'We cannot attribute to fortune or virtue that which is achieved without either.'

Home for Christmas holidays, Draco Malfoy found himself once more unable to sleep. Even if he had the opportunity to have a nightcap before heading to bed, he most certainly wouldn’t have been able to sleep an easier. It wasn’t only just the fact the Dark Lord could show up any minute to order Draco to kill someone else or pay the price for his failure at any moment that left him sleepless. There were strange noises emanating through the floors and the walls of his bedchamber ever since the mansion became the headquarters of the Death Eaters. Every time he tried to sort out what the noises were, the further away from the truth he became.

Sitting bolt up in bed, Draco clutched the sheets tightly, feeling a sudden draft in the room as though it were haunted. Moans and the cry of a female in distress sent a chill up his spine. Since he normally slept without a stitch on, Draco decided he would be able to fall asleep better if he had something on. He drew on pyjama pants and a dark black robe, but instead of returning to bed, he wanted to see for himself that whoever was being tortured was some insignificant, ugly Muggle-lover, not a Dementor in his bedchamber.

Padding softly down the hallway on the plush red carpeting, he made his way down one of the unused staircases and continued downward. The crying increased in volume, echoing off the stone walls. He followed it past the drawing room, where a few Death Eaters sat talking and sipping wine. Where was this noise coming from?! Draco began to wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him. No one seemed bothered at all by the screaming.

Then his father appeared. His hand his sleeves rolled up and his knuckles were red with blood. ‘Good evening,’ he overheard him say to the other Death Eaters as he passed through the room and went to clean up.

Draco stole around the corner to the stairway leading to the cellar. No one was guarding this entrance and Draco stealthily crept into the dark. ‘Lumos,’ he whispered. He heard a girl sniffling and aimed his wand to the far corner of the cellar to see the haggard, limp form of a girl.

Approaching with caution, Draco was uncertain what to make of the situation. Obviously his father had been down here with the girl. He looked across the cellar to see Ollivander under a sleeping spell. Turning his attentions back to the girl, he wondered who she was.

The girl jumped when he touched her shoulder. He now saw the chains that kept her from being able to move very far. ‘It’s all right,’ he said, though he didn’t really know why he said this, if not only to satisfy his own curiosity.

The girl looked at him finally, through her long, tangled, dark blonde hair. Her eyes were questioning and full of a fear he knew all too well, or so he thoroughly believed.

She was so skinny and trembled when he brushed the hair from her eyes. It was then he saw the results of his father’s visit and the hint of the entire ordeal. Her lips was cut and bleeding and there were bruises all over her neck and arms that hinted at more underneath her ripped gown.

Even though Draco was cold, he slipped off his robe and put it around her, studying her for a moment with a furrowed brow. He could have sworn he recognised her. She just stared back at him, pleading with her eyes for him not to hurt her. ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said, not knowing why he was reassuring her for sure, except that he needed to place who she was.

Her name was on the tip of his tongue. He knew she was a witch from school, but when his eyes fell to the cement floor, he spotted her bare feet.

‘Luna,’ he gasped.

After everything that happened over the summer, Draco was incredibly glad to be back at Hogwarts. At least at school, he had control. Crabbe, Goyle, and the rest of the Slytherin crew were even more vicious in their attacks of mudbloods, halfbloods, and any Potter sympathizers. Crabbe and Goyle dispatched the physical violence, tripping, pushing and sometimes pounding those who they did not care to associate with. Pansy and Blaise did a good job of coming up with new taunts and pointing out the flaws in other students. As for Draco, he led them all, just as a good prefect out to. The other Slytherins, especially the younger ones, looked up to Draco and tried to mimic him in every way.

In addition to the mischief-making, which surprisingly did take up quite a bit of his free time, Draco also had to deal with Pansy’s ever-increasing advances. It wasn’t to say that he didn’t enjoy the attention, but every time things got heated between them, Pansy would make the mistake of mentioning their future, the rise of the Dark Lord, how proud she was of him, how sexy his Dark Mark was… This irritated Draco to no end and there were times that he would have to remove her forcefully from the room so that she would leave him alone.

Like most boys his age, Draco liked kissing and touching girls, but their mouths drove him up the wall. There were so many times that Draco wished he could just curse her mouth shut so he could enjoy her body without having to hear her talk. Even when she did shut up long enough to enjoy for a little while, Draco was frustrated in another way, knowing that they couldn’t go any further unless he was about to have his father arrange their marriage. Draco had no desire to marry Pansy.

Tonight was no different, but it wasn’t long after things got heated that Draco had to put their kisses to an abrupt halt. Pansy laughed at him and made derogatory comments about him. He didn’t appreciate the mention of Zabini being a better kisser. To get away from the embarrassment, he left the common room, wandering the halls even though it was not his turn to patrol.

