Disclaimer: I do not own Draco, Luna, Harry, Ron or any of the original characters in this amazing series. They are the property of J.K. Rowling and her subsidiaries, and are used here without permission.

This story is for entertainment purposes only, and will not be used for profit or financial gain in any way. I make no money from this, and would never want to.

I pray that in my usage of this incredible work for my own purposes, that I will always do Rowling and all the others who have put their time, talent and dedication into its well-deserved success, true honor and respect. Amen

Warning/Summary: Those of you, who are Harry Potter purists might remember that according to Rowling, Hermione returned to Hogwarts to finish her Seventh year, and was the only one; and that Lucius Malfoy escaped Azkaban due to favorable testimony on Harry Potter's part at a summer trial. I did mention that this is an AU (Alternate Universe) so be prepared for the fact that I will take some creative license with post-Hogwarts events. As for Lucius and the post-war trial, you will learn more of that in the next chapter. Warning: There is some reference to torture and darkness in this chapter, and some disturbing content associated with that. May not be suitable for young children.

Reaching For You

Part One: Dragon Rising to Moonlight

Chapter One: An Uncertain Future

Draco Malfoy sat in his room staring out the window at the neat formal gardens below. It had been almost three months since the Dark Lord had been defeated at last and yet it felt like a different life. So much had changed.

His father had turned himself in shortly after they had walked away from the conflict, leaving their dread master to his fate. They had known that he was dead the moment that the Dark Mark had vanished from Draco and his father's arms. When his father had announced his intention, Draco was horrified. Despite the terrible events that had occurred, their time together beneath the Dark Lord's thumb had been the closest Draco had ever felt to his proud distant father. The thought of losing him again was unbearable.

"No!" he had cried. "Dad, please! I just found you again. Please, please! I don't want to lose you!"

Then his father had utterly surprised him by pulling Draco fiercely close and he had felt hot tears falling onto his neck. In all his 18 years, Draco had never seen his father weep. "You haven't lost me, Draco; you never will. From the moment the Dark Lord opened the door to his dungeon and revealed you tortured and bleeding on the floor after being punished for your failure to kill Dumbledore, I knew the truth. I was so caught up in dreams of power and the black hold of prejudice, that I never appreciated the true treasure that I had held from the very start. You, Son; you are all I ever need or want. You are the best thing that I ever did, and I nearly destroyed you. I gave you over to that soulless horror; that travesty of Wizardry and Humanity, all for my own ruthless ambition and gain. Nothing can make up for something like that, and nothing can change it or forgive it. The Dark Mark is gone, but you bear his marks forever on your beautiful body; all because I was too selfish and lost in hatred to keep you safe. No Draco, I will never forget that. You will never lose me again."

Overcome with emotion, Draco had clung to his father in both sorrow and joy. "Father." He wept. "Father, Father."

Lucius Malfoy had been the first of the surviving Deatheaters to turn himself in, and as the Daily Prophet announced, it would be taken into consideration in regards to his sentencing.

But Azkaban was very changed now. Gone were the horrific Dementors. In fact Draco had been present as they were rounded up, bound in an enspelled room in the "Department of Mysteries" and then had major Patronus Charms cast at them repeatedly; until the nightmare bodies that anchored them to this plane were torn apart, along with their nameless evil, and not a shred of them remained.

All the families of those sentenced to Azkaban were allowed to be present, watch and participate if they were able. Draco saw Harry Potter there and all the surviving Weasleys. He saw Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood too. He watched them cast their Patronus charms and gallop them around the chamber of destruction attacking the Dementors again and again. Harry's silver stag and Neville's roaring lion led the charge.

Then Luna turned to him and gave him one of her open and sweet smiles and a flood of memories poured into him. They weren't even memories of her. It was as if that sweet, unjudgemental and sunny smile brought back all the memories of when he had known; truly known, that he was loved and cherished. Gentle words and loving touches, proud smiles and tight embraces and his parents eyes shining with joy as they watched him, just watched him. The warm sweet memories filled him up, made him feel like he was literally glowing inside; something was rising inside his heart, demanding to be released, something strong and joyful and proud.

