Draco Malfoy sat in a hidden staircase in a house in Spinner's End. Carefully he put his head into his hands and groaned loudly. To say things weren't going well for him would be an understatement.

Had it only been two weeks since his failure of killing the Headmaster? It seemed like longer than that.

Draco had thought he was on top of the world, just two weeks ago. He had completed his task set by the Dark Lord, he was admired by all his other Slytherins, and he was about to get revenge on the do-gooder Potter for good.

And then it all went to shit in about two seconds.

It had all been because he couldn't do it. Snarling slightly, Draco punched the stair he was sitting on. He just couldn't bring himself to kill someone; especially someone who had been kind to him.

And since when did he care about someone being kind to him?

Draco snarled again and this time punched the stair with both fists. For the past two weeks he had felt nothing but confusion.

Draco cried out and grabbed his left forearms suddenly as it erupted like fire. His deep, slate-gray eyes blinked in surprise as the hidden door opened and the stairway was thrown into light.

"Don't just stand there blinking at me, boy!" Severus Snape hissed, grabbing Draco's arm and pulling him out. Unfortunately the older man's hand brushed against the Dark Mark on Draco's left arm, which was still painful from the Dark Lord's calling.

He felt like he was being squeezed through a tight bottle, and then he was standing in the middle of a large hall that had obviously seen better days. Several battered but triumphant looking figures were kneeling in front of the Dark Lord.

"My lord, the attack on the Weasley home was most successful." One of them was saying when Draco focused.

"Most?" The figure on the throne hissed. Draco forced himself not to shudder at the sound.

"My lord, we overpowered them. The Order could barely stand up to us." The figure talking seemed to falter, "Potter, both Weasleys, and Granger managed to disappear, but we managed to take a prisoner."

"A prisoner?" the Dark Lord leaned forward on his throne, the smallest hint of surprise in his snake-ish voice.

"Yes, my lord," another Death Eater said respectfully, "A girl. The Lovegood girl, to be exact."

The Dark Lord leaned back into his chair and made a motion with his hand. "Bring her forth."

Draco watched as a struggling girl in ripped Muggle clothes was thrown unceremoniously to the ground in front of the Dark Lord's throne. She was pretty; he had to admit, with long brownish-blonde hair and large, silvery-gray eyes. But the dirt and cuts on her face provided stark reminders that this wasn't a pleasure jaunt for her. For some reason Draco turned his head.

"Ah, Draco," the hissing voice came suddenly. Draco couldn't help it; he flinched. The Dark Lord laughed maliciously. "After your complete and utter failure with that Muggle-loving old fool, I expect you to work hard to return to my good graces."

Draco dropped to a knee, though the subservient act was edging at his nerves.

"I aim to please, my lord," he said silkily.

"Good," the Dark Lord hissed, "Then you will do well to escort our prisoner to dungeons below our feet. You have three days. Question her, glean whatever information you can, and then kill her when her usefulness has exceeded her existence. And Draco," Something in the Dark Lord's voice forced Draco's eyes up into the cold red depths of You-Know-Who, "Do not fail this time. Or you will suffer the same fate as she."

Draco shuddered at the implications and bowed. Fear made him grab roughly at Lovegood's arm as he dragged her out into the dimly lit corridor. He softened his grip, however, as they put more distance between them and the Dark Lord, until it was more like he was guiding her.

He looked sidelong at her out of the corner of his eyes, and felt an unfamiliar emotion as he realized the tracks that had made lines down the dirt on her face were from tears. It took him a moment to identify it. And it was quickly swamped by disbelief with himself.

Pity; he was feeling pity for her. Why? What had she ever done for him to deserve any kind of emotion towards her?

What has she ever done to you? A traitorous little voice in the back of his head replied. Draco shook it off, pushing the voice and the feelings back until they were shadows in his mind.

By this time they had reached the dungeons and a guard nodded to him, opening one of the doors so he could deposit her in rather more roughly than he had intended. Immediately the slumped against the wall and down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and looking much younger than the fifteen he knew she was.

There was something off about Lovegood today; something different than the scarce other times he had seen her – often with Potter and his friends. He finally placed it as she looked up to glare him hard in the eyes.

Her vagueness was gone. Well…not gone. He could still see a bit of a faraway look in her eye, but she was the most focused he had ever seen her in the few times he had seen her; for once utterly focused on the present.

"You'll get nothing out of me." She said quietly, but with such determination that Draco felt compelled to believe it was the truth. He felt the pity again and something else he didn't want to even think about identifying.

