Written For:
- 2017 Drabbles: Mansion
- Great AU Competition R1: Voldemort Wins!AU / Prompts: (colour) Yellow, (word) Dangerous, (dialogue) "When in doubt, make tea."
- Writing Club: Lyric Challenge - "Well, you forgave and I won't forget"
Word Count: 2,296
When the Heart Guides the Hand
Kiss me; it'll heal, but it won't forget.
It had been years since Harry Potter was murdered at the age of fourteen by Lord Voldemort, and Luna Lovegood didn't quite know why she was still alive.
Most of the people of the Light left in Britain were either herded into prisons like sheep, or subjected to brutal, inhumane experiments the way Muggles and Muggleborns were. Children and students of Hogwarts were no exception to the cruel new regime, but some people were spared—if the remaining Death Eaters took a fancy to them, that is. On such occasions, they were kept as little more than household pets.
Luna had been imprisoned since she was snatched away from Hogwarts in her third year. The man impersonating her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had whisked her out of the crowds the moment the two dead bodies returned from the maze with Lord Voldemort. Your work is done, the terrifying, snake-like voice had hissed over the rumble of voices.
The Crouch Mansion had been a large and menacing abode. Heavy, musty curtains had hung over every window, and every surface had been covered with a thick layer of dust. No one had been there for a long time, it seemed.
Thirteen-year-old Luna had hovered quietly in the corner, wondering why her professor had taken her out of school. She watched as Mad-Eye Moody fell into a nearby chair, his body weight beginning to shrink considerably, the wooden prosthetic falling from his thigh as a new leg grew in its place, and light brown hair sprouting from the thin patches of grey on his scalp. Finally, the man was no longer the teacher she had begun to know, but an unknown person who had kidnapped her, and probably assisted in bringing You-Know-Who back.
oOo
By the age of seventeen, Luna had mastered the art of cleaning and cooking like a Muggle. Her wand had been confiscated and snapped the minute Barty Crouch Junior had exposed his true self, and she had been put to work. Not once did she question him as to why he had taken her, or why he hadn't killer her.
When Barty left Luna alone in the mansion, sometimes for days on end, she would be able to switch on the radio and tune in to the secret radio station that Lee Jordan had set up with the Weasley twins. After the demise of Fred Weasley, Lee had continued running it with George alone, to much personal risk. Fred had been murdered by Lord Voldemort after the Death Eaters had briefly managed to take charge of the radio station—but George and Lee had returned it to air, having taken more cautious security measures. All it took was a select few words, and you could tune into the station. The password was released inconspicuously as the hosts spoke every week.
The station wouldn't talk about much, other than the missing, the dead, and those who were alive and safe. Every week, Luna listened for familiar names—Ron, Neville, and Ginny, who were always listed under missing; the confirmed dead—Hermione, Cho Chang, and her father; and the safe—this list was constantly shrinking. Each week, Luna's name would crop up under missing, and she wished she could speak through the radio to let them know she was alive and well. Without her wand, however, communication was impossible.
Despite that, Luna had held her chin up and got on with her life. She was fairly well-cared for, especially considering the things that her missing friends were going through. She had overheard Barty speaking through the fireplace with a fellow Death Eater before, and she could have sworn that the name 'Longbottom' was mentioned. She hardly dared to imagine what some of the worse Death Eaters put their victims through.
Aside from forcing her to cook and clean, the only thing Barty did was to put her through his various quirks. Mostly, he ignored her, which Luna didn't mind—he was emotionally unstable, and if she didn't get out of his way during an episode, she was usually the brunt of his rage. Being on the receiving end of an outburst was never enjoyable.
The quirks were harmless. He wanted her to wear yellow on Wednesdays and Sundays. She had to make tea at seven in the morning every third week of the month, but coffee during the other weeks. She was to clean the house in a clockwise motion one day, and anti-clockwise the next. Plates were to be no more than nine centimetres in diameter. The curtains had to remain closed at all times, and so on.
After a while, Luna had gotten used to his routines and regimes, and performing them correctly each day ensured that she led a fairly quiet life. But it wasn't living—it was just surviving. She would dream of escaping Barty's clutches every day, but she knew that the world was worse outside of the confines of the mansion—especially now that Death Eaters roamed the streets freely.
oOo
When Luna turned twenty, things had become different.
England had become a dangerous shred of its former glorious self. The streets were lined with ghostly buildings with boarded up windows and blackened bricks, and rarely did a soul wander onto the empty streets. The death toll had reached its highest ever point, and the radio station that Luna used to listen to had long since turned into nothing but static. She didn't dare imagine who else could have been murdered that she had known.
The Muggles that remained were treated as little more than slaves. Sometimes, when Luna risked cracking open a window, she could hear pained screams and shrill laughter in the distance.
Many people that had been alive ended up killing themselves to end their misery, or were killed by Death Eaters if they dared to oppose the new way of life. It took this to happen to someone Barty had loved, for him to see what he had done to the world.
When he stopped coming down for breakfast, she wondered what was the matter. When he no longer chastised her for cleaning, she knew that something had happened. When she dared to wear white on a Wednesday, her suspicions were confirmed.
In the middle of one night, she awoke to the sound of dripping water. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the ceiling above her was dark with water, and droplets were splashing onto the floor around her bed. She climbed to her feet quietly and shuffled out of the bedroom.
