A/N: I might not be able to update as much because my laptop's broken but I'll try! Please review/follow if you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: All characters and plot lines belong to J.K Rowling J

Chapter 3

It was a fortnight into the school year and the day of the Ravenclaw quidditch tryouts. As Luna picked up a golden triangle of lightly buttered toast, an army of Ravenclaws, abuzz with excitement, were betting chocolate frogs on who would be in the new year's team. Luna herself preferred to be another speck in the sea of blue-clad Ravenclaws, cheering in the stands, but hoped that with her outrageous outfits she was a great help in spurring the team on.

At the end of the table nearest the door was Cho Chang, who looked to be shaking as if a cold draft had moulded itself around her shoulders. Cho had been so distraught the previous year over Cedric's untimely death that she hadn't even thought of trying out for quidditch, even though she was the best seeker in the house. It looked as though she would be trying to regain her position again today though, because her friends were throwing various spherical fruits towards her as she tried frustratedly to catch them.

As Luna passed her on the way to transfiguration she gave her a reassuring pat on the back. From their experience at Dumbledore's Army, Luna decided she liked Cho, even though the previous year her face had been constantly decorated with glistening rivulets of tears and her eyes appeared to have had red paint fiercely scrubbed away around the edges.

Draco watched the phalanx of Ravenclaws having a genial but loud debate about the events of the Quidditch tryouts that would unfold that evening. He had never really understood why people got so excited about the sport, but as a first and second year had wanted to be a part of it so often boasted about his quidditch skills (that were really quite meagre) and had used his family's opulence to buy his way onto the Slytherin team. Draco could barely eat. He had an itch in his conscience, and he was afraid to scratch it because of what thoughts would come leaking out. Thoughts that could spur him to do something ridiculously moral and get himself and his family killed.

He walked away from the sight of food that was making him feel queasy, to his first class, Defence Against the Dark Arts, with only an asparagus flavoured jelly bean in his stomach. Hurriedly he had also slurped down some orange juice to abolish the disgusting taste of sugar and asparagus that swarmed across his tastebuds.

As Draco crossed the courtyard to his classroom, he felt slightly cheered up knowing that Snape would be teaching the lesson. Snape was kind of an austere but supportive uncle to him, as stupid as it sounded, especially since Voldemort had been welcomed into Malfoy Mansion and Draco had been given his task. The erstwhile potions master had so far been a skilful teacher, probably because he' been coveting the job for years. The fact that the bright sun had taken a bite of the misty sky seemed to depict that the day would be pleasant.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was engulfed in shadow as Draco strode through the open doorway. It seemed like Snape had decided to make the classroom feel more homelike to him by closing the blinds to give it the dingy appearance that the potions classroom had once possessed.

Draco was surprised to discover that he wasn't the first in the classroom. Blaise was sat in the seat next to his and was setting scrunched up balls of paper on fire. "Incendio." He muttered under his breath, and when the flames began to flourish too fiercely, he murmured, "Aguamenti." And a sizzling battle of water and flame commenced. Of course, the fire was always defeated, the only vestige of its existence being the charred parchment.

"Zabini, I know you're a wizard, there is no need for fatuous and simply unnecessary magic. Kindly stop." Snape growled, he seemed to be in a foul mood.

Draco slipped into the seat beside Blaise and raised his eyebrows at Snape's petulant behaviour, receiving an ambiguous smile in return. Blaise never really had much to say to him, apart from snide comments about the deluge of mudbloods that roamed the castle, which Draco had once laughed maliciously at these comments, but now felt sick at the thought of muggleborns being tortured within his own home. Those experiences had really changed his views; no-one deserved that treatment, apart from perhaps the Death Eaters who he was meant to support. Snape nodded at him in a way of greeting and then returned to scribbling something down on parchment, making a noise similar to that of a dormouse scratching at hardened dirt.

Soon enough, the classroom began filling up with sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors. Pansy waved enthusiastically at Draco who cast her a smile the shape of a crescent moon, which he didn't really feel. As Harry and Ron walked in, he instinctively scowled at Potter, who in turn was grimacing at Snape. Draco had once revelled in the rancour Snape felt for Potter, but now he realised it was deeper than just inordinate disdain, and it was not only bad for Potter but it was hurting Snape.

