Second to last chapter of this! Trying to get it over and in the past as quickly as possible. Full explanation authors note in the last chapter! Trigger warnings apply, I do not own Harry Potter.
McGonagall and Hermione were frozen, staring at Luna in confusion, and then Hermione spoke, in a gentle voice, "Luna, I know it's hard to accept, but-"
"He's been spelled, Hermione," Luna said. "I knew I saw you, Blaise. I saw you pounding and screaming and trying to get out of your body."
"Where the fuck are we?" he panted. "Everything's hazy." He reached towards Luna, and she bent down to take his hand, but Hermione kicked his arm sharply.
"You will never touch her again," she snarled, her hair practically crackling as she shook with rage.
"Granger," he said, sounding genuinely remorseful. "I don't remember the past months at all. Perhaps you could fill me in before you end my life."
Hermione mumbled profanities under her breath as she conjured ropes from her wand to bind Blaise's hands, before leading him out of the interrogation room and into the small meeting room, and rang a bell to summon the other Order members. Icarus and the freed prisoners had been relocated, where, Hermione had not said. But it was Angelina and Percy who had herded them out, and they had returned from their mission to glare at Zabini. Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Neville Longbottom, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie Macmillan, Michael Corner, and Roger Davies drifted in and out of the Order headquarters, as there was a second base that had been under heavy watch for a while, and the members could not leave. They had not been there when Luna had first arrived. The small meeting room was filled, most with stony glares at the Death Eater.
The said Death Eater reclined in the small chair. Despite the severing of bonds and the peculiar relapse, as well as the weight of everyone's hatred in his vicinity, he remained impassive. He did not look at Luna. Hermione had her wand jammed to his throat. "We're going to be keeping you here, and you're going to tell us everything you know about the Dark Lord's plans, and then we'll decide what to do with you," Dean finally said, to break the silence.
Blaise raised his eyes and opened his mouth when he saw McGonagall approaching him with truth serum. The room was quiet except scratching of a few quills as Blaise dutifully answered every question, a contrast from days before when he had evaded every question with crude remarks. "You lot disappoint me," he said at one point. "Did none of you entertain the concept that I could touch my Dark Mark or be summoned by my lord at any point?"
"I'm offended you think so low of mine and Miss Granger's wards," Flitwick had squeaked. "I assure you, they are the best."
Blaise told them of locations of the Death Eaters and Order members he knew of, some of the Dark spells he had been taught, the raids he planned to go on, the mission he and Draco had went on to overseas, how he was expected to lay attacks on the American government, how Voldemort's goals were: extermination of Muggles, oppression of Muggleborns, world power. The information, he warned them, was a few months old, so Hannah ran to get the portable Pensieve so Blaise could share some memories that he had lived but could not recall.
When he watched what he had done, to Luna and to others, his jaw hardened and his brows lowered.
It brought the mood down and everyone was silent for a bit while they watched, until Ernie asked the next question.
"You're quite lucky I was never sworn to an Unbreakable Vow of secrecy," Blaise drawled, cracking his neck. "Salazar, you lot are awfully headstrong."
"What happens with him now?" Percy asked, when they had exhausted their questions. "We have a three options as far as I can tell: We kill him, we keep him, we send him back as our spy."
"Can I be honest?" he asked, and then smirked, because the Veritaserum ensured his honesty regardless. "I really don't give a damn what happens. I'm not helping you because I'm overcome with a desire to save the world. I would be perfectly fine with any outcome."
He did look at Luna then, who had been sitting on a chair with her knees to her chest, drawing pictures on the stained wood table with her finger. She did not meet his eyes when she asked, "How were you cursed?"
"I don't know," he said. "I can't tell the change in my mind."
Luna did not respond or react, but instead turned to Hermione.
"We'll have a council vote," Hermione sniped. "Until then, we keep him around." No one looked happy at that.
Professor Flitwick clamped charmed cuffs around Blaise's wrists, and the interrogation was over. Some people filed out. Neville stayed and turned to Luna. "Great Godric, Luna."
The cuffs, the former Charms professor said, would prevent him from touching a wand. It also had a tracking charm, as well as other wards and protections, essentially repressing his magic, but only temporarily. In any case, it left the Order confident enough to let him roam around the small headquarter space, given that he have someone with him at all times.
Blaise was perfectly content to spend his time with his daughter, sometimes with Luna watching, sometimes with a glaring Dean or Susan. He paid them no attention and doted on Katharina, who spoke to him and read with him. Katharina was perhaps the only person he smiled at, and the only person who smiled back. When he sat on the battered sofa, Katharina could climb over him and paw at his face with her small hands, and he would talk to her quietly in Italian. Michael Corner, who had been assigned to watch him during a shift, was paranoid that Blaise was feeding her information through a language none of them knew, but Madam Pomfrey understood a bit and grudgingly admitted it was trivial conversations.
"How are you doing today, Rina?" he would ask his daughter, as casual and as calm as he would ever be. One would never guess that Roger Davies had been carried through the same room an hour before, bleeding out of a hole cut clean through his chest.
"I'm good, Daddy," she would respond, and she would never know that the blood on the floor had come from Roger, because when the screaming man had been carried through, Blaise had watched coolly, while covering Katharina's ears and angling her eyes away from the scene.
When Blaise would nap with Katharina on his chest, Luna would watch them for a bit. She knew Blaise had not been himself. She did not know who cursed him, but nonetheless, she could not forgive him. He had been an antagonist for her, even bigger than Voldemort, for years. It was his smirking face that haunted her. It was his forceful touch, his taunts, his words, his touch, that made her quite sure she would never be the same again, even if the Order triumphed.
She had been so glad to have Neville back. She had not seen him at the Death Eater auction and worried over him, among others, but she had reconnected with her friend so easily. He had hugged her, face hardened from the war but still with his gentle smile, and they mourned Harry and Ron together, two boys that had befriended them when the rest of the school had mocked them.
