In the Rose Garden
He really needed the fresh air.
Harry wasn't claustrophobic, oddly enough, considering he'd spent most of his miserable life with the Dursleys in a cupboard, but he wasn’t a fan of crowded rooms either. He preferred being outside, allowing the wind to cool his cheeks and mess up his hair and fill his lungs with something other than thick self-contempt.
He breathed deeply through his nose, closed his eyes, and rested his head on the backrest of the iron bench. A half-drunk Draco had led him around the room and introduced him to what felt like dozens of people in order to make ‘connections’, whatever that meant. It was all a little much for Harry, and around the ninth or tenth introduction, his head was throbbing painfully. He’d excused himself in search of somewhere quiet and had wound up walking all the way to the rose garden. Any other occasion, Harry would’ve taken the time to admire the walls and rows of flowers, but was currently too exhausted to do so. He was content with enjoying the unstill silence of the night.
How did Draco and Pansy do it? Being conscious of how everyone perceived you, constantly having to pretend to be someone you’re not? Harry couldn’t even do it for an hour, much less his entire life. If this was what being a Malfoy was like, he could see why Draco was sick of it.
Harry heard a rustling sound from one of the bushes ahead of him and instinctively began to watch the roses that lined the pond ahead. He’d been looking at it for maybe a half minute when someone popped up from behind them and Harry let out a small scream.
The person turned to him. They were small in stature, wearing a short frilly dress, and the moonlight behind them illuminated their softly blond hair but left the rest of their features dark.
“Oh, hello. I didn’t mean to scare you,” the person said. “I didn’t know there was anyone else out here.”
Harry frowned. He recognised that dreamy voice. “Luna?” he said as she hopped around the edge of the pond and made her way to Harry. As she got closer, Harry could make out her face and it was. It was Luna Lovegood. Of all the people to meet in a place like this.
“Harry,” she said with a smile. “Good evening.”
“Er, yeah, ‘evening.” Harry squinted up at her, incredibly confused. “W– what are you doing here?”
Luna cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you here at the Malfoys’? And why are you hiding in their bushes?”
“Which one would you like me to answer first?” Luna asked, sitting down on the bench beside him.
“Um. . . I guess I’m more curious about the bushes?” Harry said.
“I was trying to catch a frog,” Luna said and for the first time Harry noticed her hands cupped together and held out in front of her. “I caught one. Do you want to see?”
Before Harry could tell her he absolutely did not want to see, Luna had already opened her hands and the frog immediately leaped out of her palm, onto Harry’s thigh — he may or may not have let out another scream — and into the grass. They heard it chirp as it bounded off into a rose wall.
Harry shuddered and slowly turned back to Luna. She didn’t look particularly upset about losing her frog and just dusted her hands off before looking back at Harry. Harry thought she would answer his other question but she just stared at him. Or rather, his forehead. Harry remembered she had never been very good at eye contact.
“Right. And my other question?” Harry prodded her on.
“Which question?”
“Why are you here at the Malfoy Gala?”
“I was invited. My father and I always are. He’s the editor of The Quibbler ,” she said.
Harry. . . did not know that. How didn’t he know that? He and Luna had been in the same form at his old school for years. They used to sit next to each other in classes. She’d say hello to him every day. He’d say hello back.
“I don’t like coming though, so I usually spend the time in the garden. I prefer it here.” Luna shrugged slightly and she looked ahead, swinging her legs up and down. “I only come to see Draco.”
Harry frowned as he stared at the side of her face. “Draco?”
Luna nodded without looking back at him. “Yeah, Draco is my cousin.”
That was enough to short circuit Harry’s brain. “What?”
Luna looked back at him, this time at his nose. “Do you know him, Harry? He’s very kind. I like speaking with him.”
“Yeah, I. . . I know Draco. We go to school together now,” Harry answered, though he wasn’t really thinking about what he was saying.
“Oh,” Luna said, then went silent and her gaze wandered again.
Harry looked away too as he tried to process everything. Who knew he would run into his old classmate at a place like this? Who knew she was the daughter of the editor of one of the biggest newspapers in England? Who knew she was related to Draco fucking Malfoy? But if she was that reputable, then why the hell did she go to a random school in Woking?
“Luna?”
“Yes, Harry?”
“Why don’t you go to Brighton with Draco?”
Luna’s legs stopped swinging and her arms stiffened beside her. She didn’t reply, instead turning her face away from him.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” Harry said gently. “I won’t force you to.”
Luna hummed to herself and picked at the ruffles of her dress. Harry waited.
“I used to go there,” she said quietly. “I didn’t like it. The other children were mean to me, especially after I skipped a grade, so Dad moved us away.”
