Luna did not know what she was supposed to do, so she made tea. There was something comforting in the small actions, the familiar order of operations: boil the water, get the teapot and cups, measure the tea leaves, pour the water, put on the old knitted tea cozy. She even went to the trouble of putting a little milk in a ceramic creamer and heaping a few spoonfuls of sugar into a sugar bowl - her family usually served themselves directly from the milk jug and sugar bag unless there were guests. The precise nature of this meeting and indeed of her relationship with Narcissa were still a mystery to Luna, but in this situation Narcissa was certainly the guest and Luna was her host. There were rules for this sort of thing. Luna did not know them very well, but there were rules, and that was something.

There were no scones or biscuits to offer along with the tea, so Luna brought the tray through to the front room and set it down, rattling, upon the table. She poured Narcissa's tea and took the cup with the largest chip for herself. Her aunt did not seem to appreciate or even notice this nicety. She lowered her hood, brought the steaming cup to her lips, sniffed it, then put the cup down on the saucer and folded her hands. With Narcissa's face fully exposed, Luna noticed a long patch of mottled skin running down the side of her aunt's cheek. It was angry, red, and glistening like a still-fresh scar or burn. Luna looked away before Narcissa could catch her staring.

They sat in silence for what felt to Luna like a long time. Was she meant to talk first because she was the host, or should she let her guest choose the topic? Both seemed like they could be considered the more polite thing to do. It was even more difficult because she was still determinedly looking everywhere except at her aunt's scar, so she could not read Narcissa's intentions in her face. So Luna waited.

"My husband doesn't know I'm here." Narcissa finally spoke. Luna startled. She had been counting the knots in the old wooden floorboards and nearly spilled hot tea all over herself. She waited for Narcissa to continue, but the woman picked up her tea again and seemed to be contemplating taking a sip. What ought Luna to reply? It was an odd way to begin, to mention her husband right away. Was Narcissa implying that Luna was rude for failing to ask after her family? But that would have been ridiculous, to pretend that their families did not loathe one another. Much as Luna had been pretending otherwise for her own sanity, this was not a normal social call.

"Oh?" It was the only thing she could think to say.

"No, and he can't know. The Dark Lord...he is angry. One of his plans did not go well, and he blames my husband. Our position is very precarious. No one can know that I'm asking for help. Not even Lucius."

"I thought you said this was to do with Draco."

"It is. Lucius failed, and now the Dark Lord has decided to make a second attempt. But this time, he has chosen Draco. Lucius and I are not even meant to be helping him, but I cannot…"

Narcissa paused to dab at her eyes with a handkerchief. Luna did not know what to say, so she stirred some milk into her cup, watching the cloudy spirals twirling round and round her spoon until the tea lightened several shades, from near black to a creamy tan. The sound of the spoon clinking against the china pierced the silence as Narcissa composed herself.

"He has given Draco a...task. A very dangerous one."

"Sorry, but no. You made it sound like he was in danger or something! I'm not going to help him with his Death Eater initiation ritual."

"No, no, you misunderstand! Draco's task...it must look like he is trying his best. I'm not even certain the Dark Lord thinks it can be done. But if Draco fails spectacularly, we will be ruined. The Dark Lord will probably kill us all. But even if he succeeds…"

"I'm really not following now. Do you want him to do this mission or not?"

"The Dark Lord has put us in an impossible position. I need to buy enough time for us to win his goodwill back. Then I might be able to save him. Draco might be able to fail quietly, after a few honorable attempts, without angering the Dark Lord..." Narcissa was talking mostly to herself now, smoothing, folding, and refolding her handkerchief into successively smaller squares as she talked. She was whispering so quickly and emphatically that Luna knew she must have rehearsed this debate with herself countless times.

"Alright, I think I sort of get it. But what's the task, what's Draco meant to sort of pretend to try to do?"

"Do you swear not to tell anyone?" Narcissa's pale blue gaze lifted to meet Luna's. An odd prickling sensation burgeoned behind Luna's eyes, as if her aunt's eyes were boring straight through her.

