Disclaimer: All characters and places in the Harry Potter universe belong to J.K. Rowling – I own none of them, I simply play with them.

Chapter Three

He went back to the Tower that night. He had no need too – for once he felt oddly content, but still couldn't help thinking about that girl...

His feet felt like lead as he climbed, half desperately hoping she wouldn't be there so he could settle with an explanation that she obviously didn't want to see him again, half begging the Gods above that she would be there, so he could see those silvery eyes again... those stupid earrings, that stupid necklace, that stupid girl.

"I thought you'd come again."

Draco's blood turned to ice in his veins – he hadn't even rounded the corner and she had sensed him approaching.

"That's probably because it's my place," he said defensively, hoping frantically that she hadn't heard the quiver in his voice. She laughed.

"Well, come round the corner then!"

He did as he was told – he wasn't sure why.

She was in her blue dressing gown again. Her hair looked neater than it had done yesterday, it framed her face as the moonlight bounced off it and reflected into her orb-like eyes. She was wearing the earrings again, he noticed.

"What are those things hanging off your ears?" he said, mustering as much of a sneer into his facial expression as he could.

"Oh, these?" Luna reached up and touched them nervously, smiling a little. "They're my radish earrings. My favourites."

Draco's eyebrow slowly arched – "you wear vegetables hanging from your ears?" he said scathingly.

"Well... yes," Luna shrugged. "My Aunt Mabel tried to eat them once. I have to remember not to wear them to family gatherings... although she is a little insane."

Draco snorted softly. "Not one to talk," he said, alarmed at the jokey tone that seemed to have entered his voice. To his surprise, Luna grinned at him, and covered her mouth to suppress a laugh. "It's a tragedy," he continued sarcastically, "the amount of radish earring-related aunt attacks there are these days."

"Quite," she nodded, her expression serious again. "We should start a campaign."

"Mmm," Draco said, twirling his ring round his finger through force of habit, "we could have leaflets and badges..."

"And headquarters in London."

"With our organisation name in neon lights."

"I can see it now..."

Draco couldn't help it. Luna looked as if she was biting the sides of her cheeks to contain her laughter, and when she finally burst out, he did too. They laughed for what seemed like forever, although was only a few seconds, and the echoes bounced off the stone walls when they stopped. The silence grew awkward once more, and Draco's head buzzed with a million things he could say, all which sounded feeble and weak... and why was he bothered anyway? It was just some stupid sixth year.

"I'm sorry about the other night," Luna finally said, pulling anxiously at a strand of hair. "I... I don't know, maybe I should never had said anything to you, but I just –"

"No," Draco shook his head. "No, I'm glad you did – if only because I... I deserved to know."

"Yeah," Luna flushed as she scuffed her toe on the ground awkwardly. "Sorry."

Draco shrugged. "Not much I can do now, is there?"

She looked up at him, her eyes huge and sorrowful. "I – I meant what I said though," she whispered. "I understand."

He nodded, feeling numbness spread through his entire body. It settled in an uncomfortable tingling in his fingers and toes, and he walked forward a pace if only to try and relieve it.

They were only a metre or so apart now. If he reached out a hand, he'd be able to touch her porcelain skin...

"Yeah, thanks," he muttered in feeble response to her offer. "I... I've..." he stopped, realising what he was doing, what he was saying. He was Draco Malfoy, this silly little girl wasn't even worthy of his time, let alone his trust.

"I know it's hard."

Once hoarse whisper from the silly little girl made everything he had just vowed fall in rubble around him. He looked into her eyes – really looked into her eyes, into the endless wells that were full of feeling and emotion... what emotion, he couldn't see, he couldn't figure out.

When he felt skin come into contact with his fingertips he jumped about six feet in the air before sharply jerking his hand away. He hadn't even noticed his hand go towards her face, and yet he could still feel the electricity run down his arm, could see her looking flushed, clutching her cheek as though she had just been burned.

It scared him. This girl who he barely knew made him loose control of his own body. His fingertips still seared with heat, and he felt disorientated and heady.

"I – I've got to go," he choked, stumbling down the Tower stairs in a blind panic, his heart beating so hard against his chest he thought his ribcage would explode. Why was he feeling like this? She was a lunatic, she didn't know what she was talking about... of course she didn't understand, why would she? But for once in his entire life, something was telling Draco that he was desperately, desperately wrong.

~*~

He didn't go to the Tower for a couple of days. He was scared – more scared than he had ever been in his entire life – but this was a different type of fear. It wasn't the fear that lingered before an exam, that settled uneasily before a Quidditch match, that suffocated him as he awaited a visit from his father. It was a fear that was combined with excitement, uneasiness, wonder... fear that made him wonder what it was about that sixth year Ravenclaw that made him think outside his mind, that made him want and need after spending a mere ten minutes in her presence.

She wasn't even anything special to look at. Draco had never believed in the more poncy branches of magic that talked about aurours and spirits, but he was starting to believe maybe he was wrong for scorning them, because Luna Lovegood had a beautiful auora. Something shone around her making her special, making her dirty blonde hair shine like an angels', making her huge, surprised looking eyes look like exquisite orbs of moonlight, making her whole being glow... something about her told Draco he could trust her. That he should trust her.

So, on the third day, he returned, half-knowing that he would find her there, in the same blue nightdress, with the same awkward look upon her face.

"You came," she said, the first time he'd ever seen her smile properly – a full smile, which crinkled the corners of her eyes and revealed perfectly straight, white teeth.

