AN: Okay, never written an HP fanfiction, but here goes.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but I sure do own Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy splashed some of the slowly cooling water onto his thigh. How long had he been sitting there? An hour? Two? It didn't really matter, and he didn't care.

"I should be getting out though," he thought grudgingly, and groped around the bottom of the ceramic tub for the snake head plug. Once the water was draining, he stepped out onto the black-tiled floor and pulled a towel around his waist. Draco was tired, but not in the way that just a nap would fix. Although, a nap would do him good, he barely slept. No, Draco was mentally exhausted. His parents were in Azkaban for an 'indefinite amount of time.' He was put on house arrest for six-months, but that had ended about a year ago, but he was still in the house and with no sign of leaving any time soon. Once his time had ended, he didn't know where to go, so just had his pair of house elves run errands for him and prepare his meals. Sometimes he would find himself getting ready to go out. He would put on his coat, tie is shoes, but as soon as he was past the gate, he asked himself where he was going. Then he would turn around, slam the gate behind him and storm upstairs and sit in his bathtub of scalding hot water until it was luke warm.

Draco Malfoy was lonely.

He dressed himself and went down the stairs.

"Should Quibby and Preeny prepare Master's meal tonight?" asked the young house-elf Quibby.

He turned to look at her. "No," he said.

Quibby bowed, "Yes, Master, even though Quibby and Preeny believe that Master needs to eat much more often, Quibby will obey."

Draco scowled, their accuracy made him angry. "It's not your place to express what you believe," he said coldy, then quickly regretted it when the house-elf went into hysteria, beating her head on the walls and yelling words of apology, making his head scream out in protest. Instead of reprimanding the elf, he went into the next room.

The Malfoy Manor was huge. Much to large of a house for just one person, he thought, but didn't know exactly what he should do about it. The room he had entered was on the east side of the house, so he could avoid the blinding rays of the sun setting. He stared out at the stars, but then they annoyed him, so he (rather violently) tugged the curtain to cover up the window. Too violently- he decided- when the worn black fabric tore at the seam holding it to the curtain rod, and the translucent material collapsed to the ebony floors. He sat down, and put up with the stars that speckled the sky. He couldn't decide what they represented that aggravated him so much... Maybe the so many other people out there that were living happy, full lives right now, leaving him in the shadow of his mansion. Or maybe the memory of the Dark Mark staining a very similar star-speckled sky over so many of the crimes he wished he hadn't commited.

He groaned, the sky bothering him even more. If one could 'slam' their eyes closed, that's exactly what he would have done, but he did as best he could. He couldn't bear to look outside anymore with the all too familiar memory stabbing at his conscience. He knew why they didn't lock him up with his parents, living alone with his memories was worse than having his soul taken away by dementors. Slowly and painstakingly his body relaxed, and he drifted off...

He was in a room. He knew this room, it was the dining room in his very own home... There was a body rotating slowly over the table, as if tied up by their ankle to the ceiling with an invisible rope. He couldn't take his eyes off the person, even though something told him he shouldn't be looking. There were other people, and he had a slight unease in his stomach about their presence. And then he heard his name. And he turned to make contact with two red, snake like eyes.

Draco awoke to the sun rising, blinding his sweating face. He rushed to the bathroom, eager to get out of the light. After dousing his face with water, he caught his reflection in the mirror... His face was sickly pale, and fatigued eyes sunken into his hollowed out face... His cheekbones were raised, making his malnourished face look almost snakelike... Briefly he saw red eyes in the place of his, and the misery consumed him.

He shuddered at the image, terrified of the meaning behind it. His eyes burned and overflowed, drowning his vision and his hope. His bottom lip quivered even as he clenched his jaw to keep it in place. Catching his blurred image in the mirror once more, memories pounded themselves into him, and his left arm burned like it did the first time he was christened a Death Eater. A fire that he so desperately wanted to put out, he wanted to drown himself, if only to put out this fire... To get rid of those awful memories. He kept telling himself that if he could go back, he would do it all differently, but the tears kept coming and the visions kept pounding at the inside of his head. He started the sink up again, shoving the tattoo under the freezing water, and suddenly he remembered dementors... How even when they were on your side they made you feel miserable... He wondered if it was possible one of them was nearby and had caused this, but then he saw his reflection again, and the horrible illusion still lingered.

"No! No!" he yelled, hot and frustrated tears running down his cheeks. His whole body let out a violent shudder, and the water was just making his sweating body colder. But the fire on his arm raged. Why? He's dead! He raised his arm to the glass, pounding it into the smooth surface time and time again, sending painful shards into his hand. When the door bell rang, he continued with his tantrum, blood and tears flying in every direction. Then it rang again and he stopped. The shivering stopped. He spared a glance at the Dark Mark branded in his arm to see that it was not moving, and realized that it never had been. Quickly he turned off the water and did a couple half hearted charms on his hand to get rid of the painful glass pieces that were lodged into his arm and to hurry up the healing process, but did nothing for the redness around his eyes, and then he was opening the door.

