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ineedmyfics2012-09-07 12:36 am
ineedmymods) wrote in ineedmyfics2012-09-07 12:36 am
Entry tags:
Seeing Things
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gamma_x_orionis
Fromin_the_blue
Title: Seeing Things
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood both know how to make time pass more pleasurably on the Hogwarts Express. And their friends will never know. Thanks tojules1278 for the beta.
Certain niceties had to be attended to before the long ride from Platform 9¾ to Hogsmeade, of course. First, he and his fellow gentlemen had to secure a train compartment for themselves, and even though there would be room for more, nobody else would be welcome to so much as cross the threshold. No, Draco Malfoy liked to look upon his compartment as his throne for the duration of the journey. Beyond, if he could have taken it with him. He was used to being one, not one of many. And while his fellow Slytherins (really, was there any other house worth even mentioning?) treated him with the respect his name engendered, it would have been so lovely to have a room to call his own. There, he could have worked on his own studies in privacy.
But Father had told him back before first year that he was going to have to learn to share eventually, so why not make a pretense of it early on? It's exactly what he'd done, and it wasn't only Crabbe and Goyle who served him well. He also had Snape, that disgusting yellow-toothed greasy-haired mess of a Death Eater, serving him equally well. Little surprise that Potions was his favorite class of all.
The term had yet to start, however, and the long trip to Scotland was to be endured and as he always did, Draco Malfoy set up his makeshift throne in a fine middle compartment where he had the run of the entire car. With the door open he could hear the inane chatter of his fellow students, and with the door closed he could shut all that out. Already, he was longing for next summer. But first, he had the on-board Prefects' Meeting to attend and after that, Fifth Year to see to.
*
In a separate train car, Luna Lovegood sat with Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom, who definitely wasn't nobody, reading The Quibbler. The magazine was upside-down so she could make out the spell from the runes. It didn't bother her to be in the same car as Neville, the boy with the toad always gone missing, any more than it bothered her to be in the same car as Harry Potter or his friends once they'd crowded in. Her attention was all on her father's magazine, on its secrets and quirks and hidden messages.
Her thoughts were on things that girls her age tended to think about, when they drifted. Luna's thoughts drifted quite often, and she liked to send her spirit-energy floating around the Hogwarts Express invisibly, looking in on her classmates. Friends and enemies both, although she never actually considered anyone at school to be an enemy. That was the sort of craven separation that brought people to ruin. While she read about the mystery of the runes, the part of her brain that wasn't busy reading was busy traveling. Muggles, she knew, called it astral projection, which seemed to be an awfully magical name for something she'd been able to do for as long as she could remember.
Two cars ahead, the Slytherin trio of Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy sat in what could have been glum silence. She didn't know. When she floated about she could see but it could be hard to hear, especially with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger keeping up a running conversation next to where she sat physically on the train. It seemed to her that these three, all a year ahead of her at school, were deep in discussion about girls. About the ones they thought pretty (Pansy Parkinson — she knew it wasn't her pug-like face they found pretty, but boys were so predictable), the ones they thought ugly (Millicent Bullstrode — poor Millicent, she thought, she would have to find a way to make up for the terrible fun these boys were making of her), the ones they would most like to slap (Hermione Granger — she didn't know that Hermione deserved a slap, but Hermione knew a great many things that a lot of her classmates didn't), and the ones they would most like to "show a thing or two" next time they had the chance. She shuddered almost audibly when she heard her own name and saw the despicable little grin creep onto Draco Malfoy's face.
There were some things she simply didn't want to know. As quickly as she could, she floated out of that train car and landed back in her own body, where she pressed The Quibbler to her face so tightly that the words blurred together and her eyes watered. I'll show you a thing or two, Draco Malfoy, she promised the air.
The droplets in her eyes weren't tears. No, she didn't blink and she most certainly didn't cry. Not for things that weren't worth the trouble.
No. Luna Lovegood got even. In her very own way.
*
The ride was long and boring, and even though he had his shiny new Prefect's badge to lord over Crabbe and Goyle and anyone else who dared cross his path, there was little to do on the train save for eat, sleep, and devise all manner of plots. Since neither Crabbe nor Goyle had a brain to rub together between the pair of them, planning and plotting was best kept as a solo effort for the time being. He'd already had his turn threatening and dropping hints at Potter. That left reading — he was no Hermione Granger, even though he was no stranger to an open book — or dozing.