"It appears so," Draco smiled back weakly, his heart hammering away as usual.

"I didn't think... I mean, after the other night..." she pulled at her hair again, chewing her lower lip and fidgiting uncomfortably.

"The other night..." Draco began, pausing because he realised he had no idea what he was about to say, and was simply desperate to reassure her in some way. He finished by shrugging helplessly, feeling a red hot blush creep up his neck as Luna laughed at him a little.

"Tell me about your parents."

Draco blinked a couple of times, taken aback by her sudden questioning.

"Sorry?!"

"Your parents... tell me about them." Luna stepped aside to reveal a couple of large scatter pillows on the stone cold floor. "I thought we could use these..."

Forcing his legs which felt like they had suddenly turned to lead to walk over to the pillows, he sat down numbly, crossing his legs and watching Luna do the same thing. Her knee was about a centimetre from his, her hands folded in her lap.

"They've always been very busy," he began shakily, not even thinking about whether or not he wanted to do this, just forcing the words out of his mouth. "Father's a Death Eater, which I'm sure you knew from fifth year, your fourth, when he was put into Azkaban. Of course, that didn't last long... he's got too many contacts to be in trouble for long. He's a powerful man, he can twist many people around his little finger, and if not... he uses threats. He – he's always been like it with me, too – I grew up with threats being made about every little thing, petty things, too – and he'd usually carry them through even if I was obedient. They would always be threats of violence – I don't think I can remember what the normal colour of my ribs are... that's what he always goes for, because they're easy to hide."

He broke off to catch his breath, surprising himself at the ease in which the words were flowing from his mouth, how quickly he was confessing everything.

"I could probably count on one hand the number of things my mother has ever said to me. She's always just let my father take charge of me, not wanting to get involved incase he strikes out at her. She's a coward... but she's also very scared of him. They had an arranged marriage... I don't think she's ever loved him, and I don't know if he's ever loved her. He doesn't know what love is. He's never been able to show it to me, to her... They stay together for appearances sake. He's obsessed with appearances. Every year he'll give me stacks of birthday and Christmas presents, gifts from home, the latest flying equipment, oodles of money – more than I'd ever need – for Hogsmeade weekends, all because it's a good reflection on him. It makes him look good if his son looks well cared for, spoilt... it shows that he has the money, too. And he does have money. Lots of it."

He looked almost guiltily at Luna – had he said too much, too soon? Was this what she was expecting? Or was she going to freak out, like Pansy, and run from him?

Instead, Luna smiled at him, encouragingly. Like she... understood. She laid one hand over his, and he quivered as bolts of lightning shot up his arm and settled in his abdomen area, forcing him to swallow hard to focus on what he was saying.

"And he's a drinker. The times he'll come home from wherever he's been drinking are the worst... the first thing he'll do is come up to my room, he'll find some reason to hit me. He'll hit me so hard I can hardly breathe, sometimes I actually think I'm going to die, that he's going to kill me. And sometimes I feel like I'd rather die than go through that pain – it hurts so much you can't think straight, you can't – "

Draco broke off when his voice cracked, and his eyes stung with tears. He didn't even bother to hide the them.

"Sorry," he whispered, glancing sideways at Luna.

"No," she said, her eyes widening, shaking her head. "No, you mustn't be sorry. You – You've done so well, telling me... I didn't think in a million years that you'd... you know..."

Draco attempted a feeble smile. "Yeah."

Luna's eyes looked wide and almost fearful and she removed her hand from resting on his, and brought it up to his face, touching the tears coursing down his cheeks. She went to remove her hand quickly, but Draco lifted his own and curled his fingers around hers, holding her hand where it was. The same familiar tingling swept through his hand and cheek, causing Draco to close his eyes briefly. What was he doing here with a girl he barely knew, telling her things he had never told anyone, not even Pansy? But something told him it didn't matter. It felt right – nothing had ever felt like this before, so natural, so needless of reasoning and rationale, so automatic, so... real.

Their hands fell together, this time Draco's covering hers, onto his lap. The sensation of her hand on his thigh, even over his trousers, was enough to make Draco feel dizzy and disorientated.

"No wonder you hate Hermione Granger so much," Luna whispered musingly, using her free hand to tug on her hair again.

"Yeah," Draco laughed bitterly. "That girl's earnt me more broken bones than anything else put together. My father isn't best impressed when I get beaten by a Mudblood in every single test."

Luna laughed softly, and quickly glanced down at her wrist.

"We've been up here ages..." she began awkwardly. "We should –"

"Yeah." Draco cut her off quickly and got to his feet, her hand brushing across his leg as he did so, momentarily numbing his entire body as the thrill shot through his body.

"Thank you, Draco."

"What for?"

"Talking."

Draco shrugged, and stared at his feet, not really knowing what he was supposed to do or say next.

"Thank you for listening," he managed eventually. Luna put her hand on his arm again, squeezed slightly, and slipped out of the Tower. Draco looked up just in time to see her pale blue dressing gown disappear round the corner.

He stood there for a few minutes, his hands in his pockets and his head cast down, thinking. Then he realised – he couldn't. There was nothing to think about. He was Draco Malfoy, Ice King, bastard of the century, spiteful, spoilt little brat who got his kicks from taunting Muggle-borns and half-bloods, and he was having these ridiculous feelings for a girl he had met twice – twice – and was ridiculed for being the sixth year lunatic.

It was crazy, it was insane and it didn't make sense... and that was why he trusted it.