Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Draco Malfoy and His Quest to Sensibility
by cleury

Chapter I

Draco Malfoy was not such a complex character, but most of his peers seldom realized, blinded by his aloof character and arrogance. Of complete pure-blood descent, his physique showed no ill effects of near incestuous breeding. His straight nose, a reminiscent of his mother's own, combined with his father's set of grey eyes and striking blonde hair, created quite an impression. Yet, for all his kempt appearance and his precision in his every word and action, his cruel smirk and habitual scowl encapsulated his personality.

The Malfoys worried little. Following the defeat of Voldemort, they remained an authoritative and prestigious family by changing sides at the appropriate time. Two and a half years since, society, on most counts, forgave or forgot their past crimes for associating with the Dark Lord. People were inclined to act magnanimously in front of old and substantial sums of money. The Malfoys stood at the top of the wealthiest and most coveted circles.

Despite all the fortune possessed by the scion of Malfoy, at the age of twenty-one, Draco felt he lived a shadow of his former self and nothing short of death could possibly tear this thought from him.

"It ends here," Draco announced to himself as he traipsed through the dark. He headed towards King's Cross station. At almost midnight, only the homeless were there. A few eyed Draco up, staring hungrily at his expensive gold watch adorning his wrist, but ultimately, did not act on their greed. The slant and narrowing of Draco's eyes deterred them. The impeccable black cloak around his shoulders fluttered picturesquely, creating the illusion of absolute sovereignty. The homeless man averted his eyes, defeated in the wordless battle of wills. Draco continued his way down the stairs until he reached Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Inherently paranoid, he made certain of his lone presence before closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he lined his heels with the edge of the platform and gently rocked himself back and forth like a pendulum. The lulling effect soothed and readied him for what he planned to do… to jump off the platform and, by extension, end his life.

True to his character, Draco's pride dictated his actions. He would not permit his deed to look an accident. On his way to the station he thought about this obsessively:

"TRAGIC ACCIDENT: Draco Malfoy Trips and Dies."

Just imagining the headlines on the Daily Prophet, monopolized by the ramblings of Rita Skeeter, churned his insides. He wanted to be clear; he didn't trip, but jumped, of his own accord. Though Draco never cared about how other people felt, he cared about what other people thought.

"Draco, my dear! Why are you doing this?"

Draco jumped backwards, astounded by the voice behind him. He spun around, saw his mother in tears—Merlin forbid. Her make-up ran down in streaks, and his father was by her side with a grimace on his face, as though he smelt something bad.

"Because—" Draco started. How could his mother possibly understand? Indeed, if he left the world at this moment, most people would fail to comprehend.

But it was simple.

He didn't feel like he was living. He spent a lifetime under extreme pressure from his father, as well as the threat of Voldemort. Pain and anxiety had robbed and filled his childhood and adolescence. He had simply exhausted his emotions, and had run out of feelings. Or it might be that he hadn't had any form of life-endangering challenge to trigger emotional arousal since then. Regardless of reason, Draco felt like an empty husk and had lost his emotions one by one.

After the war, entertaining curious guests, who wondered how the son of a Death Eater was living, annoyed Draco. So he interacted with a very select few, avoiding all other social gatherings unless the hosts specifically asked for him to attend. Slowly, silence began to sink in and enfolded him. It rolled over him, stripped him of thoughts, and shrouded his memories. It wasn't that he didn't feel anymore. He could still register his emotions, but he felt as though dissociated from them, as though they didn't belong to him. The void indulged in Draco's identity, and without definition of who he was, madness grew in Draco's unsettled mind—steering him to the conclusion to end it all, as a life without identity seemed not to be a life worthy of pursuit.

"Kill yourself?" the visage of Draco's father lifted one of his eyebrows and he sneered. "Pray tell son, why are you trying to commit suicide? This seems to be another thing you failed at."