"Shut it, you two," he warned his travel companions. "I'm going to close my eyes and sleep. I don't want to be disturbed."
Either Crabbe or Goyle grunted an assent. He wasn't sure which one it was and it didn't matter. With eyes closed, they sounded alike and both melted into one giant unwieldy stupid troll in his mind's eye. They lived to serve him. They would be quiet and let him be. As the scenery rolled on outside and Crabbe told the lady with the sweets to go away and leave them, couldn't she see Draco Malfoy was sleeping, he let himself drift into a state that was neither asleep nor awake, lulled by the rocking of the train on the tracks and the sound of time rushing by. He was aware, but unaware. A state of trance, that's what his Aunt Bellatrix had said one time, but he didn't need to listen to Aunt Bellatrix any more than he needed to listen to his own mother. Still, the woman was useful. She knew a few things. She knew He Who Must Not Be Named personally, and that could hardly be discounted.
His thoughts moved from his aunt to his mother and from there, he imagined what it would be like now that he was finally a Prefect.
He imagined himself walking the floors of Hogwarts, Prefect badge pinned to his chest, ordering people about. This had been a fantasy of his all summer long. In particular he loved giving orders to Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter. Today, he knew — he'd patrolled the train as all Prefects are expected to do — they were riding to Hogwarts with Neville Longbottom and Loony Lovegood and stupid little Ginny Weasley. Loony — Luna — was a year behind them, a friend of Ginny's, and a Ravenclaw. He didn't give much thought to the Ravenclaws or the Hufflepuffs. If it were up to him he would eradicate them from the school on general principle. Luna, with her bulging light eyes and dirty blonde hair, ate away at him for no good reason other than the fact she was ridiculous. She didn't conform. She didn't wear the same things as the other witches her age. Her father ran the stupid Quibbler, and she spoke in that irritating sing-song voice. He'd had an eye on her for a while, because like the best of all good intimidators, he knew he hadn't simply been imagining the look behind the looks she gave him every time she glanced his way. He was frosty-haired and silver-eyed and the best-looking boy at Hogwarts, everyone said so. Of course she would look at him the way she did. Poor thing, so out of her league.
He imagined all the opportunities he would have this year, as Prefect, to scold her. She was always out and about, never where she was expected to be. Rumors of her insanity followed her as closely as the clothes beneath the robes she wore, and he couldn't help but indulge himself. His eyes were closed and Crabbe and Goyle both too obedient to interrupt him after he'd expressly warned them not to, so he let his thoughts simply float. Up and up they went, until he saw himself late at night, prowling the halls because he could. Because he was a Prefect, and with that came additional responsibilities and perks, both.
In his imaginings, he found her by the statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor, only a few doors away from the Prefect's bath. She was, of course, trying to have a conversation with the statue. It was fruitless, but the mere fact that something was improbable had yet to stop Loony Lovegood from trying it. Tonight she wore her robes open, a jumper and skirt in Ravenclaw colors beneath it.
"Lovegood." His voice was sharp, echoing off the empty Hogwarts corridors. "You're out past curfew."
"I meant to go to my Common Room" she told him in her dreamy, sing-song voice, "but got distracted by the portraits. You get there from the fifth floor, you know."
He didn't know. He'd never deigned to go to the Ravenclaw common room. His place was Slytherin, down below, so closely tied to the earth below them, so strong and so grounded. "Lovegood." His voice was strong and stern, but fair. He was only a Prefect doing his job. "You're out of line. You need to come with me."
Her answer seemed fearless in its plaintiveness. "You're the Prefect, Draco."
"And you, Lovegood, have just earned yourself a detention. You'd best follow me."
In his fantasy — they usually involved Pansy, since she was a known quantity, but this was much more exciting — he marched Luna down the hall to the Prefect's bath where he muttered the password ("manly, yes, but I like it too"). The door opened and he pushed her in. "What are you looking at?" he asked the portrait of the mermaid and when she giggled, he took off his robe and draped it over the frame. No one, portrait, human, nor ghost was allowed to disturb what would happen next, and he knew exactly what that would be. The Malfoy family were no slouches at punishment, and his particular variety of punishment was absolutely appropriate to a boy his age. He turned to Luna, licked his lips, and pointed his wand to her robes. "Now let's see what's beneath it all."