"I'd expect nothing less from a Potter crony," he instead remarked condescendingly. "Are you sure you aren't in Gryffindor? Your pigheadedness is one of their most identifiable traits, after all."

Her expression didn't change and her eyes never left his. He pulled back his robes slightly to reveal his fingers tapping idly on the hilt of his wand. Her eyes flickered once towards it, but then back to his face.

"You know," he continued, "I have much more forceful ways than just asking you."

"I know;" she replied serenely, "Use them. The difference they make will be minimal."

He pulled his wand from its sheath and pointed it at her, the words to the torture curse forming on his lips. And there they died.

What was with this girl? Why couldn't he just lift his wand and say the words? Why was it suddenly so damn hard to curse someone? Draco just stood for a moment and let the coldness of the dungeon calm his nerves. The Lovegood girl was cold as well; her teeth were chattering and her lips had a faint blue tinge.

And why was he looking at her lips?

Draco shook himself and growled softly, spinning on his heel towards the door only to stop at a faint surprised noise.

"What are you doing?" She asked softly.

He didn't turn back. "The Dark Lord gave me three days. He did not say I have to break you today. And quite honestly," he gulped and forced an unreadable expression onto his face as he looked over his shoulder, "you bore me."

She just looked him in the eye for a long moment before nodding and resting her chin on her drawn in knees. She was shaking harder now.

He sighed and undid his heavy cloak from around his neck, letting it slide to the ground and giving it a slight kick in her direction. He strode out the door confidently and quickly, as if he owned the world and everything in it and not as if he had just given his cloak to a do-gooder junior Order member.

He tried to shake himself awake from these feelings: he would break her, kill her, or turn her. That was that.

So why did it feel good to know she wouldn't be cold?


Luna heard the door close, but she didn't move. She had too much to think about.

Thinking had always been her friend. She could slip into her thoughts and be perfectly happy anytime, anyplace.

Except that right here and right now, not even thinking could disguise the facts. She had been taken prisoner by Death Eaters, and Lord Voldemort himself – he really was impressively ugly, she noted in passing – had sentenced her to torture and death.

It wouldn't do them any good, of course. She couldn't tell them much, and she wouldn't tell them anything. Luna Lovegood did not betray her friends.

She shivered a little harder and lifted her head to look at the cloak Malfoy had dropped. Part of her wanted to hold back – it seemed all too likely that he had left an unpleasant surprise in it for her – but she was cold, and not going to get any warmer unless she had something to wrap up with.

And Malfoy wasn't acting like himself today. The Malfoy Luna knew would have hit her with that spell and enjoyed it. This Malfoy seemed... reluctant.

Taking a deep breath, Luna let go of her knees with one arm and reached out, stretching herself sideways along the floor, until her fingers touched fabric. The cloak slid toward her, feeling no heavier than it should. Of course, with magic, that was no guarantee...

I've made my decision. She fastened the cloak around her neck, pulled the hood over her head, and swept the sides around her legs, curling up again. Hands tucked under her arms, face on her knees, she breathed in the curious mixture of Malfoy's scent and her own. And waited.

Nothing happened.

But though her body began to warm, her shivering did not stop.

"I can't give up," she whispered into the knees of her robes. "I won't tell them anything. I won't."

But I don't want to die...

Luna needed a miracle; but miracles did not always come in time. She pressed her face harder against her knees, not even realizing she was breathing in the scent of Malfoy's cloak in deep, calming breaths.

Slowly, breathing from her stomach instead of her chest – breathing like a singer – she did just that, picturing the two solemn chords that made out its introduction.

Close every door to me

Hide all the world from me

Bar all the windows and shut out the light

She bit off the t-sounds hard, overemphasizing on purpose.

Do what you want with me

Hate me and laugh at me

Darken my daytime

And torture my night

Her voice ascended the scale, then fell in skips.

If my life were important, I

Would ask will I live or die

But I know the answers

Lie far from this world

A return to the main theme.

Close every door to me

Keep those I love from me

She was amazed at the feeling she could put into that line.

Children of Israel are never alone

This theme had a different ending, upward-turning, hopeful. Though she felt only small flickers of those feelings.

For we know we shall find

Our own peace of mind

For we have been promised

A land of our own…


Draco was about to take a step back towards the chamber – and consequently Snape, and then back to Spinner's End – when he heard it. It started out so slow he wasn't even sure she was singing, until her voice rang through the door and into his bones.