"I don't care what you say, I don't care what you think about me anymore," replied Draco. Funny, he had spent most of his childhood fantasising about winning his father's recognition and Draco spent his teenage years wishing he was strong enough to overcome his father's disappointment. Now ice froze his heart and it grew impervious to all forms of attack. Nowadays, Draco wondered why he even cared in the first place.

"I'm not going to fail." Draco put a special emphasis on the last word. His father shook his head at him. "Watch me." He lifted his heels off the ground and lfell forward. Feeling as though he landed on a soft mat, he hung suspended in the air for a moment.

Then the protection wards pushed him back, and he fell onto his backside with an undignified thud.

"You never think," his father said from behind him.

The train flashed past Draco, who sat still on the ground. As Draco prepared to stand up, he heard a whistle and saw a black blur out of the corner of his eye. A guard tackled him. Everything hurt and went black.

Ouch.

Draco remembered something his father said to him once.

"If you ever find yourself in an unfortunate situation where you have trouble recollecting what occurred before you were indisposed, it is worth the effort to make sense of the surroundings and note the presence of others... figure out their intention before you let them know of your regained consciousness."

Draco followed his father's advice. As instructed, his eyes remained closed and he listened for clues of his whereabouts. The ticking of a clock meant his captor had situated him in a building of some sort, frequented, if not a dwelling. He heard a soft hum, and tensed. A person. Female and young, he concluded, for she hummed to the melody of a contemporary tune.

Draco opened his eyes slowly and found a woman seated behind a desk. He frowned as he tried to recall her name. She had been a student in Hogwarts and he recalled making fun of her before. What was her name? She looked at him with a curious expression, her eyes doe-like and tapped her name plaque.

"Luna Lovegood," he read aloud.

The blonde girl nodded, smiling at him. "Very good. Do you know why you were brought here?"

"I was tackled and lost consciousness." He glared at Luna, trying to intimidate her. It seemed to have no consequence as it only served to make her smile wider. Luna Lovegood, unlike the homeless at the station, proved not to be the type to play wordless games. Her head resided in a far-off land, away from societal norms, making it impossible for her to understand the silent rituals of intimidation. Luna laid a hand on her plaque again.

"Therapist," Draco read aloud. They brought me to an institution?

Luna repeated her question, before adding that his mother had sent him there. Draco made no reply.

"Care for a sherbet lemon?" She reached forward to finger a glass bowl. Draco shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach. Luna popped a piece of candy into her mouth. "You will be in here for a little while, just to make sure this kind of thing won't happen again."

Draco shot out of his seat. "I won't, I don't need your help. Show me the exit."

"I'm afraid before you leave this room, you'll have to leave your wand with me. And that pin you have on your tie," she said, ignoring him. "We don't want you hurting anyone or yourself while you're here."

"No," said Draco, trying for the door.

"It's locked."

"Let. Me. Out."

"Not until you give your wand and tie pin. And your belt and tie, please. Don't want to take any chances."

Draco thought quickly. If he pretended to oblige and do as she asked, he could find his way out. Most wizards and witches required a wand to Apparate. Draco however, mastered the skill of wandless Apparition—a talent bestowed to him by the Dark Lord. He supposed Lovegood had no idea of his abilities as he never showed his skill to any of his peers.

"Fine!" Draco threw up his hands, the picture of resignation and undid his tie. Luna stared unabashedly as he removed his belt. Draco threw his removed garments on the floor. He wrinkled his nose, he couldn't remember the last time he acted so much like a prat, but Draco felt no courtesy to the unreasonable and exhaustive woman. "If you want them, pick them up yourself."

Luna held a neutral expression and stood from her seat. "Is there anyone you want to leave a message to? Your mother, perhaps?"

Draco snorted. "Not my mother, she's meddled enough." On second thought, he did have someone in mind. Draco tore a piece of parchment and scratched his message with the quill.

AP,

Stuff came up; I'm going to be away for a bit. Take care of the company.

DM

Luna put a hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco folded the paper in four hastily, fearing that someone would look at his message. He handed the piece of parchment it to Luna, "Make sure it gets to him."

