Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.


The Room of Requirement:

Though her mind was rather occupied over the next day, she never stopped wondering where her shoes had gotten to. She searched high and low for them, her favourite pair, feeling their loss deeply. That evening, she returned to the seventh floor on a whim to visit the Room of Requirement, wishing to experience the place for herself. She was aware of the fact that Draco might be there. However, when she reached the seventh floor, the room was missing.

She looked twice, but it simply wasn't there. It was so queer, and so incredibly interesting to Luna. She analyzed the wall where the door had been, just the day before. It was a wall and nothing more. It wasn't like the castle staircases, which shifted constantly of their own will. Or, was it?

Fascinated, she decided to read up on the Room at the library. She skipped through the halls, heedless of the cynical expressions she drew from her peers. Her colourful personality was relatively overlooked, however, due to the arrival of the contending schools for the Triwizard Tournament. The castle was buzzing with excitement over Viktor Krum and the beautiful witches from Beauxbatons.

Luna thought about Harry Potter and of his chances of winning the tournament. The first task was fast approaching, and he had been unprepared when his name had been chosen by the goblet of fire, or so he claimed. Luna, for one, believed that he had been set up by someone who wished him harm. There was always someone out to get Harry Potter.

The presence of Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup in the summer reinforced the danger Harry, and all people, were in. Granted, not many people believed that You Know Who was alive, but the Lovegoods were believers. It made Luna feel totally disturbed to think about it, but she had a feeling it was true.

This was one of the reasons she felt conflicted about Draco's kiss. Not the only reason, though; he'd been drunk, after all, and he was generally thought to be a bad person around the school. Draco had definitely mocked Luna on more than one occasion, though she was lucky not to have been the victim of some of his crueller jokes. These he reserved for Gryffindors.

It was well known that Lucius Malfoy was, or had been, a Death Eater. Luna had been kissed by the son of a follower of the darkest wizard ever to exist. His tongue, that sharpest of tongues, had entered her mouth. She was having difficulty getting over the shock of it.

Luna knew what her preconceived ideas about Draco were, as well as what she had learned from actually interacting with him in the past. But the other day, she had seen the Slytherin in a totally new context. She still wondered why he had been drinking, and why on earth he had kissed her. It seemed unreasonable to conjure that he might actually like her. This was really unrealistic, despite his actions.

Her thinking was that he had been looking for an escape.

She opened a dusty tome and leafed through the yellowed pages, sipping green tea occasionally. So the Room of Requirement was a refuge for any who should need it. A person had only to circle the seventh floor three times and, if they were truly in need, the room would appear. This didn't explain why the sauna had appeared while she was looking for her shoes, though.

Luna decided that first thing in the morning she would go and wish to find her shoes on the seventh floor in the hope of invoking the Room of Requirement. For now, she was falling asleep where she sat, so she got up, stretching, and made her way back to her dorm through the corridors by wand-light.

Her dream that night was vivid.

She was walking through a long, dark corridor, when she came upon the door she sought. She opened it and entered the Room of Requirement. Instead of steam billowing through the room, however, it was filled with smoke. Alarmed, she covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve, eyes tearing. Luna attempted to dispel the smoke with a spell, but the fume only grew more heavy as it coursed through the room.

She hastened to leave the place, when she heard a weak cough and a moan. "Lumos," she gasped, and her wand projected a bright light, allowing her to peer through the thick smoke. He was there, as she'd known he would be, lying nearly unconscious on the bench. The glass bottle was shattered. In her hurry to rescue him, Luna didn't stop to wonder about the fact that the room beheld smoke, but no fire.

Luna made her way over to him and dragged his limp body toward the exit, choking on the rancid smoke. He was clothed and dry, breath wheezing in his chest. Finally, she got them out of there, into the empty corridor of the seventh floor. She slammed the door of the Room of Requirement shut and it disappeared.

"Draco," she knelt beside him on the flagstone, shaking him. His eyes were closed and his brow, damp with sweat, was furrowed. She smacked him gently on each cheek, calling to him. When his eyes opened she felt that she could at last catch her breath.

"Luna," he intoned, sitting up feebly, gripping his wand tightly. His eyes were red and teary from the smoke and he shielded them from the light. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know," she told him seriously. "The room put you in danger."

He coughed hard, slowly taking in his surroundings. The castle air felt refreshingly cool compared to the inferno of the Room of Requirement. Draco stared at her, intensely, as she continued to watch him closely. "I have to thank you," he said, finally. Reaching out, he took her hand.

"Draco," she said uncertainly, recalling the last time he had touched her.

"Luna," he whispered.

They stared into each others' eyes, concentrated. Luna's silver orbs were large, her heart pumping in her chest as he drew in closer. His expression was one of unspeakable passion and for some reason she allowed it, even though she knew this moment would change everything.

Instead of kissing her, he grabbed her wrist and turned it over, pressing the tip of his wand into her skin. "Morsmordre," he whispered and she felt a searing pain as he burned the Dark Mark into her.

