Chapter 6

Disclaimer: This all belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Many thanks to my beta, Melisse.

Draco was not happy.

Therapy (although he was loathe to admit that it was, indeed, therapy) was supposed to be helping him, wasn't it? Instead, he was starting to notice that he was not at all happy...with anything. Before Luna had dropped into his life, he had gone about his business with a certain amount of satisfaction. He had always gotten by. Now, it was as if he had woken up from a long nap and realized that he had been living a nightmare. No one knew him. No one cared what happened to him.

How had he allowed such a situation to develop? Malfoys were not part of a herd; they didn't just blend into anything, ever. Yet that was what he had been doing for far too long. He had to change that, right now. This could not be allowed to continue. Draco was not a drone. He had been the Sex God of Slytherin, dammit, at one point in his life! You didn't just earn a title like that by sitting back and letting people waltz all over you! Some kind of action needed to be taken, and fast.

Draco stared at his face in the mirror. He hadn't lost his looks, thank Merlin. He had his genes to thank for that. Obviously women still found him attractive. He tilted his chin up and glared at himself. He still had an imposing stare. Now he just had to get his confidence back. Somehow he had lost his nerve, or his drive. He clenched his fists. It was that damned Potter, always him. The very idea of his arch-nemesis soured Draco's mood instantly. He flipped off the switch in the bathroom with more force than necessary and nearly bruised his finger in the process.

Draco hadn't been paying attention to his wardrobe since his flight to America. His time on the streets had taught him about economy and necessity, and for some reason, he could never quite bring himself to care what he looked like anymore. Now, suddenly, as he surveyed his choices, he was displeased. He might not be rich, but he was no pauper, either. What had he been thinking when he bought this stuff? This wasn't dressing to his best advantage. If Draco knew anything, it was how to look good, and this stuff wasn't going to do the trick.

He felt more like his old self as he picked through the piles of his sad laundry with a jaded eye for fashion. When he found a red lumberjack's flannel...that was the final straw. Had he ever worn it in public? Draco tried frantically to remember. He resolved to go shopping as soon as he could manage it. In the meantime, he found a black turtleneck and a pair of jeans that would do nicely. He looked himself over in the mirror. Not bad, if he did say so himself.

It was a Saturday, so Draco supposed he should head over to Luna's. He didn't want to go, but they had an informal arrangement, and it would be bad manners to stand the poor girl up, after all. He wouldn't want to deprive her of his presence when she probably waited all week for it. He brushed his hair back out of his eyes and grabbed his coat.

Draco was there in no time at all, and when Luna heard him, she called out, "Draco? Come on in. I'm just making up a tincture. I'll be done in just a minute, if you don't mind waiting."

Draco took off his coat and tossed it negligently across the back of one of the unoccupied couches, since there didn't appear to be a coat rack. "I'll just make myself at home," he replied sarcastically, sitting in his spot.

"Please do, it'll just be a second. Remember that fairy I was telling you about? The one from last week? Well, the spell didn't work, so I had to make up this unguent because..."

"Spare me," he muttered witheringly. "Your fairy tales are really of no interest to me, Lovegood."

"Oh, but this one is just so interesting, you see. The fairy tore her wing because she..." Luna continued on doggedly.

"Luna!" Draco interrupted. "I said I don't give a sickle about your fairy! I am here. Don't you want to talk about me?"

There was a short silence. "What about you?"

Draco smirked. That was more like it. "Well, whatever. Isn't there anything you want to know about me? I'm sure you lead a dreary life here, and I am your most exciting acquaintance. So, go ahead. Ask me anything."

"How did your head get so big?"

Draco sat up and frowned. "What?"

Luna came over and smiled sweetly. "Nothing, Draco. I wanted to tell you before we start that this is going to be a big challenge for you today. It's going to be different from the last two, and maybe take you longer to figure out."

"I hope it's more fun," Draco muttered darkly.

Luna smiled. "I think that for you, it will be more fun, yes. Also, Draco, I think that you are doing remarkably well. Depending on how you do today, I should have a much better idea of how many sessions we have left."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "You mean, I'm almost done?"

