I awaken not to the comfortable darkness of my canopy, but the blinding white imported cotton of one of my mother's guest beds.
The light from the windows assaults my eyes, scalding them into subordinance so I may only feel and not see.
The softness of bare breasts pillows into my back. A thin pyjama'd leg with stocking feet lays haphazardly across my own. Her elbow is sharp in my lungs, keeping me locked in place against her.
I force my unwilling eyelids to comply in awakening, belatedly realising a cache of golden curls shrouds my face. They're matted in my lashes and caught in my mouth.
xoXOXox
I haven't slept a wink.
Every time I'd begin to drift away, Draco would flinch and whimper in his sleep. His muscles would jerk and spasm as he whined "no, no" over and over again into the darkness.
I had half a mind to wake him to give him his Dreamless, but thought better of it since it was already surely the wee hours of the morning.
I sang and I pleaded, reassured and caressed until my voice went dry and my eyelids would no longer hold themselves open.
Perhaps it would be better to let his demons run loose from his head, so they may leave space for his mind to rest.
Run they did - wild and rampant under the moon, all night and after the sun rose and hours after Mimsy brought morning tea. It must be half past noon by now, and I can't move my arms from holding him.
Finally, the wards begin to fade. Hoping all the fairy dust has metabolised so he won't hallucinate more, I cautiously welcome him to the day.
"Draco, it's me. I'm here with you."
xoXOXox
I move to untangle the girl's hair from my face. My saliva coats it, cold strings departing the corners of my lips as I remove the offending strands. This is the filthiest I can remember feeling in some time.
My body is on fire all over. Soreness of a lifetime ago plagues every muscle as I turn to face her.
Her arm doesn't move.
As I release myself from the conglomerate of fuzzy curls to reveal her face, I fight back a gasp. Her visage is fatigued and weary, her supple lips parched and burning red. The shimmer of her blue eyes has disintegrated to a faded pallor surrounded in a bloody sea of pink.
Gently, I tuck her into my chest. I can't bear to view her in such a shattered state knowing I'm the cause of her suffering. I slide my hips back, and her leg falls silent to the duvet. I tuck my knees underneath myself.
"I'm sorry Lovegood." I whisper into her hair. For what, I can't be sure yet.
"Call me Luna." she replies coldly "And you're welcome."
xoXOXox
"What am I welcome for?" He asks, and it's the most irritating thing.
I take a deep breath to calm myself. I'm sleepy. I'm hungry. I'm being held captive against my will. It's apparent - to me at least - that I'm not in the best state of mind to use my rational judgement.
Breathing in his scent does the trick to calm my nerves. He smells spicy and clean; masculine, but just a hint. I've no idea how he manages to smell so nice after sweating all night. It must be whatever fancy shampoo and soap he uses. The oil-based, more expensive kinds last longer than mine would, I suspect.
"Lovegood, answer me… please." He demands and begs in one swoop, because even broken and sweating and covered in drool he still wants to think I owe him an explanation. He has to know somewhere in his depths I don't owe him at all. His soft plea, I determine, is meant to convince me of such.
"Let's discuss it over tea?" I ask, because I'd rather not say anything that may end with my head on a skewer due to hunger.
"Accio wand" he drawls, and his wand appropriately floats to him. The ease with which he commands it vexes me all over again.
He floats a tray of lavender biscuits and hand-poured chocolates, fresh strawberries and hot Earl Grey to sit on the corner of the bed. Not a healthy morning meal to be sure, but one I think we both deserve after the night we endured together. It may not give us enough energy to last the day, but my mouth waters in anticipation nonetheless.
We say nothing for a while as the juicy strawberries burst in our mouths and I drain cup after cup of the warm beverage. Understanding that Malfoy isn't known for his patience and will be expecting an answer soon, I pop a chocolate into his mouth to keep it shut while I explain.
I recount the events from last night, starting when he first awakened.
xoXOXox
I sense the girl is thoroughly agitated. If mother taught me any applicable survival skill, it's not to toy with an irritable witch, especially after she has requested sustenance.
I summon our breakfast and all of my patience to await her answer. I'll get a more thorough explanation of my recent debauchery if I appease her.
As I watch her lips cover the bright red fruit, my carnality disobeys my orders to remain dormant. I reach for a pillow to cover myself, taking one of the berries in my mouth to quell a fragment of the yearning.