The routine had lasted for a week. Luna suspected that the council had made a decision, that they were simply ironing out their plan. As for her, she did not plan. She preferred to spend time catching up on more information or brewing potions with Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary. Or spending time with Katharina, something she waited for Blaise to be done with before she did so. Or sitting on a sofa and staring, blocking out the memories that plagued her.
On the eighth day, Luna had been sitting down with Katharina sleeping in her lap, when Blaise appeared in front of her. She flinched when he put a hand on her arm. He was wearing a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, which showed his skull and snake brand. "They've made a decision on us," he whispered, and Luna stood up to bring Katharina to Xenophilius.
They entered the room, and Hermione stood. "We've decided to keep you here. You're the first valuable person we've caught, and you can provide insight on future plans, from your perspective."
There was a general rumble of agreement around the room.
"If I may, I think I could be of more use back in the ranks," he said, picking at his nails. "I would agree to stay if I were a mere Death Eater, but I find myself closer to the Dark Lord than most. I receive information sometimes directly from him."
"What?" Neville burst out. "Didn't he say he was a pragmatist and not a protagonist? How can we trust him? Did we forget he killed Seamus and Ron?"
"You would be our spy?" Hermione asked, ignoring Neville, disdain dripping from every word. She traded a look with Professor McGonagall.
"I consider myself defected now, Granger."
"And...if that were to happen," Angelina said, "how do you suggest you keep us safe? I'm sure he'll use Legilimency or Veritaserum."
"We could tamper with your memory," Hermione said, but she didn't look happy with the concept. "In sixth year, H-Harry had to acquire a memory for the Pensieve because the one Dumbledore had was tampered with by Professor Slughorn. Granted, he did a shite job changing it, so that's the only way he knew it was fake. But we will do better. Can you do Occlumency?"
"Yes," Blaise drawled. "Learned from the best."
"Can the Dark Lord break memory charms?" Flitwick asked. "That seems safer to me, Miss Granger."
"He can certainly break through memory charms. I'm not the first person to get captured and return. He brings them in, searches their mind, and asks them questions about their time away. Then he punishes them, and gives them another mission."
No one quite knew how to respond to that.
"Fake D.A. coin," Neville said then to break the silence, tossing it on the table. It rolled to a stop in front of Blaise, who picked it up, rolling it between his fingers. "You can use your wand to put messages in where the serial numbers should be. It's charmed so the message only shows for Order members."
"You drove Draco mad with these," Blaise said, as he slipped the Galleon in his pocket. "He always wondered how you snuck around and avoided that idiotic Inquisitorial Squad."
Hermione scowled at him. She hadn't warmed to him quite yet, a grudging reluctance being the only thing letting her work with him. "Would you let us put you under the Imperius, just a slight one, so you don't give anything up?"
"I think my Occlumency skills will be enough."
Hermione didn't smile. "Arrogant."
Blaise shrugged.
"Now we have to answer the question of what we're going to do with you, Luna, and Zabini's cover story when we go back. What are you going to say? They won't believe that we just let you go, so you'll have to tamper your memory of leaving," Hermione said.
"The rebels captured me, and that I escaped and returned, killing one. The memories, I think, will be enough as proof."
"And Luna will stay with us, correct?"
"Anyone we kill of magical blood, we have to leave or deliver the body to a Snatcher for records." The flippant tone reminded Luna that Blaise, while defected, was still a Death Eater. Still a killer.
Hermione did not look pleased. "So you can't lie and say you killed her. Say that we took her back."
"My Lord knows that I was experimenting with the bonds, Granger. You broke it, but he thinks that Luna is now bound to me still. They also know I have a child. I cannot return with neither of them, or else they would know that the bonds are broken or that they are still alive. And although I know this won't matter to you, I will look weak and disloyal if I say that Luna is with the Order, Granger."
This time, McGonagall looked furious.
"I'll be fine," she said. "Anything to make things safer, Hermione."
Her friend did not look assured, but her lips flattened and she nodded.
"You're going to swear an Unbreakable Vow," Lee said. "To not betray us, and to not hurt Luna."
"I'll have to still be a Death Eater," Blaise said. "I can't change how I act in public when I go back. Don't worry, I'll train her in Occlumency and dueling and such. But we need to pretend for the public and for my colleagues."
Hermione moved to talk to Madam Pomfrey. Their conversation was quiet, but snippets of their conversation were available to the whole room when Hermione's voice rose in anger before she tempered down. "Mentally unstable," "Emotionally scarred," "Post-traumatic stress disorder," "I don't care if he's defected, he's still a bastard..." before Hermione stepped away. "You need a codeword or phrase," she said. "For us and with Luna. You were under a spell that took away your moral rationale. Fine. But those lines have been blurred."
"What do you suggest it should be, Granger?"
"Vigilance is our code word, among the Order."
"Very well."
"Hermione?" Luna asked softly. "Can you prioritize killing Marcus Flint first?"
Hermione stared at her for a long second, before nodding. "Yeah," she said in an equal volume. "Sure, Luna."
Luna did not want to leave Katharina with the Order. But she would be conspiring with danger, and knew that it would be selfish to take her. She would stay with Xenophilius at the headquarters, and Lee would help take care of her. Katharina had taken a liking to Lee Jordan, perhaps because he was one of the few willing to be playful with her. Luna and Blaise would go back to his mansion.
Katharina was crying, tears streaming down her small face, knowing her parents were leaving her. Blaise used his thumbs to wipe away the small girl's tears. "I will be back for you, piccola," and kissed her forehead. He straightened up. As he hadn't gained the trust of anyone except for Luna and a grudging McGonagall, he nodded curtly to everyone else, stepped back, and waited for Luna.
She embraced Katharina, holding her close, burying her face in her daughter's hair. "When I get back I will take you to ride a thestral like I did when I was fifteen. But I pray you won't have to see them."
