So Strangely Willing

Disclaimer: JKR owns it all. I'm just having fun.

Chapter Six

So Strangely Willing

Two months later

Draco glanced at the clock on his office wall. Almost time for tea, it read. He needed to finish his work soon if he wanted to be on time to meet Luna. Their schedules had kept them apart for much of the week, and so he was pushing himself to finish early so as not to miss afternoon tea with Luna and her father. It had been a long, hectic week at the office; he had remained after hours for the past four days, painstakingly going over equations and calculations until he had thought his eyes would shrivel up and fall out of their sockets. Ignoring the sense of anticipation he felt at knowing he would soon be in Luna's company, Draco returned to his work.

He had finally finished the last of his calculations when a lavender airplane came zooming into his office, landing on the surface of his desk with a sputter. He smirked, knowing the memo was from Luna; they had been exchanging notes at work all week since they had not been able to communicate in person. He picked up the plane and carefully unfolded it.

Draco,

Luna

Disappointment washed over him; he'd been looking forward to seeing her. He had wanted to discuss her project with her, to run a few equations by her...her mind worked in ways his did not, which had been helpful on more than a few occasions. He had wanted to hold her and perhaps sneak in a kiss or two ... or three.

Grimacing in disgust...he was turning into quite the sap!...he grabbed a piece of parchment, quickly scribbled a reply, and then sent it flying toward her office on level three.

He stood behind his desk, watching until the airplane zoomed out of sight. So now, he was to go to tea without her. Sulking, he threw himself into his chair. All right, so she would just be a little late. Still, it rankled a bit that she would throw him over for some project. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He knew that her work was important to her, and obviously, her job had to come first. He couldn't truly begrudge her that, especially given that his own hectic schedule was the reason they had spent so little time together that week.

He waved his wand, sending parchments to their proper files, and then leant his head against the back of his chair. He stared blankly at the ceiling for a few minutes, allowing his mind to decompress. Inevitably, his mind turned to The Plan.

It was working rather spectacularly, all things considered. The Daily Prophet had been speculating for months about his conspicuous absence from the wizarding hotspots he had once frequented. Headlines had pondered his drastic change of habit, and now they believed they knew the reason why. The weekend after their first date, Draco had taken Luna to visit the British National Wizarding Museum in Kensington. TheProphet's headline the following day had said it all: Malfoy Heir Off the Market! Is It Love At Last?

Draco snorted. One very public date had been all it had taken. The press had gone wild, following both him and Luna in an attempt to confirm that the two were in a relationship. Draco had allowed it go on for a few weeks...Luna had appeared blissfully oblivious to all the attention...until he had decided the timing was right. He had released a statement, with Luna's approval, that confirmed they were indeed in a mutually exclusive relationship and requested that their privacy be respected.

Soon after, the public's fascination with them had dwindled, thanks in part to the revelation of Pansy Parkinson's secret affair with Ron Weasley. Both had explosive temperaments, and it showed in the number of break-ups and reconciliations the two had managed to have over the course of their brief relationship. The press found the volatile pair much more interesting than the quiet, stable relationship between the loony daughter of their so-called rival paper and the newly reformed pure-blood heir.

Still, it had been enough. Over the past several weeks, Draco had overheard several conversations about his transformation from playboy to dutiful boyfriend, pleasing him to no end. Witches flirted with him more now than ever before, their interest only increasing when he would politely excuse himself to find his date; witches obviously found a faithful wizard appealing. He found it strange, then, the number of times he had been slipped a piece of parchment with a name and Floo address.

Yes, The Plan was working beautifully. Why, then, did each passing day feel like another step toward his impending doom?

He grimaced; it was obvious that he was feeling anxious because the end of The Plan was in sight, and he knew that he would keenly feel Luna's absence in his life when he ended things with her. But then that was only to be expected...after all, over the past few months they'd spent almost every free moment together.

During the week, they typically stayed at Grimmauld Place. They would have dinner together; it was just the two of them now that Neville was gone. After, they would share the washing up and then retire to the drawing room. Since Neville had taken his piano to his new flat, Draco had purchased a replacement. Luna would listen to him play whilst she read, or occasionally, he would teach her to play a simple melody. He enjoyed those times the most...the quiet evenings with just the two of them and no one else.

On the weekends, however, he had taken to planning evenings out, specifically tailored to Luna's tastes. Once they had gone to a Muggle amusement park. Draco shuddered; he would never forget that day as long as he lived. Luna, clever witch that she was, had quickly realised what he was doing and had insisted that they do things they both could enjoy together. Draco had been surprised that their likes and dislikes had been so compatible. They both enjoyed debating the latest research in their fields, they were both avid readers, and they both loved music. Finding things they both could enjoy had not been as difficult, then, as he had anticipated. They frequented museums and art galleries, had once gone to the Bodleian Library at Oxford, even taken in a Muggle movie. That wasn't to say that they didn't do the occasional ... odd activity, but even those times were entertaining.

