Title: Sweet Lysander Part One Thick as Thieves
Chapter Title: VI
Summary: Draco looked as he always used to. Manicured, expensive, handsome--in that pale, pointed sort of way. "You've been practicing," Luna remarked, her knowing eyes belying the bland smile she offered him. And just like that, it slipped.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I also do not own Natalie Merchant or her works; my quoting of her lyrics is to enrich the fanfiction but not to profit by it.
Pairing: Draco/Luna; Eventual Draco/Astoria and Rolf/Luna
Spoiler Warning: I base everything in this story, to the best of my ability, to strict canon facts—and also what Rowling has mentioned in interviews about life after the books for the HP characters. Draco and Luna's somewhat love story is creative license, but I believe entirely plausible.

Alternate Warnings: Rating T is for swearing and eventual adult sexual situations. Also contains characters dealing with serious subjects like torture, death and grief, so standard angst warnings apply.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading.

Sweet Lysander

Part One

"Thick as Thieves"

VI

Draco Malfoy found that he hated the color purple.

"The Dark Lord's returning," someone whispered behind him. Might have been his mother. Might have been his aunt. He cared less and less these days. Thorfinn Rowle's eyes had been purple. The deep, bright, sparkling kind that made you think of amethyst.

The walls of the foyer in his home were purple too. The flickering light cast by the fireplace looked like wraiths. He wondered if one of them was Charity Burbage. He wondered if one of them was Dumbledore.

...I think of the happiest thing I can remember. And I relive it. Until it's a real feeling again...

He'd tumbled those words around in his head since Christmas Holiday, when Travers had first brought her here. It was the first day of Easter Holiday, and still he had yet to find a single happy memory strong enough to disappear inside his head with. Luna Lovegood was mocking him. Yet, he didn't have the energy to hate her for it.

"How long do we have?" his father hissed from near the fireplace.

"...We don't. He's here."

Draco would like to say he didn't shudder and cringe as Lord Voldemort swept into the room in a swirl of black robes; but, of course, if he did he'd be a liar as well as a coward.

Lord Voldemort let out an ear-splitting shriek. He whirled about and paced the room like an angry tiger. Everyone was silent, waiting. Unfortunately, Draco happened to be standing in the middle of the room, which eventually caught Lord Voldemort's attention. Suddenly, the Dark Lord's waxen, snake-like face was inches from Draco's. To his credit, Draco remained still, his gray eyes carefully averted, his back straight.

"Home for the holidays, is it?" Voldemort grated rhetorically.

"Yes, my lord," Draco murmured anyway.

Voldemort laughed. Draco could positively feel his mother's apprehension behind him.

"You're doing well at Hogwarts," the Dark Lord appraised.

"As my lord commands," Draco answered hollowly.

"Hmmm." Voldemort straightened, regarding him thoughtfully. "Draco," Voldemort hissed abruptly. "What do you know about the Elder Wand?"

Draco fought the urge to look him in the eye. "Nothing. Forgive me, my lord."

Voldemort grunted. "Ignorance can never be forgiven, little Death Eater. Only rectified. Come with me."

Amidst the ethereal swirl of his black robes, Lord Voldemort began to head down to the cellar. Draco felt sick and, though he heard his mother's stifled moan of objection, he followed. For you, Mother, I will do anything he asks.

Luna was still there. She eyed them as they descended, but Voldemort's gaze was fixed on the old man with the yellow skin and bulging eyes, the tremulous Ollivander the Wandmaker.

"Wandmaker," Voldemort began, sounding almost pleasant. "Where is it now?"

Draco's hand began to shake and nausea burst against the back of his throat. He took in a deep breath and concentrated.

Legilimens...his mind whispered. Luna? Behind him, she stirred, lifting her gaze towards him. Luna, don't move. Just listen. That thing you do. That thing where you disappear inside your head...do it now.

Ollivander's great, bulging eyes flickered between Voldemort and Draco. The old man positively shivered in fear. The Dark Lord repeated his question.

Do it now, Luna. You don't...you don't want to be here right now.

Voldemort straightened, and motioned to Draco. "On the girl, Draco, if you please. It did work so well last time."

Ollivander lunged forward but Voldemort flung him back with a lazy flick of his wand. "No! No, please! I don't know where it is!"

Draco turned to Luna, fighting to keep his hand steady as he raised it to her. She was staring at him, blue eyes wide with fear...and something else Draco couldn't name.

Do it now, Luna!

Luna lifted her chin, but kept her gaze trained on him.

Do it now!

Luna blinked slowly, looking almost sad as she kept her eyes focused on his face. "Only if you do," she whispered.

