Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not even the plot.
She's sitting with Ginny and Neville, talking and planning in a compartment miraculously free of Wrackspurts – and that's good, because now there's no interference with the thought process and the ideas are flowing thick and fast – and even though what's going on is horrible, she can't help feeling a tiny selfish warmth in her chest, because for the first time in her life she is important, special, wanted. And it's not worth the pain and the terror and the crushed hopes of everyone else, and she wouldn't sacrifice them for her own selfish desires, but she'd gladly bear all their combined burdens if she could just keep this feeling.
(Because at the moment, her deepest dear is that she's only a substitute, only important because Harry, Ron, and Hermione aren't here, and that as soon as this war is over she'll go back to being ridiculed, unimportant Loony Lovegood. But when she's actually with them these fears don't surface. Because somehow it just feels good to be with them. Warm. Right.)
But then, without warning, the train lurches to a sudden jerking halt, and it's only because Neville catches her at the last minute that Ginny isn't thrown to the floor. Luna is standing; she absorbs the motion in the balls of her feet, stays upright. But dread is creeping through her like ice, because the train has only stopped before its destination one time in all her years at Hogwarts –
And then the door to their compartment flies open and Padma Patil trips inside, landing on her hands and knees and scrambling to her feet, panting. "They're questioning all the Ravenclaws," she gasps, "they're looking for you!" She is staring directly at Luna, who is shocked but not surprised – hadn't she already predicted something of the sort?
Ginny and Neville cry out in shock and horror, but somehow, Luna is filled with an odd sense of calm. She draws her wand and seals the compartment door with a quick "Colloportus," and then turns to the other three.
"That won't stop them," she says, still suffused with that strange calm detachment. "It'll only slow them down. We can't stop them. They'll get what they came for."
"No they won't!" cries Ginny, leaping to her feet and pulling out her own wand. But Luna knows they will. They are Dark wizards with no conscience, and the full might of the Ministry on their side. The only thing Ginny will achieve with this is getting hurt herself, and she can't do that – can't, because she's more of a leader than Luna ever has been, or ever will be, and because Hogwarts needs her and Neville more than it does Luna. Ginny doesn't seem to see it, though. Luna stares into the burning brown eyes which refuse to see the truth – she tries to convey it to Ginny in that one long look.
"You can't fight them," she says softly, keeping her eyes locked on brown ones. "Please. For me," and she sees the dancing flames in Ginny's eyes eventually fade into resignation.
"You mean you're just going to give up?" Neville's voice is astounded and . . . does she hear disappointment in it? But does he truly believe that she'll give up this fight? She might not be violent, hot-tempered, but she is Luna Lovegood, and she will never give up on anything to which she's committed herself.
But she focuses on the sound of his voice, on the look in his eyes. After this she might never see him again, never hear his voice again, and the blow hits her like a sword to the heart. She places her hand gently on his, because it's all she can do.
"No," she says, "I'm going to fight." She has nothing to lose – or rather, the only thing she does have is about to be ripped from her anyway. "But you can't. You can't let them hurt you. You can't let them take you."
"Like hell I can't!" he shouts, and his hand rips out from under hers and flies to his wand, his eyes blazing.
He has become someone new this year, Neville has. She's seen it in his eyes, and she can sense that he is not finished changing. Sometimes she misses the clumsy round-faced boy who could never find his toad. But she has a new respect for the leader standing before her. She can't let him be taken before he reaches his potential. But at the same time she wants to weep, because they love her, they do, this is real, but they're about to be stolen from her.
"Neville," she says gently, "Hogwarts needs you."
"It needs you, too," he argues, anger subsiding and his voice growing softer. "I need you."
They've never spoken about the moment they shared on the Hogwarts grounds last year, after the funeral. He's never mentioned it to her, and she always simply assumed that it was an accident on his part, emotions running too high in the heat of the moment and a need for comfort. And if she wanted to discuss it with him, there never seemed to be a chance, the current situation always taking over any conversation the two had – and there were few where Ginny was not present. But now, startled to see tears sparkling in his eyes, she realizes that he must have meant it, too.
She can hear footsteps – her time is running out. She feels rather than sees Ginny and Padma, unwilling spectators, freeze as she leans down and kisses him. For the second time – and maybe the last – in her life.
Pulling away, she says her goodbyes to the other two – she kisses Ginny's cheek and squeezes Padma's hand. Though the older girl has always made fun of her, calling her "Loony" and laughing with the others, this year it has stopped, and she feels a connection to the girl who ran the length of the train to warn her. The girl who gave her time to say her goodbyes.
