A/N-Woohoo! Updated again in just under a week! 10 points to Slytherin!

This is just a filler chapter really, but some important things happen otherwise there'd be no point in writing it. I felt kind of bad for not writing previously for about 6 weeks, so I decided to write another chapter! Be prepared for a happy, happy Draco.

He left at around midnight, when he was sure that no one would be awake to harm her. He would've stayed, but apart from breakfast, he hadn't eaten all day and he needed to have strength if someone did decide to attack her. He was sure that the House-Elves wouldn't mind getting him something to eat; they were in the kitchens, after all, to make food for the students and other staff.

Once he reached the kitchens, he wasn't entirely surprised to see that there were at least fifty House-Elves still working. Obviously, it must take quite a few hours to cook enough (and more) food for the whole Hogwarts population, but it probably wasn't always there same Elves – there must be more than fifty. McGonagall must've created a rota for them to work by.
The first to notice him standing there was a young looking Elf (although since they can live for hundreds of years, there was no telling how old the young ones are), with large blue eyes and tiny hands; abandoning his (or her) work for a couple of seconds, it scurried over to Draco.

"What can Pipsy do for you Sir?" The Elf, clearly a she, squeaked. The others didn't stop what they were doing, but they still looked over to the tall, white-haired, black-eyed student who was standing stoically by the entrance. Some of them, the ones who have been working there for about five years, had recognised the boy from Dobby's stories of his old owners, the Malfoy's. There were others too though, the ones that had once been employed by Ministry workers, who recognised the boy as what he really was from the times that they had to follow their Masters (or Mistress's) at the Quidditch World Cup, by the Bulgarian tents and their mascot parades – a Veela.

More importantly, something that they were sure that they'd never see again; a male Veela. A male Veela at Hogwarts.

"Just here for some food. If you could get me an apple a sandwich Pipsy, and I'll be on my way," Draco said, to which Pipsy immediately left to get. Looking around, Draco saw that most were still staring at him. It was rather unsettling having around thirty large eyes fixed on your every move, so instead of sitting down at the chair and table that was there, he stayed standing which he hoped made him more intimidating.

"Dot didn't know that Fleur had a son," a tiny voice said, towards the back of the room. All the others were giving the spindly Elf glares, for speaking out of turn probably, for a personal accusation, and for referring to a person so personally by their given name. This Elf though – this Elf was brave and didn't care that the others had now avoided looking or going near her as they continued doing their various jobs.

Draco didn't say anything for a moment, he was a bit shocked that that had come out of an Elf's mouth, and it took him a moment to realise that she was talking to him. He stuttered for a bit, staring directly at her, but was saved from saying anything as - probably gaining courage from her - another Elf spoke up.

"That boy is a Malfoy, Dot. Miss Delacour married a Weasley boy," rasped an old, wrinkly Elf who was in the middle of kneading some dough.

Draco was going to interject this time; they shouldn't be talking about him as if he wasn't there. Really, they shouldn't be talking about him at all. But, again, just as he was about to speak, Pipsy came back with his things. She handed it to him and, taking it gratefully and thanking her, he turned to leave, thinking that the conversation on whom he was, was thankfully over.

"But Fleur is a Veela. Like that boy, Bugsy," Dot squeaked, pointing a finger at Draco, who had frozen in shock. "Dot spoke to Fleur every time she came to the kitchens, she did. Dot knows what Fleur is, and about Veelas, she does."

The others just shook their heads and rolled their eyes at Dot. She was one of the new ones after all, but Draco was a bit worried...
How did a simple, young House-Elf know so much?

Why do I even care so much, Draco wondered, It's not like they're intelligent enough to piece everything together, and they probably wouldn't tell anyone.

Shrugging off the looming feeling, Draco stepped out of the door before anything else was said that would make him stop in his tracks. The door closed behind him, cutting off Dot's words ("does your Mate-"), and before his curiosity made him turn back and ask what she had said, he hurried as fast as he could away from the kitchens.

Though he tried to forget Dot's words, he couldn't help but wonder what she had said. 'Does your Mate,' what? Does your Mate know who you are? Does your Mate hate you? Does your Mate love you? Does your Mate know what you are? Does she go to this school, like roses, hate chocolate, want to have a Wizarding career or go back to the Muggle world?

He was outside the Hospital Wing doors now, his apple having been finished and discarded a while ago along with some sandwich remains. He pushed the doors; they were still open. He let out a sigh of relief. So why weren't his feet moving to resume his position next to her bed?

It was with a tinge of sadness that he recognised a growing feeling of dread that was clawing its way up his stomach. And he knew why, unfortunately. Of course, it wasn't like him at all to let the words of a House-Elf get to him, but it was only partly that. The other part was his damn curiosity that seemed just to be causing him problems tonight. He could've forgotten the Elf's words easily, and not think about them, but it was too late now. Paranoia had already set in.

