Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, spells etc... they belong to JKR!
Special thanks to reviewers... je suis l.m (and for her beta work), xxkpxx and shadowdreamslayer! Also does anyone have any objections if I up-rate this story to a 'M'? If so, let me know in a P.M or review.Enjoy this chapter. In this one, things are getting a little strange within Malfoy Manor, as well as within the family itself. I'm a huge labyrinth fan so I'll quote that in this chapter 'nothing is as it seems'. Hope you like it!
Beneath an increasingly jittery chandelier, Luna began to release herself from Draco's hold, which was not so hard once Draco forgot to pay attention. His fingers slipped down from her neck one by one, as she lifted each away.
He appeared momentarily dumbstruck, walking away from Luna to smooth his hair, running his fingers through it as though sifting for treasure. Luna watched with interest.
'Is something wrong?' she asked, watching keenly for any remote sign of weakness on his part; this could be her chance. If she could keep him talking, then she would need only to distract his attention from his wand for one moment―and it would be hers. Luna did not revel in the thought of stealing, but she could make an exception, just this one time.
Draco, acting as though she were not there, paced like he wanted to burn through the floor.
'I said, is something wrong?' Trying again, Luna waited for a response.
'I hope you know―I swear to God, I hope you know the trouble I could get in for that,' was his eventual comment.
Luna couldn't make sense of it; he had not done anything unworthy of a death eater, had he? He had caught her, stopped her from leaving and had dragged her, quite literally, back to what Luna could only assume was a new cell in the dungeons downstairs.
Luna tried to get his attention, tried to halt his ramblings. 'Where are we?' she asked, looking about her for any clues. Perhaps there would be a sign somewhere. She could only see strange boxes, none of a similar shape, and all perched precariously on top of each other. Nothing too revealing. She gathered that the boxes must have spent a while down there though, for their corners were worn and many had already fallen off or were simply hanging to their stations like old soldiers. Luna pictured a parallel room somewhere, in which there would be a hundred spare, cardboard edges with no boxes on which they could corner.
'Just a room.' He was being very vague, and Luna needed something to go on. As a captive, she found her regular checklist had lengthened so that she now needed to know where she was at all times. As fun as it would be to lose herself skipping through the huge house, with no real destination, Luna pulled her logical side back from the hole it had been pushed into within her mind. She needed more than wit to get out of here; she needed intelligence. She wished Hermione's brain could be loaned to her, if only for a short while.
'But why not just wait upstairs? People were on their way to meet you... I could hear them,' Luna added. She had been so close to preparing herself for an attack, she now realised. Perhaps that was why she had ignored Draco's spell so stubbornly? If she had just kept walking, she may have collapsed from exhaustion. No food and lots of walking had never been a very wise idea. Luna had gone without food before, but only from illnesses. She knew what it did to the body, and she knew she would never starve intentionally. But it had been out of her hands these last three days. What exactly could she have done about it? Should she have forced stone and chains down her own dry throat?
And so, hungry or not, she had walked. But why had Draco made her stop? Unless he had read her mind, and he had not, for she surely would have felt such a personal trespass, there was no way he could have comprehended her tiredness.
'My aunt, she was coming to find you. She could sense my spell, I just knew it.' Draco did not look at her, unlike Luna whose eyes followed his every step. His thoughts appeared to dictate which direction he should travel in, one led him away before another brought him back. He seemed to give a literal meaning to a train of thought. Draco's eyes roamed over the space before them. They were unfocused, Luna spotted. She did not think he really saw her at all.
His current direction seemed to be a large neat circle, with Luna at its center.
'Knew it, she would have tortured you again, worse than before. I could feel how angry she was with you. Couldn't do nothing. I couldn't let her kill you.'
Draco was reminding Luna of herself. Often, after discovering a new song, a beautiful new spell or something equally as riveting, Luna tended to stutter and burst her excited thoughts aloud to whomever would lend an ear. Of course Draco sounded far from excited, but the way in which he abruptly ended one sentence to jump straight on to another was, in short, the same.
'Oh, is it because you're good, too?'
Hope had never been a quality Luna went without.
'Yeah, I'm just a lovely little angel, aren't I?' he mocked
She had not meant to sound so optimistic, but it came naturally. It was hardly a bad thing to look on the bright side every now and again.
'But you didn't hand me over... I think you would have gotten credit, you know.'
