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The Black Lake was the color of iron under the early December sky. A thin layer of ice had begun forming along the edges, cracking softly whenever the wind pushed the water against the shore. Drusilla walked with her hands buried in the pockets of her cloak, shoulders hunched against the cold that cut through her as though she were riddled with holes.
Ulysses rode atop her shoulder, talons barely noticeable against the enchanted fabric. He was a large, fearsome eagle owl with eyes like polished gold. The sort of bird that terrified younger students and kept them far away. Tonight he seemed content simply listening while she spoke in quiet, melancholic tones.
"I used to hate this lake," she murmured. "I think it's because I got tired of staring up at it from the Slytherin common room all the time. It's too open. Everyone can see you from the castle. Now it's one of the few places they don't bother checking every hour."
A soft, sing-song voice answered from her right.
"Is that you, Drusilla?"
She stopped dead, her wand already in hand. Ulysses flared his wings once in surprise, then settled down again.
Luna Lovegood stood a few paces away on a flat grey stone, as though she had Apparated there or simply grown out of the landscape. Her pale hair was escaping its usual straggly knots, and she wore no cloak against the cold. Only her Ravenclaw robes and an expression of mild interest. It might've been the first time Drusilla ever saw her wearing shoes.
Drusilla's knee-jerk reaction was irritation, as usual, but especially when she had come so far out of her way for privacy.
She put her wand away. "We're not friends, Lovegood. In case it's escaped your notice, we're currently on opposite sides of a war."
Luna tilted her head, considering this. "I know. But you looked like you could use someone to talk to. Someone who can talk back."
Ulysses, traitor that he was, leaned toward Luna and made a pathetic sounding whimper. Luna reached up without the slightest hesitation and stroked the feathers around his eyes. The owl closed them in obvious pleasure, and leaned further forward.
Drusilla stared in surprise, then her expression softened. "He normally doesn't like other people."
"Really? He's very gentle. Perhaps he's just really shy."
They began walking along the shore by unspoken agreement, the castle's lights twinkling behind them. The cold wind cut across the water and found every scar on Drusilla's body, and even some within. She couldn't entirely hide the way her shoulders tightened or the way her body squirmed involuntarily. Luna looked up at her.
"It's the scars, isn't it?" she said quietly. "They hurt more in the cold."
Drusilla's step faltered for half a second, then she remembered that being gutted like a fish was common knowledge around the school. She hadn't met a student yet who didn't think it was funny or deserved.
Luna's voice remained soft, almost dreamy, but there seemed to be genuine sadness in it. "It was a terrible curse Harry used. Sectumsempra, was it? Ginny told me about it. It makes me very sad to think he was capable of something so cruel even if he didn't fully know what the spell did. You must have made him awfully angry in that moment."
Drusilla let out a short, humourless breath. "You could say that. And he was right to be. I attempted the Cruciatus curse. Either I missed, or more likely, it failed. Apparently, The Boy Who Lived is more adept at dark curses than a Death Eater."
She didn't elaborate further, and Luna didn't press. They simply kept walking. Ulysses occasionally rubbed against Drusilla's cheek affectionately, prompting her to feed him snacks from her cloak.
For the first time in months, the silence that settled between her and another person didn't feel awkward, much less hostile. Drusilla didn't worry about a fellow Slytherin cutting her further down, or one of the other houses giving her a taste of her own medicine after all these years.
After a time Luna spoke again, as though continuing a conversation that had never even started.
"It's rather boring without the Muggle-borns, don't you think? The castle feels... quieter. There were never many in Ravenclaw to begin with, but I do miss them. They offer a unique perspective to our world. Hermione especially, even if she didn't care for me very much."
Drusilla glanced at her, watching her expression. "It's quieter, but I'm not sure I'd go so far as to say I miss them."
Luna's silvery eyes turned toward her, curious rather than accusing. "Is it because you believe pure-bloods are superior?"
