The very next morning, Draco put Step Two of his plan into action. Recruiting Luna to be his accomplice had gone exactly to plan – in all the ways that mattered, that was, he reminded himself as he trudged down to breakfast between Crabbe and Goyle. The opening hostilities had been inevitable, really, but at least neither of them had gotten hurt, which would have defeated the point of the meeting. And even though Luna still harbored serious doubts about his honesty, that was what Step Two was all about – convincing her that he meant business, so she would convince Potter to trust him.
As he entered the Great Hall, Draco found himself scanning the crowd of grumpy, early-morning students for a pair of sparkling blue eyes, a serene smile, and a cloud of honey-blonde hair. Once he realized what he was doing, though, he deliberately directed his attention away from the Ravenclaw table (where Luna had not yet appeared). Step One had gone off perfectly. He wasn't going to unnecessarily complicate Step Two (and all the steps to follow) by developing some sort of attachment to his accomplice.
It wasn't like they were friends, or ever would be.
Draco halfway listened to the chatter around him. As ever, Pansy Parkinson appeared at his elbow and stared up adoringly at him. Draco grated a smile he didn't feel in her direction, relieved when she joined in Crabbe and Goyle's conversation. The two of them had barely scraped together enough OWLs to remain in Hogwarts, and although they were taking the most numbskull classes, like Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, they still complained of being overwhelmed. Draco, was who taking every advanced class available (and whose scores, Professor Snape had commented the day before with ill-concealed surprise, had been the highest in Slytherin House), would normally have dropped some scathing comment about the complexity of Professor Trelawney's so-called homework, but with his mind full of schemes for Step Two, he didn't even bother to tell his friends off. He just tuned them out and let his mind wander…
The day after Lord Voldemort had recruited Draco for the impossible mission of murdering Hogwarts' Headmaster – a task Draco knew he was meant to fail at, to the ruin of himself and his parents – Draco had decided to put his considerable skills to work saving his life (and his parents' lives). As his OWLs proved, Draco was smart, but he had more than the bookish intelligence of Hermione Granger: He was canny. Smart enough to recognize his limits as a wizard and not to push those (when he could avoid it). Smart enough to surround himself with capable allies because he knew he couldn't defeat his enemies alone. Smart enough to enlist Aunt Bella in his plan without giving away his true intentions. Smart enough to select an accomplice Potter would trust, even over the protests Draco knew Granger and Weasley – and probably everyone else in Potter's do-gooder, save-the-world set – would raise.
Therein lay Draco's real gift: He understood people. He had always been an observant boy, one who didn't just see – he looked at people, tried to get inside their heads, as it were. Convincing Potter that he had switched sides would be no easy task, because Potter, Draco had observed, quite conveniently split the world into black and white, evil and good. He, Draco, fell solidly in the "evil" camp so far as Potter was concerned. To protect himself and his parents, Draco couldn't openly disavow Lord Voldemort's mission, thereby casting off the traits that caused Potter to despise him.
So Draco had to attempt something far more dangerous – and he had to bring Luna along for the ride, as his witness. He had determined within hours of the Dark Lord's "request" that the only way to save himself was to bring Lord Voldemort down, and the person most likely to do that was Harry Potter, the Chosen One. Yet the only way Draco could see to ally himself with Potter was to strike a heavy blow against the Dark Lord – a blow the most accomplished Legilimens in the history of the wizarding world would not suspect came from Draco, while still a blow that would impress Potter.
Draco had mulled over what form that blow should take for weeks. He was limited, obviously, by his abilities as an underage wizard; even with Aunt Bella's training, Draco knew he wasn't a match for half the people in Lord Voldemort's entourage, certainly no one in the inner circle. What could he do to the Death Eaters that Potter would find sufficiently courageous, to convince him Draco Malfoy was no longer his mortal enemy – without getting Draco killed or exposing his plot in the process? Draco's thoughts had immediately turned to Aunt Bella. After all, she'd murdered Potter's godfather; Draco was certain even Dumbledore's golden boy wanted revenge for that. But Draco wasn't foolish enough to attack his aunt. Her loyalty was only to the Dark Lord. If she scented treachery in Draco, she'd kill him in a heartbeat – and he knew he wasn't powerful enough to stop her on his own.
Continuing in the same vein, Draco had for a few days toyed with the idea of delivering up the corpse of Peter Pettigrew, the rat-like little man who had handed Potter's parents over to their greatest enemy. There again he ran into problems, though, since Pettigrew – who wasn't a match for Draco in his own right (he wouldn't have been a match even for a Squib like Filch, really) – rarely left his master's side. Draco was sincerely hoping not to encounter the Dark Lord again until he'd become much more skilled at Occlumency (something he was practicing every night) so that he could not only make his mind blank, which he'd already perfected, but also could control whatever emotions might betray his real intentions, laying his betrayal bare.