Luna felt her whole being scream out. "No!" She shrieked, clutching her wrist, feeling her surroundings begin to tilt and turn. She stared at him with a look of pure horror, tears springing to her eyes, helplessness closing up her throat.

"We can be together now," he told her with a look of grim resolution.

Luna awoke with a start, shivering in the aftermath of the fear that was still ebbing through her. She lay in bed, staring at the navy blue canopy, which in the darkness appeared to be black. She could hear the peaceful breathing of her dorm mates, deep in their slumber, and wished she could sleep so easy.

So the events of the previous evening had affected her more than she had realized. Luna couldn't help but feel a bubble of mirth, thinking of the kiss and of the way she had left him. However, the dream left her unsettled. As she slipped back into sleep, she dreamed some more, heady with passion and rich emotions. However, she couldn't remember the details when next she awoke, Saturday morning.

Although the nightmare had certainly been disturbing, Luna pushed it away for the moment in the pursuit of more interesting events. Breakfast was the main priority at this time of day. She brushed her long, pale hair, then skipped down to the Great Hall. With all of the attention on the students from the competing schools, Luna went more or less unnoticed, despite the fact that she was still in her pyjamas.

There was hardly any room at the Ravenclaw table due to the new arrivals, the girls from Beauxbatons. They were lovely creatures, well mannered and coquettish all at once. Luna squeezed herself onto the bench between two fifth years. As she spread peanut butter on toast and sipped earl grey, she tuned in to the clatter of the Great Hall, the voices of hundreds of excited students speaking at once. Luna herself didn't have anyone to talk to, but this was hardly out of the ordinary. She began to ruminate over the dream she had had, wondering about its significance.

She felt pensive that day, wistful. She was surrounded by people, and yet she felt particularly lonesome. Luna chewed her toast slowly, savouring the taste. She took to people watching, as she liked to do. She observed Harry Potter at the Gryffindor table and noted that he appeared to be quite stressed. It was no wonder. The first task would be upon them in only a few short days. Who knew what he would be up against.

Luna noticed that Ginny Weasley was watching Harry, too. She was the younger sister of Harry's best friend and was in Luna's year. They hadn't spoken much, but Luna was inclined to like her.

After having finished her breakfast, she got up from the table. As she was leaving, Luna turned around for one last look at the student body, and her gaze met that of Professor Dumbledore. A rush of warmth invaded her and she smiled at him with bright eyes. His own brilliant blue eyes were sparkling at her and his smile was the most comforting thing she had seen in the last week.

Luna had a lump in her throat as she left through the great doors and made her way up the winding staircase to the Ravenclaw Tower to dress.

Draco did remember his foolish actions. He wasn't sure what kind of follow up this situation called for. He had a strong urge to seek her out, to make sure she wasn't spreading gossip, but was that really necessary? Might it not be better that he ignore what had passed between them, avoid her altogether?

He still couldn't believe that he had kissed the Lunatic.

What the devil had he been thinking? Clearly, he hadn't been thinking at all. Or, in his drunken mind, he had thought that she was rather sympathetic. Perhaps, had he mistaken her natural friendliness as her coming onto him? He didn't know. All Draco knew was that she was the last girl he would ever think to kiss. For some reason, this had, apparently, made the prospect all the more appealing.

Draco noticed her leave the Great Hall during breakfast in her periwinkle moon and stars pyjamas. Automatically, his eyebrows raised in disbelief at what had happened. What on earth...

Fortunately, there was enough going on at the Slytherin table to distract him. The Slytherins had the honour of hosting the Durmstrang students at their table, which included one Viktor Krum.

Krum was a massive fellow, very direct and single-minded. The extent of his conversation tended toward grunting, though he would speak in short, thickly accented sentences when least expected. At the moment, the whole of Slytherin table was focused on the Quidditch star, giving Draco some leave to brood in silence.

Draco had at least some relief that his secret was held by Luna rather than any other girl in the school. She was so odd that anything she spouted about him would be treated as nonsense. All the same, Draco would rather not lay his reputation on Loony's lack of credibility. Hopefully, she was too naïve to fully understand just what power she currently held over him. He prayed that she would keep any embarrassing information to herself.

Draco downed his coffee cup in a single swallow, fuelling himself on caffeine to make up for the horrible night's rest he'd had. He had always been prone to insomnia, but it was getting out of hand this year. He was chronically exhausted and thus always irritable. He found that his school work and overall health were suffering greatly as a result of his sleeplessness, but he didn't know what to do about it.

Throw in the caffeine he needed to be able to function and his nerves were fairly shot. But it was a vicious cycle, because the more anxious he became over his inability to sleep, the harder it was to get the rest that he so needed. He'd almost snapped the other day, having failed a Transfiguration exam and received a cryptic letter from his father, when he'd lost the Snitch to the other Seeker in the opening Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. Bloody Hufflepuff!

