Disclaimer: All characters you recognize belong to J.K. Rowling.

Author notes: At first, I didn't know where to go with this story. Then I got an idea I would love to play with. Unlike my other TMR/LL story, this one already has them together, so more fun for me. And a slight amount of D/LL on the side. And other pairings. You'll see.

Chapter One

Odd company

Draco woke the next morning to find someone in his bed.

The first hint was that there were legs curled around his lower waist. He froze. Yes, there were legs encircling him, and a cold nose against his chest. It could only be a nose. Now, he had been ill of late, and he wondered briefly if he was imagining things. But he had never had a cold nose on his chest before.

He had slowly lifted the covers to see a mass of thin, spider-web hair and huge token eyes peering up at him through the shadows.

He had embarrassed himself by screaming. She crawled up to sit right besides him, seeming surprised by his outburst.

"I'm not used to sleeping alone." Luna said, tilting her head slightly. "You looked comfortable."

He merely gasped in reply, trying to master control of his own breathing.

"How did-How did you get out of the room?" he asked, weakly, clutching at the sheets and half afraid she would rip them away from him.

"Magic," she responded, running a finger down his arm and spelling it out for him. "You have been gone awhile then. I'm His Seeker, you know."

"You don't seek in my bed chambers!" he screamed. "I refuse to believe He sent you just to molest me!"

"Oh. Well, no. But you are a good host." She slipped out of bed and left him there, among his rumpled sheets.

He found her in the library, searching through the books like a blind woman. In fact, she was sniffing them quite gingerly, holding them up one by one.

"I need to speak to Him," he said stiffly. "I don't know what I have done to cause my loyalty to seem so dubious as to deserve this treatment. But I have been faithful. I have kept his prisoners here. I have allowed Greyback to horde his pack in the woods. I have supplied children, wealth, and my very flesh and blood to His cause and this is…this is what I have to expect. An assault on my person."

"You're not bleeding?" Luna asked, curiously. "I didn't bruise you, did I? I get cold at night, you see, and I have sharp nails. Radishes, when consumed daily, make you taller. You should try a few."

He quieted, staring at her.

"…Do you know who it was I had in my dungeons last?" Draco asked, changing track. "It's someone you know. Or knew, I should say, for those dear old school days. She had a date with the werewolves. The voluntary ones."

'Oh, Hermione. I talk to her often, actually."

Draco felt his stomach dip. Dear Merlin, she talked to…to what, a dead girl? For surely, the Mudblood would not have lasted in Greyback's hands. He had smelled her fear of him, during the first gathering of the prisoners. Draco had seen him…he drank it up like an elixir. A dank whispering in his ear questions of how many moons had set on her, for her body was still so small. Then a dismissal, she looks young enough.

"I see."

"Yes, I've felt her hands. They're all rough and stained now. It's hard for her to pour the vials. They used to be so light and fluttery, you know, she talked with her hands, you remember?"

She turned her back on him. He noticed the indentions of her robes. Her body seemed so fragile, as if only to house a spirit for a temporary amount of time.

"Granger…works for Him? That filth handles the potions that's …You're lying."

"Not this time. And her hands, unlike some, are clean. Don't worry so, your eyes will sink deeper into your head."

"You dare to speak of my purity like that. What have you done? Change sides, be Potter's little helper and then His? Don't talk to me about my doings, Loony."

"I haven't been called that in a very long time," she whispered, her back still turned. "Reminds me of my scarf. I still have mine. Do you have yours? Did you lose it on the tower?"

He couldn't handle this game, not as well as he used to. Draco took a seat near the window, not taking his eyes off her. Lord, she looked blind as a bat now, she wasn't even…her eyes were too empty to be here. No doubt she was still with his scarf, blowing about in the wind.

"What are you looking for? I have kept nothing for myself. I have given all of myself to be broken."

She noticed, he assumed, during her rampage of attempted ravishing that there was no one else in the bed with them.

"I'll know when I find it. You should clean the house. It makes your eyes all beady and well…it smells a bit, like rotten salamander's feet."

"Excuse me? Do you know what woke me up? Take a guess," he retorted. Of course, she didn't smell at all horrible. Rainy, silver metal, copper, lace around old childhood dolls, but not terrible. " How about you, since you're here?"

"I'm rather busy. He'll be here soon. I just thought you might want to look nice."

Draco's heart exploded. He felt the pieces ricocheted around in his chest. His mind lurched, and he would not have been surprised if his stomach had been abandoned on the floor.

"Soon…He. HE."

Luna nodded, smiling slightly. Suddenly that feeling of pacing too long, of being trapped in his own skin that he had branded, was too much. He charged at her, needing to see her own flesh. She was much too surprised to push away. No. She didn't care to push away.

He pushed back her sleeve and saw her pale forearm. Her unblemished pale forearm.

"You see, it's like…it's like an open book. You know that crisp feeling, like it could lift you right off the ground?" she whispers in his ear. He thinks of being held up while learning how to walk, a long time ago. His mother was still here. "You're unmarked but by your arm. I could write on you, cover your body and make you real. Would you want me to? He said you would."

He pushed her down and before he could clearly think about his actions, the repercussions, he had his trembling hand around her throat and squeezed. Her eyes never flickered. Watching him like he was her new favorite toy, not caring what he did. It would never be enough.

"You write this," he was crying. "You write this, then, damn you. Him. Damn you for taking that from me."

He didn't even know what he had lost. Lost ground, she was unmarked. Just drifted by, in all her arrogance. Like she didn't need to walk the same path as the rest of them. There was no reasoning with madness, and he hated her for that blessing.

Like his moment. His moment in the office, with Umbridge. He loved holding the Weasley girl, her powerless against him. Finally, he had a hand in creating something of real meaning. He knew he could. He always knew. Then that girl who never looked at him…as if he was of no importance. Hummed in his ear. Asking herself questions.

Do you see them too? I do, you walked right through them. They're on you now, can you feel their little legs? Everywhere.

She had looked out the window the whole time, making him think of the sea. A whole sea out there, somewhere. Then her eyes focused. He had never wanted to see her eyes focus again. He would see to it, he had to make it stop.

A shooting pain. Well, not really. It was numb first. Then he felt it. He was very cold, his body detached from his mind. Then there was someone there, right inside his head. He let go, his nerves dancing like puppets.

"That was not a good idea," she mused, touching her neck lightly and exploring his hand print. His hands were much bigger than hers, she noted, and smiled. "Not at all."

She looked at him, tilting her head and laughing. Her laughter was wild and unrestrained, and scared him, touched his mind in a place where he had had his refuge.

"It's a good thing I didn't make you real, or we would both be in trouble, you know."

He looked outside, and saw a darkness gathering there. He sensed Him nearer. He was drawing closer, and all Draco could do was wish that she was right.

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