Call Me Psyche - Dramione

26

Note: Super busy so a bit shorter than usual this week. Please vote if you like it.

Ron left Draco and Hermione in the corridor outside the headmaster's office and came back into the Great Hall. It was lined with people on cots, either waiting for their wounds to be treated or recovering as best they could.

And in a far corner were people laid out under white sheets, still as stone, their faces covered. These were the dead. Was Harry among them already? Not here under a sheet but off in the Forest alone? He wouldn't have the dignity of being draped with a shroud. No, as a dead man, Harry would be desecrated, paraded around, jeered at.

"Our Harry..." Ron muttered to himself. He was pale, dizzy, raising his hand to find something to hold onto.

"Oh, there you are," someone said, stepping beneath his raised arm, easing his weight onto their shoulder. "You look terrible."

Luna. Only Luna greeted him this way. It was perfect.

"Yeah," was all he said, closing his arms around her neck and resting his cheek on her head.

His ears were roaring, as if he might pass out. If Fred or George had whistled at the sight of him for clinging to Luna in the middle of a crowded room like this, he hadn't heard it.

"Come lie down," she said.

"No, the beds are for the wounded," he murmured against her hair. After all everyone had been through, how could she still smell so nice? He cleared his throat, forcing himself away from passing out, away from her sweetness and back to the fear and sadness of the castle and the war. "And I can't rest until Harry's – back."

Luna gave a knowing hum. "Speaking of Harry, I think he'd want you to rest while you wait for him. Especially if there's a chance things might be about to get worse."

Ron sighed and loosened his hold on her. "Alright. I'll rest on a bench, but not a bed."

"That's fine," Luna said, leading him across the room. "Do you want some acupressure?" She was already reaching for his temples, her fingers poised to set to work on him.

"No," he said, catching her hands. "It's brilliant of you to offer, but no. Just – just sit with me. Tell me one mad thing after another, and then leave me completely stunned by saying something that makes perfect sense. Look me in the face like you like me, and you'll be sorry when you have to leave me."

Her eyes seemed larger and shinier than ever. But she was closing them, lifting onto her tiptoes, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "There's no other way for me to look at you," she said.

The roar in Ron's ears was gone. He could hear the low chatter of serious voices all around them, and no one teased or taunted him.

"Ah, good on Ron," George said, just out of Ron's hearing. "Long live blonde girlfriend the second."

"Wait now, why is Ron here getting off with a new girl instead of saving the world with Harry?" Fred said. "Is Harry alright? Where is he?"

Pansy's head whipped around. "And where's Draco?"

"Who's Draco?" Charlie asked, not looking up from the little owl whose broken wing he was tending.

George was on his feet. "Malfoy? If that little maggot laid a hand on Harry – "

"Sit down," Bill said, shoving George back into his place on the bench.

"Draco is where he belongs: in the corridor kissing his darling Hermione," Fleur said, sliding under Bill's arm.

Fred blinked. "Malfoy and Hermione? I really did see that then."

"So where is Potter's darling? Your Ginny?" Pansy interrupted. "Maybe she's giving him the same treatment Ron's getting from Lovegood."