Luna swallowed. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It depends on how you do on each challenge, remember? They are all different, so they'll be harder for you, or maybe easier, depending on personality and where the toxins left a mark. Let's just see how it goes. All I can say is that you should try your best to do the right thing every time."

Draco felt annoyed. Luna was so concerned about hammering home this message, like the moral in a children's story that she thought he was too stupid to understand. "I get it, Lovegood. Go ahead...do your worst. I will always come out on top." Draco didn't know why he was trying to rattle her with that choice of words, but he was. He held her gaze, a supercilious look on his face.

Luna got the point. Her white skin flared red, and she dropped her eyes.

A slow smile crossed Draco's face. Could Luna be harboring a crush on him? Oh, this was too good to be true. "What's the matter, Luna? Cat got your tongue?" he drawled softly.

Luna frowned into her lap. "Let's just get started, okay?"

Draco grinned. This was going to be fun. This was territory he could easily navigate. "Well, well, it seems as if the tables have turned. You are the one wanting to move fast now."

"Draco! Let's just do this right now." If anything, Luna's face was redder than before. She sounded a little desperate.

Draco should have taken pity on her. He knew what it was like to have the kind of complexion that gave you away like that. It was traitorous. Right then, however, he was simply enjoying himself too much to care about the cost to her. "If you really want to 'do this right now,' I am not one to stand in your way..." he trailed off suggestively. He loved it when he could use his victim's own words and throw them right back in their face like that! Luna must be pretty innocent to not have even seen that one coming!

Silence. He peeked up through the fall of his bangs, which he knew was a particularly devastating look for him. Luna was just sitting there, with her fingers threaded together, staring at her lap. She wasn't flirting back, or grinning at him. She was shaking a little. Draco felt what must have been remorse flood through him. She just looked so vulnerable and still sitting there, so pure, like a statue of marble. All of a sudden he felt like the world's biggest heel, and he desperately wanted to protect her.

Where were these thoughts coming from? He didn't want to protect anyone! No one was worth that, least of all some Ravenclaw. Or Gryffindor. Whatever. He shook his head to clear it. Luna was still sitting there, drawn in as if to protect herself from his verbal onslaught.

He cleared his throat. "Luna?"

She didn't look up.

He continued. "Uh, I may have upset you with some comments that were... more forward than I intended. It was only in jest, and I hope that you can get over that in order to finish my healing. After all, we are both adults here. It wasn't like I actually meant anything. Right. So, can we get back to the business at hand?" There, neatly handled, Draco thought. He hadn't actually apologized, but he'd let her know that she didn't have to freak out. It was a win-win.

Luna sat there for a minute, and Draco had to restrain himself from a few eye-rolls. A little bit of teasing, and she really took it to heart! This girl was psycho, all right.

Luna avoided looking at him. "Fine. Let's begin," she finally said.

Draco just closed his eyes.

He heard the noise before he saw it this time. There was a roar, and when he opened his eyes, he knew right where he was. He recognized the Quidditch pitch in the main stadium at Hogwarts. He was right in the center of it, all by himself. Except that it wasn't set up for Quidditch today. Chained to the ground, in the center of the stadium, was an enormous dragon. If Draco recognized the breed correctly, it was one of the fiercest. A Chinese Fireball. It looked mad.

The roar of the crowd shook him out of his state of shock. It looked like most of the school was there. Draco looked up, past the banners in Slytherin green and silver, to all of the people assembled to watch this spectacle. He recognized a few people. There was Professor Sprout, and Blaise Zabini. He saw Cormac McLaggen and a few other faces from various houses. So this was not current time. The faces looked younger, like he remembered them from his youth.

Draco should have been most concerned about the angry dragon in front of him, but there was a twisting in his gut. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the crowd yet. He scanned frantically, every row, every seat until...

Draco relaxed. He wasn't there. Potter was not there to watch him. Neither were his miserable sidekick toadies, the so-called Golden Trio. Draco didn't care to examine why it mattered so much what stupid Potter thought; he was just glad that he was free to concentrate on his task without having to worry about blundering in front of him. Not that he would, of course. He just didn't want to spare a thought for him.

A white-hot jet of fire rent the air, followed by an ear-splitting screech from the dragon. Draco ducked. Time to consider the problem at hand. The dragon was getting irritated. What was Draco supposed to do? This scenario, unlike the last one, was not very clear. He was standing there with a dragon. Now what?

