I believe I'm the first to write these two as a romantic pairing, so I'd appreciate a small mention if you choose to write them for yourself. For mew-tsubaki's Valentine's Day Happens Year Round! challenge over at HPFC, using the quote below. As always, hope you enjoy and don't find the pairing too weird :)
how she shines for you
The heart has reasons that reason does not understand
~Jacques Benigne Bossuel~
He was just the person for all the lowly jobs. That was all he was. Just the one all the others tossed to the side and only brought into the limelight when they didn't want to get their hands dirty disposing of bodies, taking care of prisoners or such like.
So it fell to him to not only check the chains for weaknesses or breakages, to keep lights out and to lock every window and door each night, but also to feed the prisoners, clothe them, find them places to sleep and make sure they remained alive until his lord had exhausted their usefulness.
One prisoner in particularly caught his eye. She was nothing special - apparently close to the Potter boy, though you wouldn't have guessed it. He didn't know her name or anything about her, only that she might be a way to get to Potter and that she had been snatched from the Hogwarts Express on the journey home for Christmas.
He was glad of news from the outside. Time seemed to have no meaning in the dark and dusty bowels of the historical manor. Days passed and nights passed and weeks passed and months passed in much the same way. Who knew if it had been two minutes or two years since he had been shut up down there.
But the girl stolen from the train took his attention and kept it there. He began to develop a dangerous habit of lurking in the shadows after serving them their meagre meals, watching her. She tended over the other prisoners, the old man and the goblin, as a mother would her children. When he scurried downstairs to lock up before retiring to his cell of a bedroom for a night of insomnia and paranoia, she would often still be awake, the burnt-down stump of a candle next to her, watching the stars shimmering in the sky.
Her behaviour towards him was what captivated him the most. Rather than raging at him, or spitting and cussing when he appeared, or even simply ignoring him, she would smile sweetly when he appeared, thank him for the meal or new candle he was delivering and always bid him goodnight when he hissed at her to blow out her candle and sleep. Not a filthy or cruel word towards him ever passed her lips, and it confused and captivated him.
"What's your name?" he asked one evening, watching her serve thin vegetable soup to her companions, smiling at the goblin and the old man with an almost maternal tenderness.
"My name?" she repeated, an unreadable look in her eyes. "They call me loony, loopy, weirdo and oddity. But you may call me Luna." She smiled then, and he knew that that smile was something he wanted to see more often.
So he fabricated elaborate fantasies of prisoners trying to find ways to escape, any excuse to spend more time in the dungeons, watching the three prisoners. Any excuse to escape the hostility of the Malfoys and the rabid insanity of Bellatrix Lestrange. So instead he sat on the cold stone steps, watching Luna, the old man and the goblin together.
Soon enough, he learnt their names; Mr. Ollivander and Griphook. Luna took care of them, keeping them entertained with wild stories of daydream creatures like Blibbering Humdingers and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. She seemed a nice person and, though dangerous in these dark times of enmity and destruction, he found himself beginning to like her, appreciate her bright optimism even in the face of certain doom.
By the end of those first weeks, he was watching the room around the clock, locking up long after sunset and the last blood-red traces had left the sky. The nights were long and cold in the draughty cellars, but a strange warmth filled him to watch Luna comforting her fellow prisoners in the middle of the night, bathed in the sickly yellow glow of the moon.
The more he watched her, the more he thought of the way she looked. Really, he should have been thinking of her as nothing more than an expendable source of information, but he couldn't help watch her. She grew steadily thinner as the days marched on, sacrificing her share of food so Mr. Ollivander and Griphook could eat well. He was soon upping the size of the proportions, unnoticed by those preoccupied with the events of the outside, so all three could eat as much as they needed.
With magic as his tools, he tried to make the tiny stone room more comfortable in a way that was subtle. Relatively simple charms on the hard stone beds made them softer and more comfortable for weary bodies, while a small building spell widened the tiny skylight so Luna could watch the stars.
When Luna smiled, it was as if his whole world was lit up. It filled him with warmth and he simply didn't understand how such a member of the opposition, someone who stood for everything he was fighting, could make him feel such feelings. Soon he was creeping in when the blessed of those residing in the manor slept soundly in their four-posters, wiling away the lonely nights speaking to this kindred soul.
"What's your name?" she asked one evening. The rich snores of the goblin echoed off all four chamber walls and Mr. Ollivander murmured slightly in his sleep. They were alone and all could be revealed.
