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Jan. 1, 2007
Walking around Wizarding London with Blaise Zabini right after the New Year countdown had seemed like a good idea when people kept inviting them in for a quick drink – Blaise was a dark-haired man, able to quickly conjure or transfigure coal, salt, and bread, and therefore very popular at the moment – but mixing Firewhiskey with Dragon Scale Draft Beer was definitely not one of Draco Malfoy’s brightest ones. At least he’d gotten sloshed in a good place; they were currently in a very posh, very exclusive Wizarding speakeasy – with the apropos name name of “The Blind Boar” – and it was known to have only the creme-dela-creme of Wizarding society entering its doors. He remembered that much. Blearily he tried to open his eyes, in an attempt to look for Blaise. It was a no-go: his head was pounding and his vision was fuzzing in and out of focus; he could barely recognize anything.
A vaguely familiar shape swam in front of his face. Squinting, he thought he could make out yellowish hair and large, pale blue eyes. And something that looked like an onion, nestled in the hair. He knew those eyes, he thought, but he was sure he knew that onion. It made no sense for the owner of that onion to be in front of him. She had certainly never talked to him before. Still, the onion-wearer persisted in bobbing in front of him. She seemed to be saying something, but his ears were refusing to cooperate. Maybe he could try to verify her presence verbally.
“L... lovegood...?” The onions bounced, so perhaps she had nodded. “Am I seeing things? Are you really... here?” He blanked out again shortly thereafter, so whether she responded to him or not, he would never know.
Luna Lovegood, on the other hand, was blindsided by the question. She’d only meant to check on Malfoy, who seemed to be three sheets to the wind, because she’d seen him enter the pub earlier with a dark-haired man, and she had just seen that dark-haired man leaving with a redhead on each arm. It was such a knotty question, though. “Am I really here?” she repeated. She blinked slowly. “...Am I?”
She turned on the spot. “I thought I was. And if I think, therefore I am – but what am I?”
She floated over to the nearest person she could see, who just happened to be Hannah Abbott, the current owner of The Leaky Cauldron and one of the investors of The Blind Boar. Normally attentive to her patrons, Hannah was deep in conversation with Luna’s one-time wartime sweetheart, Neville Longbottom; as a consequence, neither of them was particularly aware of anything or anyone else around them. Luna’s mild “Hannah?” and her equally abstracted “Am I real?” was met with absolutely no reaction. Nonplussed, Luna drifted away, and after a moment had managed to situate herself next to a table which seated Lee Jordan and Padma Patil, among a group of people whom Luna did not know. “Padma,” Luna called in her usual tone, “can you see me?” But Padma was in the middle of a rather spirited game of Charades; she was, at the moment, enthusiastically miming “The Lord of the Rings” to a mostly Pureblood audience. She paid Luna no attention. “I guess you can’t,” Luna concluded, and ambled away again. Lee looked up momentarily as Luna left, but as she was already at the next table, he merely shrugged his shoulders and ignored her.
Three hours later, Luna had made the rounds of The Blind Boar. It seemed that nobody could see her, hear her, or in any way sense her – in fact they seemed to, for some reason, veer away just as she approached. She’d tried running a diagnostic on herself just in case she’d been cursed, but the scan had turned up no adverse magic on herself. She was an apparently healthy girl, who maybe didn’t exist. Except to one person. Malfoy.
Ever logical, Luna put her observations together. Nobody could see her, except Malfoy. Malfoy had asked if she really existed. Malfoy had been drunk. Drunk people often had hallucinations. There was no reason for her to have died. Therefore, she must not be dead: she must be a hallucination brought about by Malfoy’s drunkenness.
“Hmm,” Luna said, as she mentally shrugged and accepted her new status in life. “I wonder if I’m the first-ever hallucination to achieve sentience?”
Jan. 16, 2007
Two weeks later, Draco had had it with Lovegood. He had had it with everyone.
Apparently, something he’d said after he’d gotten completely arseholed on New Year’s had convinced Loony Lovegood that she was a hallucination he’d dreamed up. She’d taken to following him around, and when he’d asked her why, informed him that she was his hallucination, silly, if they weren’t together she’d disappear, and thereafter ignored every attempt he’d made to get rid of her. Short of actually committing a crime, which Draco might consider if he hadn’t spent the last decade trying to clean up the post-war Malfoy reputation, he just couldn’t shake her. Even worse, everyone they met seemed to find her antics hilarious. Blaise, the fucking tosser, affected not to notice that Lovegood was shadowing Draco’s every move. Even his own mother had played along, letting Lovegood into the Manor wards, like it was bloody all right for the manic pixie dream girl to trail after him making comments like “If I’m not real and wrackspurts aren’t real, is that why I’m the only one who can see them? You’ve got a nest of them in your suitcase, by the way.”
