Chapter 3
Her eyelids fluttered open, light streaming through the far window temporarily blinding her. She was warm, comfortable, in a state of complete bliss. Sunlight reflected off the long blond locks that cascaded down her shoulder and fell onto the light pillow beneath her head. She drowsily closed her eyes before opening them once more. She smiled as she looked on at the sight only inches from her face.
It was that dream again.
Instead of the harsh, cold rooms she stayed in during the War, she would be wake up in his endearing embrace. She felt her weight lying on him, his arm snaked around her waist, bringing their bodies in closer. His breathing was calm, aristocratic features relaxed in slumber.
Her hand reached out unconsciously, as she her finger caressed the straight bridge of his nose. Fleeting euphoria poured through her, it would all be over, and the inevitable disappointment would wash it all away.
She shut her eyes, preparing herself for the illusion to be ripped away.
She froze when as it dawned that moment never came, because all of it was real. It was no hallucination, this was a nightmare. Like the wind had been knocked out of her lungs, she gasped for air. She immediately tried to roll away from him, the image of perfection had been tarnished.
She used to think of it all the time, how her life would have ended up if Draco never left. If he had stayed by her side, reasoned with Harry, never joined the Dark Lord. Maybe they would have been married, maybe they would have still been in love.
Trouble was, this dream had turned into a horrifying reality. He was here with her, she had slept in his arms. They were together at last, but it wasn't the same.
In pure panic she tried again to remove his hold on her, but felt her muscles drop as blue eyes made contact with his cryptic grey.
Nearly a week had passed since the evening she found herself in the Malfoy Manor.
The first night she spent back with him had been a nightmare, unimaginable. Draco could have forced himself on her, but he didn't need to. He pulled her into a kiss, all of it harsh, passionate, hungry; his lips assaulted hers and she lost control. He might have initiated it, but she had given herself willingly.
It was the same thing every following night. She would tell herself to push him away, but found herself caving in with his every touch.
The way she cried after they finished gutted him. She had her hand smothered over her mouth to disguise the hiccups, but her shaking shoulders gave it away. He had seen people beg for their lives, plead for mercy, and he had never given it. But seeing her shed tears, it hit him harder than anything else. She was a china doll, so delicate, prone to shatter against the smallest of contact. He didn't understand, mistaking it all for her want to escape from him. So he just continued on, the same thing. He took what he wanted, trying not to become distracted by other emotional complications.
They were to be married, she would have to grow accustomed to everything soon enough. There was no other option.
She was appalled at the very sight of herself. She had promised herself not to degrade herself low, not to be taken by pure emotion. She failed spectacularly, the epitome of a deserter. Whatever she stood for the past several years had been thrown away in one encounter. She hated the person she had become, she hated the person he had become, but the pull between them was undeniable.
Luna winced as she felt his hand caress her golden hair, "Good morning," he murmured silkily, frowning at her retreating form. It seemed she was always eager to get away from him.
He ran a hand through his hair as he released his hold on her and slipped out of bed. Without another word, he moved to the bathroom, then to the closet, and reemerging moments later fully dressed in his robes.
He looked at the bed, her small figure hiding under the covers. He saw through her ruse, she wasn't still sleeping. While adjusting the hem of his sleeve, he bent over so his lips almost brushed her cheek.
"Behave,"
She didn't move, afraid of what her reaction could bring. It wasn't as if she dared to disobey on instinct in the first place. She pictured the victorious smirk on his lips. Luna felt him back away to the exit and heard him open the door, slamming it shut behind him.
Only when his footsteps made it down the hall, did Luna lift turn her body to look in the direction he had left in. It scared her, being so close to him. It was what she always wanted, but at the same time so different.
She was there but a few days, and a routine had already been established. He would leave in the morning to attend whatever Death Eater duties he had, and then return in the late evening.
Her wand was confiscated, perhaps even destroyed. The last time she recalled wielding her prized weapon was when she held it against Draco's neck. He had made it clear that she was no longer allowed to practice serious magic.
She stayed prisoner in his room during the day, her meals delivered by house elves; all of whom displayed unfriendly company, each of their visits lasting mere seconds. She tried to interest them in conversation, but all were too paranoid; something about how inappropriate it would have been for them to slack their chores to spend time with her. Though one of them had been kind enough to bring her a copy of the Daily Prophet. She was endlessly gracious, it was afterall, perhaps her only connection with the outside world.
The articles written in the paper made Luna painfully aware of the normalcy pureblood society had maintained during and after the War. While Potter sympathizers and mudbloods had been hunted down, the pureblood supremacy lived in luxury. Brunches, dinner parties, other extravagant events were just elements of the old order that Voldemort and his elitist followers had set out to preserve.
