A/N: Yay chapter one up!. Ok, so this is going to be a non-fluff story about Draco and Luna basically getting to know each other under horrible circumstances. They'll be as close to in-character as I can get, so it shouldn't get too sappy or sappy at all (I'll do my best). I'm not looking to write a love story, and I want to stay in canon. However, there is of course lots of wiggle room for a story like this, and Luna's pretty spontaneous...we'll see. READ AND REVIEW GUYS! It makes me happy:)

Draco Malfoy tossed and turned sleeplessly in his massive four-poster bed. In the darkness it was almost impossible to make out the green and black linens, yet peaking out from under the coverlet, the boy's silky platinum blonde hair and open, ice blue eyes cracked through the sheet of night in the cold room, almost glowing.

Draco had looked forward to his first night home on holiday; not because he particularly longed for the grand manor or his doting family, but he had believed that his bed, large enough even for that oaf, Hagrid, would be enough to cure his unrelenting insomnia.

He had never thought he'd return to Hogwarts after attempting to kill Albus Dumbledore (though the old fool had went and gotten himself killed, despite Draco's failure). As Death Eater he should have believed in the omnipotence of his master, but Draco had never really believed that the Dark Lord would succeed in taking over the ministry and the rest of magical Britain. When did evil actually triumph over good? Surely the sodding Order-of-the-Pheonix-wankers should have pulled off some completely impossible plan by the skin of their teeth and overthrew the Dark Lord before he'd won? Where the hell was the Chosen One with his prophetic invincible powers?

Gone, Draco laughed in his head as he finally admitted the battle was lost and gave up on sleep. Harry-Bloody-Potter ran off and saved his own neck before he ended up losing the head attached to it. He flipped off his warm covers and hopped out his bed.

Draco had to smirk to himself as he reached for his dressing gown and slippers; Golden Boy even capitulates better than I do. He gave up fighting and managed to escape. I gave in to my father's push to become a Death Eater and I'm still suck in this hellhole.

Draco shuddered as he opened his door to the hallway. The torches burst on to dimly light up the corridor when his toe crossed the threshold, yet were not near warm enough to have any effect on the cold. Even the portraits on both walls shivered and expelled cloudy breath as they snored. Draco envied their slumbers, which were so sound that only one or two of the subjects roused at the sudden light.

He decided if sleep was selfishly staying away from him, then he would drink himself silly until it could evade him no longer. Malfoy Manor's cellar boasted one of the most extensive collections of the finest elf made wines and firewhiskies in all of Britain. His grandfather, Abraxas, had been quite the connoisseur and expanded wine cellar tenfold when he had been patriarch.

Draco could recall many nighttime adventures with Blaise or Crabbe and Goyle when they went down to the storeroom to knick some whiskey. On those nights, in their thirteen year-old stupidity, they would get so drunk they could barely see straight in the morning. Draco would have to threaten the house elves with the worst sort of cruelty he could think of to stop them from telling his parents. Funnily, the simpletons would end up punishing themselves worse then what Draco could have come up with for betraying his parents' trust.

Thinking of his cronies brought to Draco's mind the same annoying thoughts he'd been having for months. Their families were staunch followers of the Dark Lord, like his, yet none of them had taken the mark. Even Pansy, who had been of age longer than any of them, was still not a Death Eater. Draco had been terrified of taking the mark and the black ceremony during which he had the dark symbol seared into his flesh…NO, he wouldn't think about that night again.

Still, at the time he had thought being a Death Eater would have some advantages, I mean, wasn't that the point? Being the among the Dark Lord's most loyal and loved should have got him some special treatment, but as of yet, Draco mused, it's gotten me jack shite.

It had earned him some awe and admiration mixed with fear from his fellow Slytherins, yet Draco had been too caught up in and terrified of his mission to really enjoy it. His own life and the life of his parents hung on the ability of a sixteen year-old to kill the greatest wizard who ever-lived. Sorry if I was to caught up in my own little problems to bask in the glory.

And now, despite being a full-blown Death Eater-and I know I am once since HE has tortured me numerous times. Death Eaters seem to be on the receiving end of the Dark Lord's cruciatus curses more than the bleedin' mudbloods are- Draco had to return to Hogwarts like the others that had been too cowardly to take the mark. Draco had been shocked to say the least when the Dark Lord inquired one night, in a near whisper, if he had was all packed and excited for his return to a Hogwarts.