Hermione blindfolded the both of them before bringing them to the outside of the headquarters' wards, in a forest. She did not speak to either of them, only briefly squeezing Luna's arm before vanishing. They removed their blindfolds. "Here's what will happen," Blaise said slowly. "We are going back to my home. I will hide your wand and put a slight Imperius on you briefly, so when I touch my Mark he will not see any memories that incriminate us. You have my word that I will lift it after. Is that all right with you?"
Luna nodded.
When Blaise touched his Mark, Voldemort was in the room in ten seconds. Without missing a beat, Blaise knelt at Voldemort's feet, his forehead on the ground. "Rise," the creature commanded, and Blaise straightened. "So you have returned to us, Zabini. Speak."
"The rebels took my whore from me, and the prisoners I had. Weeks later, they captured me when I was trying to track one of them and I was taken to their headquarters. I did not let them search my mind and I evaded their questions under Veritaserum. I escaped when I killed the one watching me and retrieved the girl. I apologize, my Lord, I could not track their locations or touch my Mark."
Voldemort's slitted red eyes met Blaise's slanting browns ones, and from the way Blaise flinched, the Dark Lord was searching his memories to confirm his story. Luna was not worried. Hermione and McGonagall had done a thorough job with changing his single strands of memory, so when Voldemort looked, he would see Blaise grabbing the wand of Hannah Abbott and killing her, summoning his own wand and grabbing Luna. He had done that in real life but had merely Stunned Hannah. Hermione had managed to change the red light to green."So you are telling the truth. Let me search the girl."
There was a slight nudge in her brain. It was as if Voldemort was dragging his hands down the walls of her mind. She could feel him inside her head as he hissed a laugh, digging through her head, but there was nothing. "Her head is almost empty. She's trying so hard to forget everything you've done to her, Zabini. Perhaps I will not punish you for your lack of information."
"My Lord-"
"I will punish you for your carelessness, however. You clearly don't care enough about your toys to keep them safe. Getting captured by the rebels, indeed, makes me wonder why you weren't strong enough to handle them. Getting soft, Zabini?" Voldemort leveled his wand at him, and whispered in his horrible, cold voice: "Crucio."
Luna looked away. "What is wrong, girl?" Voldemort asked, noticing. "Given all of the pain he caused you, should you not be glad he is in pain now?"
She stared at him, and he chuckled, Blaise, writhing on the ground still. "Would you end his life if given the chance?"
"I tried to once," she whispered.
"And clearly you failed," Voldemort said in amusement. "You are so weak, it almost impresses me. As vacant and empty as a Muggle." He lifted his wand, and the pain Blaise was feeling subsided. "Again, I will ask: why are you so fond of her, Zabini? You treat your pet with care, it seems, despite her attempt on your life."
Blaise struggled to his feet. "It would be hard to come by another pureblooded slut so willing to break for me," he said, crudely, and Voldemort gave another humorless chuckle. "What happened with the child she sired you? I was informed she was an adequate age to start training."
"The Order took her and managed to keep her. I was only able to take the one and leave while I could. I was severely outnumbered, and touching my Dark Mark would have incapacitated you, as they erected strong wards."
"How kind of you to worry about me," Voldemort said, his red eyes alight with malice. "You do not seem very concerned about her. You acknowledged her as a legitimate heir, yes?"
"I am concerned," Blaise said, his voice taking a hard edge. Borderline insolent, he lifted his lips in a sneer. "I expect the Order is too weak to kill a child. They might use her as bait for me. But I want her back. She is mine. Permission to retrieve her?"
"Permission granted," Voldemort snapped. "No matter. I am glad you are back with us, Zabini. Please report to Malfoy Manor tomorrow for your new assignments."
Luna couldn't bring herself to move after Voldemort had left, only staring at Blaise, shaking. "It's all right, dolcezza," Blaise said quietly, eyes fixed on something far away. "I will not hurt you anymore. Constant vigilance, yes? We need to discuss boundaries when we're with others. I cannot talk to you like this in public, you know."
Over the course of the next hour, they hammered out the details of their public persona. They were very blunt about the limits and what was acceptable; sometimes, one person would suggest something and the other would simply refuse, and they would move on. It was quite unfortunate that it was socially acceptable for such abuse, such patriarchal allowance, but it was needed.
When Luna decided to sleep, she told Blaise firmly that she would not sleep in her old bedroom. She would sleep on one of the sofas in one of the sitting rooms. She received blankets from one of the elves. As they did not have names, she asked them if she could give them some. The elf that gave her blankets she named Io, the elf that gave her a small cup of Calming Draught she named Maro.
Blaise told Luna that he was going to tell Draco Malfoy what had happened to them. She had never seen Malfoy Manor, and it was just as impressive and imposing as Blaise's. Perhaps a bit more. There were peacocks roaming the grounds. Luna almost fit in with the Malfoys with their pale skin and pale hair and pale eyes. Bellatrix Lestrange was pacing in front of the large fireplace, the Malfoys standing to the side, careful to avoid her path.
When Blaise and Luna entered the room, Luna tried not to cower underneath their piercing, unfriendly stares. "Why did you bring the girl here, Blaise?" Narcissa quietly asked.
"Apologies, Narcissa, but I couldn't trust her to behave by herself," Blaise said smoothly. "She managed to be taken by the Order and has been disturbed ever since we got back."
Bellatrix perked up, a catlike smile stretching across her face and exposing her rotted teeth. "Tell me, girl, have you seen that Granger bitch since she escaped from here?" Bellatrix cooed, the harsh words at odds with her sickly sweet tone. She strutted closer, right up to Luna, and her talonlike nails fluttered on Luna's skin. Luna breathed deeply, exhaling shakily, sure that everyone could hear her heartbeat, pounding as loud and as fast as a hippogriff's hooves. The Dark Lord's most faithful, mere inches away from her.
When Luna didn't answer, Bellatrix seized her shoulders. "ANSWER ME!" the black-haired woman roared, shaking her violently. Her nails left angry red crescents on Luna's skin.