Before he really understood what he was doing, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the remaining Dementors. He spoke the words he had heard Harry use often enough, that he had heard today when the cleansing attack had begun. "Expecto Patronum!" And out of his wand blazed a beautiful silver shape; his own Patronus, which took on the surprising and impressive form of a proud Oriental dragon! He sensed the surprise from Potter and his friends and it rather pleased him. The only one who did not look surprised, was Luna.

As for Azkaban, the new guards were the Hippogriffs, led by gray Buckbeak; now cleared of all charges as was his Wizard master of the past four years; Sirius Black, posthumously. The Hippogriffs were assisted by a surprising new species: The Spider Centaurs; sentient, transfigured, and now a permanent new race drawn from the children of the giant spider Aragog, who had willingly turned themselves in for "redemption" after the role they had played in the final attack on Hogwarts. Those who had refused, or who weren't sentient (there were both kinds among Aragog's issue), had been executed or exterminated, deemed too dangerous to live. There were still giant spiders in the world, but no longer in the Forbidden Forest. Hermione Granger had assisted in the transfiguration, and Draco had to admit, it was fair bloody brilliant. Now the Spider Centaurs lived in the caves beneath the inter- dimensional prison, and happily hunted the nightmare forests of the dangerous preternatural island that housed it.

Prisoners were also no longer isolated. Every month they were allowed to communicate through the fire with their families and their redemption was facilitated through "memory globes" which held the extracted memories of their families and friends, as a reminder of what awaited them once they understood what was truly important in life.

"But I do not need memories to know." His father had told them in their last communication. "I understood the moment I held you in my arms and said goodbye. It was only because I knew you were safe that I was able to leave at all." Even so, Lucius Malfoy needed to remain in prison. He was expected to serve out at least 5 years for his crimes. "A small consequence." He told them. "Considering that your cousin, Sirius Black, an innocent man, was forced to serve 12 under much less pleasant circumstances."

Draco sighed and pulled himself away from the window. His father's new outlook wasn't the only thing that had changed. Since his mad Aunt Bellatrix's death at the hands of Molly Weasley, his mother had slowly begun to mend fences between her and Draco's other aunt, Andromeda Tonks. His mother had been overwhelmed with emotion when her sister told her how much she still loved her and that she was glad to work on forgiveness between them, and strengthen their lost connection once more. After losing not only her daughter, but her son-in-law and her Muggle-born husband to Voldemort's bloody and cruel campaign, it was amazing that she was so ready to forgive, and repair their damaged relationship.

The two sisters hadn't wasted any time either. Already his Aunt Andromeda had been over several times, to help Draco and his mother clean out and utterly destroy every last trace of their dark misguided devotion to a monster that didn't even deserve the the honour of being called Human; from the Malfoy Manor. Draco and his mother had even been over to the Tonks' cosy park-side home once. Draco had held his giggling baby cousin, Theodore Remus Lupin on his lap, enchanted by the purity and sweetness that had been born in the midst of all the horror of these past three years. Theodore was perfect and untainted with no trace of the Lycanthropic curse that had plagued his father, but he was already showing signs of being a Metamorphusmagus, like his mother. Draco was glad for his mother. She would be fine with the support of her sister; and already others from the "light" world were hesitantly, but freely approaching her and offering their help and support. But Draco was not nearly so sure about himself.

He would never forget the lessons in the dark cells beneath the Riddle house. He would never forget the slash of the wand as it shredded his clothing and the shame of his nakedness. He would never forget the agony of the Cruciatus curse tearing through him, again and again for three days. He would never forget the command "Sectum Sempra!" his Godfather's own created curse, he learned; as it slashed across his exposed flesh. He still bore the thin white scars in a grim lattice over several parts of his body, even though the cuts Voldemort had given him were far less deep than those Harry had given him when he had ignorantly fired off the curse in a moment of anger, in that ill-fated duel in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

But by far the most horrific memory was of the final punishment of the final day: Snakes; dozens and dozens of snakes, swarming over him; binding him, covering him in their piercing bites and burning venom; violating and smothering him! Voldemort urged them on, in the terrifying hissing sibilance of Parseltongue, as he demanded repeatedly that Draco swear his loyalty and service to him forever. And Draco had done it; begging pleading and screaming for mercy, the horror of the deadly swarm conquering him utterly; until he could do nothing more than sob brokenly and pray that his terrible lord would believe his agonized oaths of fealty, or simply kill him!

