Entry tags:

100quills, fanfiction, fic: far away as moonshine, writing

FIC: Far Away as Moonshine, 7/28
Title: Far Away as Moonshine, Part I: Malfoy Manor
Author: zephre
Rating: PG (R for whole fic)
Prompt: 100quills table 50.2: Farewells
Word Count: 1,296
Summary: For Draco Malfoy, the war was one endless nightmare. Until Luna Lovegood gave him a reason to hope. Can he find his courage, make his luck, and become more than a pawn to those in power?
Warnings: (for whole fic, highlight to view) *mature themes, imprisonment, mention of rape, abuse, battlefield violence, various canon and other character deaths, sexual situations*
Notes: The story has three parts, each broken into chapters. The title is from the song, "Street of Dreams" by Oysterband.

Chapter Index:
Part I:   1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ||
Part II:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ||
Part III: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ||
Epilogue

Chapter 7: In which a touch of lunacy surfaces at last.


"You'll be going back to school soon," Luna said sadly, tracing patterns in the frost on the glass of the deep window seat in Draco's parlor.

Draco looked up, placing a marker in his book and closing it. "Two more days."

The pictures in the frost began to run. "I'm afraid," she whispered. "Everything will change again." Luna was always more melancholy after she had been downstairs to visit Ollivander. She had been in the old man's cell every day since that first morning in Draco's suite. The house elves led her there, watched the corridor, and led her back up after an hour.

Draco set his book on the side table and stood up, waving his hand over the lamp to put it out. "My mother will take care of you. You will be safe."

Luna looked up at him as he walked up to the other side of the bay window and leaned on the frame. She was still too thin, her eyes huge in her face. She sighed, but said nothing.

He reached out to touch her cheek, a gentle brush of fingertips, and she did not flinch from him. "No one can touch you unless the Dark Lord himself counters my father's order. Stay out of their way, out of sight, and there will never be a need for him to do so." It was not as reassuring as he would like, but he could not offer her lies now. "Perhaps by Easter hols things will be settled, and you can go back to school." He did not say that by 'settled' he meant that Potter and his friends would be dead, and the Dark Lord openly in charge. It was not something he wanted to contemplate too deeply.

Luna smiled, but it was not the smile she had used at school, when she was free and could still believe that there was hope. This smile held so much pain that Draco ached with it. "Yes, I expect you're right," she said. "We'll wait to see if things settle." And Draco wondered if by 'settle' she meant that she would keep plotting to escape and get herself killed. Or worse. He had been easier in his mind when she was full of unseen beasts and bizarre customs.

"I'll be back in March. The time will fly, you'll see."

Luna looked back out the window, and did not reply.

The following day, when Draco began packing his school trunk, Luna's melancholy shifted into rage. He had never actually seen her angry. He had not expected it.

He looked at her over the open lid of his trunk; she sat on his bed, drawing supplies scattered across the blankets. At the moment she was using none of those, but watching him. "I'm surprised you do that yourself," she said.

"How else will I know what's in here? Besides, the elves are all spies for my parents." He picked up a stack of books and set them carefully inside. Although the trunk was larger inside than outside, careful packing was still required.

"Only for your parents?" She flipped a penknife through her fingers. The blade glinted as it moved, although the edge was dulled by a safety charm.

Draco balanced a stack of uniform shirts on the corner of the trunk and thought about his answer to that. He knew what she meant, of course. "They are bound to my family, but my father has ordered them to offer hospitality to his guests," he said at last. "They will know that you are here, but no one will look for you. As far as the others are concerned, you're mine, and off-limits."

Luna leaped off the bed and started toward him. "I'm not yours," she said, and shoved the lid of his trunk so that it pinned his shirts, narrowly missing his hands. "I'm not some bloody owl or broomstick you bought on Diagon Alley. I don't belong to you."

"I know!" Draco protested, reached for her hands. She pulled away. "I know that, Luna," he tried again. "But they don't." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "They don't care. They understand power, and control, and if it keeps you safe while I'm away then you will damned well accept it while I'm gone."

"Accept it?" she cried, throwing the penknife at him. "You bastard."

Draco ducked to the side and circled the trunk.

She backed away, grabbed a book from his dresser, and threw it at him as well. "I hate you! And this house! And these horrible rooms! And your awful cellar! This is all your fault!"

Draco kept walking as she screamed at him, and Luna kept moving back, until she hit the wall between his bookcase and his desk. She pitched a paperweight from his desk at him. "I hate your stupid excuses! I hate Death Eaters!" Her aim was actually spot on; she would have made an excellent Chaser with a little more strength in her arm. He had to twist out of the way fast, and the ball of heavy, enchanted glass still hit his arm before falling to dent the floor. A spiderweb of cracks spread across the surface, then it crumbled in a shower of blue sparks. "I liked that paperweight," he said quietly as he cornered her, one hand on the wall and one on the bookshelf.

She did not, as he half expected, try to duck under his arm, but kicked his shin. Being barefoot, she probably did herself more damage than she did his boots. He saw her wince, and tried to interject, "Luna, calm-" but she slapped him across the face mid-word. The blow knocked him off-balance, but he didn't let go of the bookcase to afford her an easy escape. 

"You can't save me, you can't save my father, there's no point!" She wasn't shouting any longer, but sobbing, tears streaking her face. Every word struck Draco with more force than her hand could muster. "Why torment me like this? Just send me back down to the cellars."

Draco took hold of her arms just above the elbows. "Luna." She let her head fall back against the wall. He could see himself reflected in her eyes.

"I hate you for leaving me alone," she whispered.

"I am trying to keep you alive!"

Luna's fingers curled around his elbows. "Why do you care?"

Draco pulled her close, slipping one arm around her waist while his other hand cradled her head. She stood still, letting her hands fall to her sides.  "I don't know," he said into her hair. "I just do. I'm sorry, Luna. I'm so sorry." He felt the moment the tension left her; she pressed her face into his neck just as she had done the first day out of the cellar, and her hands closed on the lapels of his robe.

After long moments listening to her breathing grow calm and even, he risked speaking again.  "I have to go."

"I know."

He leaned back so he could see her face, moving one hand to cradle her cheek. "You will be safe.  My mother will take care of you. Do not give up."

She shook her head, saying nothing, and buried her face in his robes.

The next day, when the elves took his trunk and his owl and his broomstick downstairs, Draco stood beside his bed for long minutes looking down at Luna. Her fingers clutched his pillow close to her, and he found he could not bear to wake her just to say a quick and painful farewell. He brushed a tangle of hair gently from her face, feeling an odd sense of deja vu, then turned away and walked out.

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