Even if Luna wanted to tell her, she didn't think she could. The words were frightened away. So she kept her stare vacant, blinking at the most feared woman of Wizarding Europe. Bellatrix whipped out her wand and jammed it to Luna's temple. "I know you've must've crossed paths, brat. I know you're still faithful to that blasted Order."
Luna shook her head. The terror was crushing her. "Bella, please," Narcissa Malfoy murmured from her position with her family. Lucius Malfoy was quiet, his eyes shadowed. "I don't think the girl knows."
"Quiet, Cissy!" Bellatrix shrieked, wrapping her other hand around Luna's throat. "She was with that bitch at the Ministry five years ago! And at Hogwarts! I know she is still-"
Blaise interjected with an amused tone, "Madame, be gentle with her. You can't have her dead if you want to question her, and I can't have her dead if I want to keep fucking her."
At this, Draco Malfoy laughed.
"Of course, Zabini," Bellatrix simpered. She gave Luna a sneer, releasing her neck and shoving her to the ground. Luna gasped and choked, but scrambled up and massaged her neck. "I suggest you answer me. To help me is to help our Lord, girly, and you might not end up with your head in the fireplace after all."
"She still bothers you?" Luna asked, head spinning from being choked. "Why would a Muggleborn be such a threat?"
If a person had told Luna that one day, she would walk into a room with some of the most revered or feared people of Wizarding Britain, some of the most notorious Slytherins, she would have never believed them and perhaps asked what the Wrackspurts were doing.
Bellatrix snarled. "Insolent little blood traitor," she hissed.
"Granger's the last member of the Golden Trio. The figurehead for the Order of the Phoenix, after Dumbledore died. So to kill her is to snuff out the little fire of rebellion," Draco drawled. "Honestly, you'd think the war would have wizened you up, Lovegood. Zabini. Let's go."
Blaise wrapped his hand around Luna's arm, and followed Draco's retreating back. The three former classmates left the main room and into a smaller one. "Draco," Blaise said. "You should know I was cursed by someone in our ranks. Stay on your watch."
"You think I don't know when my best friend of fifteen years is cursed?" the blonde snapped. "How did you break it?"
"We were captured by the Order and spent some time there. They broke it. Consider me a rebel."
"You're an idiot," Draco snarled. "You're as good as dead. What should I wear to your funeral?"
"This isn't a fucking joke, Draco," Blaise spat. "I lost sight of who I was under that curse. It was like an Imperiused poison that drowned out me. I'm not sure if you feel the same way, but I rather like being in control of my actions."
"But the Order? Merlin, I thought we made the plan to not stick out our necks if it wasn't needed! Why the fuck did you tell me this? Now I'm fucked too, Zabini. And my mother is so close to offing herself, it would break her all over again if I was implemented in your betrayal." Draco's pale face was twisted, and he stepped closer and took Blaise's shirt collar in his hand. "Typical of you, mate. Always so selfish."
Luna looked at the two men, no ounce of teasing in her eyes as she said, in a tone almost motherly, "Boys, I'd rather you kill each other in the other room. I'd hate for this room to carry such bad memories." She did not like Draco Malfoy. She supposed that he had been pretending to be crude, all that time ago at the revel, just like Theodore Nott. But the Malfoy heir had always been a bit of a bully.
Draco laughed. "There you are, Loony," he said, the nickname on his lips unfamiliar. She had not heard it for quite some time, in that mocking way. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd changed for good."
"Don't call her that," Blaise snarled.
Draco released Blaise's shirt, shoving him away with disgust.
"If you are going to duel, don't use the one Harry used on you at school, Draco. I'd hate for you to get blood on the carpets."
Draco was giving Blaise his trademark sneer, the one he'd perfected in his school days. "I never took you for a coward, Blaise," the blonde hissed. "And here you are, hiding behind Lovegood's skirts."
Blaise sneered back. "I'm surprised you of all people don't understand loyalty to your family."
"I sure as hell do! Lovegood. Do you want to be a Malfoy? We could Obliviate all of Britain and you could be my sister. Merlin knows my mother needs a daughter. Zabini has no fucking idea what he's done. He's put your entire life into danger." The Malfoy heir was staring at her, eyes crazed, cheeks flushed.
Luna knit her eyebrows together. "I know the risks, Draco. I'm helping the Order. My life has been in danger from the start."
"Great sweet Salazar, whatever happened to utilitarianism? Aren't you supposed to gain more common sense when you fuck a Ravenclaw?" Draco wasn't even looking at them anymore, running his hands through his hair.
Blaise's jaw ticked. "Enough. We still have to do our work. Back to America, I presume?"
"Lovegood, do you want to talk to the person in our cellar? We've had him for a week. He'd been a slave before. I think you might have known him." Draco's grey eyes were hard and angry. "Go. I can't believe Zabini signed his death warrant for you. And be careful what you say around him. He's been tortured quite a bit."
He didn't bother telling her which way their cellar was, so Luna left the study and asked an elf dusting the windows in the next room, who brought her to the door when she told him that the young Master Malfoy had requested it. She was not quite sure why Draco wanted her to talk to the prisoner, whoever he was, or why he had been so flippant when informing her of his torture. When she pushed open the grated door to the room, a pair of eyes glared at her, shrouded in the darkness. Luna stumbled back, whispering, "Who's there?"
"'Who's there?' Shouldn't you know?" the hoarse voice mocked. "Come to taunt me again?"
"I'm not who you think I am. I'm not here to hurt you."
A face came into view. Filthy, smeared with dirt and blood. Hair and beard matted and long. Face thin and gaunt, eyes almost fractured with fear. "Get away!" he panted.
Luna's mouth dropped open. "Anthony? Tony?"
The weak man laughed, the sound crackling. "Don't say my name and pretend we are all equal. I would have sworn to Him by now. Well, it's too late."
"Anthony Goldstein," Luna said. "It's me, Luna Lovegood."