"That's a misconception of Slytherin, though not unearned," Drusilla said. "It's true that many of us are prejudiced against Muggle-borns, myself included once, but the house's prohibition on them is simply logical. Every Muggle-born is descended from a Squib, and the magical gene, or whatever it is, randomly appeared again after so many generations lying dormant. Salazar Slytherin didn't discriminate out of malice. He was worried that in a thousand years from his time, Squibs would become common in the magical world, and the number of witches and wizards would greatly diminish. I haven't seen any evidence to the contrary, have you?"
Luna nodded slowly. "That's very interesting. I never thought about it like that before. There certainly seems to be more Squibs than there used to be, but I'd have to do research to be sure."
"Of course, and perfectly reasonable. You come from a pure-blood family on both sides, unless I'm mistaken. Relatively small ones. Would you be willing to marry a Squib? Or risk marrying a Muggle-born and having Squib children or grandchildren?"
Luna bit her lip, looking thoughtful as always. "Maybe if I loved him very much, but probably not," she confessed. "Having children unable to do magic would make me very sad."
"A Muggle-born marrying into a pure-blood family threatens that magical bloodline with extinction. Every Muggle-born that enters Hogwarts that a pure or half-blood falls in love with is inadvertently a Trojan horse to that family. Slytherin recognizes the very real danger Muggle-borns pose, and thus we've ensured that there will always be a remnant of witches and wizards in the world even as the number of Muggle-borns, half-bloods, and Squibs rise."
"I'll have to think about this some more," Luna said. "I've never heard the argument against Muggle-borns phrased quite that way before. I'll have to look into it and ask what others think. More people should talk like this. I tried discussing it with Hermione once, but she got angry with me, and we've spoken very little since."
"That's Gryffindor for you," Drusilla said. "Feelings before facts. Emotion before logic. Action before thought."
Luna nodded. "Ravenclaw has always been closer to Slytherin than the other two houses. Hufflepuffs are all very nice, but the moral decision isn't always the right one. Like during war, for example. And Gryffindors tend to not be very flexible when it comes to their worldviews. Most won't even question whether they could be wrong."
"That's putting it mildly," Drusilla muttered. "Ravenclaws will turn a problem over until it shines. Slytherins meanwhile are decisive and believe the end justifies the means. We both may have our faults, but at least neither of us pretends emotion is a substitute for good sense."
Luna smiled faintly. "I'm glad I can talk to you about this. I think it makes Ginny uncomfortable, like she's trying not to offend anyone, and Hermione always loses her temper. She's very defensive about being Muggle-born, I think."
Drusilla sighed. "Granger was the smartest student in the entire school. Probably knows more spells than us two pure-bloods combined, but her spells will always be weaker. If she marries Weasley and they have children, she'll pass her Squib genes onto them. Luckily the Weasley family is massive, to say the least, but that's still a line that could be wiped out in a generation or two. Or perhaps not, but the danger is there." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I'd rather die than let my children be born into a world they can't participate in."
"Even if those children were fathered by Harry Potter? His mother was Muggle-born, unless I'm mistaken."
Drusilla came to a sudden halt. The wind blew, cutting through her worse than before. "Potter let his feelings about me be known. That kind of hatred doesn't come easily. Besides, those thoughts are probably considered blasphemous now. I doubt the Dark Lord would appreciate one of his Death Eaters fantasizing about sleeping with his mortal enemy."
"Do you fantasize about sleeping with Harry often then?"
Drusilla's lip twitched. "Don't press your luck, Lovegood. We're still enemies, you know."
Luna hummed a soft tune in response. Smiling, and skipping along the shore.
"Dru, Lu, skip to the loo. Dru, Lu, skip to the loo. Dru, Lu, skip to the loo..."
Drusilla chuckled at the absurdity, and started humming along despite herself. She didn't skip, but she did suddenly need to use the loo.
After the song ended, and after they'd walked a complete lap together, Drusilla spoke again, her voice cautiously low.
"Listen, Lovegood. I'm only telling you this because you seem decent enough, and you're pure-blood. But your father's newspaper is going to get the both of you killed sooner rather than later."
"I know," she said, still smiling. "Freedom isn't supposed to be free. It always comes at a price. Everything always does."
"How very American of you," Drusilla scoffed. "In case you haven't noticed, we're not free. There is no freedom left in the world. There is no hope. There's nothing left other than family and self-preservation. I don't care if your father gets himself killed. But that's not a fate you deserve. No one should have to pay for the sins of their father..."