At the time, Draco had known that the Dark Lord planned to overthrow the ministry soon with Pius Thicknesse as his puppet minister and Snape in Dumbledore's position as headmaster. It had also been discussed at a previous meeting that attendance would be made mandatory for all children. Draco had thought, however, that since he was no longer a child and because he was a FREAKIN' DEATH EATER, that this little law wouldn't apply to him.

Draco recalled that particular night with extreme clarity and thanked Merlin that the sudden murder of Charity Burbage before his very eyes killed his normally quick and venomous tongue. The Dark Lord had addressed him over the hungry hissing of his large pet as she slithered towards Burbage's body. Stunned with horror, his head nodded out of what could only have been a strong involuntary survival instinct, since his brain was completely blank.

If I had objected at all, he would have killed me right there. It was in his voice, I remember it now, and his eyes practically begged me for any reason to kill me with my own father's wand. Draco thanked the gods when he got on the train with his life months later. Better at Hogwarts than dead.

Except Draco wasn't completely sure that was true anymore. His first term had been the worst of his life. He and his family were disgraced and no Slytherin would speak to him for fear that their families would be associated with his and his fathers respective failures. It was like he was filth.

This was nothing compared to the looks and threats coming from the rest of the students. After all, he killed Albus Dumbledore, their damn god. It probably would have been better if he had set Father Christmas on fire and pissed on his charred body. No one knew exactly what happened on the Astronomy Tower except Harry Potter, and big shock, he wasn't jumping to Draco's defense. The general re-imagining seemed to have placed Snape and him up there doing a jig, arm-in-arm, as Dumbledore's body fell broken on the ground.

The thought made Draco laugh. Yeah, he and Snape, best of chums- the blighter hadn't spoken to him or looked at him all of term. Well none of the teachers had, Draco mused. He had even dropped McGonagall's class, even though it was one of his best, because he couldn't stand her looking at him. Draco couldn't place his finger on it, but the way the witch scowl would sometime morph to glistening eyes only he noticed made him want to throw up.

Classes weren't even the worst bit. He couldn't walk down the corridors without getting jinxed from a student or one of the Carrows. It would have been something to at least have had his own godfather on his side since all his parents offered him was letters of warning or admonishments to be good- or bad, in the usual sense- he supposed- and to remember that they could be killed if he did the slightest thing to upset the Dark Lord. Not surprisingly, he wasn't all that jazzed about his holiday at home; it was just better than school.

Just as Draco began to plot several ridiculous and crazy plans to avoid going back to school next term (three of which involved hippogriffs), he heard voices in the main hall. Did I really walk all the way here without even realizing? He must have. Draco heard his father's angry voice amplified by five because of the acoustics of the room.

"I simply do NOT understand. Are we not in complete control of Azkaban? Must I feed and care for every effing apostate that blew his nose against the Dark Lord? Is my home to become a damn bastille?"

"Dark Lord said take 'er 'ere, and 'ere is where I'm leavin 'er. If ye got somthin' to say 'bout it, take it up with him. Though I will say this, Malfoy, ye already lost ye wand, if ye want to lose your head with it, keep flappin' that mouth," the voice spoke menacingly.

Draco was closed to bursting through the door and killing the man who dared speak to his father in such a manner, when he heard his aunt begin to defuse the situation. He listened behind the archway and dug his nails of his fisted hand, which held his want, into his flesh to keep his anger at bay.

"Of course we'll do exactly as the Dark Lord wishes, Rowle. How exactly did the little chit offend him?" Draco could almost hear the love in his crazed aunt's voice when she said "Dark Lord."

Rowle spoke, "'Er father's that nutter,Lovegood, who's been writin that shite 'bout supportin Potter. Dark Lord told me to take 'is daughter but not to kill 'er. "Parently she's Potter's friend."

"The Dark Lord always knows," Bellatrix whispered, as if it was a prayer.

"Course, an' I wasn't gonna question 'im. So I got 'er, brought her to ye, an' yer to hold on to 'er an' interrogate 'er. And that's that." Draco peeked behind the arch to see Rowle look pointedly at his father. The anger crept up within Draco again, forcing him to jump into the hall with his wand raised.

"Oh hello, Malfoy." Draco heard a female voice quietly say, almost pleasantly. He was so shocked he almost dropped his wand. He doubted anything had been said with near as much good cheer in this house for a year, at least. He looked around for the owner of the voice and found, of course…

Luna Lovegood.

A/N, So what do you think? What's going to happen next? Next should be rather soon, within the month if finals don't rape me. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW.

Oh and, as always, thank you Elyseblack for getting my ass into fanfiction.