"Er, sure. I mean, who would I tell? My mum would disown me if she knew you were here."

"The Dark Lord wants Draco to...to kill Albus Dumbledore."

Luna whistled.

"Shouldn't you be pleased? You lot do that sort of thing all the time, and that's an important job. Murder of all murders."

"If he's caught, he'll get the same treatment as Crouch, or worse. And I'm sure the Dark Lord is expecting him to die in the attempt. I think he's hoping Dumbledore will kill Draco himself, as retribution for...well. And I don't want my only son to be a murderer!"

"Are you kidding me? That little git's practically the president of the junior Death Eater society! Was anyone expecting him not to turn out to be a murderer?"

"You would do well not to speak of things you do not understand. You have no idea the things I've done to try to shield him from the worst of it. We never thought he'd return; I just wanted Draco to have a normal life, but now…" Narcissa finally put the handkerchief away after nearly ripping it to shreds. Now she began wringing her hands in exactly the same way Cressida did. Luna's throat tightened. The sisters were so similar, loved their children so fiercely, but were driven by opposing impulses. Her own mother wanted nothing more than for Luna to be special, but Narcissa clearly understood the dangers of an extraordinary life. Luna ached for a mother she had never had, one who would have protected her from the inexorable tides of fate and fame instead of throwing her into the path of history.

"Okay, fine, so asking a kid to kill someone is a bit much even for Death Eaters. But how on earth am I supposed to help? I don't even go to Hogwarts; it's not like I can be there to help him."

"Well for one, you and your mother are both Seers. If you had any prophecies about Draco and his mission, you could tell us. And I know that Minerva McGonagall supports your little school or whatever it is you're calling yourselves these days. Having the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts on our side would be…" Narcissa trailed off, leaving Luna to infer the rest. A coup de grace, an even deeper level of infiltration, in one fell sweep providing the means of both protecting Draco and lending an aura of authenticity to this fake plot on Dumbledore's life.

"No. Absolutely not. You're lucky I'm even talking to you, I can guarantee that my mum and Professor McGonagall wouldn't even stand being in the same room as you."

"But surely…"

"And don't even try to say that I could try to convince them. If you think my mum and McGonagall could be talked into helping a Death Eater...well, you must have forgotten what they're like, to put it nicely. Besides, if the message was coming from me they'd suspect me of…" Luna knew Narcissa was shrewd enough to fill in the blanks. Secretly meeting with a Death Eater and then bargaining on her behalf would have forever tainted her in the eyes of her mother, McGonagall, and the entire Circle. She simply could not risk weakening her position at the Circle. And she certainly wasn't willing to risk it for Narcissa and Draco.

"I see," Narcissa said, and Luna knew that she did.

"So if you're just here to use me to get to Mum and McGonagall, I guess there's no point in you staying," Luna made to stand up from her chair. She was probably breaking about fifteen rules of etiquette, but she no longer cared. She was sick of being treated like a child, a pawn in someone else's chess game.

"Is that what I said? You asked how you could help and I merely suggested several ways you might," Narcissa said coolly.

"Yes, well, I get enough of that from my mum, thanks." Luna crossed her arms and waited. She knew she had all the power in both the spoken part of this conversation and in the unspoken parley of pauses and inferences where the real negotiations were happening. Luna waited for Narcissa to realize that Luna knew this. Time to turn on the flattery.

"You are known to be a gifted Seer, so really I'm not sure why I brought up your mother. Old habit, I suppose, from our childhood. But you are right, I came here to you for help. Not to them. And there is good reason for that." Narcissa's voice was silkier than it had been before.

"That's it? You're just interested in my prophecies?" Get in line. You're going to have to do a lot better than that.

"No, of course not. I've been impressed with you ever since I first met you. And when I saw how you handled that press conference at Hogwarts three years ago, diverting attention away from your little friend, I knew you had the same gift your mother and I have. Albeit your own...unique brand of it."

"A gift for controlling people?"