Once the class had settled down and the palpitating chatter had diminished into silence, Snape marched to the front of the class, his glowering expression never twitching. He pushed back his curtains of greasy hair to level his ears, as if he were drawing back the heavy curtains of a theatre stage to reveal a single morose actor. The play, of course, would be a tragedy, featuring Snape sweeping around the classroom in his black robes, the colour of a night without stars, which seemed to be woven from shadows, as if he were playing death himself. He spoke in his usual silky timbre, pausing for effect after certain words. "Welcome students, to another intriguing lesson of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Today we will be moving on from non-verbal spells, which many of you have mastered but some lack the skills." His gaze lingered on Harry and Ron as he languidly spoke the last three words. "We shall be learning about the more advanced and perilous dark arts that you will need to defend yourselves from."

"Maybe Malfoy should teach the lesson, I'd bet my meals for a week he's got an infatuation with the dark arts. It's no surprise his daddy's in Azkaban!" Ron muttered to Harry.

"And I'll bet he's Voldemort's right hand man." Harry whispered back. Unfortunately most of the class heard, including Snape. It was if they'd collected the vicious words in their hands and hurled them across the classroom at Draco.

Draco began to feel ill and a hot slush of anger began to churn within him. Snape fixated Ron, who looked instantly rueful, with a tumultuous glare as if he were about to explode. Being completely controlled by his fury, Draco flung his books off the table and stormed out of the classroom to the harsh tune of Snape's infuriated tirade of castigating Ron and Harry. He slammed the door vociferously behind him, making a noise as loud as a screaming mandrake; people viscerally put their hands over their ears or flinched at the clamorous noise. He raced through the corridors hoping the loud beating of his heart, the pounding of his feet on the ochre wood and his panting breaths would drown out the thoughts that were callously attacking his mind.

"It's no surprise his daddy's in Azkaban!" "I'll bet he's Voldemort's right hand man." "Surely he loves the dark arts."" "You're whole family should be in Azkaban." "Malfoy must be a death eater." "You're like the teenage embodiment of Voldemort!"

Some of the thoughts were things he'd heard people whisper in the corridor as he passed, some were thoughts of his own invention. He couldn't help but feel that ever since he's taken on the task of murdering Dumbledore, everyone knew about it. That everyone thought he was some kind of monster. He felt like a monster.

Draco, fuelled by intense ire, began shooting spells everywhere. Sparks of red, orange and purple ricocheted from the walls and ceilings as Draco released his anger which raged around the corridor like a bull in a bullring. "Calm down m'boy!" A bearded wizard shouted as he fled from his painting where trees were now in flames. A frail old lady was quivering alongside Sir Cadogan after narrowly escaping being blown to pieces. Her home painting had a hole blasted in the middle and ripped strips of canvas spouted out the sides like a mangled fountain. The sight of desolation just made Draco feel worse.

He ran down to the comfort of the Slytherin common room and didn't come down until tea, when the blissful smells of roast potatoes floated down to the dungeon.

After a day of tiring lessons, Luna was weighed down with fatigue; however she was eager to support her friends at the quidditch tryouts. As she took her seat in the stands she felt an insistent tugging on her sleeve. "Yes?" She said, not looking at the culprit.

"It's me! Madeline! I didn't think you'd be the type of person who liked quidditch; or anything that involved other people, to be honest." Madeline said, unnaturally quickly.

"Well there's certainly one person I don't like to be around." Luna murmured. She didn't usually mind people saying mean things about her and even though she knew it was unintentional, Luna was rather annoyed that Madeline was suggesting she didn't even want friends; this was a feeling she wasn't used to, at all.

"What?" Madeline said, that ridiculous grin still festering on her round face lie a disease. Luna didn't want to hurt her feelings, she supposed first years didn't think before they spoke.

"I said, I quite like the company of some people, now shh." She urged, as Cho Chang mounted her broom and rose into the air. Luna clapped fervently and coalesced Madeline to do the same. As it turned out, Cho was just as skilful as ever; it seemed the winged sphere of gold was constantly in her palm, like a strangely pleasant growth.

Luna spotted Madame Hooch and Flitwick on the ground below, also applauding enthusiastically. She excused herself from Madeline's presence, who wasn't shaping up to be a curious eagle, but rather an infuriating limpet, and made her way down to the pair. She was hoping to commentate the quidditch matches occasionally now that the much loved Lee Jordan had left the school.

When the tryouts had finished Luna made her way into the Great Hall for tea, just as the stars were being flung into the darkening sky.

Luna was reminded of a night outside in the forest near her home, with her mother. The sky had looked much the same as it did tonight, with stars winking down at them from their elaborate constellations. It had been such a fondly remembered night because her mother had been tending to an injured unicorn, a very rare but beautiful creature. Her mother had always been very skilled with healing magical creatures and Luna hoped to one day do the same.