It was all due to his exhaustion. His current state was keeping him from achieving anything and now all of Slytherin was on his case for having lost the match. Viktor Krum, his idol, whom Draco had been keen on creating an association with, had snubbed him. The shame of his failures was too great to bear and had led Draco to wandering the castle after supper time, anything to avoid returning to the Slytherin Dungeons to take the piss from his housemates.

Draco seethed privately over his predicament, glancing with scorn at the Hufflepuff table, those ridiculous Puffs who always seemed to be in a good mood. Today, they were even more sickeningly cheerful than usual, thanks to the win Draco had afforded them at Quidditch the day before. Hufflepuffs weren't known for being especially good at Quidditch, so their beating Slytherin was a mark of just how much control Draco was losing over his life.

When looking at the Hufflepuff table, it was impossible to pass up the House's current pride and joy, Hogwarts' Triwizard Tournament contestant Cedric Diggory. Draco observed the older boy with mild curiosity. He was a beaming, friendly fellow with striking looks. He'd be the poster boy for such a competition if it weren't for Harry Potter.

Distaste invaded Draco's consciousness at the very thought of his name. Poor, famous, orphaned Potter. Fucking hero. A cold fist of dislike clenched Draco's heart as his gaze wandered over to the Gryffindor table. Potter, who seemed to possess some kind of sixth sense, looked up responsively at the feel of disparaging eyes. Grey met green and Draco tensed up, his body reacting in anger at the face of his enemy. Potter lay a belligerent look at him, then broke eye contact.

That's it, thought Draco to himself darkly, staring into the sea of blackness in his newly filled coffee cup. Let this tournament be the death of you.

The day passed uneventfully, besides the enhanced gossip that came with the new arrivals as they settled into Hogwarts style of life. Draco suffered through Quidditch practice with a throbbing head ache, counting the hours until he could retire to his own devices. The combination of a hangover and an exaggerated intake of caffeine left him dehydrated and inclined to be heinous to those around him. Furthermore, Potions class and History of Magic had attributed a heavy work load to be completed over the weekend, which didn't help to regulate his mood.

Supper was a tedious affair. All of the attention was on Krum and the other contestants, for the first task of the Tournament was only days away. Draco's housemates seemed to have more or less forgotten Slytherin's loss to Hufflepuff, because he was treated civilly once more. He, however, hadn't entirely forgiven himself.

Draco felt rather peculiar. His mind was entirely too full of preoccupations. He couldn't muster up the energy to get into the competitive spirit of the Tournament. Throughout the meal, he felt neglected, though it was by his own doing that he kept to himself. After an hour of much silence and only a few listless attempts at conversation, he decided that he'd had enough of being ignored, and left the table. He fully intended to retreat to his dormitory to indulge in some self pity when he was stopped just outside of the Great Hall.

"How much do you want to bet that Potty takes the Triwizard Cup?"

The spectral voice came from out of nowhere and stopped him in his tracks. Draco's brow rose quizzically. He looked around himself until he realized who he was dealing with.

"Piss off, Peeves," he muttered, flexing his wand hand reflexively, much good that would do. He resumed his walk at a more assertive pace, squaring his drooping shoulders against the incoming onslaught that was the school poltergeist.

Peeves floated into view, circling his target tauntingly, already giggling madly with mischief. "Oooh, someone's feeling sensitive!" He followed near as Draco's stride increased in speed.

The best tactic to use when confronted by the devilish Peeves was to ignore him until the disgruntled spirit grew bored and drifted away. Draco, who wasn't the patient sort, had already displayed his frustration, making himself a prime victim. His only choice was to evade.

Peeves gained on him, stalking Draco through the corridor, rising and falling, flipping and looping like an off-rail roller coaster. He babbled and whooped, cackled maniacally in Draco's ear. "Malfoy's a no one, Malfoy's a no one, and Peevesy knows a secret..."

Draco grit his teeth and turned sharply for the passageway to the dungeons, cutting off the rest of the insinuating chant. With a thin sweat due to the exercise, he descended into the murky depths of the Slytherin dungeons, into the lush lounge area and the consolation of a royal green armchair. Finding comfort in the quiet and solitude, it took no time before his shoes were off and his feet elevated by a matching plush foot stool. He stared sleepily into the fire, which lit the room with a fluorescent green glow.

Unknowingly, he began to drift off. Images played behind his closed eyelids. They were of a pleasant nature, but tinged with caution. It was as if his subconscious was warning him that there was danger in what he saw.

He wasn't sure that he saw her, exactly, but someone figured in his dreams who was supposed to represent her. This person told him mysterious things and he found himself in awe of her, but still there was that sense of riskiness.

The dream came to climax and Draco awoke with a gut-wrenching start, somehow feeling worse for wear than he had prior to his nap. There was a group of younger students watching him with wide eyed curiosity, who looked away hastily when he challenged them with a stare.

He went upstairs, cast a spell of silence around his four-poster bed and slept profoundly through the night.


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