in the end ~ d. malfoy

Chapter Thirty-Two

TW: blatant racism, mentions of past sexual harrassment/non-consensual touching, ptsd symptoms.

"Are they staring? I feel like they're staring. . . . "

Diana's heart hammers in her chest as Luna's fingers graze her cheekbone, tucking a strand of her now-bubblegum pink hair, tucking it behind her ear. A shiver goes down her spine at the sudden rush of contact.

"They're always staring, " replies the Ravenclaw, in her usual mystical tones. Her voice seems to float into the air, Diana thinks, like steam from a hot cup of tea, "Thought you'd be used to it by now, "

"They're never staring at me, " She looks out, anxiously. A gaggle of Slytherin girls walk past their retreating figures; Pansy Parkinson catches sight of her and bursts into giggles, "God, I hate her . . . "

Luna twirls one of her wild, ash-blonde curls around her index finger, her pale blue eyes gleaming in the faint sun. They're wrapped in chilly scarves and winter coats to combat the cold weather, paper cups of steaming hot chocolate in their hands.

"Why do you care so much?" The tone of her voice is questioning, but not harshly prying, "About what they think?"

Diana fiddles with the sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt -- as always, the signature Malfoy onyx. But now, instead of being a source of pride, the color makes her stomach turn.

"I don't really know, " she replies, softly, after a few minutes, "I just . . . feel guilty, I guess, "

"For dyeing your own hair?" Luna questions, turning to face her. Her crystalline eyes seem more protuberant than ever, as if they're designed to see right through you.

"I don't know . . . . " Diana sighs, leaning forward as she places her hands in her lap. She doesn't know why she made such a rash decision. Even though colored hair isn't technically against Hogwarts rules, she supposes Professor Snape wouldn't be too pleased if Diana showed up to his class with her bubblegum locks.

The thought of going home for winter break suddenly feels a lot less safe.

Fuck, she didn't even think about Lucius and his rules. Diana wasn't even allowed to grow her hair past her shoulders, let alone colour it pink. She can imagine what would happen if he saw; Narcissa's shriek of horror, being locked in her room the entire time and dismissing the cuts and bruises as from a fall down the stairs, shoving the shards of the firewhiskey glass thrown at her under the bed.

Maya was surprisingly chill about the whole thing; she'd been a little shocked at first, but soon ran her fingers through Diana's hair, ruffling it, claiming that it suited her pale skin very well.

"Makes you look like a real-life rosebush, " she had mused, a smile turning up the corner of her mouth, "Cute, "

Diana doesn't know if she should go home with Maya or not. She's afraid to ask, not wanting to intrude on whatever little time the warlock has with her family. After all, Maya can't just run over whenever she likes; she lives halfway across the world for Merlin's sake. And there's also the matter of her blonde friend – no, not her brother (although Diana highly doubts Maya ever thought of him in a friendly manner at first). God, she doesn't even know if she'll be able to make eye contact with Jace anymore. The flirting, his smile, the not-kiss that Diana had so graciously avoided . . . . there's no way that they can be around each other without someone noticing the tension.

And she doesn't want to explain to everyone the feelings that make her back out at the first sign of physical escalation.

"You're scared about going home, aren't you?" Luna says this in such a casual tone that it shocks Diana herself at how easily she's able to be read. She stares at the Ravenclaw, bewildered, "There's kelpies flocking around your head, "