'Want me to send you up now? I'll do it, I swear!' His dark robes swished around over Luna's feet, her eyes now on his flapping cloak instead of him.
He suited black, she realised. It seemed unfair to Luna that black was always deemed the enemy of white. Black and white, dark and light. She found it a tad too stereotypical to associate all things black with evil. After all, the moon wouldn't seem as lovely without the night sky to contrast against it.
'No, thank you.'
'Wait down here.' He muttered, before heading for a door, grabbing his wand tighter, making the bones of his hand protrude like the snowy bumps of a northern mountain.
Luna sighed, tired of disappointment.
His cloak was swept out through the door, and, a second later, she heard the spirit-breaking clank of the door's lock.
'You didn't need to do that.' she informed Draco, knowing he would not hear. To begin with, Luna thought she had referred to the lock, but, after a minute or two alone, realised it also applied to him taking her out of Bellatrix's (and her wand's) aim.
It was an unaccommodating room. What with all the large boxes, that huge bulking wardrobe, chests of drawers stacked above one another like a deck of cards, and the endless clutter of covered paintings, Luna laughed at how huge she suddenly felt in the minuscule space that was left to roam in.
Yet, despite the mess, Draco had managed to pace perfectly in there, without once tripping or banging into anything.
'Strange...' Luna mused.
Combining her solitude with her anxiety for Draco to return, Luna decided to distract herself from those feelings and the looming walls by having a peek around. A large box caught her attention, and she made her way, carefully, over to it.
'Imperfect' seemed a fair word to describe the thing. It looked purposefully haggard and worn: clear signs of a traditional hand me down. Luna's attention soon belonged to other things, nothing of particular importance to her, though she realised that to the Malfoys they could well be. Probably nothing too precious to the Malfoys; she just couldn't see Draco Malfoy leaving her locked in a room with his family's treasures.
Her curiosity was insatiable, and she did not stop her eyes as they roamed over every inch of the place. Somewhere above she heard the shrieking noise of Bellatrix's realisation. Luna pondered what Draco was telling them:
'Wasn't her, just a trick of the light,' he could say. 'I haven't caught her, yet. It was just a trap'.
Luna knew either lie would satisfy Bellatrix as a perfectly plausible excuse.
Whatever he was using as an excuse, Luna knew it would be nothing more than that: a lie crafted to hide the truth. Draco would not inform his dear aunt he had removed the target of her rage, lest she kill it. He would not tell Bellatrix that said target was currently tucking herself away into a corner right below them.
Bellatrix's heavily pounding feet vibrated the entire ceiling as Luna hid behind a large box. She curled up tight and prayed everything would be OK.
Once safe behind, what she now saw to be, one of the more dangerous looking box-towers, Luna began frantically searching with her eyes for anything that she could use to defend herself―in case Bellatrix broke through the floor and fell upon her.
After a short while, various noises began to sound above her. She pictured the innocent face of Draco amidst the overwhelming pressure the other death eaters would put him under. He was, Luna knew, younger than many of the others, and so his word would not settle many of their suspicious minds.
Luna begun to feel a tiny bit frightened, well not exactly as such. Luna did not remember ever feeling scared, not truly anyway. Her replacement for fear seemed to be bravery. It was not as though the fear did not exist, but rather, when it did surface to drag Luna down, she would merely duplicate her bravery, until she had enough of it so that the fear seemed small enough to pass off as something entirely different. It was a trait of the Gryffindors that she had always held in high regard at school.
Then, as the banging upstairs begun to grow in volume, Luna briefly wondered what she would do. Obviously there was no escaping again until Draco returned, if it was him who came to claim her.
The door clicked open after a few minutes, not giving Luna much time, or space, to formulate much of a plan. As her eyes fixed on the tall blond entering the room, Luna decided the right thing to do, for now, was to just 'wing it'. She peeked out from behind her cardboard shield. Only when she was certain he was alone did Luna finally shift herself across the floor, out from her corner and into his sight.
His eyes seemed colder than they had not long ago. Luna made up her mind: Draco Malfoy was suffering from multiple personalities. It was her diagnosis at any rate.
'I can't decide.'
'Where to take me now?' Luna guessed, not needing his sharp nod as confirmation. He moved over to her.
'Stand up.' His wand loomed threateningly near her cheek, and she intended to obey him. She intended to, but her legs would not budge. They were comfortably hidden beneath her, reluctant to be unravelled.