"They call me servant, rat and Wormtail," he said, his tone softening in an almost nostalgic way as he mentioned the final nickname, given to him by three faithful friends all those many moons ago. "But you can call me Peter."
"Where did you get that?" she asked, gesturing at the silver fingers protruding from under his ragged sleeve. He looked down at the hand, silently loathing it, watching the fingers twitch and flex. He knew that the hand, gifted from his master, would kill him if he showed mercy to one of the Dark Lord's enemies. So far he had been able to control the fingers, to keep them from turning on their owner or his friend, but the curse was powerful and he knew one day - one day possibly soon - it would crush him.
"My master gifted it to me when I willingly sacrificed my own flesh to give him life again," he explained. The light left her eyes and she slumped backwards against the rough stone wall. The pain of disappointing her, of seeing the open bond they had been sharing vanish and become a simple act of hiding everything once more, was almost palpable.
"Of course," she murmured, her eyes shut as she took deep breaths, wrapping her arms around her stomach as a reassurance to herself. "You know, sometimes I forget we're fighting on different sides."
She looked beautiful in the light of a single candle, staring miserably at the ground, all hunched up as if trying to get inside herself. He had something to say, and summoned some remnant of Gryffindor courage before the sudden nerves of steel left him, making him a coward again.
"It doesn't have to be like that," he whispered, looking past the reflections of a tiny flickering flame into silver-grey eyes. "What are you fighting for?"
She took a deep, steadying breath, sitting up straight and coming dangerously close to leaning exhaustedly against him. "For freedom, for the chance to raise my children in an unprejudiced world with no darkness to force them to grow up faster than they should need to. I'm not interested in becoming a heroine of war, in the number of men I kill or in my skill in duelling. What I am interested in is freeing our world from the dark presence destroying our lives." She finished her explanation, leaving him gapingly amazed by her eloquence and the soft passion in her tone. "What are you fighting for?"
"Ehm…for the same things you are, I guess," he muttered, still slightly stunned by the poetry in her words. "But I would quite like to be a war hero. I want to find for the right side, not this one I ran to out of fear and self-absorption."
"Run away with me," she whispered. "Run away with me and we can go back to Hogwarts. Start afresh. Fight where we should. Regain freedom for our world and our children."
For a moment there was a long silence between them. She smiled slightly, kissed his cheek and lay down on her stone bed to sleep. He stood up, mind still reeling and departed, blowing out the candle and locking the door behind him.
From that night on, unbidden dreams and idea squirmed in his mind, growing and growing, always whispering for him to put them into action. He dreamed of cutting through stone walls, a hole big enough for two. He dreamed of taking Luna's hand and running away into the night, sleeping beneath the stars. Sometimes his dreams went further and he awoke with the silver hand at his throat and sweat dripping down his forehead.
He watched her, sitting on the cold stone steps with a lone candle flickering, illuminating the sheen of sweat on his face as he gazed upon her ethereal beauty, a little faery flitting about the cell. Luna's face lit up by a star-peppered sky was the most beauteous sight to be found in the ancient manor. The richly-coloured tapestries, priceless masterful paintings and expertly crafted sculptures couldn't compare to her pale looks, the touch of the moon on her sharp cheekbones and the stars reflected in her dreamer eyes.
So he opened the cell one late night and crept in, ghosting knuckles bruised and bloodied by punching rough stone in sheer frustration across the taut skin of her cheek. Silver fingers flexed and fluttered at his side and he shook her gently awake, tugging her to her feet while she was still groggily fluttering her eyelids, dark circles beneath her eyes pronounced in the moonlight. He took her hand and brandished his wand at the north-east wall. A bright red circle was carved into the wall and the stone inside the glowing lines simply vanished into nothing and everything, leaving a jagged hole wide enough for two people to leap out of.
"Come, Luna," he murmured. "Let's run away together." Luna looked at him, then towards the sleeping Griphook and Mr. Ollivander, their faces set in peaceful repose.
"I can't leave them!" she whispered desperately. "Oh, please, let's wake them and take them with us!" As he pulled her carefully towards the hole, a wailing shriek pierced the still air and sounds of pounding feet sounded overhead.
"There's no time!" he shouted, hardly caring if they heard him above the shrieks. "Luna, look at me!" He yanked her around to face him and gazed into the pale eyes reflecting the perfect circle of the silvery moon above them. "I promise, we'll come back for them."
