Chapter 1.

Draco Malfoy could see three things wrong with the situation he found himself in as the Hogwarts Express tore over the countryside. Firstly, Luna Lovegood was in the Slytherin carriage. Secondly, as little attention as he paid to patently mad and blatantly mis-sorted Ravenclaws, even he knew that Lovegood never frowned, yet that was the expression which currently darkened her usually bright features. Thirdly, her hand was on his arm and she was talking to him about Potter.

The situation was so startling that Draco found he had allowed her to prattle on for several moments before he gathered the scattered pieces of his Malfoy sneer, wrenched his arm from pale, slight fingers and decided on stilling her blather with a clever and scornful comment. Unfortunately, his voice seemed to ignore the decision and all he managed was a rather confused, "What?"

The frown deepened and that damned hand was back on his arm, but this time it clutched at the sleeve of his robe. When she spoke again, her voice was little more than a whisper, though they were sat quite apart from the other students. "Harry Potter needs your help."

"So go and find the weasel and the mudblood," said Draco, too off balance to summon anything more than confused exasperation. "They'll be flashing their prefect badges and corralling the first years. Front carriage. Off you go."

But the lunatic was shaking her head. "No, Draco. He needs your help."

Maybe it was the idea of Gryffindor's Golden Boy needing something from him – a debt is always handy after all. Perhaps it was that uncustomary frown which didn't sit well with Lovegood's radish earrings. Maybe she'd cast a silent, wandless Imperius. Or maybe it was the way she said his name; as though the idea of he, Draco – not Malfoy, not the Slytherin Prince, not the Son of Death Eaters – just the idea of Draco helping someone wasn't ridiculous.

Whatever the reason, brief minutes later Draco Malfoy entering a compartment in the Gryffindor carriage. He closed the door behind him, his hand on his wand, just in case. It fell at what he saw.

Harry Potter was asleep but he looked far from peaceful. His face was a mess of bruises. His lip was split. His nose was bleeding. The neck of the oversized T-shirt he wore hung low enough that Draco could see ribbon-like red welts which he suspected extended far beyond where he could see. Draco could also see the boy's too-sharp collar-bones.

"Why would Granger and Weasley leave him looking like this?" Draco asked. His voice was composed despite the strange sense of - he didn't know what to call it - running through him.

Luna sat opposite the sleeping boy, but leaned forward and brushed a dirty length of black hair away from Potter's closed eyes. "He didn't look like this earlier," Luna replied, never taking her large, sad eyes from the boy's face. Her voice was small and scared when she continued. "There are so many alpies around him."

"Are you saying that someone did this to him today? Are there even spells that can emaciate someone this quickly?" In the back of his mind, Draco heard his father's voice admonishing him for displaying his ignorance. After all, there was a big difference between asking questions and demanding answers.

Luna's head shook, her hair catching the light of the afternoon September sun. "That's not what I meant. When he got on the train he looked like he looks. All smiles and happy and great-to-see-yous. His pretending is always good. Today it wasn't his usual standard, but good enough to stop eyes sticking more than usual."

Draco would have rolled his eyes if he could have taken them from the broken boy before him. "Do your best impression of a Ravenclaw, Lovegood, and make sense."

Luna's voice went flat as she took the colour from her words. "He always looks fine, but he hasn't really been fine. Not for a while. I don't know if the glamour is a recent addition to his pretence, but he was wearing one today. When Ronald and Hermione left to see to the first years, he struggled for a while to stay awake. I pretended to fall asleep so he wouldn't feel bad… He always tries really hard to not be rude to me…"

Draco could sense a tangent coming so he cut her off. "And when he fell asleep the glamour dropped. Right." Draco took a breath to get his thoughts in line. Harry Potter, boy wonder, was beaten, bloody and unconscious. He was completely at Draco's mercy with only Luna Lovegood between them. Yet he did not move to take advantage of the opportunity.

"Why have you brought this to me?" Draco asked the girl eventually.

Luna finally looked away from Harry's face and met Draco Malfoy's eyes. "Because he's covered in alpies. I knew you'd understand best."

Draco rubbed at his temple and clenched his jaw. At some point he'd have to have a word with himself and demand to know why in the name of Merlin's saggy nutsack he hadn't yet called Crabbe and Goyle to accompany him in hexing Wonder Wizard into oblivion. "Alpies?" he almost spat the word.

She still held his eyes, "Mean little mists. They feed on the pain of abhorrence and abuse. He didn't have them last term."

"Oh for the love of -"

Luna cut off Draco's angry mutter with a soft, sad whisper. "You had them too … after Christmas in our second year. A vicious vapour. They ate your pain while the pain ate at you."

Draco felt ice crawl through him, worse than any Dementor attack. Second Year. Father's Christmas party. Pansy holding out a glass to him while others danced. The bitter aftertaste. And more bitterness to follow.

Draco's Slytherin stoicism was no match for the bludgeon of Luna's words or his own memories. She couldn't know.

Draco Malfoy raised his wand and kept his eyes fixed on those of the young woman before him.

Luna Lovegood smiled reassuringly and nodded. "Good idea. That will be quicker than words and convincing."

"Legilimens," said Draco.

Severus Snape could see three things wrong with the situation he found himself in as the Hogwarts Express tore over the countryside. Firstly, thanks to the increased number of Death Eater attacks and a metaphorical short-straw, he was aboard the Hogwarts Express with a pink-haired Hufflepuff who wouldn't shut up. Secondly, something had been twitching and itching at the corner of his magic ever since he'd apparated to Platform 9¾. It felt like iron filings beneath his skin were being tugged at by a magnet. Thirdly, Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him with several hairs out of place and talking about Potter.

A/N

This is my very first fanfiction in any genre. Hell, it's the first piece of writing I've ever held up for the world to poke at. I hope you like it. If you do, please let me know. If you didn't, be nice and constructive. I started this over on AO3, and people there pointed me in this direction.

To get me started I'm playing with clichés and stuff I like.

Any tips on making buddies in these parts would be happily received.

Be nice!