She'd last seen him get auctioned off at the Death Eater revelry where Ron had been killed. Her Housemate at school had been one year above her, handsome and kind, whip-smart as most Ravenclaws were. He hadn't treated her as an outcast. He never called her a loon like some of the other Ravenclaws did.
He clearly hadn't been left alone. His ragged clothes hung off his frail body, formerly broad and strong. Nightmare scars were dark under his eyes, spasms and tics wracked his frame.
"Luna? Did they catch you too?" he rasped. "I thought you were safe with one of them. I thought Zabini had you."
Luna put a hand on his cheek. Tears slowly fell down Anthony's face, making tracks in the grime on his cheeks, his face crumpling. "Don't ask what they've done to me," Anthony sobbed. "It's too much for me. It will be too much for you."
"Come on, let's talk about something else. Let's talk about Hogwarts," Luna coaxed. "We were once Ravenclaws. Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure. Remember the dolls that would spew that line day and night, the ones you got from Hogsmeade? And Professor Flitwick's candy he used to give us?"
"S-sugar mice."
"And you always enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures. I hear Professor Hagrid and Buckbeak are safe in America right now."
It was a lie, of course. She had no idea where Hagrid was.
"Luna," he whimpered. "I don't know if I can live like this anymore. I can't. I don't know when I sleep. I don't even escape there, because I cannot tell where reality ends and the nightmare begins."
Luna smoothed back his hair. "It will end soon," she soothed.
"Do me a favor, Luna?" he asked, his bottom lip trembling. He looked so very young and vulnerable, terrified of what the future would bring. "Does Zabini treat you well? Will he let you do this? I have a relative or something...Rolf Scamander, he's the grandchild of my mum's second cousin, Porpentina Goldstein. Could you…" he coughed, gasping for air. "Could you find him and tell him where I am? He might be able to help, and if not, he could help you…the Order..."
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll try, Tony. Do you know why Draco wanted me to talk to you?"
"He recognized me. When I came, he said, 'Goldstein, is your relative Rolf still alive?'"
Draco was trying to help, Luna thought. However subtle he might be.
"I am sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry this happened to you, Anthony."
Her Housemate took her hand. "I'm terrified, Luna," he breathed. "I think death would be a mercy. Everything hurts, and Mandy's dead."
Zabini came and pulled Luna away from him. "Where are you going with her, you bastard?" Anthony wheezed, choking on his words as spots danced in his vision. Luna glanced back at him, both of their faces hauntingly beautiful in the meek light. "You look well, Goldstein," Blaise said, laughing at him. He flicked his wand carelessly, and a gash appeared on his leg. He yelped.
But amid the pain, Anthony heard Luna say reproachfully, "You didn't need to do that." And Zabini responded, "Never liked him." Then he brushed her hair back and they left.
"I put a tracking spell on him with that gash. It'll look suspicious if they break him out after I've been here. We must wait a bit."
"Very well. Do you know where to find Rolf Scamander?"
"This is Rolf Scamander," Blaise said, and Luna gripped his hand and shook it. He wasn't overly tall, but he wasn't as short as she was, and he had a very inviting and open face and tanned skin that suggested he spent a lot of time outdoors. He was a Magizoologist, he told them, and he didn't seem to be scared to be in a Death Eater's presence.
In a different world, Luna thought he would be quite a nice person to befriend. But after a few minutes of conversation, she realized why Anthony thought Rolf would be an asset: he had inherited Newt Scamander's information of every magical creature's location in the world, far beyond the information in the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them textbook.
Rolf studied the odd pair curiously. Luna's face lit up with interest when he mentioned an influx of Glumbumbles in France. He had a feeling she was suppressing most of her personality around him.
"Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Scamander," Zabini said.
"It was a pleasure," Rolf said, extending his hand.
"I don't think the Order wants to unleash his animals loose like that," Luna said, once they were back at Zabini Mansion. "Quite unfortunate." She was not eager to sleep. She knew when she closed her eyes, she would see Anthony's broken face.
"I thought so too," Blaise said, "Too many variables. But Goldstein asked you to meet with him, so we should oblige. The main objective was to get his location."
Luna hadn't thought of Harry much, the dead symbol of hope and freedom. Maybe she knew it was easier to not think. Maybe she was ashamed that she couldn't think about what her life could have been, anymore.
And maybe she was scared that Voldemort knew who she was.
She had been content to be a nameless, faceless slave of a Death Eater. He had addressed her a few times, asked Blaise about her, all from his throne. But when she was staring at the Dark Lord from her position on the floor, he looked back at her. They held eye contact for a count of ten seconds, until Voldemort glided across the floor and spoke to her directly in his cold, snide voice. "I know you think I am a monster," the Dark Lord said. "But I am quite merciful, and you need not be afraid of me."
Luna cocked her head to the side and nodded. All the instincts that had shouted at her to run when Bellatrix was near her...now inflamed and multiplied tenfold. "What's your name, girl?" the snakelike man said.
"Luna," she said softly, aware that the people in her vicinity were either cowering in fear or glaring in envy at them.
"No family name?" Voldemort asked, but the words were delivered flatly, no trace of curiosity.
"I don't suppose being a Lovegood has any relevance in your world," she said.
"No, I suppose it doesn't," the gaunt creature said carelessly.
Blaise came up behind her, bowing slightly. "Ah, you are Zabini's. I thought I recognized you," Voldemort said. He placed a long white finger under Luna's chin, tilting her head up. Blaise's breath warmed her neck. "Quite a shame a pureblooded girl has such silly loyalties. A blood traitor now? No matter. I should like for you to get married."
"My lord?" Blaise asked. Luna gave a small start.
"I understand this girl has not yet shown her faithfulness to me, but it would behoove her to do this, to rectify the damage the Order has done to domesticity, to show mercy under my reign, the new beginnings for the younger generation. It helps that you are not as crude as the others. You are much like me, in that we can recognize the value of things when we see them. I allow families to flourish, do I not?"
"Yes, my lord," Blaise said. He gripped Luna's wrist. "Whenever you wish."