'Wait, just a minute... please...' Luna panted. Short of breath. Her race to escape earlier was catching up to her―she felt like she'd been framed, nailed to the floor.
She wanted to tell her head, 'No, I haven't spent the last hour sprinting'. Someone else must have done the work in her body, someone else had tried to escape; however, her body would not be reasoned with, and, for right then, Luna could not even find the strength to look up at Draco, despite the blazing glare he was giving her.
'What the hell―' he began, but stopped upon seeing Luna's tired and weak body slipping down to the floor. She tried to use her arms as walking sticks, to keep her upright, as they seemed to be the only part of her body with any strength left, but even they were struggling, and sure enough Luna was soon curled into a ball on the floor. Her every limb aching with the task of keeping her alive. She had never felt this tired in her life. Surely she had not done that much running; she was sure she hadn't.
'What trick are you trying now?' He cocked an eyebrow. 'Nargles sending you into a snooze are they?' He laughed, only seeming half amused.
Luna was aware of what was going on: Draco tilted his head down to stare at her. She even made an effort to look into his eyes when they roamed to hers, probably searching for signs of deceit, trickery. Draco would find none of those. Luna did not know what exactly was happening to her, but it was not her own doing.
Her limbs seemed to suddenly retain every heavy weight she had ever made them carry, slowly drooping towards the floor like they had become the secret lover of gravity. She forced her eyes to remain open, but even that small task sucked up her remaining energy.
Luna made the effort, and soon wished she hadn't. Draco seemed to have understood something she hadn't; he began to lift her up, first with a strong arm and then, after it proved to be an awkward way of manoeuvring around the room, with his wand. Luna felt the pull of the floor vanish as she floated along in the air―slowly revolving as though she was a ballerina in a jewellery box, fixed to the wood, spinning in place of the winding toy's accord.
Wary, she remained alert as Draco began to move quicker, pulling her along with his spell. They were heading back to the dungeons, she supposed.
However, it was not a dungeon Draco shoved her in, but something that looked equally dark and sinister as the potions classroom back at Hogwarts. Many vials, jars, bottles and books lined the walls. In the center was a table, which she imagined would be used as a desk, with many spare bits of parchment stacked in irregular piles. Draco glanced over at it, and he seemed to consider letting Luna drop there. She did not expect him to, all those papers, no mater how indistinguishable they might appear, appeared semi-important.
Luna was not shocked when she landed on the floor. Her head pounded with the force of the collision. Draco was stepping over her, his hands quickly rummaging through a shelf just near her feet; Luna was reminded of the third years on their first trip to Honeydukes: their hands darting hurriedly through the selection of sweets on the pick and mix table. She half expected Draco to pull out a length of raspberry-ripple unicorn hair.
What it was he eventually got his hands on, she never got to find out. Draco kneeled beside Luna, opening her mouth carefully, as though afraid of being bitten. His way of gingerly separating her lips and heaving the thing (which Luna could vaguely register as a thick, viscous juice) into her mouth, struck Luna as the same way in which many students had fed some creatures, disregarding Hagrid's friendlier approach to feeding.
She could feel an effect beginning to bubble away inside; it must have been an energising draught, or something else similar. Her body began to mend itself. Her arms did not feel like bags of lead dangled from her wrists. Her feet could lift free from the quicksand that had rendered them useless, and her eyes could once again unblinkingly move around Luna's surroundings. She took in Draco's tentative stance and decided another diagnosis for him was paranoia.
'I feel much better. What was that?' she inquired, shifting to her feet with care. It was unnecessary, though, for she felt fine. She could have jumped to her feet with one quick swoop for all the energy in her limbs.
'Antidote.'
'Yes, I thought that,' she replied. Well, perhaps she had initially thought it to be an energising potion, but an antidote had been in the top five. 'But to what?' she added, curiosity always one to win her over, even in the wake of Draco's possible wrath.
'Our dungeons are cursed. They drain you of strength, so you're too weak to escape. I'm surprised you made it as far as you did.'
'Oh.' That was something Luna had not heard of, though the general idea of it sounded much like that of the Wizarding prison Azkaban, in which the dementors served a similar purpose.
'I need to think. You're going back in the dungeons where you belong, but I can't let them see. If they knew I'd helped you...' He trailed away from Luna and, apparently, himself too.
Draco rose to his own height and checked outside the door. Looking, Luna guessed, for any sign of his dear family.