With a flick of his wand her robes fell away, followed swiftly by the clothes beneath. He knew her lingerie would be pink and silver. So soft and pretty he could just taste it. He would. He'd taste what lay underneath the silk and lace, too, and ignore her murmured protests because in the Malfoy house no meant more, faster, harder. The spot between her thighs was hot and moist, and her no, don't turned into a muffled yes, more as he laid her down on the tile and took what was rightfully his. Oh, of course there were spells he could use to enhance the experience, but who wanted to take the time to think about that when they were so intimate and so close? No, he wanted to feel everything from the softness of her breasts, cupped in his hands, to the strength of her tongue against his, to the magic of the way they fit together, the way she tightened around him, the way it felt like she was made just for his use.
He was Draco Malfoy. He needed no spells, either to satisfy or to be satisfied. Let the mermaid complain all she wanted about being excluded from watching what went on in her own domain: he didn't care. He only cared about the beating of his heart, about the way Luna's legs curled around his, holding him close. Closer. His name slipped out of her mouth and echoed off the walls: he should have known she'd be loud about things.
When they were done, when those pale blue eyes of hers looked up at him filled with lust and a greedy kind of satiety, she begged him for another round of detention the following night.
He said no and meant the word for what it was. As he dressed with quick brutal efficiency and left the bath, he could hear her sobbing and calling his name. Oh, he'd find a way to serve her another detention, but on his timetable and no one else's.
On the train, he laughed in his sleep. Crabbe and Goyle shot each other looks, shrugged, and turned back to their Chocolate Frog cards.
*
Oh, she would be glad to show Draco Malfoy a thing or two. Once again, she disappeared behind the pages of her father's magazine, and couldn't stop thinking about Ron Weasley's joke. He was funny, very very funny, but she was no fool. Just because they'd sat together on the train didn't mean that he or Hermione or any other Prefect would feel beholden to her. Luna knew she was the laughing stock of the school. She knew people called her Loony. She knew there weren't any other students like her.
And if she had the chance, that was something she would prove to Draco, with his silly pointed chin and ice-cold eyes and his so-much-better attitude. She'd never been the kind of person to think anyone else deserved to be taken down a notch or two, but every once in a while she met someone she thought ought to be an exception to that rule. Draco Malfoy was definitely one.
If she could, she'd lead him on a merry goose chase into the Forbidden Forest. She had friends there, but she'd heard he was afraid of it. The more fear the better, as far as she was concerned. It would mean she'd have the upper hand and that was exactly what she wanted. They'd run past the Acromantulas, pay no attention to the centaurs. Evade the thestrals and Fluffy, the three-headed dog. She'd lead him to her favorite clearing, the one the Doxies showed her on one visit when she was being particularly open to the call of the wild, the one where the wild Ford Anglia lived. She and the car had an understanding. She often went to it when she was feeling particularly persecuted or annoyed by her fellow students, or when they had borrowed enough of her belongings so she felt as if she had no place left in the world to call her own. Sometimes, she'd open up the door and sit inside, and take a nap. The forest never frightened her. All the creatures living in it were so lovely and strange, and really, all they needed was a little love and kindness. A little bit of respect.
She knew that was all she needed. Once she'd got Draco out there with her, all she needed to do was call the unicorns over. They would pin him down with their horns. That would set him on the path to behaving the way she'd want, she knew it... or maybe... maybe she'd take him to the top of the Astronomy Tower instead. Cast the Incarcerous spell on him and bind his wrists and ankles to the walls. She was actually quite good at spell-casting, although no one really took the time to know it about her. And once he was her captive, she would show him exactly what Luna Lovegood was made of. And made for: she knew how to live up to her last name. Once she'd proved that to him incontrovertibly — once he was a quivering mass beneath her legs, once she'd finished having her way with him, her wand directing the movement of his body and its parts to her ultimate satisfaction — she might even let him go.
But only if he was nice. If he stayed mean she would leave him right there for the rest of the school to find. If he was lucky, it would only be Mrs. Norris, Filch's despicable cat. If not... well, wouldn't the other students be amused to find him that way? She reveled in the thought for just a moment, but she wasn't a very spiteful person and couldn't really imagine being that cruel. No, she would let him go, and whether things had taken place in the back of the wild Ford Anglia with all the forest creatures cheering them on or in the Astronomy Tower with only the night sky as their witness, still, she would have shown the great Draco Malfoy a thing or two and once she had, he would want to see those same things again and again and again. She knew it: he would be putty in her hands.