Draco had almost convinced himself that he could find some way to separate Pettigrew from his master when it occurred to him that Potter would likely pity the disgusting little coward too much to take pleasure in his murder. Thinking about Potter's rather stomach-turning goodness, Draco had finally touched on an acceptable target for his attack. Because he knew, from years of watching closely, that what Potter most desperately wanted was not revenge: It was to stop Voldemort.
If Draco could take down a truly dangerous element of the Dark Lord's army, and if Luna was there to see it, he just might succeed in winning Potter over.
So Draco had selected his target and had spent much of the summer preparing for this first, all-important offensive. But Step Two wasn't just about going after his target. He still had a lot of preparations to make, and unfortunate though it was, those preparations started with earning himself a detention.
When Luna woke the next morning, she wasn't entirely sure if she could trust her memories. Had she dreamed the whole midnight encounter with Draco Malfoy? The bruises faintly circling her wrists served as some evidence; tracing them with her fingertips as she absent-mindedly pulled on her robes, she remembered with a small shiver the ferocity in his ice-blue eyes as he'd paced the floor, asking for her help and loathing that he needed it. She suspected Draco would hate needing anyone's help, but she knew he hated needing Harry's most of all.
And why had he come to her, as if she had some influence over Harry? That was the part Luna couldn't quite figure out. In fact, she had almost talked herself out of believing the meeting had really happened, bruises or not, when she stepped from the Great Hall after breakfast, her thoughts a million miles away from school, and her gaze crashed into Draco's.
He was standing on the grand staircase a half-dozen steps above her, his long, slender fingers resting lightly on the banister as he stared down, his eyes finding her with seemingly no effort even in the throng of students hurrying toward their first classes. In that instant, everything he'd told her the night before was undoubtedly real; Luna knew it had happened, and she knew, though it set her heart to hammering, that much more was soon to happen.
Draco inclined his sleek blonde head toward her ever-so-slightly. Luna managed a curt nod in response. Then he was moving off with his friends, those awful thugs Crabbe and Goyle and that horribly clingy Pansy Parkinson, leaving her trembling from the force of their momentary, silent encounter.
He was serious about this, that much she could tell. Whether or not he meant to deceive her was another matter, of course. If she went along with him and he was lying…Hurrying off to Ancient Runes with Ginny beside her, chattering away about her boyfriend Dean Thomas' latest annoying habit, Luna consoled herself with the knowledge that she wasn't important enough for Draco to go through all this trouble just to have her expelled. If he was lying, he had to believe she wouldn't see him through him – he had to be using her to get close to Harry, and Luna would never let that happen. If she realized he wasn't telling the truth, she would…
Well? a small, rather smug-sounding voice demanded from deep inside her. What will you do? How far would you go to protect yourself – how badly would you hurt him?
"Luna?"
Snapping back to reality, Luna realized she'd walked straight past the classroom. Ginny was calling to her from the doorway, puzzled. Luna offered up her best dreamy smile. "Sorry," she breathed, in a passing imitation of her usual serenity. "I was thinking about...something else."
Ginny didn't ask for explanations, either because class was starting or because (as Luna suspected was the case) she was afraid the explanation might involve Nargles.
The day crawled by. Luckily, Luna's teachers were all accustomed to her daydreaming; her classmates hardly snickered when Professor Flitwick had to shout at her to watch what she was doing – she'd been zooming lighted candles all over the room with the Hover Charm she'd already perfected during DA meetings. Even supper, which Luna usually enjoyed, seemed endless.
But at last, the moment of truth arrived. Luna had lingered over her pudding until the Great Hall was close to empty, as she'd been instructed the night before. The last stragglers were now heading toward the staircases, reluctant to dive into the piles of homework that awaited them. Luna hung back, almost painfully aware of Professor McGonagall standing just inside the doorway, the only teacher left in the room, as always –
"Hey, Loony!" The sneering, velvet voice made Luna wince even though she knew it was coming. She spun around, her fingers reflexively clenching around her wand.
Draco was standing a foot behind her, handsome and imperious, flanked by Crabbe, Goyle, Parksinson, and a handful of other sniggering Slytherin sixth-years whose names Luna didn't know.
He folded his arms across his chest and regarded her with cold disdain. "I hear that rag your father puts out has been supporting Potter."
Luna didn't respond. She could feel the back of her neck burning as students hesitated in the doorway, scenting a fight. She was glad Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and her other friends in the DA were already gone, or she was sure a real fight would already be erupting.
"Well, since you seem to be on such close terms with him, would you mind giving a message to 'The Chosen One' for me?"
Luna surprised herself by speaking clearly, fearlessly. "About what?"
Draco's eyes flashed – with what, Luna couldn't tell exactly, though she had a wild thought that it was a warning, a warning to remember what he was about to do so she could brace herself –
His words, however, were laced with malice. "About what happens to anyone who opposes the Dark Lord."
With that, Draco slashed his wand toward her. Luna did exactly as he'd instructed: She remained perfectly still, her eyes wide open, as the curse winged toward her.
"Sectumsempra!"