He wheeled back around, pointing accusingly at Luna. 'You're going to go along with what I say.' His pointed finger almost touched her, and Luna imagined he would be casting an imaginary Imperio, forcing her to follow his order.
Luna nodded once. 'You didn't have to do that.'
'Do what?' Draco looked down on her, but Luna would not look up.
'Help me. It was odd for you. Why did you do it?' Luna's eyes shifted from side to side for a moment, reflecting the turbulence of her thoughts as she searched for an answer. His behaviour was puzzling to say the least.
'STUPEFY!' He yelled, hurling Luna back across the room as she fell, unconscious, to the floor. He strolled past her, his wand flicking her up in the air like a feather, as he went.
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'Draco, where have you been? Where was she?' Bellatrix moved around Luna, kicking her feet on the way and knocking her shoes off.
'Down near the dungeons. She was under the impression, I think, that it would be the last place we'd go looking. Don't worry, she's just suffering from the curse down there.' Draco laughed without humor.
'What? Oh the dungeon. I was waiting to find her collapsed somewhere. Took long enough for it to take hold, didn't it!'
'Shall I take her back down?' Draco offered, relieved that his Aunt would not torture someone who was not awake enough to scream under the pain.
'No. We need to be getting on with―'Bellatrix held her tongue as her heavily lidded eyes rolled over Luna's form. 'With it,' she finished.
'Yes, I suppose we do,' Draco said glumly, as he followed his aunt out of the hall.'Dolohov, do the honours,' he called to the tall Death Eater over his shoulder.
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Sometime during the moment it took Dolohov to pick Luna up and begin the walk back to what Luna suspected would be a much more secured imprisonment, she came around. Draco's spell finally leaving her in peace, she was able to understand why he had done it. She knew Bellatrix would not have made her suffer if Luna was not conscious to feel the full extent of it.
Lightened by Draco's kindness, Luna began to feel maybe there was something behind his mask; it might not be anything she wanted to find, but if it was there, she would look for it.
Dolohov set her on her feet when he realised she was awake. Luna had not minded being carried, as it felt almost like a small, yet childlike comfort.
'You know, I think you like reptiles,' Luna spoke, breaking the stiff silence Dolohov had seemed perfectly comfortable with.
When he did not respond she continued. 'You follow a man who looks like a snake, you hiss like you want to speak parcletongue, and you blend in with every black background because of your clothes: just like a chameleon.'
He was looking straight ahead, ignoring Luna like a frustrated adult would a persistent toddler.
'I wonder if you respect tortoises, too. They're reptiles, you know. And they're very wise as well. Slow but smart. Imagine how much knowledge you could have if you lived for over a hundred years...'
Though his mask would not show it, Luna knew Dolohoy was gaping.
'Get in there,' he snapped, holding open the dungeon door. Luna did so without further prompting. She hoped Draco's antidote would still be working all right. The door clicked shut, and darkness swelled up around her like the blood pumping behind a throbbing bruise. It was strange how accustomed she was getting to the dark. Luna wondered if she would make a good bat by now, or an owl maybe. Yes, a wise old owl.
Underneath the window, Luna settled herself down, noticing the two large patches of shadow outside her door where Dolohov was most likely standing guard.
She might try talking to him later.
Outside darkness was descending down, or rising up, from the horizon. She watched the shades of sky diffuse and smudge into new colours, She wondered if every night was the same: black sky, white moon, dark land...
Or could things change? What a night it would be if the islanders of Britain were to gaze at the stars to find them replaced with rubies, the moon no longer round and pale but rather a yellow dice, turning this way and that, ready to decide the fate of the new night. She would have loved to transfigure the moon, change its face, splodge the colour with polka-dots. But Luna knew a line existed between dreams and reality, and she had vowed long ago to never cross such a line.
The moon and stars were too beautiful anyway. Though as Luna fell into a dreamless sleep, she could not help her eyes from wandering up to the window every so often. The picture had been painted and mounted in her head. In sleep, Luna saw nothing but red stars.
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'Anything else?' Draco asked
'She cannot speak the name of the place, and spells ward me off from about a mile in every direction.'
'The Order is sure getting cocky. I suppose they think silly guards will stop him forever, don't they?'
'The wards? Hardly cocky Draco; that's just fear. They can feel they're going to lose, see? They're trying to protect the only place they're safe in.'