Behind her copy of The Quibbler, she grinned. Maybe this would be a very good year after all. No one saw her smile, but that was all right. The thought and smile would always be there when she needed them.
*
"Watch where you're going. Prefect passing by. Out of my way!"
Ginny Weasley shook her head at Draco Malfoy, who was busy roughing up some second-years. "As if they're not already nervous enough."
Luna shrugged. "People only bully those smaller than themselves because they can. And because they don't feel big enough to pick on people their own size." She pulled her robes around herself. "I think I'll go remind him of that."
"You're crazy!" Ginny's eyes widened. "Don't. He's nothing but trouble, you've got no idea."
"Don't worry." Luna smiled dreamily and floated off in the direction of the Slytherin Prefect. She found him shoving a small Hufflepuff boy out of the path. "I think you're hurting him."
"Why would I care if..." Draco stopped and turned, one eyebrow raised and a sneer on his face. "Oh, it's you. Look, everyone. Loony Lovegood's telling a Prefect how to do his job." By his side, Pansy Parkinson snickered, and Crabbe and Goyle took on menacing poses.
"He doesn't need advice from you," scolded Pansy.
"Not yet," Luna agreed pleasantly, "but he'll come around." On tiptoe, she leaned to whisper into Draco's ear. "Pleasure is a sin, but sometimes sin can be such a pleasure." Something else she'd been practicing: she sent a thought directly to him — an image of the two of them standing alone, of him reaching over to slip the edge of her clothing off to reveal the black satin-and-leather she wore closest to her skin — and knew by his reaction it had been received. She could feel it through his robes, the ones she'd pressed up against solely for the purposes of the whisper, nothing else. Pleasure, sin: what was the difference?
Without waiting for any other sort of response, she stepped back. Even though it was dark, she could see the flush rising on Draco's face as he shoved Pansy out of the way and stalked toward one of the carriages.
The moon was full and soft over the village of Hogsmeade. Luna made her way back to her friends, the taste of Draco's skin pungent on her tongue and his scent filling her more with every breath. She hooked her arm into Ginny's and smiled as innocently as a newborn babe, ready to take on the challenges of the year ahead.
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ineedmyfics.
gamma_x_orionis From
in_the_blueTitle: Seeing Things
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood both know how to make time pass more pleasurably on the Hogwarts Express. And their friends will never know. Thanks to
jules1278 for the beta.Certain niceties had to be attended to before the long ride from Platform 9¾ to Hogsmeade, of course. First, he and his fellow gentlemen had to secure a train compartment for themselves, and even though there would be room for more, nobody else would be welcome to so much as cross the threshold. No, Draco Malfoy liked to look upon his compartment as his throne for the duration of the journey. Beyond, if he could have taken it with him. He was used to being one, not one of many. And while his fellow Slytherins (really, was there any other house worth even mentioning?) treated him with the respect his name engendered, it would have been so lovely to have a room to call his own. There, he could have worked on his own studies in privacy.
But Father had told him back before first year that he was going to have to learn to share eventually, so why not make a pretense of it early on? It's exactly what he'd done, and it wasn't only Crabbe and Goyle who served him well. He also had Snape, that disgusting yellow-toothed greasy-haired mess of a Death Eater, serving him equally well. Little surprise that Potions was his favorite class of all.
The term had yet to start, however, and the long trip to Scotland was to be endured and as he always did, Draco Malfoy set up his makeshift throne in a fine middle compartment where he had the run of the entire car. With the door open he could hear the inane chatter of his fellow students, and with the door closed he could shut all that out. Already, he was longing for next summer. But first, he had the on-board Prefects' Meeting to attend and after that, Fifth Year to see to.
In a separate train car, Luna Lovegood sat with Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom, who definitely wasn't nobody, reading The Quibbler. The magazine was upside-down so she could make out the spell from the runes. It didn't bother her to be in the same car as Neville, the boy with the toad always gone missing, any more than it bothered her to be in the same car as Harry Potter or his friends once they'd crowded in. Her attention was all on her father's magazine, on its secrets and quirks and hidden messages.
