This was written for PV, who requested a Draco/Luna fic using the prompt never.


Draco had never seen the curse coming. All he had seen was a flash of light suddenly heading for his face. Before he could even attempt to pull out his wand to block it, Draco was on the floor of the corridor.

Whether it came from an ally or enemy, Draco was unsure. The only thing he was sure of was that he was bleeding. It came from his nose, his wrists, his mouth, everywhere. One drop, then two, then several of pure blood hit the floor beside him.

As Draco lay there, another thought, a more provoking thought, came to him. He realized that soon, right here on the floor, he could die. He could take his last breaths here, and no one would even know it. They were all too busy protecting that heroic Harry Potter.

Draco's thoughts changed again, this time to one of the last people he would have expected. He pictured eyes of pale silver, eyes that always seemed either lost somewhere or as though their owner understood perfectly whatever someone had going on.

Lovegood? Why would I be thinking about Loony Lovegood? Draco thought. The last thing I need is to let her pollute my last thoughts.

It was true that Draco's blood was beginning to form small pools, both on his shirt and on the floor. He knew he needed to try to heal himself enough to get to Madam Pomfrey (if she were even in the hospital wing, and Draco figured she must be off tending other wounds around the castle), but realized in horror that he could barely hold his wand, let alone pick it up and mutter a spell. He let go of the wand, which hit the floor and rolled out of reach.

Draco tried not to, but his mind just wandered back to Luna. Once again, he met her pale silver eyes, but this time he pictured her mouth as well. She seemed to be saying something to him, but her voice seemed too far away to pick out what she said.

Everything seemed far away now. Even the battle raging around him was distant to Draco's ears, as though he were listening to it on an old radio. When his thoughts proceeded to show him Luna again, Draco welcomed the distraction. At least for now, he could forget about the pain and the detachment and whatever would come next.

This time, Draco saw only her eyes. It was impossible, he knew, but he felt as though they were willing him to stay alive. Willing him to move forward.

Another thought hit Draco abruptly. These images were trying to tell him something, and he knew what it was. As strange as it felt, Draco knew that he loved Luna Lovegood. This was no silly crush or short infatuation. He could feel the beginnings of a true romance.

A drop of blood trickled down Draco's hand, dropping to the floor.

But he would never tell her.

Draco thought absurdly of marriages, of children, of families, of futures. He thought of all the conversations he had had with his mother and father. They had always thought he would have these things. Draco had thought he would have them too.

Luna, he knew, would have these things, and he was unbothered by the fact that she would. She deserved them more than he did-he was nothing more than a bully and a bigot. But it was too late to make amends. Draco could feel the world slowly slipping away with each second that ticked away. One less second of life with every small breath, with every fading heartbeat.

Perhaps it was a trick of the lighting, or perhaps another form of magic, but the grey of Draco's eyes looked just a bit closer to silver before he closed them for the last time.


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