Chapter Text
A dull stinging pain radiated through his knuckles. He peered down at them, pink with blood and scraped from teeth. But he had to do it.
The moment Flint opened his mouth, Draco snapped. Luna in his periphery, her face crestfallen as yet another one of his housemates tormented her. He’d told Theo it was a bad idea to bring her down here so often.
That she would face cruelty, beyond the select few who embraced her, but still she trotted down every damn night, face round and glowing, pale does eyes excited and wide as she listened to Pansy prattle on about whatever she picked up in the Great Hall. Or sometimes Luna would throw her head back and laugh. Silvery hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back, catching the pale blue and green light off the lake in the distance, laughing at whatever story Blaise conjured up.
It was nothing compared to the other sounds. The ones that haunted Draco’s dreams. The soft sighs that only appeared when Luna stayed too long in their room. The rustle of blankets and cooing whispers from Theo’s tongue, while Draco pretended to be asleep.
At first, it drove him mad. Ate at him, made his blood boil, and rushed through his veins, till it pounded in his head. Even now, the memories dug deeper, the images from the corner of his eye. Fractured moonlight, rippling through the water and against her skin. Casting round shadows on her hips, her thighs moving slowly as she ground herself against Theo.
And then there was Theo. Just thinking of him, made Draco’s cock twitch. Pulsing at the image of dark curls meeting blonde. Only a sliver of something Draco had stolen glances at for years. And now it was Luna’s.
They were good for each other. He repeated the lie over and over again, nearly every night when their sighs grew louder, shifting into moans that echoed around the room. Draco forced himself to bite the inside of his cheek till he tasted blood, when she gasped, and Theo cried out in response.
He was mistaken if he thought that was the worst of it. Once they had grown comfortable around him, it wasn’t just this teasing in the darkest hours of the night. Now they called themselves his friends. They gave him hugs, a pathetic fraction of the scenarios that plagued his dreams. Theo would ruffle his hair and joke with him, fingers lingering on Draco’s neck–he was certain of it. The way the pads feathered against the collar of his robes was no accident.
And Luna? She might have been the most devious. Warm fingers rested on his arm whenever they spoke. The sensation sent shivers up his spine, gooseflesh spreading across his skin. And then tonight, she’d gone as far as to rest her head on his shoulder. An intoxicating mix of petrichor and lavender. Salty like ocean rain but sweet like honey.
Maybe he had been drunk on her, and that was why he snapped. Or maybe it was the hurt in Theo’s eyes. Stormy ocean blues narrowed in disappointment as he stared at Draco and waited for him to say anything.
To tell Marcus to piss off.
To correct him with some snide remark about how stupid he was compared to her.
Theo looked desperate for anything–just a simple stop would have sufficed. But Draco froze. Instead of saying anything, he watched as Luna excused herself, trembling fingers that had been resting on his thigh now squeezing the crux of Theo’s elbow. The two of them not even sparing Marcus a glance as they brushed off another verbal assault. Watching their forms retreat down the corridor back to Draco and Theo’s room was too much.
Draco snapped.
As soon as they were out of sight, he was up, his fist balled tight, not even a moment to think and use his wand when crossing the room, in three long strides. All he could see was red, blood trickling from Marcus's nose, filling his mouth, and only the sickening sound of crunching bone penetrated the ringing in his ears.
They still rang, as Draco stumbled down the hallway. His feet took slow, heavy steps toward a room that most certainly did not want him there, but his welcome was worn thin in the Common Room, and thus he’d have to take his chances with their wrath instead.
Maybe it would be a welcome reprieve to feel their anger instead of their attention. The attention that almost filled every spoiled crack in him, but remained just shy of what he really needed. Enough love for him to pretend to be whole, panting for the rest of it. So, yes, maybe their anger with him was a good reminder that he would always be hungry for more, that what he wanted was never going to be within his grasp.
He stumbled the last few steps, dread weighing him down. Blood smeared on the handle as he waited and blew a shaky breath through his lips. They stung, too, unaware that Marcus landed his own hit. The pain was gradually starting to return as his adrenaline high crashed down upon him.
What Draco never expected, as he stood on the other side of that door, was to hear her. A whimpering mix of cries and moans. Sniffles drifted through the crack between the stone and wood, intertwined with gasps. Theo’s voice soothed deep and low, muffled by something, her skin if Draco were to guess.
“Shhhhh, my love, just open up for me. It’ll be okay.”
Another gasp, and then the faint mewls. It was all too much. If he snapped earlier, Draco didn’t know what this feeling was. A cataclymisc shift, tearing his ribs open, flaying him open as his cock ached and hear sank. It was his punishment.
