Rating: General Audiences
Archive Warning: Not Archive Warnings
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Characters/ Relationship: Luna Lovegood & Draco Malfoy
Language: English / Spanish
A train overflowing with voices...
She paid no attention to the noise or the chatter around her. Instead, she let herself be carried by the rattling rhythm of the train, allowing the rails to guide her toward the place that, from that day onward, would become her second home.
She sat in the corridor, right in the middle of everything.
Apparently, there was no room for her and her magazines in any of the compartments, though she thought reading was far nicer out in the open, with natural light pouring through the curtainless windows. The downside would come once night fell and the temperature dropped, forcing her to put on her robes. On the other hand, she would be the first to notice when the trolley witch came by with the sweets cart.
She had always managed perfectly well on her own, though she had to admit that solitude felt much kinder at home than it did in that corridor.
She had said goodbye to her father with a bright smile on her face and a heart full of excitement for the new adventure awaiting her, and she believed this first setback—not managing to find a proper seat on the train—was only that: a minor inconvenience that would never darken her journey.
Even so, she had made herself comfortable. She had found the perfect position in the corner beside the door connecting one carriage to the next. Her jacket hung from one of the window handles, her pink Spectrespecs perched on her nose. On one side rested her backpack, covered in keychains and charms collected from countless trips, making her wonder what new keepsakes she might gather at Hogwarts Castle and where she would place them. On the other side, pressed against the window, several magazines and a sketchbook lay scattered around her.
During the first hours of the trip, she had filled its pages with drawings of magical creatures which, according to her, wandered through the corridor unseen. Without the glasses she wore, they would have been almost impossible to spot.
Some students had been walking back and forth through the carriage, visiting friends in other compartments or heading to the toilets. She always saw little groups of people together, but nobody seemed to pay much attention to her presence.
By then, everyone had settled into the journey. The sun shone brightly despite the miserable weather they had left behind in London, and at least in that part of the train, everyone had found some way to pass the time.
She sat with her legs crossed to leave space for anyone passing by, though someone nearly stepped on her anyway the moment the carriage door flew open and a voice startled her out of her reading.
“Oi, watch where you’re going, girl!”
“Funny hearing that from you, considering I’m not the one moving,” she replied, finally lifting her eyes from the magazine to identify the owner of the polished black shoes that had just dragged across her favorite tights—the ones patterned with eyes in every color imaginable.
“You’re sitting in the middle of the corridor. How do you expect people not to walk into you?”
“You should look at the floor more often. These little creatures love crawling into people’s socks,” she said, pointing at an illustration on the page she was reading—a drawing of what looked like a winged centipede. “That’s why I usually wear tights.”
“And do you ever bother putting your brain on?” the boy snapped, staring at the magazine page with equal parts disgust and scrutiny.
“I can assure you that you’re wearing yours, because right now you’ve got several Wrackspurts floating around your head,” she answered, slipping off the oversized, vaguely hippie-looking glasses and completely ignoring the rudeness radiating from the silver-haired boy.
“Where the hell did you even come from?” he asked defensively, now examining her more carefully and taking in the little camp she had built for herself in the corner of the corridor. For reasons he couldn’t explain, the sight unsettled him so much it began to irritate him. To him, it was nothing but disorder. It felt wrong, as though she simply didn’t belong on the train. “…Did you escape from St. Mungo’s or something?”
“No. I’m a first year. My name’s Luna Lovegood. What’s yours?”
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