"For orchestrating what needs to be done. And I've heard of that extraordinary breakthrough you made about the Deathly Hallows. It was announced as a joint discovery with your father, but I think it's clear that he did little more than provide you with a library and do the typing. It must have taken such ingenious creativity to elevate something like that to the sphere where the likes of me would have heard of it, but you've done it."

Luna considered this. It was unquestionably bald flattery, but there was a dash of harshness in it. It felt real. Damn, she's good.

"So if I were to help you, what would be in it for me?"

"Well, what do you want?"

"Do you know where my father is?"

"Your father? Why in the world should I know?" Narcissa turned to look out the window, as if Xenophilius might be outside in the garden. Luna did not underestimate her aunt's adeptness at lying, but she got the sense that Narcissa was genuinely flummoxed by the question. Whatever she had been expecting Luna to ask for, this had not been it.

"Well, something else then…." Luna took a sip of her tea, which by now was lukewarm and milkier than she usually took it.

"Tell me what the Dark Lord is doing. What are his plans?"

"Well I can't tell you that, child! You haven't even agreed to help Draco yet. And most of the Dark Lord's plans are a mystery to everyone but himself. He only tells his followers what they need to know." They, not we.

"But you've been told things. And you'd tell me what you know if I help Draco?"

"I….yes. I'd tell you as much as it was safe to tell," Narcissa said.

"I'll do it."

"You will? You swear?"

"Yes."

"You'll make an unbreakable vow?" Narcissa said this with such ease, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"An...an unbreakable vow?" Luna had been mostly successful at keeping her cool so far, but she could feel her eyes widen and hear her voice squeak. Death was a tangible spectre in the room now, and she suddenly felt like a child wearing her mother's clothes.

"Yes, of course. How else am I to know that you'll keep your end of the deal?" Narcissa was all brusqueness now that she was getting her way. She set her tea down undrunk and got her wand out of her robes.

"You can't just trust me?"

"Trust? Trust is nothing," Narcissa snapped with a dismissive wave of her hand. Was this how Death Eaters always conducted their business, swearing unbreakable vows all the time because they couldn't trust each other?

"No, I won't. My parents always told me never to make an unbreakable vow." She could still hear her father's voice, unusually somber. Even if you think it's a sure thing, even if it's something silly, even if you plan on keeping your word. Promise? I promise, Daddy.

Narcissa paused for a moment, still gripping her wand. Luna saw her eyes dart as she ran the arithmetic. She needed Luna, and she could not have missed the finality in Luna's voice. She couldn't afford to insist, in case Luna walked away from the deal altogether.

"Very well. And you're quite sure about not telling your mother and the others?"

"Trust me," Luna said, although Narcissa had just admitted that she would do no such thing.

"I suppose you must be a very good liar, then."

"Well, yes, I suppose," Luna lied.

"Hardly," Narcissa snorted, "I'll bring Draco here the day after tomorrow, around the same time?"

"Bring him...here?"

"Yes, I want him to have a plan in place before he goes back to Hogwarts next week. You'll be able to come up with a plan by then? And you'll need to learn Occlumency as well. I've been teaching Draco for some time now; you will not be able to achieve his level of proficiency any time soon, but you should be able to learn the fundamentals." It was not a question, non-negotiable.

"Occlumency...yes, yes, of course," Luna said, swallowing her doubts with the dregs of her tea. The sudden change in pace and tone of the conversation was like whiplash. Moments ago she had barely agreed to help and now there were plans to bring Draco, learn Occlumency, and begin plotting fake attempts on Albus Dumbledore's life. And she supposed she would have to start allowing herself to have prophecies again, so she could keep an eye out for anything related to Draco's mission.

Narcissa left immediately after the details were sorted, pulling her cloak low over her face and stepping out into the rain without a backwards glance. Neither of them were quite satisfied with the terms of their agreement, which Luna assumed meant she had brokered a good compromise.


When Natcissa returned with Draco, Luna did not bother making tea. She did not even seat them in the parlor to feign polite conversation, instead leading them directly up to the office. Luna had decided that Narcissa and her son were more in the vein of reluctant allies and co-conspirators than guests, so she had not bothered cleaning anything, either.