It had also been the last night before her mother had died. Luna reticently held in her tears. She had to be strong; she had never let anyone see her cry before. Although she didn't care about what people thought of her, she didn't want to seem vulnerable.

She sat down next to Padma and distracted herself with talk of classes and quidditch.

After the meal Luna looked down at the modicum of pumpkin juice that had sought refuge on her shiny cobalt top, and was slowly snaking its way down to the bronze beak that protruded from it. She had made the top herself in preparation for the Quidditch games that would be happening throughout the year, and had charmed it so that an aquiline caw emitted from the beak every time Ravenclaw scored a goal.

She knew it would be easy enough to remove the stain with a simple cleaning spell but still wondered why the group of seventh year Gryffindors had found it so funny.

As Luna was making her way to Ravenclaw tower she passed Moaning myrtle's illustrious bathroom, known for being host to not only the morose, bespectacled ghost, but also the entrance to the macabre Chamber of Secrets. From in the room she heard muffled sobs and the sound of Myrtle screeching "At least you're not dead! I have to stay floating around this castle forever listening to the sound of toilets flushing!"

Luna edged trepidly into the room and peeped around the corner in time to see a blonde haired shadow stride across the room, his feet scolding the tiles and hiss, "Shut up, you don't understand what I'm going through." Before slouching enervatedly onto the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest and clamping his hand over his mouth to envelope the sound of his weeps as rivulets of water crept down his face.

It was Draco, and he was finally feeling the consternation and stress of the impossible task of killing Dumbledore. Inwardly he berated himself even though he knew the pressure would eat away at anyone's mind and drive them slowly and painfully down the path of insanity. He was acting like bloody Potter, with his thought of what was right and wrong.

Suddenly he heard a faint splash of water and took a sharp intake of breath. Had another student seen him in one of his most desperate and vulnerable moments?

"Who's there?" He shouted into the suffocating silence, wiping away a lone tear which was rolling down his face like tumbleweed in an abandoned desert.

Luna winced and stepped nervously around the corner. Draco threw his arms into the air in frustration. "Are you stalking me or something?" He said, narrowing his eyes.

"Or course not! Just because you purposefully bumped into me on the train doesn't mean I enjoy your company."

"Just get out. Please. And do me a favour and don't mention what you just saw to anyone."

"Why would I?" Luna said honestly. "I don't expect you to tell me anything, but if you ever want to talk to someone who won't judge you, I'm here."

"Why would I want to talk to someone who only thinks about blargles and hibbering numdingers?"

"You really think that's all I think about? Yes, a part of me is fascinated in the magical creatures that roam the Earth but I also think of other things. You thin I'm not scared about the fate of the Wizarding World? You think I don't mentally prepare for the war that is burgeoning on the periphery of the Wizarding community? Well that's where you're wrong." Luna delighted in the look of shock plastered on Draco's face.

"Your Ravenclaw is showing." Was all he could say, referring to her use of 'long words'. His eyes twinkled like jewels caught in a spider's web. Luna laughed quietly and said. "And by the way, it's nargles and blibbering humdingers."

Draco's expression turned to not quite a smile, but a slight tear of a frown. He seemed to consider something for a moment.

"Look, I'm sure you know my family are part of Voldemort's circle, and I've been given a task that I really don't want to fulfil. I need help and I want to do something. But I can't." He looked down at the floor.

"I know you hate him, but just talk to Harry. He is the chosen one of course, and I'm sure if you convince him of what you want, he'll help you." Luna suggested. Draco thought for what felt like eternity. "I am not talking to bloody Scarhead. You don't know what hatred feels like. Bloody loon."
"Are you sure it's hatred? I think it may be jealousy. Anyway, it was merely a suggestion." Luna said calmly. Draco was startled for a moment, before ire took over the feeling. "Jealous of Potter? Are you bloody joking? I am so much better than him in every-" Draco stopped abruptly, he realised what was happening. As much as it infuriated him, he needed Potter to bring Voldemort down and Lovegood had just opened up a gateway to him!

"You know what, okay." He said, grinning. The new revelation had made him so ecstatic that he uncharacteristically reached in to hug her, because she had given him an opportunity, and because she had decided to help him and be kind to him when no-one else had. He realised what he was doing at the last moment and pulled away, shuddering at the thought that he had been about to hug Loony Lovegood. And perhaps, he was shuddering to get rid of the thought that she was the only person who had tried to help him. He scurried back to Slytherin common room, the pallor of his cheeks transforming into light crimson.