Normally, the third floor of the mansion was out of bounds. Barty wouldn't even allow Luna to clean up there. However, her instincts told her that something was wrong, so she took those fateful steps up the stairs, heading for the bathroom that she knew was above her bedroom. "Barty?" she called quietly through the crack in the door. "Are you okay in there?"
No answer.
"I know I shouldn't be up here, but I noticed that water is leaking through the ceiling…"
Still no answer. There was tap water running inside the bathroom, and as Luna took a step closer, she put her bare foot in a puddle of water that was seeping under the door. Holding her breath, she pushed the door open. Something was definitely wrong…
Instantly, Luna gasped. Barty was laying in the overflowing bath, his arms hanging over the edge, and his head lolling back. His face was streaked with tears, and his forearms were lacerated with deep, bleeding wounds.
For a moment, Luna considered running in the opposite direction. It would be easy. Finally, the monster was in a position that guaranteed her freedom. When his body was found, his death would speak for itself, and it would be assumed that his pet had been murdered at his hand. She could vanish out of the country and start a new life. Do it. Do it. Do it.
Instead, she rushed forward, grabbing two towels from the rail as she ran. Using all of her strength, she pulled Barty out of the bath and onto the floor. He was unconscious, but his pulse was flickering slowly under Luna's fingertips. She secured the towels tightly around his wrists to staunch the bleeding, and slapped Barty's face with the back of her hand to rouse him.
It took a little while, but gradually, a flicker of life began to grow in his chestnut eyes. Luna cradled his head as he came through, breathing a sigh of relief.
She could hardly believe that she had briefly considered leaving a man to die, and she couldn't begin to imagine what kind of person that would have turned her into. Even after all the years she had lived in Barty's confinement, she still retained her humanity. Would she be able to say the same if she had allowed him to die?
oOo
"Why?" he murmured later on, while Luna used cotton thread and a blanket stitch to sew together the lacerations in his arms.
Luna didn't reply. She still didn't quite know how to explain her answer.
"I could ask you the same," she said softly, keeping her gaze on her work.
"The Dark Lord murdered my only friend," Barty replied. "After everything we have done to bring him back to power, he murdered him in cold blood. All Regulus wanted was to leave the country. He wanted to take his brother's ashes to the sea and scatter them, but the Dark Lord didn't want him to leave. He didn't give him a choice. He was done with Regulus, and he used the Killing Curse on him without a second thought."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Luna said solemnly.
"I can't go on without him," Barty whispered. "Regulus made me who I am. He gave me the confidence to escape from my father. He stayed with the Death Eaters because I begged him to. Now, he's dead. Because of me."
Luna listened intently.
"The Wizarding World is in ruins because of me."
"Because of Voldemort," Luna corrected.
"Don't say his name," Barty murmured.
"I'm not afraid of him," Luna said. "I think he's a coward, and I would gladly face death to tell him so."
"You're braver than me," whispered Barty, "braver than most."
"I suppose it's time for a drink," Luna changed the subject. "When in doubt, make tea."
oOo
After Barty had tried to kill himself, he rarely left the house. He spent most of the time sitting on the sofa, watching Luna clean the house around him. At least once a day, he would ask Luna why she had saved him, to which she would always have the same answer. A vacant smile and a small shrug of her shoulders.
She knew that he had started to deliberately leave doors and windows unlocked, too. He was giving her the opportunity to escape without ever telling her so. Finally, when the door had been left wide open and Luna had closed it to stop a wintry gust of wind blowing in, he lost his patience.
"Why don't you just leave?" he asked her, exasperated. "I've given you so many chances to leave. You're free. Just go."
Luna blinked at him from where she stood by the door, observing his unshaven face and the purple bags under his eyes. He was still plagued by nightmares of Regulus; Luna had heard him cry in the night. He hardly ate, and she was sure he would kill himself if she left.
And beyond all of that… Luna had realised that she didn't want to leave. As much as she hated to admit it, the prison had become something else. Her home.
He climbed up from his seat on the couch and advanced on Luna, backing her up against the wall. His breath smelt of whiskey. "Why won't you leave? I can't bear to look at you anymore. I can't bear to be reminded of what I've done to you. I've wasted years of your life… Just go."
"I don't want to go," Luna said calmly. "Do you really want me to go?"
The question seemed to stun Barty. He rocked back on his ankles, looking confused.
"I don't…" he answered stupidly. He ground the heel of his palm into his temple. "I'm going to regret this," he muttered, and then pressed his mouth to hers.
Luna kept her silver eyes on him during the awkward kiss, but she didn't push him away. He gripped her face with one hand and ran the other through the back of her long hair. When she tentatively kissed him back, he probed her mouth with his tongue and tugged gently at her hair. They pulled apart for breath, and Barty buried his face into the crook of her neck, breathing heavily.
"Barty…" she panted softly.
"Don't speak," he muttered into her flesh. "Please, don't speak." He reached down and pulled her legs around his waist, turning around and heading to the sofa.
oOo
"I forgave you a long time ago," Luna said hours later, when it was well into the night, but they still hadn't untangled themselves from the sofa. "You just weren't ready to hear it."
"You may have forgiven me," Barty started quietly, "but I don't think I could forget what I did."
Luna took Barty's hand between both of hers and squeezed it. "You can change. I believe you. And your change could birth the start of a new Wizarding World."
"Do you really believe that?"
Luna nodded. "I believe in you."