Draco Malfoy jogged, slowing from his flat out run, guided by that mysterious silvery-cold grip around his neck. Two corridors up and one to the left, and into a nook behind two facing suits of armor. Luna Lovegood, as expected, sat demurely at one edge of the bench. Draco was in far too much of a state to notice anything more. Backing himself into a corner, he slid to the ground - and started sobbing. He didn't want this to be true, he wanted things to stay as they were. The Dark Lord was terrifying.

For a few minutes, Draco was simply another thirteen year old boy, with a friend, even - not the dignified Malfoy heir, not a slick Slytherin, just a very small, horrified boy.

Luna Lovegood watched impassively, as if understanding that the internal storm that Draco was enduring was not something that needed words. After a few minutes (Draco's eyes had turned red, making him look more like a vampire than ever), she stood and walked over to him, squatting down in front of him.

Then she took her palm and slapped him.

Shocked, Draco Malfoy looked up, snot dripping down his nose.

"Calm down," Luna said coldly, and Draco clung to her lack of emotion, "Assess. Where are you?"

Draco Malfoy closed his eyes, taking deep breaths through the snot, until he could find stillness again. Slowly, he opened his eyes, to Luna's approvingly cold smile, like one of the sylphs herself.

"Before the war." Draco Malfoy said out of nerveless lips.

"Precisely." Luna smiled that soft smile of hers, and then said, "And what do we do before the war?"

"We plan." Draco Malfoy said, the statement turning into a question.

"And, if we plan well enough, we may do some good by acting." Luna smiled. "Together."

Draco Malfoy looked briefly confused, before whispering, "You want an alliance, with me?"

"Yes. I did say you'd be needing a friend, didn't it?" Luna said with a soft smile.

"You knew!?" Draco Malfoy said, springing to his feet in fury.

"I do talk with them, you know." Luna nodded, continuing, "They don't exactly keep it a secret."

Draco Malfoy thought of exactly how easily he wangled the knowledge out of Ron Weasley and nodded shakily.

Luna said, "We've got plenty of time, I think." She shook her head, "Nobody's panicking yet."

Draco's hands clenched into fists, as he slowly drew breaths in and out. He clung to the idea of fixing things. Of, somehow, managing to do something so the Dark Lord's Return wouldn't happen.

[a/n: Tch. Draco is an optimist. Briefly. Leave a review?

To all of you wondering why Draco is cracking? I leave you with a Slytherin thought, "better to know now..." - with respect to Luna.

One should be wary of Slytherins presenting their unguarded bellies]