Her thoughts were on things that girls her age tended to think about, when they drifted. Luna's thoughts drifted quite often, and she liked to send her spirit-energy floating around the Hogwarts Express invisibly, looking in on her classmates. Friends and enemies both, although she never actually considered anyone at school to be an enemy. That was the sort of craven separation that brought people to ruin. While she read about the mystery of the runes, the part of her brain that wasn't busy reading was busy traveling. Muggles, she knew, called it astral projection, which seemed to be an awfully magical name for something she'd been able to do for as long as she could remember.
Two cars ahead, the Slytherin trio of Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy sat in what could have been glum silence. She didn't know. When she floated about she could see but it could be hard to hear, especially with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger keeping up a running conversation next to where she sat physically on the train. It seemed to her that these three, all a year ahead of her at school, were deep in discussion about girls. About the ones they thought pretty (Pansy Parkinson — she knew it wasn't her pug-like face they found pretty, but boys were so predictable), the ones they thought ugly (Millicent Bullstrode — poor Millicent, she thought, she would have to find a way to make up for the terrible fun these boys were making of her), the ones they would most like to slap (Hermione Granger — she didn't know that Hermione deserved a slap, but Hermione knew a great many things that a lot of her classmates didn't), and the ones they would most like to "show a thing or two" next time they had the chance. She shuddered almost audibly when she heard her own name and saw the despicable little grin creep onto Draco Malfoy's face.
There were some things she simply didn't want to know. As quickly as she could, she floated out of that train car and landed back in her own body, where she pressed The Quibbler to her face so tightly that the words blurred together and her eyes watered. I'll show you a thing or two, Draco Malfoy, she promised the air.
The droplets in her eyes weren't tears. No, she didn't blink and she most certainly didn't cry. Not for things that weren't worth the trouble.
No. Luna Lovegood got even. In her very own way.
The ride was long and boring, and even though he had his shiny new Prefect's badge to lord over Crabbe and Goyle and anyone else who dared cross his path, there was little to do on the train save for eat, sleep, and devise all manner of plots. Since neither Crabbe nor Goyle had a brain to rub together between the pair of them, planning and plotting was best kept as a solo effort for the time being. He'd already had his turn threatening and dropping hints at Potter. That left reading — he was no Hermione Granger, even though he was no stranger to an open book — or dozing.
"Shut it, you two," he warned his travel companions. "I'm going to close my eyes and sleep. I don't want to be disturbed."
Either Crabbe or Goyle grunted an assent. He wasn't sure which one it was and it didn't matter. With eyes closed, they sounded alike and both melted into one giant unwieldy stupid troll in his mind's eye. They lived to serve him. They would be quiet and let him be. As the scenery rolled on outside and Crabbe told the lady with the sweets to go away and leave them, couldn't she see Draco Malfoy was sleeping, he let himself drift into a state that was neither asleep nor awake, lulled by the rocking of the train on the tracks and the sound of time rushing by. He was aware, but unaware. A state of trance, that's what his Aunt Bellatrix had said one time, but he didn't need to listen to Aunt Bellatrix any more than he needed to listen to his own mother. Still, the woman was useful. She knew a few things. She knew He Who Must Not Be Named personally, and that could hardly be discounted.
His thoughts moved from his aunt to his mother and from there, he imagined what it would be like now that he was finally a Prefect.
He imagined himself walking the floors of Hogwarts, Prefect badge pinned to his chest, ordering people about. This had been a fantasy of his all summer long. In particular he loved giving orders to Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter. Today, he knew — he'd patrolled the train as all Prefects are expected to do — they were riding to Hogwarts with Neville Longbottom and Loony Lovegood and stupid little Ginny Weasley. Loony — Luna — was a year behind them, a friend of Ginny's, and a Ravenclaw. He didn't give much thought to the Ravenclaws or the Hufflepuffs. If it were up to him he would eradicate them from the school on general principle. Luna, with her bulging light eyes and dirty blonde hair, ate away at him for no good reason other than the fact she was ridiculous. She didn't conform. She didn't wear the same things as the other witches her age. Her father ran the stupid Quibbler, and she spoke in that irritating sing-song voice. He'd had an eye on her for a while, because like the best of all good intimidators, he knew he hadn't simply been imagining the look behind the looks she gave him every time she glanced his way. He was frosty-haired and silver-eyed and the best-looking boy at Hogwarts, everyone said so. Of course she would look at him the way she did. Poor thing, so out of her league.
