Title: there was someone I knew, long ago

Summary: she looks at him with love – the purest of love.

Pairing: draco&luna

Author's Note: I love these two, so much. I can't stop writing angst until I get my answer.


"Where's the lightening now?"

- Bombay Bicycle Club


you look to the moon, the echoing of the door ringing in your ears.

"i know," you say, "i love you too."


he sees her eyes blooming into delicate -

he doesn't think of her when he falls asleep.

no real man would look at her and think she was pretty in that beautiful way where the moon hits her hair and she matches -

he doesn't think she is pretty at all. not in the slightest.


"breathe," she says.

"no," he says. "if i breathe then i know this is real."

"but don't you want this to be real?" she says. "because if it's real, then evil is still about."

if he liked poetry – or even liked her – he think he would make a poem about that line.

but that's just some absurd thought – just like her theories on nargles – something that was just a fairytale – truly he must stop doing this.

but then she touches him – her breathing heavy and her eyes bright – brighter than the moon or the sun or the –

he forgets to hate her for a moment.

(shh, he forgets to think for a moment, he forgets he is pure and she is tainted and – the way she touches him is fire blazing.)


"stop being so bloody obvious," he says.

"about what, dear?"she smiles, her teeth are glowing and her hand is softly gliding down his naked back.

"that you love me," he gasps as her fingers move. "you know i'll never love you.:

she stops touching him. he pushes into her and admires her pleasured cries.


"why can't you feel for me?" she says after a particularly passionate night.

"because," he says, "you're tainted."

her laugh echoes in the room, "are you really trying to convince yourself about blood status?"

and then, she mutters in his ear, "if i'm tainted, then it just makes sense that you'd be with me."

he can't see anything wrong with her statement but – oh. he gets up from the bed, looks at her smirk and her eyes – they are dull today.

for some reason, all he can see is a slytherin in his bed – and for once, he thinks he may want the ravenclaw girl who whispers about nargles.

but then she looks at him with love – the purest of love – and he takes it back.

"you're just filthy," he says.

he pretends that his heart doesn't ache when he hears her wails; he softly closes the door on his way out so he can hear her tears hit the floor.


he remembers – back when voldemort was still alive and blood truly mattered – the way her hair flew in the winter breeze as she ran to hogsmeade. the snow and her skin – he thinks this is the day he became sad.

not sad. weaker – draco malfoy could not be weak – weak were those mudbloods crying out their pleas as they were locked up like pigs in a pen. their hands were dirty – sometimes he could find traces of grime under his fingernails. he never knew where they came from, but he cleaned them every night.

he remembers the night that he broke his vows to his master – the way her eyes were dull and bright and – he thought she was beautiful.

but that's a lie. his emotions are a lie – you just need to look in his emotionless eyes. you'll see.

(he promises – he doesn't love her. please, listen.)


he starts to lose his lust for her.

(shut up, it's not anything other than a fading lust. there is absolutely no other feeling that would keep him with her.)


"i'm done," he says.

her eyes are sad – he hasn't figured it out yet. they've been sad for a long time now – maybe she is starting to catch on – maybe.

"i-" she says.

Say something, he thinks, tell me to come back because you love me – because you can't breathe without me – because he thinks, he can't breathe without her because maybe –

"okay," she says.

and then, she says, "i've been seeing someone else. he loves me and i think – i think i could lo-"

"don't tell me your stupid fairytales," he says.

he pushes her against a wall, and she kisses him – gently, lovingly – he knows he's still got her around his finger.

he thinks she's asleep while he picks up his things – he usually just leaves without a trace but he waits – today. for some reason. he doesn't really know what's come over him as of late.

"i hate you so much," she says.

he turns around to meet her eyes.

"i hate me too," he says so softly that only she can hear, "i hate me too."

she looks at him, the light in her eyes burning out so subtly – like the tail lights of a muggle car fading away from view.

"you," she says, "you will always be the person i love. you know that."

her eyes are dull.

you open the door and leave.


astoria greengrass looks at you with her ugly eyes and her pretty face and she says, "i love you."

"i know," you say, "i love you too."

you run to the bathroom and throw up.

astoria comes in, "draco, love, are you okay?"

you nod, "probably just food poisoning. those damn house elves."

her eyes are dull, "they will be removed from our kitchens immediately."

you close your eyes, and astoria puts her hand in yours.

"breathe," she says.

"okay," you say.