An Uneventful Quidditch Match (drarry) (COMPLETED)

chapter nine

In all her years of living, there is a few simple truths Luna has learned the hard way:

She did not belong. And she would never be believed.

She had grown used to these truths, convincing herself she did not need to belong, she did not need to be believed. She had herself, her own unothordox way of thinking, she did not need to be understood. But it was just fighting an even simpler truth, one applying not just to her, but to everyone:

People need people.

Oh, yes, Luna had friends, but they did not understand her. They did not believe her. She was on an entirely different wavelength from them, and she knew it, and that meant she was utterly and truly alone.

She is the type of person that enjoys sitting on the floor more than chairs; she is the type of person who has a trail of small animals who she'd befriended following her at all times; she's the type of person who sees more than others do; that feels, hears, and experinces more than others do.

And is the wizarding world, she is not normal.

(Different.
Odd.
Freakish.)

It is both a relief and an (oddity) when Draco Malfoy approaches her, saying he believes that Harry is Jackson. She lets herself feel hope, that one day their efforts will return Harry to them.

She had always liked Harry. They were never close, but they were friends, and the more Luna grew to know him, the more of the sense she got that Harry knew, too, what it was like to be an oddity. That he knew it all too well.

(BOY! an echo of an uncle)

Harry was different, to Luna. He had the potential to understand.

(Harry Hunting! an evening huddled in the cupboard underneath the stair with aching ribs and bruised arms)

Luna wanted, more than anything, for Harry to return. No one understood her. Harry could. Without Harry, she would never belong.

(Freakish, he's a freak, a boy made of ink surrounded by pencil)

Luna wants her friend back, and is so glad Draco is there to help.

(Freak.)

They form an unlikely alliance; Draco sharing his experince, how he had learned the truth of the Harry-Not-Harry. It sparks hope in her soul, the fact that Harry is still in there, even if he is hidden beneath the surface.

When Draco tells people that Harry is not Harry, it only emphasizes the fact that Luna will never be like him. It is only an evening after Draco states it to the general population that Luna has three dozen signatures on her petition. It is obvious that hesitance exists; people are not as willing as they may seem to believe Draco, but there is a large amount of people considering it, and that is more than Luna would ever be able to do.

Luna is in awe of Draco's power over people.

Again she tells herself: I will never be like him. It is a jealous thought, a mourning calling in her mind, but she says she does not care

(she does)

because she will have Harry soon enough.

¶∆¶

Draco sits down at the Gryffindor table, as far away from Jackson as he can manage. He is mildly surprised when Willow (Harry's new owl, since Hedwig had passed away. Another death Jackson does not even pretend to mourn) drops a letter in front of him.

The handwriting is shaky, as if the writer did not have full control of their hand (he did not) and Draco is immediately overcome with the sense that this letter is from Harry. His Harry, not Jackson, and he also knows, without even opening it, that it is urgent.

Draco opens the letter with lips pressed together into a tight line, a frown threatening to show itself. The letter itself is short, simple, and to the point, and that may be the most utterly terrifying thing about it. No punctuation, no capitalization. It is just a message, begging to be heard:

voldemort is back

Draco shoots out of his seat. He has much to do.

¶∆¶

Harry is looking at the other occupants of his crowded body. Jackson is angry, Voldemort is weak. It is the usual scene.  Sometimes, Jackson and Voldy send messages to the other Voldy, butthey are few and far apart; still, it would be classified as "the usual scene." Tonight is not usual, as they spend most of their nights together sitting as far apart from each other and not talking. Tonight, Jackson abandons the corner where Voldemort is, walking over to where Harry lays.

"We need to talk," he snarls. His voice is filled loathing, his expression unmatching as he stared on with a blank, void expression.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why, of course, your majesty, whatever do we need to discuss?"

"You're meddling," Jackson says simply.

"Yes," Harry agrees, "I am. What about it?"

"You will suffer in the future as the consequences of this course of action," Jackson said. "One day, I'll figure out how to get rid of you, or I'll force you into your own vessel, and you'll pay. If you have any brains, you'll sit back and let me run the show."

"Nah," Harry said, testing fate.

"Harry," Jackson says, his tone turning suspiciously gentle, "You know better than anyone how strong Voldemort is at his peak. You saw how strong I am at my peak. We are not forces to be trifled with. Stop fighting me for control, and we'll spare you."

"Now why don't I believe you?" Harry clicked his tongue. "It's almost like I'm the reason for Voldemort's demise in the first place." Harry smiled, "The mere idea you're even considering sparing me is laughable. I know you'd rather I make this whole help-Voldemort-return-to-full-power thing easier for you, but straight up lying to me is not the way to go."

Jackson said nothing. He grit his teeth and walked away, to where Voldemort waited.

Harry smirked in satisfaction. He was getting under his skin, that was good. And Harry's control was growing, that was good, too. He was able to write (write!) and that meant he was becoming stronger, more used to the bodt that was his own.

Of course, he was not fooled into thinking he'd be able to stop Voldemort single-handedly (Jackson would fight him every step of the way), but Draco would be able to gather forces and get people to stop him.

Hope swelled in Harry's chest. Maybe everything would be alright.