Does his Mate know who he is? Oh of course she does! They've only been going to the same bloody school as each other for eight years! He'd only been bullying her and her friends their whole lives and choosing the Dark Side in the War. It'd be a miracle, which even Merlin himself probably couldn't do, if after all that, she loved him. And no, she didn't know what he was. He couldn't even begin to imagine what she'd be like if she knew; but she is the Brightest Witch of Her Age and she, surely, has noted the unusual behaviour from him. Maybe she could know something about it. And if all that make someone feel enough dread, then the thought of not knowing absolutely anything about whom you should eventually end up with, should make you feel something.

He couldn't go back in there. He couldn't. What would happen when she wakes up? She wouldn't be relieved to see him. The sight of him wouldn't make her feel safe, secure or bring her comfort. He didn't know what exactly she'd feel when seeing him, but it wasn't going to be any of those things. Oh shit, he thought, his eyes fixed on her body as, from across the room, he saw the fluttering of her eyes and her fingers twitching, finally, slowly, coming back to consciousness. He took a step back, which felt like a tremendous effort. She'd probably be terrified of him, he realised, and the guilt with that thought fuelled him to turn away quickly and all but run back to safety; back to the common room before she, or anyone else, saw.

Deep breaths.

Easy, easy.

You've done this before - it's simple.

Power is all about control.

Concentrate. Concentrate.

Blink. Blink. He shook his head, getting his thoughts back in order. Why'd he stop this time?

He looked down at his hands. Empty.

He blinked again. He was rather slow today, mostly because he only had five hours sleep before he was woken up by Blaise. Draco was then pestered with questions about his whereabouts for yesterday evening on their way down the stairs (though Draco refused to answer any of them at that moment), and after he ate as much as he could stomach at breakfast, he was forced to help do the painting. The others had seemingly settled to discuss the matter of how they were supposed to enter for later on, when they're actually finished; but for now, everyone seemed content to paint and add their own qualities to it. For instance, Neville, apparently, was basing Dorothy's house off his grandmothers, and Lavender was more than happy to pose for Hannah to paint as the inspiration of Dorothy's figure.

"Well done Draco," Luna chirped, bringing him back to the present. "You've done it."

A grin started to tug at the corners of his lips, and his eyes flickered over to the scarf on the floor (which he'd discreetly stolen from Hermione for the fourth time, after finding that her key had fallen out of her pocket when she fell). He grinned freely now, showing off his white teeth. Now he remembered what was happening, and now he could stay in control whenever he was outside the common room, with a bit of effort.

Luna smiled back at him, her same dreamy smile but her eyes glittered with success. She believed in Draco. She knew he could do it, and now there's proof. She looked to his molten grey eyes, remembering when he couldn't make it past halfway before they turned to the eerie black. Turning around, she skipped towards the scarf and bent over to pick it up to return it to Draco, but suddenly to hands wrapped around her waist and started to swing her around. She knew it was Draco, it couldn't have been anyone else, after all, they were in an empty corridor. Suddenly, it wasn't as if smiling so much that his cheeks hurt was enough, and instead of letting the laugh that bubbled up in his throat die, he let it out. Luna had never heard Draco laugh, at least not like this, and she was sure that there were loads of people who could say the same. This guffaw wasn't hateful, malicious or sarcastic – quite the opposite actually. This laugh of his was warming and infectious to a point that Luna started to laugh too.

"Thank you Luna! Thank-" Draco hollered, the sadness he felt in the early morning and the extreme tiredness gone. But, all of a sudden, Draco shut his mouth with an audible snap and abruptly stopped spinning. Feeling that something was clearly wrong, Luna had gone silent and when she stopped being dizzy and her eyes focused, she could see Hermione standing at the end of the corridor. Slowly, Draco gently lowered Luna to her feet and took an unnoticeable step away from her. Hermione was frozen though, where she was, staring straight at Draco, barely noticing Luna's presence. The guilt and tiredness was back now, but he put all his focus onto staying into control, which shouldn't have been so hard seeing as he accomplished it minutes ago.

None of them quite knew what to say, they just stood there in an awkward and tense silence. To Hermione, what she just walked into was a rare and intimate-looking display. Never, in her life had she heard or seen Malfoy act anything like that. It was slightly comforting to know that he could feel happiness and knew how to laugh, that he was still human. It was unnerving though, to see someone who was associated with so much darkness, with all the degrading insults, be carefree. It was with a sunken feeling that she remembered that they were only seventeen, barely adults, but already experienced what the older generation of Wizards have seen, and more. They had to have grown up fast. She couldn't use the past to make him look like he wasn't allowed happiness, nor make it as if he would never feel it. He was clearly happy with Luna. I should just leave them. Just turn around now...