She relaxes into breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her piqued breasts blush as red as the fruit's flesh before me. Her golden halo twinkles unashamedly in the sunlight, giving her an air of untamability. How apropos.
I swallow the strawberry whole at the sight, and it hurts going down while my watering eyes protest my decision. She plucks a chocolate from the tea tray, pressing it to my mouth. I allow her to set it on my tongue, savouring the touch that is salty and sweet all at once as my lips linger on her.
I call to mind cold winters and mountain rains, brisk winds and January snow, but none of my visualisations are sufficient to stifle the pounding ache she has caused me
My hands begin to sweat anew, leaving greasy wet stains on the white sheets as she recounts my transgressions. Brilliant, Malfoy.
"You're welcome for me saving your life twice in one night." she accuses as I allow the smooth confection to melt on my tongue.
The bittersweet morsel floods my conscious as much as the memories. I kissed her. She reviled me. I begged for her, she comforted me. I tried to fly free of this world, she taught me to sing while ensnared.
She's cared for me more in one day than I have cared for anything, ever.
What does she want from me?
xoXOXox
The breakfast is delicious, but unsatisfying to sate my hunger. Hunger is an enemy I know well, so I beat it back with what remains of the lukewarm tea.
Draco's face tells no tales of what is going on in his mind, but his aura is a story of conflict.
It rages a spectacular demonstration, firing off a marvellous show of lights. All shades of green and red encompass him in swirls and sparks in the wind. He's on fire from the inside out.
Good. The boy lives.
His modesty is quite entertaining given his display the day prior. A message floats in, landing on the pillow in his lap.
As he opens the letter, his face falls, and he transforms once again into the stoic young soldier.
"Get dressed." he orders. "We are going to meet with my father."
xoXOXox
Mother has prepared the girl a wardrobe. This is the first I've heard of a hostage being held in such high regard. Why not murder her father outright if his announcements are so influential, which they have never been lauded to be? The secrecy surrounding the discretion of this regime is maddening.
Lovegood stands before me in a jumper and trousers. Not Malfoy quality. Plebian. As if she had been brought here in this very attire. It's an unsettling transformation from her usual garish wares. They colour her eyes a brewing storm, accenting the sunkenness beneath them. The darkest of grey fabrics positively scream for her to disappear into the shadows. The witch who held me against her bare flesh is gone, in her place a derogatory shade of her gentleness. Danger radiates from her, landing bitter on my tongue. For a moment, with her wild hair and visage of blankness, she distinctly resembles Aunt Bella.
I quickly cast a smoothing charm to tame her curls. Levitating a black robe towards my charge, I implore her to not garner father's wrath for our tardiness. I grasp her elbow as we begin our journey to Father's study.
xoXOXox
Lucius Malfoy is a terrible inconvenience. Every sense of those words bears his likeness.
His office is situated far into the centre of the Manor, and as expected, we walk to it.
I try cheering myself with the prospect of gathering more information to aid in my escape, but my heart won't let me. Good thing my heart is not in charge of my thinking.
Draco's boots click and his snakes hiss every time we pass another dirty aura cloaked in black trying to seem important.
The halls look depressingly similar. Every door is closed.
Bugger.
46 closed doors and we stop at an enormous entryway. At least this one is memorable. The Malfoy crest sneers at me from high above the moulding. Serpents and dragons on a bed of black arrows dare us to enter.
I generally pick "truth" when playing this game, but no one asked me which choice I'd prefer.
"Lovegood," Draco whispers in my ear, sending a cold shimmer down my spine. "Keep your wits about you."
Who is he instructing, me or himself?
Draco holds his head high as he marches in to greet his father. Lucius stands.
Merlin, he is shabby. One look at him and I can tell he's been living on alcohol and adrenaline. Slytherins, Malfoys in particular, generally care a great deal about the appearances they display. Draco even curled my hair before allowing me in his father's presence. He wasted his magic. He doesn't acknowledge me at all. I doubt Lord Malfoy would have noticed if I showed up in a bath towel. He doesn't even seem to notice his collar has gone slack and he's given up shaving.