The thought of wealthy socialites out having wonderful times in the midst of everything that was going on twisted her heart. The Muggle race had only begun to acknowledge the existence of magic when they were enslaved. Clemency was offered to those that decided to switch sides to support Lord Voldemort, but a significant number of witches and wizards still refused to submit. Most of her companions had gone into hiding, Death Eaters were now employed to scout for said blood traitors. Their crimes were considered punishable by death.
Luna was on the latter, living under a false name and persona. But her efforts were foiled after a raid at the Leaky Cauldron, where she was immediately recognized by Bellatrix. Instead of being taken to the Ministry to face trial for treason, she was taken to this mansion. Chills crept down her spine as she remembered the sharp teeth of her captors. Unmentionable thoughts ran through her head, had Bellatrix not picked her up, she wouldn't have gotten away with a few shallow cuts and bruises.
She wiped her tears dry as she remembered her friends, what had become of them? Harry's duel with Voldemort had been over a month ago. She knew they were all competent enough to look after themselves, but she still prayed for their safety. Surely Ginny and Hermione had covered their tracks, they had always been more capable than her at those types of things.
As she raised the back of her hand to wipe her cheek again, she saw the true restraint the bound her in place. No heavy chains were necessary to trap Luna here, all it took was a ring. Unique, exquisite, tasteful, a plain combination of metal and diamond never looked so beautiful. Despite the traditional message of love behind the jewelry, all she saw was a mark. A mark that made her his property, not his wife.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips as Draco's presence had disappeared. She sat up, scooting back until her neck laid flat against the wooden headboard. She pulled her knees up to her chest, her arms wrapping tightly around her legs.
Draco had disposed of the clothes Luna arrived in, the dress she came in was already damaged beyond repair anyway. It wasn't like she had luggage full of proper attire, so she had been forced to wear Draco's clothing. She wasn't comfortable asking for much, him obviously with a taller frame and broader shoulders, everything hung too big on her petite figure. His tops came down mid-thigh, covering her modesty, but she still felt exposed.
She inhaled deeply, the scent of his cologne still present in the collar. It was probably the only thing that stayed consistent through the years. She couldn't say why, but it offered her a sort comfort that nothing else could.
Just as she was about to move to take a shower, she heard the door knob turn. Her wideset, doe like eyes got even bigger as her neck snapped up. The house elves knew she didn't take breakfast, she was never hungry for anything anyway. Draco must have forgotten something and returned to retrieve it.
Before she could move under the comforter to feign a dormant state, the door opened. Her lips went open in momentary shock, her guest's sudden appearance entirely unprecedented.
A tall dignified woman, dressed neatly in an elegant dress stood in the entranceway. She had the most unmistakable smile, the sad enigmatic type Luna never knew quite how to interpret.
"Hello, Luna," a kind, nurturing voice greeted, "It's been such a very long time,"
"Mrs. Malfoy," she managed to get out, her throat dry and words cracked from lack of use.
Luna quickly jumped to her feet, standing stiffly erect. "I'm sorry, I didn't—" She gasped at the coolness of the marble floor beneath her toes. She found herself suddenly embarrassed by her appearance, her hair a mess, basically naked besides a shirt that obviously didn't belong to her.
Not the best impression she had hoped to instill.
"Won't you come in," How strange it felt to invite someone into a room of their own home.
Narcissa looked on at the younger woman with an expression of subtle approval. Her son was the star of her life, she adored him from the moment he came into the world. She was immensely proud of him, growing up nearly overnight, singlehandedly reestablishing his family's status. Draco attempted to keep his mother out of his business, deeming the details of his life too dangerous now that he was a servant of the Dark Lord. Indeed he had done it to protect her, and was successful with most of it.
But Draco's ways were flawed, he was no good at concealing his obsession with a certain golden haired girl.
It was refreshing to see the woman who had enamored her son to be a sweet, shy, pretty girl, same as she was when they had first been introduced. Had Draco not been her son, Narcissa would have wished that Luna deserve a better life than this. Luna's swollen and red rimmed eyes were all the evidence needed to prove that she had been crying.
She strode in gracefully with sky high stilettos, heels clicking with every step she took. She eyed the familiar band on Luna's left hand, admiring how fitting it looked resting on her finger. The Malfoy heirloom that had been passed down to blushing brides for generations somehow belonged on Luna Lovegood's finger.
Narcissa made her way to the small sofa that sat in the lounging portion of the room. She seated herself primly and patted the cushion next to her, beckoning Luna over.
"Come, Luna, we have much to discuss,"
End Chapter 3
A/N: Whether or not I continue this story, and/or the rate at which I update depends on if there are readers that want me to keep going. Only way I'll know is if you comment, so please leave a review if you want more. Thanks for reading!