The pain slashed across Luna's right arm, yet she knew at once he hadn't hurt her badly. Nevertheless, the spell seemed to electrify the air. The students lingering beside the door gasped in shocked horror; Professor McGonagall charged through them, her face bone-white with fury.
"Draco Malfoy, what is the meaning of this?" she shrieked, grabbing Luna's arm. She muttered a spell that instantly staunched the free flow of blood from a deep gash across Luna's forearm.
Draco's cold blue eyes found Luna's. She saw something akin to an apology there, but also a silent plea for her to play her part. His words from the night before echoed in her mind: "It has to be something bad enough to land us in detention for at least a couple of weeks, not just another fight…"
"I'm all right, Professor." Luna spoke brightly, as much for Draco's benefit as the teacher's – she wanted him to know she wasn't hurt all that much. The wound barely stung, in fact.
Though her face was still clouded with rage, McGonagall turned a kind gaze toward her. "Are you sure, dear? That was a deep cut."
Luna glanced down at the pink, puckered skin of her forearm. "Maybe I'd best go to the hospital wing," she suggested.
"I think that would be wise." McGonagall steered her lightly toward the doors, looking back over her shoulder at Draco, who hadn't moved a muscle. "You run along, dear, while I talk to Mr. Malfoy about using spells his aunt Bellatrix sees fit to teach him."
Luna took two steps away from McGonagall, whose attention immediately returned to Draco and his smirking crowd of admirers. Luna aimed her wand directly at Draco, who seemed oblivious to her as he laughed with his friends, and called in a ringing voice, "Petrificus totalis!"
Immediately, Draco fell to the floor, his limbs rigid. The Slytherins behind him growled; Crabbe and Goyle lifted their wands, but McGonagall shouted for order, and that, for the moment, stilled them. Casting a scorching glare over her shoulder at Luna, McGonagall released Draco from the Body-Bind curse with a flick of her wand.
"Now, that's quite enough," McGongall began. But Draco leapt to his feet, ignoring her calls for him to lower his wand, and aimed a Leg-Locking jinx at Luna, who (because she was expecting it) danced easily to the side.
"Stop this at once!" McGonagall cried. She was positioned between Draco and Luna, both of whom were now casting jinxes at one another that, though narrowly missing, were not missing the other students. Those nearest the door, mostly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, ran screaming toward the staircases; the Slytherins, however, were trapped behind Draco, and Luna felt a thrill of satisfaction as her spells hit everyone except Draco. The big bully Crabbe went down to a Body-Bind curse, and the sniveling Pansy Parkinson narrowly escaped a stunning spell that ricocheted off a suit of armor and sent a nameless sixth-year thug sprawling. All the while, Luna was effortlessly sidestepping Draco's curses, just as they'd choreographed the night before in that small, cave-like room.
It was, she had to admit, almost fun.
The duel seemed to be happening at a blinding rate of speed, yet McGonagall stood in shocked silence for less than half a minute before roaring, "Enough!" Her furious yell was followed by a wave of her wand; had she been a moment sooner – and had Luna not been watching for exactly this instant, as Draco also seemed to be – they would have been disarmed easily.
As it was, in the same moment Draco and Luna spun their wands on the Head of Gryffindor House, whose mouth flopped open in astonishment, and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
Professor McGonagall hit the floor with a dull thud. Her wand rolled across the stone floor to rest against the toe of Draco's trainer.
Luna's heart fluttered, hesitated, and then began to pound. Oh, she'd done it now – used magic against a teacher. Tears sprang to her eyes, the excitement of a moment before leaving her in a dizzying rush. Her wand fell limply to her side. It had all been part of the plan, of course, but suddenly, gazing down at Professor McGonagall's stunned expression, where the combined force of their spells had knocked her off her feet, Luna was no longer convinced by Draco's assurances that they wouldn't be expelled for disarming a professor.
McGonagall recovered quickly, evidence, Luna sincerely hoped, that they hadn't injured with the simultaneous spells or her unintended fall. Around them, the Great Hall was absolutely silent. Whatever the Slytherins who had remained to watch Draco tormenting Luna thought of Minerva McGonagall, not one of them was brave enough to so much as crack a smile while she climbed carefully to her feet and fixed her attackers with a terrifying glare.
Luna could all but hear her frantic heartbeat in the stillness. She hadn't been so frightened since the night in the Department of Mysteries when the Death Eaters had fell upon them – and at least then she'd known she was on the right side…
She couldn't bring herself to look at Draco as she knelt to pick up Professor McGonagall's wand with nerveless fingers. The hem of his robe brushed the top of her head as she straightened back up and silently extended the wand to McGonagall, who snatched it away from her wordlessly. Draco didn't feel frightened, Luna noted; in fact, she could sense the unwavering arrogance she'd only ever seen slip the night before rolling off of him in waves. She could just picture the superior gleam in his ice-blue eyes, even as he kept his face perfectly neutral, not inviting more trouble than they were already in.
In spite of herself, Luna admired his self-assurance.
"Headmaster's office," Professor McGonagall barked, her eyes snapping. "Now."