Draco looked askance at his suitcase, lying open on the bed beside the clothes he’d laid out for the evening. He’d let Astoria Greengrass choose their afternoon itinerary and she’d chosen to go see an open-air concert of some Canadian band, with the Canadian name of “Prairie Oysters”. What was up with that name, he didn’t know and he didn’t care: Astoria wanted to see them and so they would. But he’d be damned if he went to his date anything less than impeccably dressed, wrackspurts or no. He leaned over and flicked his suitcase closed.
“Are you going on a date?” Luna prattled on, oblivious. “You should wear something subtle and sexy. Maybe the plum-colored waistcoat, with those denim trousers. Very dishy.”
With a grimace, Draco decided to wear black-on-black instead.
Unfortunately for Draco, the Prairie Oysters turned out to be a Muggle band, and they were hosting the concert as part of a charity tour, which in this case meant that it was standing room only. Loony followed into the concert venue, though she thankfully kept herself in the background and Astoria didn’t notice her so much. He tried his best to ignore the loopy woman, even when she grabbed his shirttail and Side-Alonged herself into the restaurant he’d chosen for dinner.
And that was where Luna and Draco ran into Hermione Granger.
Hermione had heard of Malfoy’s “Luna situation” from Ginny Weasley, who’d heard it from Dean Thomas, and she’d also heard of it, on a separate occasion, from Hannah Abbott. Unlike Ginny or Dean, both of whom were nearly in stitches over the anecdote, and Hannah, who was half concerned and half amused, Hermione found nothing funny in the news. She didn’t particularly care for Malfoy, but she was very concerned about Luna.
“She’s already got a tenuous grasp on reality,” Hermione had hissed at Ginny, slapping her lightly on the chest. “Why are you guys egging her on?”
“Because – it’s – funny!” Ginny huffed. “Aw, c’mon, Hermione, it’s hilarious!”
“It really isn’t,” Hermione replied, and she had stuck to those guns for a week.
So when Luna coincidentally turned up at Shino’s, the trendy restaurant that had just opened on the 8th arrondissement of Paris, literally riding the shirttails of Draco Malfoy – who had a woman on his arm, and who for all intents and purposes looked to be on a date – and bumped into Hermione, Hermione found that she couldn’t resist.
She grabbed Luna’s arm. “Luna,” she said, in a very firm voice, “what are you doing?”
Draco could hardly believe his luck. He’d picked Shino’s for this date largely for two reasons: first, it was run by someone known as “The Legumes Magician”, which he supposed to be some reference to magical blood, and therefore acceptable to his Pureblood date; and second, it was in Muggle Paris, where nobody should know him and nobody ought to know Lovegood and somebody should notice that she was absolutely off her trolley and he was so upset about having her around that he was thinking in italics.
That the somebody to notice and get the loony bint off of him just happened to be Hermione Granger was something he was still on the fence about.
He and Granger weren’t enemies any more, but they weren’t friends. She’d appeared at his trial and vouched for him, like Potter had, and her admission that he was “probably too cowardly to have resisted against Voldemort’s threats even if he didn’t want to follow orders” had probably helped his case more than hindered it, so after his release from house arrest he’d sent her an owl to thank her and to apologize for all the insults he’d hurled at her over the years. She’d replied a terse “you’re welcome,” and that had been the extent of his interaction with her for many years, but thanks to Lovegood, that was changing.
Belatedly, he murmured, “Much obliged, Granger,” but she had already begun to tow Lovegood away, and he wasn’t sure if she’d heard him. He’d owl her his gratitude later. He wondered, if she replied “you’re welcome” again, would they perhaps progress to nodding acquaintances?
Hermione dragged a protesting Luna to the counter, where she paid her bill, intending to leave the restaurant and head for the nearest apparition point. “No, no, I can’t leave Malfoy, I’ll disappear,” Luna was whimpering, trying to pull away from Hermione; Hermione gave a weak grimace and murmured to the worried-looking restaurant cashier, “She broke up with him a few days ago and now he’s seeing someone else. She’s not taking it well. I’m bringing her home.”
