- ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟғᴏʏ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
Draco lifts his head up, shooting a glance towards his left to the witch staring shamelessly at him, his pale eyes settling on her, grunting irritably,
"Do you ever mind your own business?"
Oonagh pondered silently, tuc...
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𝕯raco remembers the very first time he'd snuck into the cellars.
The lack of entertainment being on his own and the great expanse of the manor had fuelled his eight year old self's curiosity and sense of adventure massively. It was a short, flying visit, one that he was strangely overjoyed to have ended thanks to his mother, who had tracked him down and firmly put a stop to his escapades. The towering, dark walls, two bodies of him in width, had been rather intimidating.
They're still intimidating to this day, he notes, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets in order to refrain touching the cobwebbed stone either side of him. He didn't need that reminder of how close together they are. His nose furrows, fighting a shudder at the spider that crawls alongside him before disappearing into a crack Draco's certain hides atleast three or four more.
Upon reaching the iron barred doors, he says a silent, hopeful prayer the rattle of chains don't make too much noise to alert anyone roaming upstairs to what he's doing. That would be quite the predicament. Thankfully, it's only a quiet, quick jiggle and a creaking of the hinges that will definitely go unheard.
The cell itself, though bigger than the narrow hallway, is pitch black dark. So much so that Draco wouldn't be able to see his hand in front of his face if he ate five carrots everyday.
"Lumos" He whispers, glowing the tip of his wand ever so slightly.
It doesn't take him a survey of ten seconds to find what he's looking for. Or rather who. His heart awkwardly clenches, having to look away for a moment or two to shake off the gut-wrenching, heart-shattering picture of his Sunshine there instead, being the one that's curled up forlornly in a ball on the dusty, cold floors, hugging herself to keep warm. A warming charm is the first thing that he casts. And what wakes her up.
"Hello, Draco Malfoy"
There's no bitterness, no resentment, no harshness to her tone, if anything it's as airy and warm as it would be if she were greeting a friend. Draco doesn't know how, if he was in her position, he'd be absolutely rancorous to anyone that he lays his eyes upon.
He takes a small step forward, to where she's setting herself upright, nodding solemnly,
"Lovegood"
A faint smile blesses Luna's features, taking the advantage of his magic light to check on old and frail, Mr Ollivander across the way, drifting in and out of sleep. She glances back to the Slytherin boy crouching himself down in front of her, voice surprising yet pleasantly gentle as he asks,
"How are you doing?"
Draco scolds himself as soon as it slips from his lips, reminding himself of the circumstances. She's been captured, through no fault of her own, and is being held prisoner in the cellar of his childhood home. Of course she's not going to be just dandy. A stupid thing to say. Luna doesn't point that out, doesn't remark something sarcastic that he and many others would have, just replies as one would normally,