Draco looked at his aunt, unsure whether it was normal for any one person to feel so confident about a future that seemed unendingly foggy no matter which angle it was viewed from.
'How's Pansy getting on?'
'With scar-head?' Bella smirked. 'Fine.'
'How soon do you think―' he began, swiftly interrupted by Bellatrix waving her wand dismissively.
'However long it takes.'
'Fine.'
'And what about our little captive?' Bellatrix leaned in to him, her voice taking on that unmistakable excitement Draco had long since learned to associate with her darker side.
'Fine,' was all he said, and she paced away from him, as though disappointed by his lukewarm response.
'And my offer to―'
'―I haven't changed my mind.'
Bellatrix strode three long steps towards him, glaring at his words as though wanting to set them on fire and watch them burn.
'I only want to help, Draco!' Bellatrix's voice rang in his ears. That woman simply could not tone it down.
'I don't need help with this, Bella.' His answer was final, as compared to before, when he had thought about it but had only succeeded in going around in circles.
This was not a task for spells. This would take cunning and slyness: two things he had earned a right to use by now, since he thrived so well with both.
Bellatrix's hand clasped around his arm, squeezing it so that the mark began to fizzle and throb. It did not burn though, for Lord Voldemort was not angry, nor had he been summoned.
'I said I don't need it!' He jerked away from her, spinning around and preparing to storm away.
Bellatrix was already in front of him, blocking his way out.
'Draco, please, I want to help. I need to help.' A quiet settled outside the lounge; any eavesdroppers were no doubt scuttling away as Bellatrix fired a spell at the door that made it shake in it's frame.
'He will not let me, thinks I'm not good enough any more.' She really did sound hysteric. 'I need to prove myself Draco.' Her hands grasped his shirt, thumbs pressing against her fingers through the thin material.
'Bella, I'm sorry, but I know what I need to do―'
'But what about the―' As she spoke, Draco peeled himself away from her leech-like grip, staggering backwards.
'No.' Draco concluded their conversation, the door bursting open in a sudden gush of hallway air as Narcissa crossed the threshold.
'What's going on in here?' She addressed both with the kind of strict demeanour only a mother could use―and not be lied to there from.
'Aunt Bella is under the impression I cannot handle it on my own. She wants to interfere,' Draco replied, blunt honesty written on his face.
'Bella, I've warned you: keep out.'
'Cissy come on, how can I just sit here and let him make Draco do this? Bellatrix sounded sincerely concerned for her nephew, and that was what spoiled the lie. It was so out of character for Bellatrix that Narcissa almost laughed.
'You expect me to believe this is about Draco?'
Bellatrix's look swiftly bent and twisted into anger.
'Bella, this is about you. You just want help in getting back into the Dark Lord's good books. Do not ask me to stand here and accept that you are truly worried for Draco.' Draco moved closer to his mother, the two against Bellatrix on this matter.
'Forgive me for acting the part of a responsible adult.' Bellatrix inched closer to her sister.
Their former sibling rivalry made a guest appearance: Bellatrix had used those very words against her sister more than once during their school days. Her tone made Narcissa shiver and Draco's eyes glaze over. He had never liked being in his Aunt's company when this side of her cropped up.
'Bellatrix, Draco knows what he's doing. I suggest you give him a chance,' Narcissa reasoned, her tone cold. The atmosphere wriggled about in the clutches of acidity, as Draco moved to leave.
'Oh and Bella, why did you misinform the elf?' Narcissa sat down on a padded chair, her hands clutching the sides of it.
'I don't know what you're talking about.' She sounded like child.
In light of her earlier remark about being an 'adult', Draco thought her comment was very ironic.
He excused himself, making sure to close the door fully on his way out.
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Luna awoke to hear muffled voices outside her room, although she made no move to press her ear against the door.
It was very late, perhaps not far past midnight, though she found sleep would not quite welcome her just then. She must have unfinished business. It was a frequent worry of Luna's, something many people reserved for their interchange between this world and the next. Would she die with things left unfinished? A thought not too merry to contemplate. But Luna had many theories on death, and that was just one. People who chose to remain in this world as ghosts often had something they had long left forgotten. But Luna knew that business would often finish itself, if it was important enough. If not, someone else would simply finish it for the deceased. There would be no need to come back as a ghost.
It would be a lovely homecoming though, wouldn't it? A reunion between families and friends who might have gone years without contact. All meeting together again in the next life: it lit Luna's path in life to imagine death would be like that.