Luna struggled and protested until they were back in Hermione’s flat, where Hermione unceremoniously dumped her on the settee. “Well, you haven’t disappeared yet,” Hermione declared, crossing her arms over her chest.
This abruptly sobered Luna – well, as sober as she normally was. “You can still see me?” she clarified, a look of hope and fascination rising in her eyes.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the inane question.
“Yes, Luna, I can see you just fine.”
“You can really see me?”
“Yes, Luna, and I have been able to for years now.”
“You’re not joking, are you?”
“Actually, I just like talking to myself and referring to myself by your name, Luna.”
“But I’m a hallucination made by Malfoy’s drunk mind,” Luna insisted. “So how are you seeing one of Malfoy’s hallucinations?”
Hermione sighed. “You’re just as real as I am, Luna.”
“But – the restaurant staff, they talked to you,” Luna observed. “So you’re real. Like, really real. The only people who talk to me are Malfoy, and now you. That means you can see things that only Malfoy can, the things in his mind. Doesn’t that mean...”
Her eyes widened even further than normal, and Hermione’s stomach sank. This was not going to go the way she wanted, was it?
“Hermione, you must be soulmates with Malfoy!”
January 17, 2007
Granger,
I’d like to offer my sincerest gratitude for the aid you’ve given me. I’d been trying to shake Lovegood for weeks.
Malfoy
January 18, 2007
Malfoy,
If you’re really sincere, you’d better send me a cake, because now I’m stuck with her. I don’t know what you did to convince her this much but she won’t listen to anything I say. You started this, find a way to finish it.
Granger
January 19, 2007
Granger,
First of all, I wasn’t the one who convinced her of anything. She did that all on her own.
Second, as far as I’m concerned, “this” is finished. She’s your problem now. I am sending you a cake, however. It’s from Shino’s, I didn’t poison it.
Seriously, though, there’s something wrong with that friend of yours. Why the hell did she go into an existential crisis?
Malfoy
January 20, 2007
Malfoy,
“You’re writing to Malfoy!”
Startled, Hermione snatched up the letter she’d just begun to pen. Luna, who had invited herself to take root in Hermione’s flat the last few days, was peeking over her shoulder. Despite having had a rocky beginning with the younger woman, Hermione had, over the years, grown to have a true affection for Luna and her whimsy – but these past few days were pushing it.
“It’s none of your business, Luna!”
Despite Hermione’s repeated attempts to explain to Luna that everything had just been a misunderstanding and a cruel prank, the infuriating girl had absolutely refused to see reason. She persisted in believing that she was an alcohol-induced hallucination, and that the reason Hermione could see her was because Hermione and Malfoy were soulmates.
“It is so my business,” Luna replied mulishly. “I’m his friend. Yes I’m imaginary, but that’s why it’s my business to make him feel better when he’s miserable. I’ve just been by to see him, actually, and he does seem pretty miserable. That girl he was with last time dumped him. That’s good though, you can move in now. You’re his soul mate, so I bet that would make him feel better.”
Hermione had opened her mouth to say that the reason Malfoy was miserable was probably because of Luna’s presence, and she wasn’t surprised that Greengrass wasn’t sticking around while Malfoy had someone popping into his private room at odd times, but Luna’s logical jumps were just so extreme that Hermione ended up closing her mouth again. How in the world was she supposed to respond to that?
Finally she blurted, “I am not going to move in with Malfoy.”
“Not right now, then,” Luna agreed amiably. “But you should write him longer letters, and ask him out, and marry him, and make lots of little Malfoy babies. Or I’ll make you.”
“...What the hell, Luna?”
January 28, 2007
“Tell me again why we’re doing this?”
That was Malfoy.
Hermione had finally broken two days ago and asked him out. To her surprise, he had agreed.
“Because I’m absolutely sick and tired of Luna, and so are you, and she wouldn’t shut up until I got you to agree to go on a date with me.”
“So... what are we doing?”
“Hiking, Malfoy. We’re going hiking.”
That was Luna.
“I’m such a good friend,” she told them both, pleased.
January 29, 2007
It wasn’t actually such a bad hike, Hermione reflected as she trudged steadily upward and onward in her comfortable climbing gear, with a well-stocked, tightly-rolled pack and two sturdy walking-sticks. Certainly better than running around the Forest of Dean with a charmed purse and in ratty jeans. Malfoy wasn’t very bad company either, even though he hiked like he were strolling along a village green. He mostly didn’t say anything, actually; it was Luna that filled in the spaces with her prattle. They all continued walking, with Luna darting ahead here and there, Hermione keeping a measured pace in the middle, and Malfoy bringing up the rear.
