(Untitled)

[dreamily_luna]

Luna sits on the floor of the house she shares with Draco, making chains of little red and purple flowers that she will later drape around Mittens' neck. Just because he's quite literally skin and bones is no reason he can't enjoy something pretty every once in a while

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[of_badfaith]

"What a relief," he muttered dryly, words muffled by the bundle of mostly melted ice held pressed against his jaw.

He looked awful, but there was a kind of puffed up glow of pride about him-- his shoulders squared, his head held higher, even though he was in complete disarray. Blood and dirt on his clothes, smeared across his face even though he'd done his best to clean himself up. He'd come home with the worst of it still on display, as if returning home to show off his war wounds.

[dreamily_luna]

Luna gasps audibly when she sees him and the flowers fall to the floor, forgotten. "Draco? What's happened?" Standing, she pads over on bare feet, eyes wide and searching. "Who did you--" Her head tilts.

"Should we go to the clinic?"

[of_badfaith]

"It's nothing," he insisted, brushing off her concern and heading back toward the bedroom.

"Looks worse than it is and I'm certainly not giving Weasley the satisfaction of putting me in the bloody clinic."

[dreamily_luna]

"Ronald did this?"

Luna's voice is surprisingly clipped, icy. There are many things that she will put up with, but this is not one of them, and she turns her face away so he can't see that she's angry.

"What happened?" She trails along after him.