs her legs off of the battlement, wiggling her toes in the late afternoon breeze. They're painted a neon orange tint today. It makes him smile.
It's well rehearsed, but it makes his heart beat (because when she isn't around, he's not really alive, is he?) when she leans back against his chest and his arms wrap around her waist. Her head rests perfectly in the crook of his neck, and she tells him fantastic stories of nargles and moon frogs and conspiracy theories about the ministry of magic-
And then he tilts her head back and kisses her, interrupting her reasoning of why wrackspurts like to hide in people's ears. But she just cradles his cheek with her hand and returns his affection, because they both know this is all that either of them can handle.
Words are too weak for Draco and too strong for Luna, so they find their happy medium.
As he watches her skip away thirty minutes later, he takes a deep breath, holding the scent of her hair and the touch of her fingers and the calming affect of her words until they see one another again.
Because with her, he can live, if only for a moment.