"This is where you live?" Draco scoffed, wrinkling his nose at the dusty floors, disorderly stacks of books and strewn papers, and the fireplace stuffed with old issues of The Quibbler. There were also unwashed dishes and a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, because Luna had been practically living in the office for the past two days, scrambling to prepare for Draco's arrival by researching all manner of near-deadly but not-quite-lethal spells, potions, and curses.

"Oh, I didn't realize you did not want my help. If your mother had told me you'd come into my house and act like this, I could have saved you the trip," Luna said pleasantly, almost conversationally. She still had not decided how she should refer to Narcissa - Mrs. Malfoy seemed overly formal, Narcissa far too familiar, and Auntie Narcissa simply wrong.

"What?" he spat, "No, Mother said you agreed to…Oh," he frowned when he realized what she meant. Narcissa's lips twitched slightly.

"Yes, I agreed to help you, but I can change my mind at any time. So I suggest you remember your manners, and soon. Can you do that?"

"Er, I guess," he mumbled.

"You could have apologized, you know. But no matter, I wouldn't have forgiven you anyway. Let's just get right to it, shall we?" Luna took the worn armchair behind her father's desk and gestured for the others to sit wherever they could carve space in the labyrinth of books.

"Fine."

"So first of all, you can't do any big magic with your wand. Nothing distinctive or traceable, anyway."

"What? Why ever not?"

"Don't ask me why; it would take too long to explain. Potions, plants, and enchanted objects are much safer. I've been researching a few poisonous plants, there are some that are only mildly poisonous, like the reaction looks pretty bad but it isn't actually fatal. And then there are some that are fatal, but if you get the dosage and timing just right and administer the antidote right after the poison, it would probably be safe…"

They went on like this for over an hour, Luna talking in a mostly uninterrupted stream, only stopping if she needed to check a reference in a book or if Draco asked her to clarify or spell something. He was taking diligent notes in small, neat handwriting. Narcissa watched in silence.

It was easier for Luna to think of it like a puzzle or riddle: finding the most creative ways to make a fake attempt on someone's life, striking the perfect balance between believability and safety, all while making sure nothing could be traced back to her or Draco. With her head buried in books, it was easier to forget that she was helping a Death Eater devise an assassination attempt. If things went wrong, someone could die. And not just anyone, but Aberforth's brother and one of the most important wizards in the history of the world.

"Is that enough? Can we be done now?" Luna finally asked. She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. A silence followed as Draco made the finishing touches on the last page of his notes. Albus Dumbledore's name echoed in her ears, a chorus of indictment.

"This is all excellent, of course, thank you," Narcissa spoke quickly, sensing Luna's disquiet.

"Now you have to uphold your end of the bargain. Tell me about the Dark Lord's plans." Luna tugged at a loose thread on the arm of her chair.

"Not just yet, not until you've delivered on your end. So far you've given us plans, but nothing else. And no prophecies, I notice?"

"I haven't had any! Or would you rather I make up prophecies for you? I can't have them on command, you know."

"Fine. Let's neither of us get ahead of ourselves. We shall see how you take to Occlumency first."

"Fine. But you're not leaving without giving me something."

"The ungrateful child! As if receiving free Occlumency lessons from a skilled Occlumens is not enough," Narcissa crowed, in just the same acerbic way Cressida had when she could not believe the sheer cheek of her own child. Luna crossed her arms and waited. She had learned in her short time with her aunt that Narcissa could rarely be convinced, but she could be waited out. Silence set her mind racing with the possibility of Luna changing her mind and betraying them.

"Oh, alright, yes, but not until after we begin with Occlumency. Draco, have you been working on Hogarth's construct?"

"Yes, Mother."

"Good. Sit over there and map out your sequencing while I get Luna started. And make sure the associations feel more natural this time."

Draco got a fresh sheaf of parchment and began rapidly drawing an elaborate web of symbols and words. Luna leaned over the desk and squinted to try to decipher it, but he frowned at her and turned away, shielding the paper from her view. Narcissa led Luna to a corner and began inspecting the spines of books as she spoke.