'Lovegood.'
Luna looked up into Draco's moonlit face, and she was mildly surprised to see him up this late, but more surprised that he was down there. He looked like an odd sock in the dungeon.
'Hello, Draco.' she spoke softly, the light notes in her sing-song voice tinkling around the cell. It had often remained at least an octave higher than most other voices, supporting Luna's suspicion that she had once swallowed a flute as a child.
He set something down by her side, snapping his fingers to grab her attention, which, once again, had drifted up into the stars.
'It's late, but I'm under orders to feed you.' He pushed the thing (Luna now saw it was a tray full of lovely coloured food) practically under her nose. 'Eat.' He slumped against the wall, waiting.
'I'm not hungry,' was all Luna said. It was late and, despite going without a single meal for almost four days, she truly wasn't in the mood. Luna briefly wondered if this was how those muggle orphans must feel after a while of not eating; her body and it's needs seemed to be accommodating themselves to her time at Malfoy Manor. She had not been fed and so was no longer hungry.
She wondered what would happen if she became neglected. Would she become invisible?
His disbelief seemed to swathe her, until Luna, too, could not deny she sounded ridiculous.
But still, she did not eat, which only earned her a nasty look from Draco.
'I don't need this tonight.' He sighed, playing, Luna supposed, his pity card. 'My mother sent me down here to make sure you eat because she doesn't trust our elves anymore. Nobody knows if they're following her orders or Bellatrix's.'
He was watching Luna closely. She could tell for her skin seemed to burn, the way in which it did under careful observation.
'Just eat, you loon. I'm tired.' She made no move to do any such thing. If she were forced to live here, imprisoned and alone, then she would continue to rebel against their order. It had been so out of character for her to follow rules during her fifth year at Hogwarts; it seemed that was all she had done was break them. Oh yes, she had learned how to do that well by now, hadn't she? Luna Lovegood knew the depth of what lies meant and had learnt to crumble the enemy's order, crumble it up into tiny bite-size pieces that wouldn't be amiss on one of her Father's apple pies.
'Luna, do me a favour will you?' Draco moaned through the darkness, 'Eat.' His head melted into the stone bricks as he settled himself into a half-awake stance, his wand lolling against his leg.
'Get rid of it,' Luna offered, trying to please him, if not in the exact way he had asked for. 'Throw it out or vanish it. Don't worryI'll say it was lovely.' Her fingers twiddled strands of very straggly hair, unworking the knots and sorting out the mess that it had become: her hands like a spidery comb to unravel the worst of it.
Luna kept her eyes on the stars.
Can you hear me? she thought, wishing they could. I know you're ever so far away, but, help me... Please. I want to go home. If you lend me your powers, I promise to give them back...
A gentle tear clawed its way out of Luna, softly casting a reflective sheen on her cheek as she stared up at the window.
Beside her, Draco was mumbling something about not trusting anyone these days, especially an order member. He was asking her to eat again, actually, nothis time it had that assertive ring to it. He was telling, not requesting.
'Thank you, by the way.' Luna's tears were beginning to feel what she could not. For the first time since she had been captured, Luna knew she was not going home. She had known it before then but had just not believed it. The tears began to shimmer in the moonlight, like the diamonds on a disco ball, and Draco saw them.
He said nothing, the result, Luna understood, of years of keeping his emotions locked up tight in a little round box (round for his eyes which, unlike everything else about him, were soft and orb-like). Luna did not blame Draco for not comforting her; she would only have been suspicious if he had.
The stars seemed to smile down at them: Luna not in control of her longing for freedom, and Draco. Cold, pointed Draco, forever letting his cruel insults mark the place of any compassion he might have. But he had helped her earlier. Luna had not thanked him at the time, but he had helped. If you were to line up the good and the evil and tell them to stand to the left or the right, to choose their side once and for all, Luna wondered which side he would choose. Perhaps Draco would stretch himself length ways and just be the line to separate the two instead.
Luna gazed up, and up and up, seeing more than stars. She saw the entire world up there.
How did the line in that old Muggle story go again... she thought, her tears finally allying themselves as one. In union, they smoothed her pale skin with one smooth waterline.
Petra Pan? No it was a boy, she was sure of it... Peter Pan! That was him. The boy who could not grow up. Ginny and Arthur had corrected Luna in saying that 'he only didn't want to grow up'. Luna saw it differently: Peter had gotten himself lost, like Alice through the Looking Glass(a favourite story of Luna's), and as Luna had read the old Muggle tale, she had soon enough grasped the truth. Peter Pan did not want to grow up. He would not, therefore he could not.