After a while, Luna disappeared. Hermione continued walking, figuring that the silly girl would turn up later. One would think that being nearly twenty-seven years years old, Luna would’ve gotten a bit steadier, but she seemed to only get loopier with time. She could be trusted to take care of herself, at least. She had a way of flickering at the edges of trouble, like a ghost. Or a bear.
Bear?
“MOVE, GRANGER!”
She stopped in her tracks and turned around. Yup, there was a bear.
It was thundering towards Malfoy, who was running full-tilt from around six yards behind Hermione and getting closer by the second. For a moment he hesitated behind her, looking half terrified and half annoyed; then without another word, he scooped her up, princess-style, and continued running, barely breaking stride as he cast a wandless severing hex that cut her pack away from her. Hermione’s walking-sticks and supplies clattered to the forest floor, and she saw one of the sticks splinter as the bear’s massive paw landed on it. Hermione pulled out her wand from its arm-holster.
“Impedimenta!”
The hex she’d cast pushed against the bear, slowing it down for the merest fraction of a second. Again, then. “Impedimenta Maxima!”
The bear staggered and slowed, but it continued running. So did Malfoy.
So Hermione kept firing.
“Granger – you’re getting – heavy,” panted Draco a little later.
“Put me down, then.”
“But – the bear –”
“Is some distance behind us now, I can run by myself.”
So he did, and they did.
They came to a stop perhaps ten minutes or so later, having lost sight of the bear. They were in a narrow valley with a small creek at the bottom. The clear, quietly burbling water seemed very inviting after their run; they were sweating. Draco noticed that Hermione was still holding her wand out as if for battle, and incredibly, she was now carrying a small, beaded bag.
“Where the heck did you get that from?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Witch,” she replied.
She opened the bag and stuck her arm into it up to the elbow. Ah, Undetectable Extension Charm, then, Draco thought with mild surprise. A moment later she’d pulled out a couple of glasses and some odd tablets. She filled the glasses at the stream and put a tablet in each one. The water fizzed a bit as she handed it to him.
“Purifying tablets,” she explained, “sometimes the water isn’t as clean as it looks.”
The irony of a Muggleborn offering a Pureblood something with purifying tablets in it was not lost on Draco, and he began to laugh as he took his glass from her.
After a moment, Hermione began to laugh, too.
“You’re not a bad sort, Malfoy,” she commented, raising a toast to him.
“Draco,” he replied, clinking his glass against hers.
“Then call me Hermione,” she said, and they both drank.
Neither of them noticed Luna sneaking out of the bushes and nicking their wands.
February 12, 2007
It took a week and a half for Hermione and Draco to get out of the woods without magic. Thankfully, Hermione still had some emergency supplies packed away in her bag – she never went anywhere without it. Which Luna knew perfectly well.
She also knew that she wasn’t a hallucination. She’d figured out quite a few weeks ago that she was corporeal around Hermione or Draco, but she’d found that she was completely manifested even without them, around the same time she’d had a run-in with the bear. It had snuffled over to her, and in a lightning flash of insight she had – convinced – it to give chase to her two companions.
She’d expected them to take awhile in the forest. She expected the result too. After all, it was a secluded location, with lots of lovely, romantic views, and there would only be the two of them, relying on each other for survival, cuddling together for warmth.
She expected their anger too. So when they arrived at her home, looking for all the world like they’d taken a roll in the leaves on the forest floor, or perhaps against the trunk of a tree, both flushed with anger and with bruised lips, she smiled at them. “You’ll thank me later,” she informed them both.
Then she slammed the door in their faces.
February 14, 2007
Draco Malfoy did owl Luna Lovegood to thank her two days after, in the fifteen or so minutes he actually spent out of bed.
Thank you, was all the note said. He was a busy man.
He looked at the pile of chestnut curls that was all he could currently see, since the rest of Hermione Granger was currently snuggled into his duvet. How she managed to wrap them so completely around her during the night, when both of them generally began the evening naked and on top of the covers, was beyond him. But it was easy enough to get her out of the duvet, and it would be like unwrapping a present. It was Valentine's, after all.
Best idea ever.