"Now, the first thing to know about Occlumency is that it is much more about the Occlumens than it is about the Legilimens. The Legilimens cannot practice his craft without a subject, but the Occlumens can perfect her art with only her own mind. Indeed, the most important thing in mastering Occlumency is mastering your own mind." She picked up a book, flipped through it, and then placed it back where she had found it, on the ottoman that was missing all its buttons.

"Know thyself, got it."

"Furthermore, it does not matter who the Legilimens is. The strategy of the Occlumens is always based solely on her own disposition," Narcissa picked up another book, apparently found this one more to her liking, and placed it on the desk.

"Wait, how do you mean? I thought Occlumency was about preventing Legilimens from being able to read your mind. Wouldn't your strategy need to change based on who's trying to read your mind?"

"That is only what the most basic Occlumency does, creates a shield to protect against Legilimency. But in many situations, a shield only raises more suspicion. It draws attention to the Occlumency, which makes it obvious that you have something to hide," Narcissa wound through the office, gathering books she fancied into a stack on the desk.

"No, at more advanced levels Occlumens can control how their mind is being read. They can camouflage their true thoughts, memories, and intentions and trap the Legilimens in a maze of their own design. To make it appear as natural as possible, the Occlumens must mimic her own natural thought processes so the Legilimens does not realize anything is amiss. That is entirely unique to the Occlumens and has nothing to do with the Legilimens."

"Wait, really? How does that work?" Luna's apathy about learning Occlumency had evaporated and been replaced with something akin to eagerness.

"Patience! You will need to master the basics in both theory and practice before you are ready to progress to that level."

"And how do I do that?"

Narcissa raised her eyebrows and tapped the stack of books with her long, perfectly manicured finger.

"Ugh, really?" Luna wrinkled her nose in distaste, "Homework? I'm really more of a practical sort of person. I don't mind plunging in headfirst, getting my hands dirty." She said this with a winning smile, expecting to be praised for her industriousness and willingness to learn.

"Look at me, and listen carefully." There was a gravity in Narcissa's voice that melted the grin from Luna's face like candle wax.

"This is not at all like your little experiments in Devon. There are specific Occlumency methods and procedures for a reason. You must remain focused at all times, and you must execute the procedure exactly as it is written. You cannot plunge in headfirst or improvise or experiment or deviate from the methods in any way. Do you understand?"

"Why not?"

"You can hurt yourself. And it's not all that difficult for Occlumens to inflict permanent damage on themselves."

"So?" Hurting herself had never deterred Luna before. As far as she was concerned, you could rarely do anything worthwhile without a little pain.

"Well," Narcissa said softly. Luna felt the same bristling in her eye sockets as she had two days ago, and she realized that her aunt must be reading her mind.

"Oi, stop that!" Luna flapped her arms in front of her face. It was unsettling knowing that Narcissa was rooting through the most private recesses of her mind, but she hated the look of pity on her aunt's face worst of all.

"You do realize I will need to read your mind during the practical exercises you were begging me for? You'll need to get used to it."

"I suppose. But not yet, because apparently I might boil my own eyeballs or something if I try."

"Yes. Are you done now?" Narcissa could not be ruffled as easily as her sister; Luna had expected the gratification of goading her aunt into sinking to her level, but was only met with an even chillier expression and the impatient tapping of Narcissa's high-heeled shoe.

"Yeah, sorry. So I have to read all those books, I guess?"

"Well spotted! And practice meditating, ten minutes in the morning and ten at night."

"Meditating? Doesn't that seem a bit...bohemian for you lot?" What Luna meant was that meditation sounded more in Cressida's usual realm than Narcissa's. But she did not dare say this aloud for fear of being slapped.

"Meditation is an important tool for teaching you to clear your mind. Being able to make your mind blank with little effort is the first step in constructing a shield like we talked about. And later you'll need to practice suppressing specific thoughts and memories, clearing them from your mind at will. But if you'd prefer not to…" Narcissa let the implication dangle. She could smell Luna's eagerness to learn Occlumency, which gave her leverage she had not had two days ago. She knew that Luna could be waited out, too.