"You may decide whether you want to elevate her status as your wife or keep her as your pet," Voldemort continued. "We must only present you as a couple to Wizarding Europe. She may stay as your plaything behind closed doors if you would like it so."
It felt like a betrayal, talking to the person who had caused such destruction for everyone. If Harry could have seen her then. "I will allow you to make your wedding as small or as large as you would like. Just make sure it is publicized."
"What do you say to our lord?" Blaise said, gently wrapping his hand around Luna's neck and forcing her to look up from the ground. "We will serve you well," he prompted.
Luna forced out the words that were like acid in her mouth. "We will serve you well," she whispered.
Voldemort gave a thin smile. "You are not like the other arrogant Order members. That will serve you well." He left without saying anything else, the crowd parting and bowing as he walked through.
Later, in the privacy of the manor, Blaise and Luna sat down to plan. "I don't want this, Blaise," was the first thing she said.
"If we keep him happy we can do more." Blaise looked regretful, but he straightened. "We break out prisoners by giving their location to them. And buy time. That is still our plan."
She was still uncomfortable around him- sometimes downright terrified. Her neck tingled from where his hand had been hours before, reminding her that he was still very capable of hurting her. Hurting anyone.
"You'll have to attend more events in public if you're my wife. Zabini women have always been neutral, so you won't be forced to take the Mark, but you're still going to have to be seen with me. We'll say you're sick so you don't have to go to all of them. I'll arrange so our marriage allows you to get through the wards and the Zabini vaults and such. Draco will be our witness. If you can, you will tell the Order about this, so they won't think..."
So they wouldn't think Blaise forced her to, Luna knew.
On the day of the wedding, Luna bathed and dressed. She had wanted it to remain small, as she felt guilty getting married when so many others couldn't. Even if it wasn't a real marriage. Having an event meant for happiness, when so many were dead or hurt, felt like a betrayal.
She wore a white dress that whispered against her legs, no shoes, and flowers in her hair. She had gotten Io to acquire some blooms for her, some of which she put in a vase on a sofa's side table. The other delicate ones were braided into her long hair.
Blaise was waiting for her when she descended the staircase, and while he was dressed in his usual black, he had put in a bit of effort. He was wearing expensive dress robes as opposed to a black shirt and pants. His sleeves were rolled down, which was nice, because it hid his Dark Mark. The ceremony was simple, a few people in formal clothes and dress robes. Draco Malfoy as a witness. A photographer for The Daily Prophet who looked terrified in the same room as two of Britain's most notorious young Death Eaters. A Ministry official.
The ceremony began quickly.
"Do you, Blaise Osian, take Luna Pandora to be your wife?"
"I do," Blaise said, sliding a thin silver band on Luna's finger. The ring was nearly invisible, a passing glance would skip over it completely. He brought Luna's hand to his mouth and kissed it, barely brushing it.
"Do you, Luna Pandora, take Blaise Osian to be your husband?"
"I do," Luna said, from a mouth that was not her own, as she dazedly slid a ring on Blaise's finger, eyes fixed on his signet ring. She brought his hand to her lips. "With the power in me invested by our Lord and the Ministry of Wizarding Britain, I pronounce you man and wife."
Blaise cupped Luna's cheek gently and brought his full lips to her thin ones, feather-light.
The Ministry official was muttering binding spells in the background, and she could feel it take place. It did not feel like the brand she had had before. The marriage bond fused their magic in a way, whereas the blood brand drained hers. Luna turned and faced Draco and the photographer, both of whom looked deadly serious.
There was not an ounce of joy in the room, but the photographer shakily requested some happy photos, "p-per the Dark Lord's request, sir, please." After the stonefaced couple had their photos, the shuddering photographer packed away his equipment and gave a hasty bow, saying he expected the photos to be on the front page of The Daily Prophet.
Afterwards, Blaise shook Draco's hand and Draco Apparated, as did the photographer, and the Ministry official produced some legal documents. "Oh, those won't be necessary," Blaise said, smirking at the cowering man. "She's not to gain any privilege from this union."
"But, sir, Mr. Zabini, these are needed if she is to become the lady of your house and Mrs. Zabini..."
"This bitch is nineteen and ready to snap in fucking half. You think she's ready to behave at my level?" Blaise asked amusedly, the cruel words at odds with his casual, charming tone. He grabbed Luna's chin and she flinched.
"N-no, sir, but..."
The small man was easily forty years Blaise's senior, but it was almost sad to watch him panic. Luna almost wanted to tell him they were pretending. "You won't be legally married unless you sign," he sputtered, extending a quill with a shaking hand. Indeed, the menacing look in Blaise's eyes, with his otherwise calm face, was truly intimidating.
"Then what the hell were those binding spells for?"
The official only gaped at him.
"I'm not having my whore be Lady Zabini just yet. Between you and me, my lord wanted us to stage our marriage. I can still fuck her and not marry her, correct? Or is that against a law that you want to argue with me about?" Blaise's hand was wrapped around Luna's arm. She was watching the man, who was sweating profusely and seemed to be avoiding her eyes.
"No, sir, I'm sorry, please do not tell our lord of my impertinence," the official gasped. "I will be on my way." Throughout the whole conversation he had not glanced at Luna, but now he did, his murky eyes conveying panic almost feral. Blaise reached his other hand out to grip his shirt collar, and say, with a tone as if he was commenting about the weather, "You are not to breathe a word of this to anyone, or I swear to Salazar I will have your head."
"Y-yes, of course, I am sorry for questioning you, I won't tell anyone, please..." he babbled.
Blaise released him with a shove, a look of slight disgust on his face. "Go."
The man couldn't Apparate fast enough, almost tripping over his feet.
Luna stared at the spot in which he had disappeared. "Do you suppose the Wrackspurts got him?" When she didn't hear a response, she looked up at him.
"We have to consummate our marriage, Luna," he said, almost gently. "To seal the bonds, or this house will reject your blood when you try to leave on your own."