He imagined all the opportunities he would have this year, as Prefect, to scold her. She was always out and about, never where she was expected to be. Rumors of her insanity followed her as closely as the clothes beneath the robes she wore, and he couldn't help but indulge himself. His eyes were closed and Crabbe and Goyle both too obedient to interrupt him after he'd expressly warned them not to, so he let his thoughts simply float. Up and up they went, until he saw himself late at night, prowling the halls because he could. Because he was a Prefect, and with that came additional responsibilities and perks, both.
In his imaginings, he found her by the statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor, only a few doors away from the Prefect's bath. She was, of course, trying to have a conversation with the statue. It was fruitless, but the mere fact that something was improbable had yet to stop Loony Lovegood from trying it. Tonight she wore her robes open, a jumper and skirt in Ravenclaw colors beneath it.
"Lovegood." His voice was sharp, echoing off the empty Hogwarts corridors. "You're out past curfew."
"I meant to go to my Common Room" she told him in her dreamy, sing-song voice, "but got distracted by the portraits. You get there from the fifth floor, you know."
He didn't know. He'd never deigned to go to the Ravenclaw common room. His place was Slytherin, down below, so closely tied to the earth below them, so strong and so grounded. "Lovegood." His voice was strong and stern, but fair. He was only a Prefect doing his job. "You're out of line. You need to come with me."
Her answer seemed fearless in its plaintiveness. "You're the Prefect, Draco."
"And you, Lovegood, have just earned yourself a detention. You'd best follow me."
In his fantasy — they usually involved Pansy, since she was a known quantity, but this was much more exciting — he marched Luna down the hall to the Prefect's bath where he muttered the password ("manly, yes, but I like it too"). The door opened and he pushed her in. "What are you looking at?" he asked the portrait of the mermaid and when she giggled, he took off his robe and draped it over the frame. No one, portrait, human, nor ghost was allowed to disturb what would happen next, and he knew exactly what that would be. The Malfoy family were no slouches at punishment, and his particular variety of punishment was absolutely appropriate to a boy his age. He turned to Luna, licked his lips, and pointed his wand to her robes. "Now let's see what's beneath it all."
With a flick of his wand her robes fell away, followed swiftly by the clothes beneath. He knew her lingerie would be pink and silver. So soft and pretty he could just taste it. He would. He'd taste what lay underneath the silk and lace, too, and ignore her murmured protests because in the Malfoy house no meant more, faster, harder. The spot between her thighs was hot and moist, and her no, don't turned into a muffled yes, more as he laid her down on the tile and took what was rightfully his. Oh, of course there were spells he could use to enhance the experience, but who wanted to take the time to think about that when they were so intimate and so close? No, he wanted to feel everything from the softness of her breasts, cupped in his hands, to the strength of her tongue against his, to the magic of the way they fit together, the way she tightened around him, the way it felt like she was made just for his use.
He was Draco Malfoy. He needed no spells, either to satisfy or to be satisfied. Let the mermaid complain all she wanted about being excluded from watching what went on in her own domain: he didn't care. He only cared about the beating of his heart, about the way Luna's legs curled around his, holding him close. Closer. His name slipped out of her mouth and echoed off the walls: he should have known she'd be loud about things.
When they were done, when those pale blue eyes of hers looked up at him filled with lust and a greedy kind of satiety, she begged him for another round of detention the following night.
He said no and meant the word for what it was. As he dressed with quick brutal efficiency and left the bath, he could hear her sobbing and calling his name. Oh, he'd find a way to serve her another detention, but on his timetable and no one else's.
On the train, he laughed in his sleep. Crabbe and Goyle shot each other looks, shrugged, and turned back to their Chocolate Frog cards.
Oh, she would be glad to show Draco Malfoy a thing or two. Once again, she disappeared behind the pages of her father's magazine, and couldn't stop thinking about Ron Weasley's joke. He was funny, very very funny, but she was no fool. Just because they'd sat together on the train didn't mean that he or Hermione or any other Prefect would feel beholden to her. Luna knew she was the laughing stock of the school. She knew people called her Loony. She knew there weren't any other students like her.
And if she had the chance, that was something she would prove to Draco, with his silly pointed chin and ice-cold eyes and his so-much-better attitude. She'd never been the kind of person to think anyone else deserved to be taken down a notch or two, but every once in a while she met someone she thought ought to be an exception to that rule. Draco Malfoy was definitely one.
