Chapter 288
"I'm sorry for dragging you into this. If you don't want to, you don't have to force yourself, Miss Lovegood," said Draco Malfoy apologetically to the girl seated across from him.
"It doesn't matter. No one invited me anyway, and I think you're a good choice," came the airy reply.
The girl opposite him—Luna Lovegood—had waist-length pale blonde hair. She was slight in build, with a faint, distant smile. Her silver-grey eyes looked unfocused, as though gazing at something beyond the present moment.
Pansy Parkinson sat stiffly between them, twisting uncomfortably, choosing silence as her only response. She assumed Malfoy must be furious.
Moments earlier, when Pansy had pointed toward Hermione, Luna had suddenly stood up from the far end of the Slytherin table. Reaching for a croissant, she leaned forward just enough to block Pansy's gesture.
"No matter what, she's more suitable than you to be my partner," Malfoy's cold voice rang out, directed at Fleur Delacour.
His expression had already returned to calm.
"I thought we could at least be friends. But even between friends, respect is the minimum. I'm sorry, Miss Delacour—I have no interest in your Veela charm. You'd be better off using it on someone who doesn't notice. There are plenty of students who would gladly accept your invitation… assuming they can't tell the difference."
Fleur froze.
The color drained from her face instantly.
"You'll regret this," she said tightly, forcing composure before turning and walking toward the Great Hall exit.
But her control faltered. Distracted, she failed to notice a bench in her path.
She stumbled and fell.
Her carefully chosen high heels only made it worse. A nearby boy rushed to help her up, but she brushed him off, standing quickly on her own.
She left even faster than before—but now, every step with her right leg carried a slight limp.
She did not want anyone to see her humiliation.
Malfoy watched her go, a flicker of unease stirring within him.
I didn't mean to go that far…
He hadn't cared much about choosing a partner. Fleur would have been acceptable. Her beauty already drew enough envy—what difference would one more person make?
But just as he had been about to agree, his gaze had fallen on Alastor Moody.
Moody sat at the staff table, his scarred face twisted into a faint, unsettling smile. His magical eye was fixed on them, unmoving. He licked the rim of a flask, as if anticipating something.
That single glance had triggered a strong sense of warning.
So Malfoy changed course—rejecting Fleur sharply, as though offended by her charm.
And just as expected, when he glanced back, Moody's anticipation vanished, replaced by irritation.
Whatever Moody had planned… had failed.
Then Luna placed her croissant back onto the plate and walked straight toward him.
"Can I take that as you inviting me?" she asked, tilting her head.
Malfoy stiffened.
"I think… we should sit down and talk first."
He shot a sharp glance at Pansy.
Pansy lowered her head even further, wishing she could disappear under the table. Her emotions were tangled—relief that Fleur was gone, guilt for dragging Luna in, and a strange unease she couldn't quite explain.
Malfoy quickly explained the situation—though, naturally, it was his version of events.
"I suspected no one would invite me," Luna said softly. "It seems I was right."
Her tone carried a trace of quiet loneliness.
Despite being a Ravenclaw, her behavior often alienated others. Many students mocked her, hid her belongings, and treated her as an oddity.
"If you're willing… may I formally invite you now, Miss Lovegood?" Malfoy extended his hand. "Consider it correcting an unfortunate misunderstanding."
Luna looked at him thoughtfully.
"Many beautiful stories begin with coincidence," she said dreamily. "Like how Hogwarts was said to be discovered in a dream by Rowena Ravenclaw… I think today is one of those coincidences."
She placed her hand in his.
"Of course—I accept."
Her hand was cool and soft.
"Then… perhaps we should get to know each other," Luna continued. "Next Saturday—Hogsmeade? My father would also like to meet you. He's very interested in you, especially after hearing about your connection to the Daily Prophet."
She leaned closer slightly.
"Just the two of us."
Pansy tightened her grip on her sleeve.
For the first time, she felt that this quiet, peculiar girl might be just as dangerous as Fleur.
---
Hogsmeade offered many places for a meeting, but most were unsuitable. Honeydukes was too crowded. The Three Broomsticks and the Hog's Head were too noisy, filled with rough patrons.
In the end, they chose a quiet teahouse.
Sitting across from Malfoy, Luna toyed with her radish earrings, her usual dreamy expression replaced by rare clarity.
"First, I should apologize," she said. "What I said earlier may have upset Miss Parkinson. But what I'm about to say… you wouldn't want her to hear."
"Can you cast a privacy charm?"
"Of course."
Malfoy drew a circle with his wand. The surrounding noise vanished instantly.
"I want to help you," Luna said.
Malfoy narrowed his eyes.
"Help me?"
"Your heart is full of restraints," she said simply. "You feel pressure. Powerlessness. You hide it well—but sometimes it shows."
Malfoy tried to deflect.
"Isn't that normal? Every Triwizard Champion is under pressure."
"You weren't nervous during the First Task," Luna replied calmly. "Even during scoring—you didn't care."
"That wasn't confidence," she added. "That was indifference."
Malfoy fell silent.
"You've helped me before," Luna continued. "Even if you didn't realize it. So now, I want to help you."
Her words struck deeper than expected.
She was right.
He wasn't relaxed.
The future—both what he knew and what he couldn't predict—pressed heavily on him. There was no one he could confide in.
This year would decide everything.
Failure meant ruin.
Success meant survival.
He took a sip of lemon juice—
—and immediately winced at the sharp sourness.
Luna watched him, then said calmly,
"Oh… I forgot to warn you. The owner has been staring at you for a while."
Malfoy paused.
Under certain assumptions, he likely looked like someone… unreliable.
Perhaps even unfaithful.
He set the cup down slowly.
Maybe this is what people call karma…