With Luna, life was never dull.

Most importantly, she'd taught him a thing or two about being in a real relationship. For all the "firsts" he was for her...first kiss, first date, first relationship...she was, for all intents and purposes, his first girlfriend ... even if it was all a ruse. Of course, she didn't know that, but he certainly did. It didn't seem to matter, however; he was learning quite a lot from Luna about life and love, and he found himself soaking it up like a sponge.

He truly enjoyed the time he spent with her. He had never had an ongoing relationship with a witch, and he was surprised by how much he liked it. In fact, if marriage were at all similar, he rather thought he would enjoy it, too.

He frowned. But marriage would not be like this. A proper pure-blood wife would never laugh and play as Luna did. Once married, he would never again have a picnic on the floor of the drawing room because it was raining, only to go splash in the mud puddles when the storm had passed; nor would he ever again discuss the benefits of Nargle inoculations or go searching for Griffleback Snorflunks. Which was a shame...he had enjoyed hiking through the forest, laughing and stealing kisses .... He would miss it. He would miss her.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, alarm bells were sounding furiously, but Draco was steadfastly ignoring them.

He was becoming accustomed to her presence in his life, and that was all. He was certain that he would recover quickly enough once a more suitable witch was on his arm. His stomach churned at the thought, and then he shifted in his seat, his brow furrowing. But what about Luna? She had no sense of self-preservation and had welcomed him into her life with open arms. And what about her father? The wizard had exuberantly received Draco into his home and treated him like family, thrilled that his daughter had found someone who had looked past her eccentricities to see the intelligent, kind, witty woman beneath the surface.

Guilt was not an emotion that Draco was particularly accustomed to, so he did not immediately recognise the uncomfortable feeling, registering only the churning, burning sensation in his stomach. It was becoming more and more unlikely that someone would not be hurt...significantly so...when The Plan came to full fruition. Luna and her father did not have the same knowledge that he had; Draco knew that the situation was only temporary, and therefore, it had been somewhat easy...although more difficult than he had imagined...to keep himself from growing too attached to the odd little family. Luna and her father did not have that luxury.

Draco scowled at the little voice in the back of his mind taunting him, whispering that it was too late, that he was already more attached...especially to her...than he would allow himself to believe.

Ruthlessly, he pushed the thoughts aside, ignoring the pang he felt at the knowledge that his time with Luna was quickly coming to a close. He had no intention of dragging things out any longer than necessary; every moment he spent with Luna increased the amount of pain she would feel when he ended their romantic involvement.

"Enough!" he snarled between clenched teeth, rising to his feet and stalking to the door, grabbing his cloak as he left his office. What was done was done. He would deal with the consequences later.

Draco passed through the broken down gate and walked up the winding path toward the cylindrical house. He smirked as he passed the sign encouraging him to pick his own mistletoe. He'd asked Luna on their first visit to her childhood home why her father cultivated the plant...didn't it attract Nargles? Luna had informed him that this was a special variety, grown by her father to be Nargle-resistant. Draco had pulled her into his arms and asked if it was tradition-resistant, as well. Judging by the scorching kiss she'd given him, the answer was a resounding no.

Anxious to see her, even though he knew she could not have yet arrived...and denying that it was anything more than just a desire to garner another kiss...he lengthened his strides until he reached the door. He was about to knock when the door was flung open, and he was greeted by a jovial Xenophilius Lovegood.

"Ah, Draco, my boy. Come in, come in," the wizard said, ushering Draco inside. He peeked out of the doorway. "Where is Luna? Is she not with you?"

Draco crossed the threshold into the circular kitchen and unclasped his cloak, folding it over one arm as he entered the brightly coloured kitchen. "No, sir. She said she would be delayed a few minutes, but she should arrive momentarily. She had some work she wished to complete."

"Ah, I see," Xenophilius muttered. He appeared anxious for a moment before his expression cleared. "Here, here, let me take your cloak. Did you see the gnomes in the garden? Mrs Weasley brought them over yesterday. Absolutely delightful creatures...I cannot wait to study them! Tea is on the table upstairs; go on up and settle in by the fire...it's terribly chilly out there. Wouldn't want you to catch a sniffle."

Xenophilius followed him upstairs to the cluttered living room, tossing Draco's expensive cloak over a well worn chair. Draco winced at the careless handling of the fine material but held his tongue. Material goods held little significance to the Lovegoods, something he found both admirable and perplexing.