The dragon began pacing. Its tail started lashing. The crowd sent up a few oohs and aahs. While Draco was trying to figure out what to do, the Fireball was getting impatient. Draco felt the familiar shape of his wand in his pocket, and didn't bother to spare a grin for Luna's unintended visual pun. She was, apparently, too innocent to see the double entendre that it was.

Maybe he had to kill the dragon? No, Luna had seemed pretty uncompromising on the idea that this was a moral exercise. So, killing was a last resort. Was the dragon hiding something? Maybe it was guarding treasure, like the egg that Potter had to get from the Triwizard Tournament? The idea that Draco had to step into Potter's shoes and do the same task made his blood flare. He could do it just as well as that scar-face and not be found lacking! If the whole school was watching, he couldn't lose! Draco took a deep breath. This was his worst nightmare...to be directly pitted against Potter and found lacking. He couldn't fail.

Draco took one look at that dragon, and the task seemed impossible. The dragon was getting really worked up, lashing back and forth. He was starting to pull against the simple silver chain that restrained him. How could Draco do this? It was mind-bogglingly difficult. He screwed up his courage. If Potter could do it, then so would he!

Draco took out his wand and tried not to shake. When the Fireball saw that, it whipped its head back and forth viciously. Draco felt like running, but he knew he couldn't. "Accio egg!" he shouted.

Nothing happened. The crowd murmured.

Draco felt sick. Perhaps it was not an egg, but something else? Draco tried to rack his brains. What had Potter done in this case? Called for his broom. Draco castigated himself. Stop thinking of Potter! Be your own man!

The dragon spewed a jet of fire right at Draco. In an instant, reflexively and without thinking, he countered "Aguamenti!" Water shot from his wand and helped to protect him. It felt good to do real magic, to not overthink and overanalyze. It reminded him that he had been good at magic, once.

Before he could get lost in nostalgia, disaster was upon him. Some of the water from his Aguamenti charm had inadvertently splashed the Fireball, igniting its rage to a higher peak than ever before. Draco watched, helpless, as the irate dragon shook itself into a fury and snapped the only tether holding it steady. It then raised itself to his full glory and turned on the source of its irritation: Draco. The crowd yelled in muted sympathy.

Draco's wits fled him. He was but a man in the face of a towering monster bearing down upon him. Draco's only thought as he stared into the maw full of sharp teeth was sheer terror. There wasn't anything he could do! He was powerless. This thought shamed him even as he was frightened. He didn't want to be scared, but he was. He squared his shoulders.

The Fireball moved with lethal, serpentine grace, and was over him in a crouch before he could blink. The heat radiated off of the iridescent scales like a furnace. Draco couldn't square his shoulders any more. He fell to the ground, the thin veneer of his dignity melted away like butter in the heat. He was nothing more than a coward. This thought pained him as he stared at the horror above him. He almost closed his eyes, so he wouldn't have to witness his own demise reflected in the shiny scales, but if he had, he wouldn't have seen the thorn.

From his vantage point underneath the dragon, a place rarely seen by the casual observer, Draco could see one of the few places that was unprotected on a dragon. The pad of the foot was a relatively tender spot, and this dragon had gotten a thorn lodged in one. Just before Draco's head was in the dragon's mouth, he shouted, "Accio thorn!"

The offending item flew free, and the dragon paused, cocking its head. It stopped and backed up. It examined the injured foot, then recoiled, at peace.

Draco lay his head down, still sprawled in the dirt. The dragon had just been in pain. Leave it to Luna to put a twist on an old children's fable.

The crowd cheered, but Draco found that he didn't need the accolades right now. He was worried about his cowardice. He didn't like how much fear he had shown. If Potter had been in his place...Hell, he had been...he would have done it with more finesse. Draco closed his eyes.

Luna was waiting. They both were quiet for a minute.

For the first time, Draco felt the need to ask. "So, how did I do?" He said it without any trace of irony or cynicism.

Luna didn't avoid his gaze. "You completed the challenge, you know that. But, Draco, you have some bigger dragons in your life than a Chinese Fireball to tame. If you don't, they will most certainly eat you alive."

This time Draco looked away first.