Lucius's aura doesn't even glow, it smoulders like fire-ash holding on to the last bits of kindling. Black and grey, shards of embers here and there is what he's descended to. I had been somewhat expecting the pride and malice he's known for to choke me with their stench. I curiously note they have almost no fuel to burn anymore as fear and shame take their places to swallow him alive.
"Father." Draco says flatly with the shortest nod of his head.
xoXOXox
"My son." Father returns to me.
Oh, so I am his son today, am I? Not "an embarrassment to the Malfoy legacy" or a "disgrace upon the name of wizard".
Today I stand to be of use to him.
I summon a chair askance from the desk for Lovegood to situate herself in as I take a seat at Father's desk.
"Amarton has been discharged from his duties as of this morning."
Father has relieved the Snatcher of his neck for his disrespect.
Now aim higher, Father. Go for the one who keeps you in chains and has you blithering about in a drunken stupor. Take back what is ours, O Mighty Lord of the Manor.
"As he should be." I reply.
"Indeed." Father says through a sneer, throwing a silencing charm around us.
My adders lay dormant.
"I trust your assignment is going as planned?" he inquires.
"The girl is not dead, so I suppose it is." I bite back.
"Excellent." is the deadpan reply from my father's decaying corpse.
Silence.
"Although I lament I don't understand the importance of it." I break the quiet.
He lets a mirthless laugh from the corner of his mouth, pouring a generous hand of whiskey over ice.
"There are many important matters you don't yet understand, Draco."
"Enlighten me." I growl through my teeth.
I'd be caned for insolence on any other day, but today I can pretend it's a show for the girl. It's a display of two Malfoys asserting their superiority. He knows this, and such I'm pardoned. I'll be praised for it, because madness is the king of cunning.
xoXOXox
This office reeks of death.
I sit in the corner taking in every little show of worth. The heavy drapes are drawn shut, and I can see the lingering clouds of cigars long past floating in the torchlight. Dragonskin armour and goblin-wrought swords preside over lush magic carpets. I would wager the rugs have been acquired illegally, but fall under some trading loophole only accessible to the elite. Pity they lie so stagnant. I've heard they're an adventure to ride.
An older version of Draco stares down at me from the wall. He speaks.
"Are you one of ours?"
"One of your what, sir?" I respond, because any information I can garner may be useful, and I'm dying of boredom while the Malfoys have their chat.
"Are you mute, girl?" the portrait asks. This communication charm is getting old quickly.
xoXOXox
"Lucius!" booms from my grandfather's portrait. He always had a commanding presence in life. Perhaps more so since passing.
"Father?" my sire answers, cancelling our privacy charm.
"Is this child an heir of mine? She looks to be one of yours. Perhaps a bit of Black blood on the hair." Grandfather gestures toward Lovegoood.
Father sneers as he dismisses us from his presence to have a gentlemanly chat with Grandfather.
xoXOXox
I stride silently through the corridors, milling over Father's "wisdom" he so "graciously" imparted to me.
Lovegood, the father, claims stake to the last dissenting media outlet in Britain. To silence him would be "too brash", too "revealing of a strategy". No, "we" must coerce him,
"...persuade the man to tell the story as we see fit." Father said, "If a wretch such as this comes to our cause, what fountain of information will the usurpers have to drink from?"
Although I see his logic, I also see the flaws in it. The Light supporters will owl one another until all owls are forbidden; write codes on scrolls until the scrolls are burned. They'll meet in secret. They'll disguise themselves. The valiant among us will find a way to know the truth.
I say no more. Now I understand why Lovegood, the daughter, is allowed such leniency in her captivity.
She will be of use so long as Harry Potter is alive.
Never one for spiritual endeavours, for serving kings one cannot comprehend is utter lunacy, I send a silent prayer to any being who may hear for Potter to remain.
xoXOXox
We arrive back in Draco's room, and I immediately collapse on the bed.
The needle worked as well as I thought it would to part the wards. The concealment charm ensured no one saw but Draco and me.
Within moments, I understand I have been awake too long for my body to allow me to rest now.
"May I go on the balcony?" I ask my cellmate, in case he may think I am attempting to roam without him.
"Fine." he replies, distracted.
I step into the blowing wind, leaving the door open. It is a balmy day, not as cold as I would have expected from the inside of the Manor. I shed the outer robe and jumper I've been given and begin to think.
xoXOXox