He ran a hand down his face, rough enough that it made his eyes water, or maybe his emotions would just no longer be held back. But whatever it was, he twisted the knob, not even stealing one of his precious looks this time. Head hung down in shame as he marched towards the wardrobe and started ripping off his clothes.
“What the fuck!” Theo cried out, and Draco heard a shuffle, Luna shushing him with a melodic hum. The hairs on the back of Draco’s neck stood at the soothing noise, his spine locking tight to stop himself from turning his head and getting a better listen.
No, he’d done the right thing eventually, but that didn’t spare his punishment. He’d learned that lesson many moons ago as a young boy, at the hands of Aunt. The cold magic of occlusion began to lock in around the edges of his mind, a habit that he could not shake, did not have the will to. As if that was a surprise, he had little will for anything these days, if letting Flint’s little tirade about Looney Lovegood go on for so long proved anything in.
A fog of quiet cleared the sound, and he was methodical in stripping himself, little happening in his mind till he found himself in just his pants and turned toward his bed. Something made him stop short.
Not just something, though. A warm touch, smooth skin, and slender fingers wrapping around his wrist. The same ethereal voice he’d just shut from his mind, interrupting his occlusion and pinning him in place. “Draco, what happened to your hand?”
Silver blonde hair obscured his vision, and he hoped it would hide the cloudy tinge to his irises, too, the occlusion just barely holding on when he turned to look at her. He craned his neck, unable to move his body. Unsure he could handle being that physically close to her right now. How the evidence of his conflicting emotions threatened to embarrass him.
“It’s nothing,” he scoffed, high and mighty as he always had.
Luna quirked her head to the side, opalescent hair falling to the side, revealing her to be completely nude. Long wavy strands, brushing over pert nipples, pale pink and puffy, from Theo’s ministrations. “It does not appear to be nothing. Theo, come look.”
And then there was Theo. Draco swallowed roughly, averting his eyes to the sky, turning his chin up at the sight of Theo’s tan skin on display, his cock bobbing between his legs as moved to stand next to Luna. His eyes still burned at Draco, while wrapping his arms around Luna’s waist, large hands spreading against her belly. They engulfed her, spanning the whole length of her, and Draco dreamed of them on his hips, holding his waist in place. His cock twitched again at the memory and he slammed his eyes shut—unwilling to see if they noticed.
“Draco, why are your hands all scraped and bloody? It looks like you’ve been in a fight. Is your lip split too? I can heal you.” She whispered, and like a siren’s song, he turned to look at her.
“It’s fine.” He ground out, his molars biting in pain with the sheer force to push those words out and not the truth.
Theo studied him carefully, eyes trailing up his chest, lingering on the bruise blooming on Draco’s cheek, before a grin spread across his cheeks as he muttered “Flint”. So distracted by Theo, Luna took him by surprise, her thumb stroking against the thin skin of his wrist.
“I don’t think you are. I think you’re hurting quite a bit. Let me heal you.” He shook his head in response—his tongue would no doubt betray him.
Luna hummed, her hands moving to rest on his chest, slowly pushing Draco towards his bed. Theo’s joined too, taking his shoulders and helping guide him. Draco was a weak man. The moment their hands were on him, he would never have dreamed of telling them no.
His thigh hit the frame before plopping down, and Theo joined beside him. He took hold of Draco’s hand, inspecting it, with nimble fingers, Luna’s scent lingering on them still, and Draco braced himself for the sting and twisting of healing charms. But they never came–instead, puffs of warm air brushed against his raw skin, before soft lips pressed against each knuckle individually.
A shiver travelled up his spine, and Draco shook his head, his eyes wide and jaw open in shock as he watched Theo continue to kiss his hand. Wet open mouth kisses trailed across his bloody palm and wrist, and Draco begged Merlin and Salazar and Circe—anyone who would listen to promise this wasn’t a dream. That he was not passed out in the common room, and he had, for once, done something right.
Lost in his observations of Theo, of the warmth that spread through him like fiendfyre as Theo moved higher to his shoulder, shuttling around the bed to kiss across his back and spine. Luna pulled him back, the tips of her fingers appearing under his chin, guiding him to look up at her. She glowed, divine in the moonlight that surrounded her like a halo. It made her hair look colourless. It made it look like his.
A smile quirked at the corner of her mouth, as if she knew what he was thinking, as if she knew what the branches of a twisted tree looked like, too. She did not answer that, though—instead, she stuck a plump bottom lip between her teeth. Pink rising on her cheeks and down her chest, nervous and commanding at the same time, as if she were a goddess anew, built just for him.
She sang out to him, luring him closer, his neck reaching till his chin rested in her palm. Her eyes never left his, matching icy blue, grey swirling in their irises, sparking with excitement as she spoke.
“I think Draco has been a very good boy, Theo. Let’s help him feel better.”