Luna flashed an enigmatic smile. "Don't worry, Drusilla. Harry will come save us. He always does. I don't see why now would be any different. We need him more than ever, in fact. I wonder what's taking him so long?"
Drusilla smiled back at her. It wasn't without warmth, or humour, but it was mostly just sad. "If your father doesn't quit, the Death Eaters will take you as hostage to shut him up. The duty might even fall on me." She took a deep breath. "The Malfoy estate is currently being used as our headquarters. It won't be pleasant, but the dungeons are better kept than the ones in Azkaban. I'll ask Mother to see that you're treated well. If your father would just stop speaking out against the Dark Lord, you won't get taken. Or if-"
"If I go into hiding, they'll go after Father and he won't be able to publish anymore," Luna said, nodding. "I understand. I've given it a lot of thought, but The Quibbler is more important right now. Harry needs all the support he can get, and people need to know the truth about what's really going on."
Drusilla sighed. "Why do all of you do-gooders have to try all the time? Why can't you just accept that he's won? The Dark Lord won. We- You lost..."
Luna shook her head. "He only wins if we give up fighting. Harry won't give up. And neither will Ron or Hermione, or the Order of the Phoenix. Or Dumbledore's Army. We'll win. You'll see. I just hope you'll be on our side when the time comes."
Drusilla didn't have an answer for that. She only adjusted Ulysses on her shoulder and kept walking.
They had nearly completed another full circuit around the lake when the temperature plummeted and the air itself seemed to thin. It was as though what little happiness left in the world suddenly died.
Ice formed around the lake, and from the gray skies descended a tall, hooded figure in tattered black robes that resembled a corpse.
"I-I really hate those things," Drusilla murmured. "I regret ever mocking Potter for being scared of them."
Luna stopped and spoke casually. "Do you want to get the Dementor, or should I?"
Drusilla drew her wand with an unsteady hand. "Let me try. I need the practice, and it gives me an excuse to try and think of something happy for once." She raised her wand, voice steady. "Expecto Patronum!"
A spectral peacock burst from the tip. Brilliant, elegant, and trailing light like silk, but it was incomplete, flickering at the edges. The wraith merely swallowed the little light whole, then continued toward them.
Luna's wand was already moving. A silver hare leapt into existence, solid and swift, and drove the Dementor back across the water until it disappeared into the forest.
When the otherworldly chill had receded, Luna looked at her with quiet pride. "Good try, Drusilla. The Patronus charm is advanced even for seventh years. Harry taught me it my fifth year. Although he's usually rather impatient, he's a very good teacher. Out of curiosity, what happy memory did you choose?"
Drusilla exhaled slowly, watching her breath cloud in the air, rubbing sensation back into her scars. "I wouldn't call it a memory, per se. I don't have any memories that are happy enough at the moment. My parents ruined them all for me. It's... hope. Hope that Potter will come save me the way he saved me in the Chamber of Secrets. From You-Know-Who again. If I didn't have that hope, I would have already killed myself a year ago. Maybe someday it'll be strong enough to manifest properly."
Luna's eyes twinkled. "You're very careful with hope, Drusilla. As if you're afraid it might break if you hold it too tightly. I don't think it will. I think you should hold it tighter. Use it like a weapon. Just like Harry."
They turned at last back toward the distant lights of the castle. It'd be dark soon, and they needed to be indoors before then. The castle had an early curfew now, but more importantly, it wasn't safe to be outside after dark. Not even for advanced sixth- and seventh-year students.
The path was longer than it had seemed on the way out. Ulysses remained on Drusilla's shoulder, occasionally leaning toward Luna to try and entice her to scratch his face again. She was all too happy to oblige.
Entering the castle through a usually quiet side entrance, Drusilla felt a chill she hadn't even when the Dementor was reaching for her soul. The walls had ears, and spies lurked around every corner. Hogwarts was no longer her home, and she no longer felt welcome.
"I believe that's enough consorting with the enemy for one day," she said quietly. "No sense in us both being hung as traitors."