Voldemort turned, Draco bit his lip, something shattered inside of him, and he shouted: "Crucio!"

Her screams tore through the cellar, drowning out any answer Ollivander might have given.

***

It wasn't until Luna had gone home for the Winter Holidays that Draco even took note of Astoria Greengrass. For whatever reason, the Slytherin Prefect hadn't gone home for the holiday break and was one of the few students still loitering Hogwarts Castle as Draco and the dozen or so others who had been sent here by the Ministry continued their "community service".

It was the day after Christmas that Draco caught her making eyes at him. And, really, it was the eyes that made him look twice, when he had become so talented at ignoring everyone around him. A startling dark blue hue rimmed with long, thick black lashes. Everything else contrasted severely. Astoria Greengrass was pale, prettily freckled, and had a wealth of strawberry blonde hair that was more red than flaxen. The Greengrass family had always been notorious for breeding beautiful daughters, and this one was no exception. Even Daphne, Astoria's elder sister, who had studied at Hogwarts during the same years Draco had, was something to behold. Of course, Pansy Parkinson and her simpering had always made it somewhat difficult to notice, but it was a known fact.

However, while Daphne's eyes had been cat-shaped and bright green, Astoria's looked like amused, sapphire orbs. A large enough difference to set this young girl apart from her sisters and cousins; and what was more, she knew it.

Draco was in the Great Hall, accepting a glass of cool water before heading back to Professor Milf's classroom, where Draco had been painting walls and re-staining hex-scorched furniture when Astoria finally approached him. His robes were wrapped around his waist and his shirt was damp with perspiration. Once, he might have been mortified to show up in the Great Hall as disheveled and unkempt as he was today, but after five months of hard labor and malicious favor from every student in the castle, Draco was hard pressed to really give a shit.

Astoria didn't quite smile, and her smile wasn't quite coy; and Draco suddenly found himself liking that about her. She wasn't humble, but she didn't wear her pride like a shield either. She knew what she was and she didn't feel the need to prove it. Her offer was plain, but Draco would have to prove himself worthy of it.

A Pureblood game; one of silent courtship. Draco recognized it immediately. It was in the air between them, in the knowledge of her sapphire, laughing eyes, in the seriousness of her slightly up-turned mouth. Draco watched her approach as he quietly thanked the House Elf who had brought him water. This girl was different from her sister in more ways than just her eyes. Astoria sought challenge, when Daphne had been placated by the monotonous drone of the normal.

A dangerous game, for Astoria to seek a challenge with Draco Malfoy. He wished he could share her sense of adventure.

Astoria's eyes flickered when the House Elf backed away and popped from the room. She held out a folded piece of parchment, sealed with the Parkinson emblem. "Pansy asked me to give this to you."

Draco looked down at the letter held in her hand. He could smell lavender from where he stood, and he tried not to gag. Pansy had always smelled of lavender, overwhelmingly so. He hadn't spoken to her since she had expressed contempt for his parents when they had fallen from Voldemort's high regard.

Lazily, and with heavy-lidded eyes, he eventually dragged his gaze away from the letter she held out and back to her face. Her eyes were considering his reaction. Finally, she set the letter down on the table next to him. Before she turned away, he caught her eye and held it. Slowly, deliberately, he reached down with his fingers and swept them over the folded parchment, without actually touching the letter. Pansy's message to him caught fire in a blaze of green magic. Draco controlled it carefully, and soon, there was nothing left but a small pile of ash.

When he straightened, Astoria lifted her chin and there was an impressed gleam in her midnight, blue eyes. He left her then, and headed back to Professor Milf's office, contemplating his decision.

Astoria Greengrass was the first person he had shared the secret with that Draco Malfoy can, in fact, perform wandless magic as well as nonverbal spells.

Later that week, in the room that he and his mother shared in Hogwarts Castle, Narcissa Malfoy spoke to her son for the first time since he disrespectfully shook her off after the incident with Dean Thomas.

"Whatever you're doing with that Lovegood girl," came her unexpected and cool voice. "It's working."

Draco paused halfway to the chest of drawers where he was keeping his clothes. He had just returned from the showers and was readying himself for bed. Draco turned to stare at his mother, who sat poised at the edge of her bed. "How do you mean?" Draco asked belatedly.

"Apparently, she called for a sentence of 'Time Served' at the Wizengamot," she replied, glancing at him sideways with her dark eyes.

Draco narrowed his own eyes, the silver in them flashing angrily. "For whom?" he demanded.

Narcissa regarded her son coolly. "For us."

Draco's mouth fell open, which, at a sharp look from his mother, he closed again almost immediately. "I didn't ask her to," he said finally.