If she could, she'd lead him on a merry goose chase into the Forbidden Forest. She had friends there, but she'd heard he was afraid of it. The more fear the better, as far as she was concerned. It would mean she'd have the upper hand and that was exactly what she wanted. They'd run past the Acromantulas, pay no attention to the centaurs. Evade the thestrals and Fluffy, the three-headed dog. She'd lead him to her favorite clearing, the one the Doxies showed her on one visit when she was being particularly open to the call of the wild, the one where the wild Ford Anglia lived. She and the car had an understanding. She often went to it when she was feeling particularly persecuted or annoyed by her fellow students, or when they had borrowed enough of her belongings so she felt as if she had no place left in the world to call her own. Sometimes, she'd open up the door and sit inside, and take a nap. The forest never frightened her. All the creatures living in it were so lovely and strange, and really, all they needed was a little love and kindness. A little bit of respect.
She knew that was all she needed. Once she'd got Draco out there with her, all she needed to do was call the unicorns over. They would pin him down with their horns. That would set him on the path to behaving the way she'd want, she knew it... or maybe... maybe she'd take him to the top of the Astronomy Tower instead. Cast the Incarcerous spell on him and bind his wrists and ankles to the walls. She was actually quite good at spell-casting, although no one really took the time to know it about her. And once he was her captive, she would show him exactly what Luna Lovegood was made of. And made for: she knew how to live up to her last name. Once she'd proved that to him incontrovertibly — once he was a quivering mass beneath her legs, once she'd finished having her way with him, her wand directing the movement of his body and its parts to her ultimate satisfaction — she might even let him go.
But only if he was nice. If he stayed mean she would leave him right there for the rest of the school to find. If he was lucky, it would only be Mrs. Norris, Filch's despicable cat. If not... well, wouldn't the other students be amused to find him that way? She reveled in the thought for just a moment, but she wasn't a very spiteful person and couldn't really imagine being that cruel. No, she would let him go, and whether things had taken place in the back of the wild Ford Anglia with all the forest creatures cheering them on or in the Astronomy Tower with only the night sky as their witness, still, she would have shown the great Draco Malfoy a thing or two and once she had, he would want to see those same things again and again and again. She knew it: he would be putty in her hands.
Behind her copy of The Quibbler, she grinned. Maybe this would be a very good year after all. No one saw her smile, but that was all right. The thought and smile would always be there when she needed them.
"Watch where you're going. Prefect passing by. Out of my way!"
Ginny Weasley shook her head at Draco Malfoy, who was busy roughing up some second-years. "As if they're not already nervous enough."
Luna shrugged. "People only bully those smaller than themselves because they can. And because they don't feel big enough to pick on people their own size." She pulled her robes around herself. "I think I'll go remind him of that."
"You're crazy!" Ginny's eyes widened. "Don't. He's nothing but trouble, you've got no idea."
"Don't worry." Luna smiled dreamily and floated off in the direction of the Slytherin Prefect. She found him shoving a small Hufflepuff boy out of the path. "I think you're hurting him."
"Why would I care if..." Draco stopped and turned, one eyebrow raised and a sneer on his face. "Oh, it's you. Look, everyone. Loony Lovegood's telling a Prefect how to do his job." By his side, Pansy Parkinson snickered, and Crabbe and Goyle took on menacing poses.
"He doesn't need advice from you," scolded Pansy.
"Not yet," Luna agreed pleasantly, "but he'll come around." On tiptoe, she leaned to whisper into Draco's ear. "Pleasure is a sin, but sometimes sin can be such a pleasure." Something else she'd been practicing: she sent a thought directly to him — an image of the two of them standing alone, of him reaching over to slip the edge of her clothing off to reveal the black satin-and-leather she wore closest to her skin — and knew by his reaction it had been received. She could feel it through his robes, the ones she'd pressed up against solely for the purposes of the whisper, nothing else. Pleasure, sin: what was the difference?
Without waiting for any other sort of response, she stepped back. Even though it was dark, she could see the flush rising on Draco's face as he shoved Pansy out of the way and stalked toward one of the carriages.
The moon was full and soft over the village of Hogsmeade. Luna made her way back to her friends, the taste of Draco's skin pungent on her tongue and his scent filling her more with every breath. She hooked her arm into Ginny's and smiled as innocently as a newborn babe, ready to take on the challenges of the year ahead.
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