He didn't even have time to think before it caught him. The sound of her voice entranced him so much he pressed his hands against the door.

Just give me a number

Instead of my name

Forget all about me

And let me decay

Draco didn't know her that well, but he smiled grimly. No one – no one – he'd ever met did venom like Lovegood in those lines. Not even him. Not even Snape.

The image of Professor Snape belting out a musical tune almost made him laugh and miss the next stanza.

I do not matter

I'm only one person

Destroy me completely

Then throw me away

Her voice flew effortlessly to the high notes.

If my life were important, I

Would ask, will I live or die

But I know the answers

Lie far from this world.

She changed keys upward and slowed down for what must be the final chorus.

Close every door to me

Keep those I love from me

Children of Israel are never alone

For we know we shall find

Our own peace of mind

For we have been promised

A land of our own.

Draco didn't even realize his face was smooth and peaceful until she stopped singing. With a sound like an angry fox he shoved himself away from the door.

That song did not affect me, he said to himself, and repeated to himself even as Snape Apparated them back to Spinner's End. Maybe if he kept repeating it, he figured, the words would become true.

But he knew what those words meant, what that song had meant. And Luna Lovegood made Draco feel something he had never felt before. Never knew it was possible for a Malfoy to feel before.

Guilt.


Thousands of miles away the curled-in tableau Luna was in was reflecting in a slightly larger scale. Neville Longbottom sat in the same position on a bench on the lane leading up to the Herbology greenhouses at Hogwarts. He was trying to convince himself not to cry into his jeans.

Unbeknownst to him, he was singing quietly under his breath the same song Luna was singing. He imagined it was stuck in all their heads now. Mrs. Weasley had certainly been singing it loud enough when she was making dinner just before the Death Eaters had attacked.

Children of Israel are never alone…

But that was just it. He was alone. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had just disappeared. No one knew where they were, not even Headmistress McGonagall. And Luna…

He winced. Merlin, poor Luna had been taken; captured alive by Death Eaters. A traitorous tear fell down his cheek as he stared at the greenhouse in front of him.

"Are you alright?"

Neville hadn't even heard anyone come up. His body jerked violently as his hand instinctively went to his wand. The position was awkward enough to send him sprawling onto the ground.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Small, cool hands helped him up until he was standing upright again.

The girl in front of him was small. She looked about thirteen, but a petite thirteen. She had smooth, dark skin and large gray eyes with long lashes. Her dark hair – an indeterminable shade between black and brown – was in tight braids against her head. The top of her head came up to his mouth.

"I'm sorry for startling you," she said quietly, her solemn gray eyes boring into his. "Headmistress McGonagall sent me to get you. She said it was time for dinner, if you wanted to come."

Neville nodded mutely but made no move to leave. She didn't either. It made the silence a little awkward as they both stood there. Finally she stuck out her hand.

"My name is Meghan Freeman."

Her British accent had a twang to it that he identified as American. He shook her hand, "Neville Longbottom. What are you doing in Hogwarts?"

Meghan raised an eyebrow. "Living."

Something about her personality seemed to calm his nerves and ease the hurt of his friend's pain, at least a little bit. "I can see that. I just haven't seen you before."

She smiled at him then, a grin that held more than a little mischief. "My mother is teaching Potions here now. She's replacing the other Potions Master, a Professor…Snape?" She seemed to know she said something wrong when he flinched. "I'm sorry. What did I say?"

"Nothing," he said, his voice cracking a little one the word. After all, she had no way of knowing it was Snape who had killed Dumbledore, and Snape that had been in the raiding party that had stormed the Burrow and kidnapped Luna. He sat down hard on the bench.

The wood creaked a little as she sat beside him.

"Want to talk about it?" She asked softly after a moment.

"Not really," he said, equally as quiet.

"All right," she replied. She stayed as quiet as him, watching as the last bit of sun sunk below the horizon.

Simultaneously and silently they both stood up and walked inside after that. Looking sideways at her, Neville thought he might have actually made a new friend.

Now if only the pain in his heart left from his old ones would disappear.


A/n: A little short, but it's just the first chapter. Sort of setting up for future chapters. Anne Walsh is the greatest person in the world, for supplying the first part of Luna's POV and the description of "Close Every Door". Make me happy! Happy authors write more! Leave reviews and tell me your favorite part! (There's probably not many in this chapter...) Anyone who hasn't read LwD, how do you like Meghan?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.