"Same time tomorrow then?" Luna asked.
"If we're both still alive and if you're not wasting away in my family's dungeon. Who am I to tell you where you can and can't walk in your free time?"
They arrived at the main hall after taking a circuitous passage. Both lingered for a moment, neither making a move toward their respective common rooms.
Luna looked up at her. "You know, you're not as mean as you pretend."
"I'll have to try harder then." Drusilla smiled faintly. "And you're only half as loony as everyone tells me. And trust me, I know loony. My aunt is Bellatrix Lestrange."
Luna smiled back at her. Big, genuine, and almost luminous in the dark. "You know, you'd make an excellent Ravenclaw, Drusilla."
"I'll try not to take that as an insult. You'd make a terrible Slytherin, for the record."
"Thank you," she said brightly. "That's the nicest thing anybody's ever told me."
The two said their farewells as though they'd see each other again tomorrow. Luna drifted up toward the Ravenclaw Tower as if the cold, the Dementors, and the war were only passing weather.
Drusilla stood for a moment longer in the shadowed corridor, one hand resting against the faint ache of her scars, the other steadying the owl on her shoulder.
For the first time since she could remember, the hope she secretly carried felt fractionally less like a fragile secret.
Ulysses gave a low, contented hoot as Luna disappeared up the stairs. Drusilla absently scratched the feathers around his neck.
"I think I'm going to miss her when she's dead..."
Drusilla turned toward the dungeons, and the castle swallowed her whole.
(A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Luna is a very dear character to me. She's sincere, and she sees both the truth in people. She's probably the most pure-hearted character in the entire franchise. Canonically, Luna was kidnapped on December 20th while riding the Hogwarts Express back to London. This story takes place about two weeks prior to that. I can only imagine how disheartened Drusilla felt when she found out, or when she received orders to take Luna herself. During Christmas break, and later during Easter break (when Harry, Ron, and Hermione were taken to the Malfoy estate), I like to think Drusilla spent a lot of time keeping her company, and making sure she was well-taken care of. I've oddly always thought Draco and Luna would be surprising friends, and that manifested itself in this story after all these years.
Ravenclaw is my favorite house. I love the aesthetics, and I've often thought of myself as having a Hufflepuff heart and a Ravenclaw mind. Of the two, if given the choice, I'd probably choose Ravenclaw as my house even though they're morally more "neutral" than Hufflepuff and Gryffindor (and Slytherin). They hesitated more than the other two to join Harry in the final battle because they're more analytical and far more individualistic. They quickly joined him, but they thought about it first, because that's what Ravenclaw does. After Slytherin, Ravenclaw sees the most amount of Death Eaters. To my fellow Ravenclaws out there, I hope I did our house justice in your eyes. More importantly, I hope I did Luna's character justice.
As for the conversation about Squibs and Muggle-born, I really enjoyed Drusilla and Luna having this conversation. Both are pure-bloods with analytical minds, and Luna is very open minded even when she disagrees with a person (a trait of Ravenclaw). As for Drusilla's opinion itself, the fact we don't know whether she's right or not canonically is very interesting in my opinion. It's cold, reptilian logic, but if Salazar Slytherin was right, then there is some need for a house like Slytherin. Also, you and I know that Drusilla and Harry are going to have children together, and I like seeing her go from "I'd rather die than have children that can't participate in our world", to someone who's probably scared of having Squib children, but would love the child and dote on them like a mother hen with her chicks. As for Muggle-borns themselves, Hermione lacks raw power, but she makes up for it in skill and an encyclopedic knowledge of obscure jinxes and spells most witches and wizards have never even heard of. I like to think this is common with Muggle-born, since we know Harry's mother was much the same. Interesting enough, half-bloods tend to be more powerful than pure-bloods, with both Voldemort and Harry being prime examples. It makes for interesting worldbuilding and headcanons if nothing else.
Thank you for all the love and support. If you enjoyed reading this story and would like to read more, I've written six other one-shots starring Drusilla/Harry that you might enjoy, with more still on the way.
All credit goes to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, Who has blessed me with this story and all of you wonderful readers. Thank you, and God bless)