Where was his home again? The second star to the right, and straight on till morning.
Luna looked that star then, and felt she would not join Peter there even if such a place existed and, in Luna's mind, it did.
Good or Evil, right or left. It plagued her thoughts and made everything unreadable, messing things up much like the real battles of war would.
'Luna! Luna!' Draco was past impatience, not that it worried Luna in the slightest.
Let him get mad, she thought.
'Look, stop being difficult. It won't get you anywhere. Just eat the god damn food so I can go to bed, will you!'
He kicked the tray over to her, where a bowl of some strange mush dribbled down her bare foot. She wiped it off with an air of dislike. It reminded Luna of a shrub Neville had once shown her a picture of; with it's grey moss and protective thorns, it had seemed unpleasant.
But it was not 'a blood ugly mess', as had been Ron's sophisticated description. To Luna the protective front of it needed to be ugly. That way the seedling inside remained safe. Luna admired the plant for that, sacrificing its beauty for the sake of it's true treasure. She only wished the others had understood. Neville had seemed to, but she couldn't be sure if he had really been paying attention.
'Unless those teeth of yours are razor sharp, I'm not scared to force it down you. Just a warning!' Draco was closer now; Luna realised he was leaning over the tray to snarl at her.
She stopped watching the stars, shifting the object of her attention to Draco: Draco-gazing. She hoped that would not become a regular thing for her to do, he simply was not the most pleasant of things to look at when in a temper.
'I'm not hungry. You can eat it if you like,' she offered an alternative, which he, yet again, mumbled an excuse to dismiss it.
'Second star to the right, to the right to the right...' Luna sang to herself. Draco's eyes continued to roll as she avoided his glares: there might have been a small hamster running around in them.
Draco gripped her arms, his nails digging through her skin, and pushed her against the wall. Luna kept singing, though she began to do so inwardly.
'Stop. Being. Difficult.' Draco separated each word so that the resulting noise was just a block of angry sounds in Luna's ears.
He shoved her against the wall but did not hurt her. In fact the cool bricks felt lovely beneath her slender fingers as she gripped them, only noticing now how uneven they were. She could picture a lone bug wandering through the vertical maze endlessly, scuttling over mountains unnumbered.
'I said thank you, you know.'
'What?' Verging on the brink of losing the last of his patience, Draco looked as though he was defending himself against her, though she had done nothing for which he would need to do so.
'You helped me earlier.'
'I did, did I?' he sounded incredibly sardonic rather than grateful for her thanks. She thought that was rather rude.
'Yes. Thank you, it was very kind.' In all honesty, it had been. Luna believed it was.
'Well then, since you apparently owe me, can I ask you a favour Luna?'
She nodded yes, knowing what it would be, and making the contradictory decision to oblige.
'You're going to eat.' Draco's eyes harassed Luna. They dared her to disobey, and she would not rise to the challenge.
Luna sat down, taking a few sips of water first to prepare her dry mouth for the meal. Her stomach ached when she was done. It felt like a sandwich or pastry, but, being as dark a night as it was, Luna could not be sure as she never saw it. Probably something fixed at the last minute, with whatever the kitchen elves could get their hands on.
When she was done she cuddled into the wall, directly below the window, beneath the omnipresent moon, whose silver, whispery tendrils pervaded the four walls that cadged her. Draco got rid of the tray, and left the room, catching a quick glance of a sleeping Luna before the door concealed her behind it once again.
Luna's last concious thought was of him.
Luna was a good judge, and she did not ever take advantage of that, but with Draco it was hard not to. His character had always seemed simple, unimportant. But he had helped her twice now. As Luna grasped this, she also felt happier that she had had to repeat her thanks: one for each time, she mused.
Something had changed in Draco, not on the surface of things, not even in a way she could quite place yet, but Luna began to question her assumption of his mind being simple.
Her pre-bedtime business was now finished and Luna was free to dream what she may. In her dream she grew magnificent wings of white, spreading out with ripples of cascading feathers around her arms.
Luna flew away into the dark sky, her eyes lit up brighter than any star. Ahead of her, not too far away, she saw two stars nestled close together. Luna chose the second on the right and flew straight on, into the welcoming arms of a long awaited slumber.