Narcissa looked away and stared at the far wall.

"I'm not using her," Draco said with more force. "I didn't even know she was called to testify."

Narcissa continued to ignore him. They both really were masters at pretending others at close capacity didn't exist. Draco couldn't tell if she was disappointed or if she approved, and it was infuriating him.

"I won't use her," Draco grated, balling his fists at his sides. "Not for this."

Narcissa looked at him then, though her expression was unreadable. "For what, then?"

Draco blinked, at a loss. "Nothing, Mother. For nothing. I'm not using her."

The lines around Narcissa's mouth tightened. "Then why, Draco? Why are you befriending her?"

Draco opened his mouth, but no answer was forthcoming. He took to examining his hands. "What about Father?" Draco asked finally, his voice barely a whisper.

"I don't know." Narcissa's reply was just as quiet. "We may have waited too long to defect."

To that, Draco had no reply.

***

I come to you in restless sleep
Where all your dreams turn bitter-sweet

***

Later that night, Draco tossed and turned in his bed; visions of Fiendfyre and death and nightmarish, torture-wrought screams attacking his dreams with venomous delight.

Legilimens...

Even in his sleep, he fought it. But the white hare won out anyway; and suddenly the screams quieted and all his mind's eye could see was the comforting shadow of the bluish-white Patronus.

Draco woke with a start, sitting straight up.

Luna was back.

Before he fully registered what he was doing, Draco found himself slinking down the dark halls of Hogwarts Castle. His footfalls were quick and silent; and soon, he was there: The Ravenclaw House.

The woman eyed him suspiciously, but seemed to have been expecting him because the door swung open without so much as a comment, much less a riddle. Draco entered, feeling suddenly nervous. If he was caught...

The common room was dark and empty. Draco knew that the students out on holiday wouldn't return for another couple of days. Draco turned in a circle, trying to familiarize himself in the dark. If this was anything like Slytherin House...then the Prefect's Quarters would be this way. Draco angled right and kept walking until he felt a slight breeze on his cheek. It was bitter cold, coming from some unseen window that was no doubt left ajar.

He followed it until he found himself in another room. He found the window that was open and crossed the threshold to close it. When he had it locked in place he turned--and froze.

Luna sat on the far corner of her bed in a long, white cotton flannel dress, her thick blond hair wild and spilling over the sheets. Her eyes were wide and shining in the dark and her soft mouth was unsmiling.

Slowly, she pulled the sheets back and waited. With a sigh of confused surrender, Draco moved forward and crept onto the bed with her. Together, they laid down, their eyes trained on the other's; and Draco was exceptionally careful not to touch her.

Luna folded her hands under her head and smiled.

Draco found himself smiling slightly in return. "Time Served?" he asked softly. "This hardly seems like a punishment to me."

Luna's grin turned cheeky before she took on a look of utmost severity. "They say," she whispered. "In Ireland, there are two types of Leprechauns."

Draco, stifling his laughter, attempted to look back at her with the seriousness she was regarding him with. "Do they, now?"

Luna nodded, her blue eyes twinkling. "Yes. One makes shoes and collects gold. This Leprechaun is very shrewd and business-oriented. The other, is rowdy and mischievous; he likes to steal things that do not belong to him and makes trouble for humans. Both like, very much, to drink alcohol. Daddy thinks they brew it themselves."

Draco peered at her. "All...right?"

Luna was gazing back at him with a peculiar look on her face. Her large blue eyes shining with some meaning Draco couldn't decipher. "I think they're the same creature," she said bluntly. "They just act differently under varying amounts of alcohol."

Draco frowned and shifted so he could stare at the ceiling and not her intense gaze. "So, what is that? A metaphor?"

Luna didn't answer and Draco continued to stare at the ceiling, listening as her breathing deepened and evened out. When he finally looked back at her, she was asleep. Draco reached out with the crook of one slender finger and pushed a wavy lock of hair out her face. Draco thought she looked like an angel. And, for the first time, the thought didn't bother him at all.

Draco settled back against the pillows, gazing fondly at the strange girl that had offered her friendship to him in the darkest trial of his life. "You make me unnaturally happy, Luna Lovegood," he whispered.

Draco finally drifted back to sleep, and his dreams were pleasant--albeit odd--filled with white hares and drunken Leprechauns. When he woke, as the first silvery rays of the dawning, winter sun shone through the window, Draco found himself wrapped safely in Luna's arms. His head rested in the crook of her arm, and her hand hung limply in his hair, as if she'd fallen asleep stroking it.

He left before she woke, feeling more rested and at peace than he had in over two years.