'Hermione, no. No, this isn't what it looks like. Let me explain, please,' He wanted to say, no matter how cliché it sounded because it was the truth. And if she turned and ran, he' run after her and force her to stop. Well...he wasn't too sure how he'd force her considering that she'd faint if he touched her. Instead, he took a small forward and the tiredness creeping back into his voice, said, "Granger..." He risked a glance at Luna.

She cleared her throat. "Uh, no it's-" she started to say, but cut herself off when she saw a Gryffindor scarf in Luna's hands. "Luna is that – whose scarf is that?" She asked cautiously.

They were busted now. Truly busted. What was Luna supposed to say? What reason could there possibly be as to why she had a Gryffindor scarf? Maybe it'd just be easier if Draco made her faint now, then the next time he could use his Charms. Surely though, it mustn't be good for someone to faint again after only about 8 hours. Maybe it wasn't the answer. Maybe just telling the truth was...

Or maybe he was just panicking.

"I'm not sure. I found it on the Fifth floor by one of the suits of armour on my way to the Ravenclaw common room. It was infested with Nargles though..." Luna replied, not hesitating for a second.

Hermione seemed to deflate, causing Draco to be slightly paranoid that she actually recognised it as her scarf somehow. "Oh, okay," she said, and the awkward tension returned as they continued to stare. After a moment Hermione said, "Well, um, I'll just be going back to the common room then. Here, I'll take the scarf, see if it's Harry, Ron, Neville or Lavender's." She walked up to them quickly, hurrying to get out of the scene and took the scarf off Luna. The whole way though, she could feel Malfoy's eyes on her. Of course she knew it was his eyes and not Luna's because, truth be told, she was staring at him the whole way over too, only looking to Luna when she was receiving the scarf.

Draco really wanted to say something, anything, but didn't know what. All he could do was stare, and it pleased him slightly to know that she couldn't take her eyes off him either. He couldn't say sorry to her that was for sure. At least, not in person...

The rest of the afternoon Draco spent planning.

Planning by himself, in his room with only his midnight-black eagle owl, he ironically named Venus, and a pile of books from the library keeping him company.

He'd made a quick purchase at Hogsmeade, after he muttered another quick thanks to Luna, and went straight back up to his room, without stopping to talk to Blaise. He'd then brushed past Blaise who was waiting outside his door twenty minutes later, to go to the library and returned half an hour later with a pile of five large tomes balanced in his arms, locking himself away in his room again. He only left his room again for dinner, but tried to spend the least amount of time away from his room, quickly shovelling food into his mouth at a speed that even Ron, Crabbe or Goyle could never match.

The next morning, he was ready, and he woke up extra early just to make sure that the plan would go perfectly.

"Alright Venus, you know the plan," Draco said as he walked up the steps to the Owlery to leave her there, ready for the morning post in the Great Hall. "I trust you won't fuck this up; it won't be good if you do." Venus nipped his fingers affectionately, telling him that she'd do it perfectly, of course. She is the most reliable owl there was. Draco smiled at his clever bird and placed her on one of the crevices on the wall, then handed her a small white box with a purple ribbon. "There's the package then. Thank you V, you'll be getting your own gift after this." He gave the owl a parting stroke, and then left.

He arrived back at the common room just as everyone was getting up, so he just subtly settled himself onto a sofa and waited for Blaise to come down so that they could leave and go to the Great Hall. Draco couldn't stay still though, he was too nervous, too excited to sit still. All he wanted to do at was fast forward time – fast forward time ten years into the future, if he could, to see if he really does end up dying. Finally, though, Blaise did arrive and Draco didn't give him any time to talk to anyone, just dragging him straight out of the door as soon as his foot touched the last step. Blaise did ask about Draco's strange behaviour, but he only replied with 'Just have a lot of energy. Feels like a good day.' He didn't enquire any further than that.

Draco barely ate anything, he was too busy staring at the open window where the owls came through every day and bouncing his leg so much that Blaise and a few younger years had started to get annoyed. It felt like hours before the owls started to stream through, though it was no more than half an hour. Draco immediately searched the group for Venus, but wasn't able to spot her so he just watched the Gryffindor table and waited for something to fall out the sky, and into Grangers lap.

When his package did though, all the tension he felt increased tenfold instead of disappearing. He watched as she curiously picked up the white box, with Ron and Harry practically leaning over her shoulders to see what was sent by the unknown owl.

It felt like everything happened in slow motion.

She carefully untied the purple bow and then plucked the lid off. She reached inside a picked up a slip of paper, held it at eye level and slowly, mouthed the words while Ron and Harry seemed to be having a small debate about something and trying to get Hermione's attention about what the other thing in the box is.

Sorry for the past, sorry for the present, and sorry for the future.

Oh, about Draco owl's name. I decided that it was ironic because the planet Venus is known as the 'morning star'.
Please favourite, follow and review!