She winced. She had forgotten. Blaise had been the only man to ever touch her, sometimes consensually, other times not. He had been the only person to ever hurt her, or affect her in such a way. "I did not expect to be touched like this again- I did not want to be."
"I will make it good for you," he promised. "Good or quick- it is your choice."
"Make it good," she said, and he cradled her into her arms, bridal style for the bride, and moved up the stairs to an empty bedroom. Not his personal one or her own, for which she was grateful. They were barely illuminated by the moonlight, and he raised a hand to stroke her face. "One more time," he whispered. "It will be fine."
His hand moved to trace her collarbones, and then he started to ease her arms out of her dress and she started to undress him. He ran a hand through her hair, unraveling the loosening braids and the flowers, which fell to the floor. Luna made a small noise as he brought his mouth to her breast, her small hands gripping his broad shoulders. "Quanto sei bella stasera," he rasped against her skin. "So beautiful."
The first stroke of his tongue had her shaking. "Too beautiful for me, moonshine."
That night, he worshiped every part of her body with his hands, mouth, and cock, and she clung to him, their hands traveling over each other in a crazed sense of desperation. A thousand unspoken words passed between them as they brought each other over the edge, a thousand emotions were felt, their names on each other's lips feeling like a curse and a betrayal and confusion. Their intimacy was almost a mutation, as Blaise kissed his way down her neck, as Luna pressed her head back; her hair spread around her, but their heartbeats were fast and steady.
"Do you know what you do to me?" he asked in nearly a whisper. "Do you know what I would do for you?"
"Tell me," she gasped. "I would like to know."
"Anything," he breathed. "I would do anything for you."
She brushed her hand over his head, wondering if this was how he felt when they were in public. Felt with the power. Because she knew, at that moment, she could ask for the world and he would die trying to give it to her. It confused her. It scared her.
"My moonshine," he continued, and a small noise escaped from her lips. "Light of my life."
Their eyes met before he returned to his worship.
"My salvation. My saving grace," he whispered. "My angel girl."
It was as if they were shells of themselves. When they finished, they stared at each other for merely a second, and they were both utterly unraveled. Utterly debauched. Their chests rose and fell in unison.
"I am only for you, angel girl."
August 24, 2000
Blaise Zabini Marries Former Potter Confidant
by Rita Skeeter
Blaise Zabini, twenty, married Luna Lovegood, nineteen, in a modest ceremony yesterday evening. It was said that Zabini received the blessings from our own Lord of Wizarding Europe himself before tying the knot. Zabini is a well-known Death Eater, whereas Lovegood is the only daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood (editor of the once-popular magazine The Quibbler). It certainly says quite a bit about the mercy of the Dark Lord, as Lovegood was a well-known friend and ally of the late Harry Potter. How remarkable of our benevolent leader to create a reign in which a young couple can thrive in his new world!
The Lovegood family, while pureblood, is not a Sacred Twenty-Eight family by any means, which begs the question: what does the airy-fairy lunatic, as dubbed by her former classmates, have to offer one of the most highly respected bachelors in Europe? Perhaps Zabini likes blondes, perhaps Lovegood liked the amount of Galleons he has, or perhaps they are bound in some other way. In any case, Zabini's new wife must have impressed the Dark Lord, as he personally blessed their union. We will see, dear reader, whether the new Mrs Zabini will impress us as well. My hopes are not high...
The next morning, Luna woke in the bed alone and asked the elf Io to bring her some clothes. She put on the large green sweater with the Slytherin crest over the heart and Muggle denim jeans, walking through the halls of the house.
She was slightly surprised to see Blaise sitting in the dining room in casual wear, eating toast and reading The Daily Prophet. "He told me to not work for a few days," he said in response to her raised eyebrows. "To make it look like we're on a honeymoon. Quite nice, to want us to look like we're vacationing but not letting us. I doubt anyone would raise complaints if they see me during an attack and not with my wife. Where did you get my old Quidditch sweater?"
Luna took her seat next to him, and an elf brought her a tray of food. A bowl of fruit, toast, eggs, coffee. "I forgot you played Quidditch. Io gave it to me when I asked for clothes. I have none that aren't slips."
He grinned. "I remember your Quidditch hats."
"This is awfully domestic," Luna commented. She picked up the front pages of the newspaper, her own stoic face staring back at her. The wedding portrait that was on the front page of The Daily Prophet was not likely to have anyone believe the Dark Lord let happiness bloom. "As if we're not under a dictatorship."
Indeed it was domestic. Blaise and Luna Zabini, the young heads of the most notorious new-money family in Europe, a pureblooded wizard and witch living under a sadistic, cruel ruler, in a world laden with death and misery, sat and ate breakfast and read the newspaper.
He nodded. "Our lord. Quite the mindfucker."
Luna bit into a strawberry and nodded.
"The Malfoys are holding a gala tonight," Blaise said. "I think this will be one of the few events you should attend as my wife. It will be tame, and you won't have to do anything except stand there. Tomorrow, there is revelry, and these two nights will be the last public events for you, for a while."
Luna nodded, and he pushed a strand of hair back from her face. "The elves will get you ready. I think we will leave in an hour."
Her favorite elf Maro Apparated into her new bedroom, which Luna had asked the elves to redecorate for her. "You will wear this tonight, miss," the elf squeaked, and helped her put on the gown. While she was glad she would be wearing more than undergarments or chemises, she had a dislike for the dainty dress. She had loved wearing colorful Muggle clothes or at least bright dress robes, but this was a dark green dress of material that made her think of the inky clouds that Voldemort and his select followers could fly in. It wisped against the ground, and bared her shoulders and arms with delicate lacework along the edge. When the elf arranged her hair in a chignon as pureblooded ladies wore, she looked in the mirror and marveled at the stranger that looked back.
Blaise appeared behind her. He ran his hands over her shoulder and met her eyes in the mirror. "Are you ready?" he asked. "This will be a lot to handle if you're not."