Luna's eyes glistened with tears as he pulled her terrifyingly thin body into his arms and leapt out of the window. They fell onto soft grass, landing on their stomachs. As the door to the dungeon creaked open, he came to his reeling senses and, clamping a hand over Luna's mouth to stop her from making a sound, crawled into the bushes and crouched among them, almost unconsciously shielding her with his body while his fingers flexed on the hilt of his wand.
"The girl is gone!" Bellatrix's shriek pierced the night and Peter shrank further into the bushes as her demonic pale face appeared in the hole. "She must've had help to escape!"
"Wormtail," Lucius breathed. "That dirty traitor!" Senses heightened by such paralysing fear, Peter heard the swish of his robes on the stone floor as he turned. "We shall extract revenge from the remaining two prisoners."
Luna moaned into his muffling hand as the sound of a foot hitting bone sounded through the room and a limp body hit the floor. He pulled her tight against him as Lucius appeared in the hole in all his pale, angry glory. "Crucio!" Mr. Ollivander screamed and so did Luna, her hot tears burning into his frozen flesh as she screamed and screamed until he held her close against him as she beat him with clenched fists, screaming and screaming behind his hand.
"Shut up!" he breathed into her ear, cradling her against him as her blazing fury calmed and she simply sobbed. "Do you want to get us both killed?"
"I promised I'd protect them!" she sobbed. "I failed them and it's all your fault!" She hit him again, but it was half-hearted. Taking her hand, Peter slid slowly out of the garden and around the house until they reached the front gates. There he lifted her into his arms and began to run until the night swallowed them.
Next morning found him awaking with a crick in his neck, damp grass clinging to every inch of bare skin and a girl careless only in sleep draped across his chest. For a moment he watched her sleeping, then nudged her awake.
"We have to keep moving," he murmured. "If anyone finds us we'll be in trouble." She sat up and rubbed her eyes sleepily, stretching and slowly climbing to her feet.
"Why would you help me escape?" she asked. "Why not just leave yourself? Leave me to die and save yourself the trouble." There was venom in her words and he flinched slightly.
"I couldn't just leave you there," he said, making to take her hand. She snatched it away and stood glaring down at him, making him feel about as big as something disgusting on her shoe.
"But you could leave Griphook and Mr. Ollivander?" she exclaimed. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't force you to take me back there and save them too!"
"Because they force me to watch as they torture and kill you, and I couldn't bear that," Peter confessed, taking her hand and holding tightly so she couldn't tear herself away. She looked up at him with mistily mysterious eyes and moved close, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. Tears seeped from beneath her lids and he wiped them gently away.
"I do love you," she murmured. "For caring about me when I was nothing more than a prisoner. But this isn't right. We fight for different sides."
"This war isn't truly about what side you fight on!" Peter exclaimed. "It's about what you're fighting for. I'm fighting for freedom, for the chance to raise my children in an unprejudiced world with no darkness to force them to grow up faster than they should need to. I'm not interested in becoming a hero of war, in the number of men I kill or in my skill in duelling. What I am interested in is freeing our world from the dark presence destroying our lives." More tears fell from Luna's grey eyes and a smile took over her lips.
"I can't believe you remembered my exact words," she whispered. "Only the ones who love you remember exactly." With her hand still covering his on the damp grass, she raised her head and brushed her lips against his. He returned the kiss, clumsy and not at all experienced, but with true love, hand hovering hesitantly at her back.
"There he is!" The shout sounded close by and before either realized what was happening they were being grabbed, arms twisted painfully behind their backs as two Death Eaters held them still. Bellatrix and Lucius approached them, a pair of twin demons with their black robes swirling in the biting wind.
"You've been very naughty," Bellatrix whispered acidly. "You must be punished. Lucius…" Both flicked their wands and Luna screamed, her knees sagging. She would have fallen to the ground had someone not been holding her up. Her eyes rolled back in her head as they continued hurting her with their words. The Death Eater holding her dropped her and they all kicked her in the ribs until she was bruised, bloodied and unconscious.
"Don't think you have escaped punishment, Wormtail!" Lucius roared, bearing down on him. "We do not help prisoners escape! Crucio!"
And the world exploded into pain.
Hope you enjoyed and if, amazingly, you liked this enough to favourite, I'm begging you not to without reviewing, thanks :)