"...Fine. Read the books and meditate. Now you have to tell me something about what you Death Eaters are up to. You promised."

"Wait, she doesn't know about the…" Draco looked up from his charts for the first time, his mouth agape. Luna's interest was piqued. What did Draco know that she didn't? What did he know that he thought she should know?

"Draco, hush," his mother silenced him with a flick of her bony wrist.

"But she has one!" Luna's eyes passed from son to mother to son like Ginny watching a Quidditch match.

"Draco." Mothers had a particular way of saying their children's names, even rich mothers. Even Death Eater mothers.

"I apologize, Mother. But if not that, what are you going to tell her?"

"She'd appreciate if you didn't talk about her like she's not standing right here."

They finally turned to face her. It was the first time her cousin had looked her in the eye.

"He's right. We can't tell you everything. We can't tell you very much at all."

"Well, if you're not going to trust me I don't see the point…" But she knew that there was little use in trying to wait them out. She could already tell this was non-negotiable.

"It's not just that we can't fully trust you...yet. There are other considerations. Ways he can trace things to us, to you. Your family and friends would be at risk. And even knowing what we know...it changes people."

"Psh, come on. If you just don't want to tell me you can say so."

But they only shook their heads. They were not lying to spare her feelings - when had they cared about her feelings, anyway? Draco looked like he regretted knowing whatever it was. Narcissa looked like she regretted that her son had no choice but to know.

"But other than that...he has his fingers in so many pies. I'm not sure what good it would do for you to know. We have agents at Hogwarts, but I'm sure that's no surprise. He's sent ambassadors to the giants in Europe. There are plans to break more people out of Azkaban, of course. Your mother would be delighted to know that the Ministry has been almost thoroughly infiltrated for some time now. And the latest obsession is this prophecy, he's got two of his best men spending most of their time trying to figure out how to get it out of the Department of Mysteries."

"A prophecy?"

"Nothing to do with you or your mother, of course. There was apparently a prophecy made about him and the Potter boy, years ago now. He managed to get a few of his followers placed in high positions in the Department of Mysteries in the last war, and they've stayed there ever since. But Lucius is certain nothing will come of it and I suspect he's right."

"What's the Hall of Prophecy?"

"It's a room in the Department of Mysteries where the Ministry archives every prophecy made on British soil."

"Tell me everything."


Luna's new knowledge weighed heavily, a millstone around her neck. Sometimes when she was at the Circle, the urge to tell someone, anyone at all, rose from her chest and threatened to burst out of her. But she swallowed the impulse like bile and bided her time. She knew she had to be strategic; the smallest miscalculation could bungle the entire operation.

She decided she could not risk telling them about Fudge at all. And mentioning Narcissa and Draco was obviously out of the question. No, Luna decided it was safest to pretend she had stumbled upon the Hall of Prophecy in some obscure book or other. But she could not risk them asking to see the book and being caught in a lie. So she waited.

Luna waited until the Ministry of Magic formed a new office in the Department of Magical Education for the inspection and certification of independent institutions of magical education. Then she waited until the Circle of Peloresow received the notice informing them of the date of their inspection. She knew she could capitalize on the others' anxieties about increasing Ministry interference. Her information about the Hall of Prophecies would only add fuel to the fire, burning away into ash before anyone could ask too many probing questions.

The inspection was just as annoying and meddlesome as Luna could have hoped. The Ministry officials peered into every nook and cranny of the Circle and asked intrusive questions. With her newly minted Occlumency training, Luna could even sense that one of the men was clumsily attempting to read her mind.

Afterwards, when they were sitting in the chapter house complaining about the Ministry, Luna knew her time had come. The reaction was exactly what she had hoped: indignation without hysteria, curiosity without interrogation. Finding a way to track and keep a record of every prophecy ever made on British soil might have seemed far-fetched mere months ago, but after seeing how far the Ministry's grasping tendrils could creep into their own lives, anything seemed plausible. They believed her, of course, and they only had one question.

How could they take back what was theirs?