He came upon four girls from Ravenclaw House, seventh-years like Draco, but he didn’t know their names. He had never cared to learn their names. The girls were teasing another girl, calling her names and saying things about her that he didn’t care to repeat.

‘Why don’t you do something about your hair, Loony? It looks like a rat’s nest and it’s so ugly like your face—’ he overheard one of the girl’s saying, but the rest was cut off from their laughter.

He had no idea why they were cornering her or why they felt the need to assert their dominance over the girl, but when he spotted that it was Potter’s friend, Luna, he understood why. However, the girls’ taunts were nothing to do with Potter.

‘The cork thing is so over with. I mean can’t even try to find something cool?’

‘No wonder your stuff goes missing. It’s so stupid—’

‘And lame—’

‘Even the House Elves have to steal it so they can burn it!’

The girls continued laughing and mocking Luna and Draco just watched them from the shadows. He had seen worse in his time, initiating most of it himself, but while their cruelty amused him at first, what marvelled Draco was the fact that Luna just took their unkindness as polite advice.

‘Thank you,’ he heard Luna say. ‘Perhaps you could help me to learn what is cool and what you would recommend—’

The girls just laughed. ‘Why would we help you, Loony—crazy freak!’

‘You’re such an idiot. It’s a wonder they put you in Ravenclaw!’

The girls just laughed, linking arms as they walked away. ‘We should make a Hate Loony Club!’

Luna picked up the butterbeer cork necklace the girls tore from her neck, carefully laying the pieces in her satchel. She hummed to herself as she did so, outwardly unaffected by their malice.

Draco did not understand her. Anyone else would have fought back or cried or…something. ‘You’re just going to let them get away with that?’ he said, astonished as he walked over to her.

‘Hello, Draco,’ Luna replied with a smile on her face. ‘Would you like to help me with this?’ she asked as though he were one of Potter’s friends.

‘Help you?’ Draco blinked. ‘Why would I help you?’ Why was she asking him, a Slytherin, a Death Eater, for help? He stooped over and picked up a few pieces as he contemplated her motives.

Luna continued humming an upbeat tune and after a little while held out her hand, palm up, toward him.

Draco stopped what he was doing and stared at her palm. Looking at her, he furrowed his brow. ‘What?’

‘The corks—’ she replied softly.

‘Oh, right—’ He dumped the butterbeer corks he unconsciously picked up into her hand.

‘Thank you,’ she said sweetly, offering him a sincere smile.

‘You’re welcome,’ he automatically replied, rising stiffly to his feet as she gracefully returned to her feet as well. And with that, Luna skipped down the hallway, singing to herself.

Draco stood, flabbergasted, in the middle of the hallway, watching her skip away. ‘She’s off her head…’ he murmured.

Not long after the train left the station, his compartment door slid open. It was the mad girl, Luna. ‘What do you want?’ he demanded.

Luna looked at him with her large glassy eyes. ‘I’m looking for my shoes. Have you seen them?’

‘They’re not here. Go away.’

‘Thanks anyway!’ Luna said cheerfully before leaving.

Draco stood up and it was only then that Draco looked to her feet to find that they were bare. ‘Oy!’ he called out to her.

Luna spun around and wandered back over to the compartment. ‘Yes?’

‘Why did you take them off in the first place?’ he asked.

Luna looked at him quizzically. ‘Because I don’t sleep with shoes on! That’s silly!’ She laughed, shaking her head.

Draco crinkled his nose as he looked at Luna. ‘How long have you been without shoes?’

‘Since…November, I think,’ she surmised. ‘They’ve disappeared.’

‘You walked in the snow without any shoes to get to the train?’ he asked, thinking that was not only odd, but also rather pathetic.

Luna raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes, of course. It’s not like I can fly or something!’

‘But it’s freezing outside! You’re insane!’

‘Well that’s why I’m looking for my shoes…’ Luna kindly explained.

‘I don’t have them,’ he said curtly, now getting a little defensive though it was clear she wasn’t accusing him of stealing the shoes. ‘Haven’t seen them.’

‘All right,’ she replied, smiling once more. ‘Thanks for your help,’ Luna added before closing the compartment behind her.

Draco tore his eyes away from the door, folding his arms gruffly as he wondered why it bothered him so much that Luna had no shoes. He knew those seventh-year girls were responsible for it, them and their hate club. He didn’t know what bothered him more, the fact Luna was so clueless about their behaviour and responsibility, that they ought to be held accountable for their harassment or that he cared at all about that stupid sixth-year Ravenclaw girl. He had no idea that this would be the last time he saw Luna smile.

‘Luna,’ Draco repeated her name again. ‘I’ll—I’ll be right back,’ he said swiftly before heading back up the stairs.