He still awoke screaming in a cold sweat, from nightmares where he relived it again and again; every excruciating terrifying moment of pain humiliation and fear, over and over! He doubted that he would ever be free of that horror, ever again.

He knew nothing of his former friends, except Goyle. All the seventh years who had missed school due to the terrible war, were given a choice. They could re-enter school and take their seventh year over again (free of charge, of course), or they could take the N.E.W.T.s to test if they had learned enough to graduate. Draco had taken them; so had Harry Ron and Hermione. They had all passed, even Goyle who hadn't missed that much school, really, but he still elected to return to Hogwarts anyway.

Draco did not know what had become of Blaise or Pansy; and Crabbe, Crabbe was dead. It was almost laughable that he knew more of "Saint Potter's" crowd, than he did of the people who had professed to be his truest friends. And here he was; 18 years old, graduated and at the end of the summer, with no idea of what to do with himself.

"Draco, Draco darling!" His mother's clear happy voice floated up the stairs to him.

Firmly, he shut his mind on his broodings and memories and answered her. "What is it, Mum?"

"Your Aunt Andromeda and I are going to Diagon Alley to pick out some new guest china. The poisoning set was certainly not desirable, but I have nothing left to replace it. Would you like to come?"

"No really, Mother; china?" Draco answered sarcastically, but it was a light sarcasm, and he couldn't help but feel his heart lift at the happiness in his mother's voice.

"You don't have to look at china." His mother reprimanded, but her voice was still joyful softening the rebuke. "But there must be something you might like. Come, it will do you good to get out a little."

Draco felt his heart warm. "Alright, Mum. I'll be down in a bit."

Half an hour later, Draco left his mother and Aunt Andromeda exclaiming happily over several beautiful china patterns at "Hartfords," the top designer of enchanted housewares, and wandered down the twisting bustling streets of Diagon Alley alone. Knockturn Alley had been completely shut down, as the Ministry's raids and confiscations took possession of the remaining dark and cursed artifacts of Voldemort's dark reign, but Diagon Alley was open for business; alive and clean and fresh, just as if nothing had happened. Draco found it strangely comforting. Despite all the horror and death and terror Voldemort had wreaked upon the Wizarding world in the last three years, nothing had really changed that much. It was almost humiliating.

It was at this point that he found himself in front of a clothing shop and glanced down at the severely cut and scrupulously pressed and pleated suit and high-necked shirt that he wore: Black, black as soot and the Dementors' ragged cloaks; black as the floating robes of Voldemort, black. His clothes had always been black and suddenly Draco was utterly sick of it. It reminded him of the darkness that had tortured him in the dungeons of a crumbling mansion; that had brutalized and nearly destroyed his father; that had killed Vincent, Godfather Severus, Professor Lupin and his own cousin Nymphadora, making their son an orphan at an even more tender age than Harry Potter had been forced to endure. It also made him look like a bloody ghost; pale and gaunt, not real; not even alive!

As he looked into the store window, he found his eyes drawn to a deep blue suit, cut in the same style as the one he wore now, but slightly more relaxed in fit. He was just thinking of going into the store and asking about the price, when a soft voice that both chilled him with guilt and filled him with warmth, sounded right behind him.

"Hello, Draco."

Draco managed not to flinch and turned to face her, his expression betraying his mixed emotions. "Luna."

He had stopped calling her "Loony" about two weeks into her captivity at his Manor, and "Lovegood" three weeks after that. It had happened when on his usual duty to deliver her breakfast, she had calmly asked him why he didn't call her Luna. Even as his head filled with a million reasons why he didn't and wouldn't, the only answer he had found himself giving was; "I don't know." Then embarrassed and annoyed at his embarrassment he had demanded, "Why does it matter to you anyway?"

