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A/N: For the Song and Dance Challenge. The album is Something Real, by Meg & Dia. Until further notice, all the chapters will focus on Luna in some way.
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Three months, three sad months trapped in a large house. Not like Luna saw much of it, only the basement, a very large room, and a lot of hallways. They'd told her she was being held captive to 'keep her father in line', whatever that meant – she didn't know, and it didn't sound nice either.
They didn't torture her quite as much as the other 'captives', people who were being held on account of something they themselves had done. She didn't quite get that part, though – that boy, the rather dark one (it was hard to tell with almost no light) hadn't done anything, it was just that they despised him for his blood status. How anyone could care about something like that to the degree these people did was beyond her, and yet they did. It was like that war she'd read about in one of the Muggle books she'd come across by accident, the one that started when some idiot decided that a certain type of person was inferior. That had been a complicated affair, if she remembered right, and it hadn't ended well for the people involved.
By what she was pretty sure was the third week of being locked in the basement (that old shopkeeper was somehow keeping track of time), she missed nearly everyone from school. She never thought she'd do something like that, but being away from them had messed with her mind a bit. She missed the clandestine meetings Ginny organized, the forbidden thrill of secretly rebelling – everything.
She slipped into her own world by the fifth week, living in her mind and pretending everything was fine. Nothing affected her quite as much as it had before, which surprised THAT WOMAN, as Luna had taken to calling the tall, insane-looking woman who was responsible for nearly all her pain. So things got better for a while, during which things got sorted out, and then they got worse again.
When Luna looked back on things several years later, all that remained of her pain was a long, thin scar on her arm. Yet the terror and the suffering never died inside her, and she was haunted by memories for many years.