“Oh,” Harry said. “I'm sorry.”
Luna hummed more before looking at him again. She met his eyes this time and smiled. “It's quite all right. People in Woking are much nicer.”
A loud snort escaped Harry before he could think about it. “I don't think I'd describe anyone from Woking as nice.”
“You were nice,” Luna said.
“I was?”
“Sometimes I find it hard to talk to people, but never to you. You have a very kind soul, Harry. I think it's unfortunate no one properly appreciated it.”
“I. . .” Harry tilted his head, unsure how to respond. “Thank you, Luna.”
“Of course. It was lovely speaking with you again, Harry,” Luna said. She lightly dusted off her dress and stood. “I’ll have to find you again later when I’ve caught another frog as an apology since yours escaped.”
Harry waved his hands at her and shook his head. “That’s all right, Luna, I don’t need—” She was already lightly skipping away from him.
Harry was not looking forward to encountering Luna again that evening.
It was best he headed back anyway. He didn’t want to seem rude avoiding everyone. He got up from the bench, taking a moment to stretch his arms and legs and re-tuck his shirt, and began the way he came earlier.
The garden was shaped like a maze with the rose bushes serving as its tall walls. Harry had chosen to wander deep into the centre of it and had (foolishly) convinced himself that he’d remember the turns he’d taken so he’d easily find his way out. He had no trouble with the first couple of turns but soon realised he was lost when he turned into a dead end.
Well fuck me, Harry thought.
He decided not to panic just yet. Carefully, noting the path he’d just taken, he slowly made his way back to the centre pond — Luna was still crouched by the water’s edge, her dress muddier than when he’d left — and tried again.
This time he’d wound up in a small round clearing with two more benches facing a large white statue illuminated from behind by the moon. The walls that made up the round bit were a little shorter than the straight ones that led up to it, but that didn’t help Harry much because he could only see the taller wall of another part of the maze behind it.
Harry sighed and was about to start over again when he noticed that there were two people sitting on one of the benches. He didn’t know who the boy with the black curls was but the other person was Blaise. Well, Harry was pretty sure it was him. He’d never seen Blaise smile like that.
Harry must have been hidden by the shadow of the maze’s walls because neither of them had noticed him. He knew he should turn around and mind his own business and he wasn’t proud of himself from keeping closer to the wall but when else would he get to see this side of Blaise?
Harry watched as Blaise and the boy continued talking though he couldn’t make out any of what they were saying. They were sitting awfully close together and Harry had never seen Blaise be so friendly with anyone before, not Draco, not even Pansy. He could hardly believe it was him.
Then the boy put a hand on Blaise’s neck and leaned in. Blaise did too. Suddenly they were kissing and Harry felt all types of wrong for watching.
He quickly turned around, placing his hand on the rose wall to stabilise himself, then quickly pulled it away and not-so-quietly muttered a “fucking hell”.
Harry heard the bench creak as Blaise and the boy were alerted of his presence.
“Who’s there?” the boy called out.
Harry contemplated sprinting away and not embarrassing himself more than he already had, but he doubted he could run properly in his dress shoes and being found lying on his stomach on the bare ground sounded far more mortifying than anything else. Even if it meant facing Blaise’s scowl.
Harry slowly raised his arms up and stepped out of the shadow. “Hello,” he said, offering an uncertain smile to the unfamiliar boy. “Nice evening, isn’t it?”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Um. . .”
Harry looked over at Blaise. Their eyes met but surprisingly, Blaise looked away first.
“Are you deaf or something? I said, who the bloody fuck are you?” The boy took a step towards him, fists already formed at his side and tightening as he glared at Harry.
Harry stepped back and he ducked his head as he tried to stammer out an answer.
“I’m, uh— I didn’t mean to. . . I was just—”
Harry heard Blaise sigh and the bench creak again. Blaise came up beside the boy and put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine, Nott. I know him.”
Nott glanced over at Blaise, then back at Harry. He wasn’t any less relaxed.
“You can’t beat him up, Theodore. He’s Dumbledore’s parade boy.”
Nott frowned at that but his fists loosened. “What’s he doing here?”
Blaise placed a hand on Theodore’s chest and stepped forward, his gaze focused on Harry. “Let me talk to him,” he said.
Nott didn’t look particularly pleased about that but Harry could see his demeanor soften as he met Blaise’s eyes.
“Okay,” he said.
Blaise gave him a small smile before turning back to Harry. Any ounce of that friendly Blaise Harry had seen before was gone.
“You,” he said and walked past him.
Harry was so fucking screwed.