What greeted him was just about the last thing he expected. Well, actually, he had no idea what he expected in the first place, but what he saw before him was definitely not in the range of what he thought possible. Luna Lovegood had grown up, and maturity had treated her well. Her face had elongated, making her once awkward and tacky appearance seem oddly elegant. Her hair had grown out, and what used to be her bangs now framed her face, teasing the tops of her shoulders. She had ditched the radishes and the other odd accessories that she used to wear, though she did wear a strangely three dimensional headband, but Malfoy knew better than to ask questions.

"Hi," he said, realizing that he knew next to nothing about socialization after his year and a half of isolation. "Come in," he commanded, and then winced at the hardness of his voice, making a mental note to soften it next time.

She smiled, her eyes puncturing his with contact. "Hello! I didn't know that you lived here, and I have to say, the peacocks are a nice touch."

He gave her a confused look, "Peacocks?"

Her smile didn't waver, "Yeah, the ones tethered out by your front gate.

Then he remembered. His father had purchased them a couple years ago, to his mothers protest. Everybody else they were associated with seemed to share her belief that they were completely gaudy. "Oh," he said, still confused, "They're still alive?"

She nodded, stepping into the mansion.

"Hm..." he said, avoiding her eyes, "I suppose the house elves have been tending to them or something."

She smiled again. Why does she keep smiling? "Well, something has."

He closed the door, and then an all new wave of confusion hit him. What the bloody hell was Loony Lovegood doing in his house? "Why are you here?" he snapped (unintentionally) once again, his voice far more sharp than he intended.

He expected her to flinch, but he decided that she was probably used to people snapping at her when she continued to smile. "Oh, well," she gestured to the stack of the latest edition of the Quibbler that she had been carrying.

"Oh," he said. He hadn't even noticed that she was carrying them before.

She cocked her head to the side, "Have you been crying?"

He brought his hand to his eyes, forgetting that Luna had a way of being uncomfortably blunt. "Uh..." he hesitated, "No..."

She nodded in an understanding way, once again confusing Draco. "Must be the Glarfull Blasters in here," she said.

He shot her a look, not attempting to soften his voice this time, "What the bloody hell are those?"

She smiled again, "That brings me back to the reason I was originally here," she pulled a new shiny edition of the Quibbler with the picture of a moving, translucent fox-like creature zipping around the page, and the title "Explore the Mystery of the Glarfull Blasters: New Discovery!" gaudily printed below, and the normal title "The Quibbler" at the top. "There's an article about them in it. Basically, they enter your body through your ears and mess with your dreams, and then crawl out through your eyes. I hear it can be quite painful."

At dreams, he flinched. "Oh."

"Would you like one? I could sell you one with a discount if you'd like," she beamed. He decided that her smiling wasn't so bad after all. It made him almost want to smile back at her, just so she would smile back at him a little longer. Mentally he kicked himself at this thought, telling himself that he only got this reaction because it was the first person that he'd had humane contact with in over a year.

He shrugged, "Why not," he said. "Preeny! Pay 'er." An older house elf shuffled into the room and handed Luna a couple coins, which she stashed into a pouch that hung by a chord around her waist.

He migrated back into the east room without thinking to invite her to follow, but she assumed that she could. He sat on the same couch he had slept on that night, and avoided thinking of dreams or anything of the sort when she sat down across from him. Her eyes were narrowed and she examined his face, "Are you sure that you weren't crying?"

Something flashed across his face just before he nodded, but she couldn't tell what.

"You must have a Glarfull Blasters infestation or something to get eyes that red though... Hm... Have you been having funny dreams?" she said.

He shifted his weight, looking at the floor. He cleared his voice, "Yeah. I have."

She nodded, "Thought so... I better give you some Glooble Weed. As soon as possible too."

He shot her a You-Are-Extremely-Crazy-Look.

She smiled again, and his heart lifted ever so slightly. "It will repel them. Hopefully without hurting them, we aren't really sure what it does to them yet, but somehow it makes them dislike the territory... Well, dislike isn't the right word," she stared off into space, "It gets rid of them though."

He nodded, "Okay." He still didn't know why he had even let her in his door, but decided to not protest another visit. He could do with some good old human contact.

"I'll drop by tomorrow if I can. I can help you set it up if you'd like." she said.

Once again, he nodded, "Sure. I'll be here."

She smiled, "Okay, well, I'd better get going then, I need to finish this route."

He nodded, the temporary lifting of heart wearing off. "See you."

And then she left.

AN: Not much of a cliffhanger there, eh? Well anyways, I have the other chapters all finished and typed up, and they shall be posted in due time, so be patient, dearies. I'm hoping that they aren't too out of character...

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