They sat down, the table having already been set for tea, and settled into the now familiar routine, despite a certain witch's rather conspicuous absence. Draco had been surprised at how quickly he had felt at home in the odd little home near Ottery St Catchpole. He had been wary of the tall, oddly shaped house with its wild tangle of a front garden on his first visit two months prior, but now it represented to him all things Luna: unusual, quirky, but filled with delightful surprises and smartly organised...if one knew the system.

The two men talked as they sipped their tea, eating a fair few biscuits, as well. They chatted amiably for some time and were deeply entrenched in a conversation about Xenophilius' upcoming excursion to Sweden...his third attempt to search for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack...when Draco caught sight of the clock.

"Luna is quite late," he said, frowning at the bottom of his now empty teacup. "I hope everything is all right at the Ministry."

Xenophilius stiffened, then fidgeted in his seat, his eyes widening at Draco's comment.

Curious, Draco thought. He had noticed over time that Luna never mentioned her work at the Ministry in front of her father. He had assumed that Xenophilius had wanted his daughter to join him in running The Quibbler on a full-time basis, rather than as merely an occasional contributor. Now, he wondered if that were the case, or if it was something deeper that caused the usually open witch to keep such an important part of her life from the father she adored.

With a trembling hand, Xenophilius poured them both another cuppa. He settled into his chair and attempted to look at ease ... however, his overly exaggerated expression of nonchalance said otherwise.

"You don't like Luna's work at the Ministry, do you?"

The older wizard's lips thinned into a grim line. His good eye shifted from side to side as he considered his answer. After several moments, he said quietly but firmly, "No, I do not."

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, why is that? She does exceptional work, and is well-respected by her peers." Draco ran a finger along the edge of his saucer, debating about whether or not to pose his next question before charging ahead. "Would you rather she worked with you...here at The Quibbler?"

Xenophilius stood, clearly agitated, his arm slicing through the air in dismissal as he began to pace about the room, effortlessly dodging piles of books and other knick knackery scattered about the floor. "Nonsense. I want whatever my Luna wants. Her position makes her happy, and I am happy for her, despite what she believes." He ceased his pacing and muttered under his breath, almost as if to himself, "Even if it kills me to think of what could happen."

Draco was confused. Did Xenophilius have some sort of grudge against the Ministry? If so, it would not be wholly surprising; Draco could well imagine the Ministry turning away one of Xenophilius' hypotheses on the benefits of Gnome saliva or some such thing, and the wizard was quite dogmatic when it came to his beliefs ... even if some were utterly unbelievable.

Xenophilius moved to the window, visibly agitated, his hands clenched at his sides as he stared down the wild array of plants below. "Has Luna spoken of her mother?"

"Only a little. She said she was a beautiful and talented witch and that she somewhat resembles her. She misses her."

"As do I, dear boy. As do I," Xenophilius whispered. Then he turned to face Draco, clasping his hands behind his back as he resumed his pacing.

The older wizard made his way the other side of the room and another window. "Solange was my love, my life. We met at Hogwarts, you know, though we were in different houses. She was quite beautiful, much like my Luna." He turned around and moved back across the room to the fireplace. "Would you like to see her portrait?" he asked as he lifted a small oval-shaped object from the back of the mantle and handed it to Draco before resuming his seat at the table.

Carefully holding the portrait in his hands, Draco studied the image of the woman who had been Xenophilius' wife and Luna's mother. Beautiful had been an understatement...she was an angel. Although it was a magical portrait, she did not move, save for the blinking of her eyes and a short nod of acknowledgement.

Solange Lovegood did look very much like her daughter, but her eyes were intensely focussed and one corner of her mouth lifted in a sly smile; quite different from Luna's usual wistful expression. Long, golden blonde hair fell in cascades down her back, almost to her hips, the same way Luna had worn her hair when at Hogwarts. She wore a set of deep green robes with bronze-coloured piping that were obviously tailor-made and very expensive. Unlike her rather bohemian husband and daughter, she exuded confidence, poise, and wealth. Eerily, she reminded Draco of his mother and her gaggle of friends who had come round for tea every now and then. This woman had definitely been a member of the pure-blood aristocracy. Who was she? And how had she come to marry someone so obviously ill-suited for her?

Draco glanced up at Xenophilius and then back at the portrait, his expression carefully schooled to conceal his amazement. Mrs Lovegood was not fooled; she lifted her chin defiantly and arched an eyebrow, as if daring him to say the thoughts crossing through his mind.

"I know what you're thinking," Xenophilius taunted, shaking a finger playfully in Draco's direction. "You're wondering just who this magnificent woman was and how did she end up with an old wally like me." He chortled loudly and asked, "What would you say if I told you it was she who chased after me?"

A quick peek at Mrs Lovegood, whose sly smile had widened, confirmed the man's statement.

