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On the thirtieth of October, short stubby fingers trailed down his shoulders playfully, making the way for the pale arms to wrap around his neck. He smiled, expecting the mess of dirty blonde hair that cascaded down over the side of his face. A sweet kiss pressed against his cheek, warming the spot where her lips grazed his skin.
He sighed in relief, resting himself back on her chest and ignoring the nonsensical numbers on the ingredient inventory for his potion’s shop that had been plaguing his mind for hours now.
“Happy birth day,” she whispered softly in his ear.
Draco cocked an eyebrow.
Luna had been a bit odd in school. There were definitely still times when he understood nothing of what she spoke; talk about nargles, fairy hippos and cyanobacteria, made his head spin. Yet, he put up with it, because he had found love in the most unlikely places.
Despite being difficult to follow her train of thought, Luna was not one to forget his birthday.
He cleared his throat and in a leveled voice said, “It’s not my birthday.”
She released him from his hug, and he missed the warmth immediately. She walked around and sat on the chair opposite his desk, her legs folded under her and a small smile painted her rosy lips.
Her glassy eyes penetrated Draco’s, and as always, he felt that his girlfriend could see right into his soul.
“We’re born to this world in many different ways on many different days,” she began. Her voice took on the airy tone in which she spoke the truths that only Luna understood.
She looked away from him, staring at the droplets that raced down the windowpane. He knew she would explain, Luna always did, once she found the right words to explain in a manner in which he could understand.
“The beets harvested today,” she began, still smiling at the window. “They are the first harvest of our garden. In this way, we have been born today.”
Draco stared at her, reveling in the magnificence that was this woman. A woman who saw beauty in the growing of crops. How could a woman so pure have ended up with him?
He smiled, even unknowing that she would wish him many a happy birth days after that.
Like on the first of January, when she kissed him fiercely as the clock struck midnight. The searing kiss sent shockwaves through his body, and he wasn’t fully composed until after, when beaming at him she said, “Happy birth day, new year, new you.”
On February 17 th , he found her crying on the sofa. Tears streaked her face as she hugged herself. The sounds coming from her broke his heart.
He crossed the living room in two long strides and took her into his lap. Holding her close to his chest, he noticed that she had been crying, but she had been laughing as well.
He wiped away the tears from her pale cheeks and a bright smile drew her lips.
“Why are you crying?” He asked, raking his eyes over her face.
She giggled, and he knew the bubbling laugh came from deep within her magic.
“Our daughter’s birthday will be today.”
Draco stared at her, perplexed. Could she be telling the truth? She was a seer after all.
He clutched her close to his chest, placing kisses on the top of her head. They spent the day elated in the promise of what was to come.
Then on March 10, she made him rainbow cauliflower. She’d said a simple charm was enough to make the normally bland vegetables bright with colors. Draco wondered what had prompted her to prepare such a strange dinner.
“One year ago today, was the first time you tried cauliflower.” She beamed at him. “Happy birth day!”
On the second of May, she simply said, “Happy birth day, this was the day you were born into the light.”
She smiled and left him to his own devices. He never joined when she celebrated the anniversary of the end of the war with her Gryffindors.
And so she went, for silly things such as the first time he wore a hand-knitted sweater, or on the day that Potter finally shook his hand, and even on the day that his hair was not impeccably kept. She did also on very important days, like the day he opened his shop and when Lucius had finally passed. Luna never forgot to wish him happy birth days.
But June 5 th came and went without acknowledgment. Not a birthday wish, or a gift, or even a detail for him to know that she remembered. He came home expecting a surprise party, expecting that it had all been a ruse on her part, pretending not to remember. He went to bed with a sour taste in his mouth and when he finally asked if she’d forgotten his birthday, she simply replied,
“I didn’t, but real birthdays are extremely dull.”