Flower Petals

-43-

It was almost Christmas Eve. About 2 days away from the ball, and a time of preparation of the manor to cover decay which had been taking place since as long as anyone could remember.

Curtains hung around the manor with the general idea that drapery with the texture of silk, that gleamed like fine crystal could shine above the rancid smoke created by the gathering.

And so it was that the Malfoy Manor was adorned in beautiful things to hide the most ugly. Walls seemed hundreds of feet tall, covered in green cloaks which caught the light in a mysterious way. The curved corners hid sharp edges in the ceiling and walls and muted echoes. The chandeliers were lit and cracklings in the bustling silence of preparations for the event.

Draco sat at the dining table for more then an hour staring. Watching the preciseness of decorating, which seemed so trivial. He'd watch the same banner go up and then come back down, he'd watch the same silver plate being put out and brought back into the kitchen on repeat. A server would ask something like 'where should this go," or "what do you think" and each time Draco would respond with "wherever you'd like" or "well done it's lovely".

Draco faced a solemn dilemma within himself. His heart was coated in a layer of sterling silver and embellished with diamonds and emeralds. It was draped in silk clothes and black suits, polished and under key. But the very foundation of who he seemed to be was suddenly incorrect.

He didn't feel that weight of the metal or the gems, he felt a relief, he felt instead like his heart was cushioned in a field of wildflower, or racing up a hill where he'd fall and be welcomed by thick, soft grass.

And he only felt that way when with Luna.

Luna Lovegood was like a campfire to a castaway. He was quite sure all the fire retardant in the world, every spell, and an ocean of water couldn't possibly diminish that flame.

Marrying her would be the only action in his lifetime he could be proud of.

But there in lies the problem. He was determined to push her away, determined to ignore her and to fight her until he died. To end up like his father was a fate he feared, but for Luna to end up like his mother was far worse. To marry without love, to live without a life, to be cursed to an existence without purpose and without happiness. These were things he excepted for himself, excepted the likelihood that his life would amount to be nothing more then a pawn moving forward spaces on a chessboard. But along with that fact he excepted that his life would be dedicated to protecting Luna.

Just as he protected his mother, just as he should've protected his mother.

The best thing for Luna Lovegood, the ultimate sacrifice, would be to love her from afar.

Neville Longbottom for example, took a similar approach.

The feelings he'd developed for Ginny had been squashed since the day he layed eyes on her.

Through years in school, people had imagined that he and Luna were involved. They took walks through the woods alone together, gathered steaks and leaves and logged animals in the forbidden forest. It couldn't be farther from the truth of course, Luna preferred studious and intelligent men who could rattle facts for years, and Neville, well to be frank Neville liked Ginny Weasley.

He liked the way she stood up straight and looked forward. He liked her strength and her valor which made her the picture of a Gryffindor woman. She grew into a upfront and observant teenager, she worked harder then anyone had ever worked in front of Neville.

He woke up Saturdays mornings to help her practice quidditch and when he did he found that it was always worth it. She flew through the air like a hawk, magnetic, harsh, charismatic, but beneath all the strength and the insults, there was a pool of love. It was hard to find, sort of like digging for water on Mars, but it was there none the less.