"Oh yes, she was quite the spirited girl, my Solange. She decided she wanted me for her own and did not rest until it was so." Xenophilius reached for the portrait, his laughter diminishing. His eyes watered as he gently ran the tips of his fingers along the surface. "I miss you, my heart," he murmured lowly as he set the portrait on the table in front of him.

Draco caught sight of Mrs Lovegood's raised hand, as if she were reaching for the man who held her so tenderly in his hands. It was an intimate moment, and Draco felt a now familiar tightening of his chest at the devotion the man still held for his long departed wife.

"We married the day after we left Hogwarts, despite her family's wishes. I did not possess the proper pedigree, you see. Being a pure-blood wizard was not enough...I did not have the necessary connections, so they disowned her. Solange said she didn't mind, but I know it hurt her. She never saw her mother or father again."

Draco pondered what it must have been like for a young, aristocratic witch to have turned her back on her family and everything she had ever known, all for the sake of love. He decided Solange Lovegood must have been a Gryffindor to have had such courage; he knew he was not so brave.

Sniffling, Xenophilius pulled a purple and orange polka-dotted handkerchief from the sleeve of his robes and loudly blew his nose. "I didn't understand what she saw in me, but she insisted that she just knew ... we were meant for each other." He sighed. "She was right. She encouraged me to follow my dream and my heart, and so I did. With her in my life, I found it fairly easy to believe in the unbelievable. How could I not?"

Looking again at the portrait, Xenophilius continued, "Solange was my sun, Draco. My entire world revolved around her. Even her name ... it means angel of the sun. Isn't that lovely?"

Draco murmured his agreement.

"Yes," Xenophilius said, "and that is why we chose the name the Luna for our daughter. For the moon, you know. Together, they were my sun and moon. Fitting, yes? Solange told me just weeks before she died that we were expecting another little miracle...it's not often that pure-blood families are able to have more than one child, as you well know," he said, waggling his finger in Draco's direction. Pensive, he continued. "His name would have been Aster, and I would have held the sun, moon, and stars in my arms." He traced the edges of the portrait. "It was a lovely thought, but it wasn't meant to be."

"What happened, Xenophilius?" Draco asked when the wizard fell silent.

"She was an exceptionally talented witch, particularly at Charms. Luna takes after her in that regard." He appeared old beyond his years as he stood and returned to the window overlooking the front garden. "She had been working on a rather complicated experiment, out there in her garden, when something went wrong. She died instantly, and my poor Luna ... she was there."

"Dear Merlin," Draco murmured, aghast. Luna had witnessed her own mother's death; he could not imagine anything more horrifying.

Xenophilius nodded, his eyes focussed upon the landscape outside the window. "Horrible for a nine-year-old to witness, is it not? Now perhaps you understand why I remain concerned about Luna's choice of profession. I will not stand in her way, of course. She has great talent, and that should not be suppressed! Absolutely not! But I do worry, nonetheless."

Draco was worried, too. Luna was quite late now. While it was not unusual for her to be running a few minutes behind, she was meticulous about sending an owl or some other sort of message...once Draco had even received a message from her Patronus when she had been unable to get to an owl. Where was she?

Xenophilius returned to the table, and they continued with tea. The conversation turned to more mundane matters, and the time passed quickly, even though Draco was preoccupied by their earlier discussion.

He reflected upon the relationship between Luna's parents. On the surface, it should have never worked, but it had. And from what Draco had seen and heard that afternoon, neither had felt a moment's regret, even though she had given up her entire family and system of beliefs. Could that truly be possible? And if it were, what could that mean for him?

His reverie was broken when Xenophilius looked up and exclaimed, "Ah, here we are. She must have been further delayed." He stood to open the window, and the large brown owl flew inside, perching itself on the back of an armchair.

Xenophilius removed the message from the owl's leg, thanked it profusely and gave it a bit of a biscuit. The owl hooted in gratitude and then flew out of the window, heading back in the direction from whence it had come.

Draco watched as Xenophilius' one good eye quickly scanned the parchment. Without warning, the man paled and then swayed dangerously before his legs gave way and he collapsed to the floor.

Shocked, Draco swiftly moved to the shaking wizard's side and knelt down beside him. "What's happened? Is it Luna?"

With trembling hands, Xenophilius handed the parchment to Draco, who quickly began to read.

Dear Mr Lovegood,

A Ministry employee has listed you as his or her emergency contact. We regret to inform you that the employee has been involved in an incident and has been transported to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries ....

Draco didn't have to read any more. He dropped the parchment and hauled the other man to his feet before Apparating them directly to St Mungo's.

He had to get to Luna.

A/N: My thanks, as always, to my beta readers, Subversa and Deanna, and my Brit picker, LettyBird. A note of thanks to Potion Mistress for providing me with term "wally" for Xenophilius Lovegood.