She had fixed him with one of her mysteriously penetrating gazes. "Because we've both been prisoners now." She replied in that soft dreamy voice that was both child-like and profound all at once. "He's hurt you deeply, Draco; hasn't he?"

Unnerved and yet surprisingly emotional, he had blurted out, "What would you know about it?"

"I can see it;" She spoke in soft confidence. "In your eyes."

He had wrenched himself away and stumbled out of the cell. "Eat your breakfast." He had snarled, but ever since then he had called her Luna.

Now, as he turned to look at her, he expected to see her in her usual bright and mismatched style, but she was actually quite prettily dressed. She wore a simple feminine dress and leggings in several shades of blue and yellow, a waist-length cashmere cardigan in blue, and a pair of embroidered espedrilles. Her long curls of pale gold were loose, falling softly around her shoulders and then flowing down her back to past her waist. Instead of her usual radishes for earrings, she wore a pair of yellow and blue pansies. They looked soft and fresh, the petals shimmering in a very life-like manner, but he would have thought that if they were real, they'd have wilted by now. In spite of himself, he found that he was distracted by them.

"Yes." She replied, noting where his eyes strayed. "They're real. I used a charm on them to keep them fresh. I discovered it quite by accident trying to drive the Xorns out of the garden a few years ago." She leaned closer, speaking in a soft confidential tone. "They don't like fresh smells, you see."

With surprising reluctance Draco annoyedly pulled his attention away from the delicate and pretty ornaments. "What do you want?" He asked, more harshly than he intended.

Her calm, dreamy smile was unwavering. "I brought you something. You look like you could use a little pick-me-up."

For the first time Draco noticed that she was holding a large basket from which numerous slender green vines were emerging, each anchored firmly in place. On the end of each one, there was a smooth golden fruit that appeared to be floating and tugging at the slender green stem. As his gaze was drawn by this unusual sight, she released one of the stems and both of them watched as the little fruit floated up, trailing its long stem behind it, and disappeared into the sky. Before he could stop himself, a short sharp laugh burst from his throat. "Pick-me-up. Good one, Luna!" Despite himself, his interest was peaked. "What are they?"

"Dirigible Plums." Luna answered. "Daddy and I grow them in our garden. They're really quite sweet, even if they do look decidedly odd."

She held out her basket, and Draco realized that she was offering the whole thing to him! "No." He spoke. "No, Luna; I couldn't. They're your - Why do you have them here anyway?"

"We're trying to start a market." She replied. "They really grow quite well; if you manage to keep the Xorns off of them, that is."

Draco couldn't help it. "What in the Bloody Hell are Xorns?"

She answered earnestly, as always. "It's not really certain." She replied. "They take the form of any garden pest that strikes their fancy. Sort of like a Boggart, I suppose, but it's all in their heads instead of ours."

Draco cut off another laugh, surprising himself again and she smiled back at him, perhaps a trifle uncertain, but just as sweet as ever. "In that case, Luna you had better keep them. I'm sure you worked hard keeping the Xorns at bay."

"No, it's all right. We have a large harvest this year. Ever since "You-know-who" was defeated, the Xorns have thinned out a great deal." Then suddenly realizing what she had said, a brief look of alarm crossed her face and she put her hand over her mouth. "Oh, Draco. I'm sorry."

He smiled at her openly now. "No, Luna; It's alright. You were right; everyone was right about him and I'm glad he's gone!" The venom he heard in his voice surprised him anew and he looked at Luna with some concern, afraid that he had alarmed her. But she only looked at him seriously, empathy in her clear blue eyes. God, they were so clear and bright, like a sparkling mountain stream fresh off the glaciers. She lay her hand gently on his arm, and before he knew what was happening, she leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek!

Then while he was still staring at her in surprise, she moved away, her smile softer now but just as pretty. "I like the blue." She said. "And not just because I'm in Ravenclaw." Then she turned and skipped away.

It was only after the last trace of her long golden hair had disappeared into the bustling crowd, that Draco realized that he now knew what he wanted to do with himself; right before he noticed that she had left him holding the basket of dirigible plums.