And then she breaks away from the group and stands as tall as she can just inside the compartment, wand at the ready.
The hooded figures are right outside now. One tries the door, and frowns in confusion that it won't open. Luna even manages a smile, a thrill of pride at her spellwork.
But one of the Death Eaters has lost his patience. Through the glass she can hear his yell of "Expulso!"
There's a crash as first the glass, then the door itself, blows into millions of pieces, and something collides hard with the side of her head. She's dazed for a moment at the beauty of the stars flickering before her eyes, and, though deafened by the explosion, can faintly hear Padma scream behind her. But her ears are ringing, a pretty bell sound, and she's distracted again trying to place what it reminds her of.
The next thing she knows, she's lying on her back on the compartment floor, in a mess of broken glass and splinters. Trickles of blood are running down her face, and she feels like she could paint with it. Red, the color of passion and flame. But somehow, miraculously, her wand is still in her hand.
A figure is stooped over her, and as his face swims into focus before her eyes, she's seized by terror, but she holds it in, somehow pulling back her emotions and forcing her face to remain blank. She imagines an opaque haze clouding her eyes, hiding her fear.
The man reaches down and grabs her shoulders, hauling her roughly to her feet. She sways a bit, still woozy, but she notices that the Wrackspurts have found the compartment – that must be why it's so difficult to think now. She wants to warn Ginny and Neville, tell them to move to another compartment, but the man shakes her so hard that her teeth rattle together, almost snapping shut on her tongue.
"You Lovegood's daughter?" snarls the man, glaring at her.
All she can manage to say is, "There are nargles in your hair."
There are, too. She can barely see beyond his hood, but from the looks of it there's a whole infestation, clinging to the wiry bristles of his hair. Even in his eyebrows, which she's never seen before.
The other one laughs, but not a happy sound – a cruel jeer. "Definitely Lovegood's girl," he nods. "Let's get her out of here."
Then she remembers what she's supposed to be doing – and how they have overlooked her wand she doesn't know – but she points it behind the man holding her at the other man's chest and whispers, "Petrificus Totalus."
He can't even let out a cry before he topples with a crunch into the pile of already-broken glass, but his partner has seen what she did, of course, and he yanks her wand out of her hand and flings it onto the floor.
Neville seems to sense what will happen next as well as Luna, and he makes a dive for it, but the man kicks him out of the way and brings his foot down hard on the wand. Luna doesn't only hear the sickening splintering sound, she can also feel it piercing her, and can feel the missing piece there – a piece almost as vital as the one she lost the night her mother died, seven years ago.
She can feel herself slipping into unconsciousness, but she will not go quietly – she kicks and screams, struggling and flailing, and giving the man so much trouble that he can't even lift the curse she put on his friend. Out of the corner of his eye, she can see tears running very quietly down Neville's cheeks, but he keeps his unspoken promise to her and does not fight. Ginny is struggling, too, but Padma is holding her back.
But, no matter how much she fights, the Death Eater is stronger than she is and he pins her to the ground, smiling – a horrible, evil leer – and directs his wand at her chest.
"Crucio!"
She's felt it before, she knows this pain, but it does not make it any easier, because no amount of this pain allows you to build up a tolerance. Every time it hits, it hits anew, and she cannot stop herself from screaming, cannot hold back the shrieks.
When he finally, finally lifts his wand she forces her eyes to focus, schools her face back into the dreamy expression, and searches for them with her peripheral vision. They are all crying now, but none of them are moving because they know she's right, they know she'll be taken anyway, and there's no point losing everyone.
Thank you, I love you, she tries to tell them with her eyes, but finally she succumbs to the heaviness in her limbs and the pain in her pounding head. The last thing she can see is a strange picture which doesn't belong in this compartment, perhaps it is painted on the inside of her eyes. The triangular symbol of which her father is so proud, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. And then, suddenly, the rearing head of a snake, tearing it in two.
And then she sinks gratefully into the blackness.
So, this is my first try at writing in Luna's voice - as far as I know, or, the first one I've posted on here in any case. So please be nice about it; I'm sorry if I didn't make it quite the way you imagined it. I also liked the idea of Luna having some prophetic visions, because I think she has a HUGE sixth sense that isn't mentioned quite as often in the book. This might turn into a longer story about her time in Malfoy Manor, but I'm not positive because so far I've only written oneshots without much plot. So it might just be a oneshot, and might be something else. But if it does turn into a longer story, I can't make any promises as far as regular updates are concerned.
Is that everything? I think so . . .