"Sure," she replied, her voice betraying no hint of surprise or contempt. "Oh, and be assured all items of your belonging can be collected when you are fit to leave. Come, follow me. I'll show you around."

Draco suppressed a shudder and tugged the sleeve of her shirt, pulling her hand from his shoulder. Luna Lovegood, with her strange personality, lack of common sense and deviant from respected customs, sat near at the top of the list of females he despised. He gritted his teeth and persevered. In a matter of moments, he would be away and rid of that horrid woman.

"Destination, Determination and Deliberation," Draco repeated in his head, picturing his bedroom. Luna opened the door and ushered Draco outside.

"I forgot to mention. There are wards in the wards. You can't Apparate in or out of here." She giggled into her hands. "So I insist, Malfoy. Stay, and you can come out when we deem you fit. Your mother told me you might try and Apparate out of here. But please don't try, you might splinch yourself if you attempt to do so."

Draco swore inwardly. What a fool. Of course the hospital would set up anti-apparition wards! Draco looked around and saw a swarm of orderlies passing before him. It seemed impossible to escape.

As Luna showed him around the complex, the pair weaved through a myriad of corridors and came to a stop in front of a wooden door. "This is your room. You're quite lucky to get a private one. Sometimes when there are a lot of people, you'd be forced to share." She pointed across the corridor and said, "That's the common room, there are a lot of books there, so you don't have to worry about being bored! If you don't like reading, you can watch TV in the dining hall. Otherwise, you can stay in your room all day. But I'd imagine it to be very boring sitting in bed and doing nothing. You can decide."She shrugged and gave a nod. "I'll let you get settled in then."

Without waiting for a reply, Luna left Draco alone. He didn't bother responding and opened the door to his room. Draco scoffed at the sight before him. The entire area of the room measured not even to the size of his toilet back in the Manor.

"How do you expect me to live in this matchbox?" Draco uttered, clutching the doorknob. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of disinfectant in the air and his eyes zeroed in onto the bed-sheets. The thin cotton sheets looked used. Draco leaned against the door for support, faint from the frightening sight before him. He quietly shut the door and slumped to the floor, taking deep breaths to calm down. Never, not even in Hogwarts had he been subjected to such poverty. He could not bear to stay in such a small room. That decided, he headed towards the common room. Draco held no expectation for the common room except for the faint hope it would be larger and less constricting than his 'bedroom'.

He charged straight to his destination, fearing nothing—for what could be worse than a small room? Almost concurrently, the answer came to him. Through the window he saw what he might describe as his worst nightmare. Draco never likened himself to a dramatic person though recent events did prove him otherwise. He took a few steps back as his face contorted into a displeased frown.

What horrendous spectacle lay before him?

One, bushy-haired Granger.

Author Note:

Pretty long author note, but some things are important, so I recommend skimming it at the very least.

I've finished writing the story and will only need to make minor edits to grammar. As a result, I can update daily. However, I do want the story to have a decent amount of exposure because I put a lot of thought and effort into it. This is the first story I've written that I didn't intend for people to laugh heaps, and I think the things I'm dealing with is serious-ish. Please leave a review. They make me happy; running-around-the-house-even-though-I'm-unfit kind of happy. If there are more reviews, I'll be more inclined to update faster but I'm not going to hold the story hostage until it gets up to a specific review count or whatever.

This story is meant to make you think a bit. I love analysing English so I tried to use literary references and devices in my own work. I drop heaps of subtle hints and obvious clues to things that might occur in the future. I look forward to see if anyone picks them up. The characters, as seen from the first chapter, do not stray too far from their canon personalities. As the story progresses, you may see change but it will be due to certain external events. Also, what I depict in the story is fictional and doesn't necessarily reflect what people and values are like in real life.

Lastly, this story is written for my two friends. They know who they are. I hope they can enjoy the story and continue reading without me forcing them. This applies to other readers too. Hur.