She released a breath and nodded; he kissed the curve of her neck and they Apparated to Malfoy Manor.
The Manor's largest room was filled with pureblooded people. Prisoners of the Light side were moving silently among the Dark, collars around their necks, seemingly suppressing their energy. With regret, she spotted Anthony, looking even worse than he had when she last saw him. He was holding a tray of champagne glasses and made eye contact with her over a passing couple, and then quickly looked away.
Blaise's fingers tightened around her waist; his jaw was clenched. Luna sensed he was feeling uneasy, being around so many Death Eaters that could turn from allies to enemies at the smallest upset. "You are radiant tonight, love," he said, his hand on the small of her back. "I am sure you outshine everyone in this room."
Luna was not sure if he was saying it for the benefit of the other guests, or if he really meant it, but she accepted the glass of champagne he handed her from a passing server. "Better to drink at these events," he muttered before taking a deep sip.
She followed suit, savored the taste, and distracted herself by looking at the room's detailing. It was intricate, oozing of old money. The Malfoys had flourished under any reign regardless, due to their tendency to favor the winning side at all times, but the Dark Lord's rule had certainly brought an influx of Galleons their way.
"More champagne, sir?" Anthony appeared and took the empty glasses from him. His eyes were dull, and his undereye circles had not yet faded, but his bruises had appeared to be healed.
Blaise shook his head but leaned in to utter a phrase that was lighting-fast and quiet: "You will be leaving here soon- stay on your watch," before leaning back and walking away, pulling Luna along with him.
Theodore Nott walked up to them, giving a small bow to Luna and addressing Blaise. "How's the mission with Draco going?" the tall boy asked.
"Quite well. Congratulations on your promotion of rank, Nott."
"Thank you." To Luna, he said, "I replaced Marcus Flint's position after he was attacked by an unknown criminal. They kidnapped his wife Pansy as well. He's been in St. Mungo's for a week now."
"How unfortunate," Luna said, but she grinned. Hermione must have listened to her request. After a moment, Theodore smiled back. "Did you look into who was developing the curses as I asked?" Blaise asked.
"Yes. Dolohov and Macnair are the heads of the section, but I wasn't able to get the records of the specifics. I think Montague is working there too," Theo said. "I hate to suggest, but you could always tell Him that you suspect you were cursed."
"Then I will have to tell him that our blood bond is broken," Blaise said. "He would punish me. Also, I would hate to confide in him as if he would help me in any way."
Theodore shrugged, brushing a speck of dust off the sleeves of his robes. "How's Katharina?" he asked Luna. "Sad there's no snow yet?"
"I think Montague and Macnair are the ones who cursed Blaise," she said instead, ignoring his question. "I think they're quite the people to do it."
The two men stared at Luna. She itched to undo her hair, as it was starting to pull at her scalp. "Just my thoughts," she said, and waved dreamily when Theo departed.
The room smelled of sex and smoke. He wasn't sure how he had gotten there. All he had done was make conversation with Cassius Warrington at the pub and eventually do him a favor. As a pureblood, he had been allowed to continue living his life. His family hadn't always been neutral, but he personally had not cared for a Voldemort-led world. He had been a Slytherin, a year ahead of Harry Potter, but the blood supremacy wasn't the reason why he had been sorted there.
All he had done was drop hints that he did not in fact, like the Order, but Warrington had mistaken his survival-led guise as true loyalty and interest, and invited him to a revelry. And all of his former classmates, on both sides, were there. A boy whose name he didn't know, only his face, was carrying a wineglass through the room, the collar around his neck the only sign of his distress. A girl, he thought her a few years below him in Slytherin, was tossing back fingers of liquor, triumph on her moon-white face, a smile on her bloodred lips.
The Nott family was hosting, and the Nott heir himself was sitting alone, his angular face set in a cruel expression, almost brooding.
Blaise Zabini was there, a cool sneer on his face, idly smoking a cigarette with a blonde girl on his lap. He was somewhat renowned when the Death Eaters talked about their pets. He had never once taken another prisoner on. Some of the others whispered that he had fallen in love with her, that he had started a family with her, but it was hard to believe as he touched her.
He found himself drawn to Zabini, walking over and sitting down opposite his former Quidditch teammate, but was barely acknowledged, so he took to studying the girl he was with. She met his eyes quickly, unashamedly staring back. Vaguely familiar. To be honest, the people he remembered at Hogwarts melted together. He frowned at her. "I don't remember seeing you in Slytherin, blondie..."
"Ravenclaw," she said. "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."
Blaise huffed a laugh, long fingers caressing her. There was nothing crude about this, and yet it felt so very wrong to be watching. Some of the other Death Eaters were penetrating their slaves, bouncing them on their laps and fucking them, but Zabini was merely touching her, as gently and intimately as if she were his lover, however, there was no love on his face.
"Do you have one?" Blaise asked lazily, clamping his lips around the cigarette. He let his girl trace his left hand with her fingers, his right hand toying with her hair. The blonde was unresponsive, merely tracing the lines and nails of his hand, as Blaise dragged his hand down her neck. The contrast between them was entrancing. Both looked as if they were carved from stone, their perfect faces impassive; one entirely light figure of pale skin, pale hair, pale eyes, a pale chemise that revealed the curve of her legs; one dark, with dark clothes and dark skin and eyes and expression. Sun and moon, day and night, but they both could suit either one.
"I'm not a Death Eater. I work in the Office for the Removal of Curses."
Blaise's eyes never left his own. He could see that his former Housemate was doing some calculating behind his neutral expression. He removed his hand from his girl's waist and took the cigarette out of his mouth, angling his head to blow smoke away from her. He brought the small white stick to her mouth then, and her pink lips took a delicate inhale. "Good girl," he murmured, kissing her bare shoulder before bringing his attention back. "Why the hell are you here then?"
"Warrington brought me here."
"He doesn't usually do that," Blaise remarked.
"I removed a curse from him in a tight spot. He thought this would be his way of paying me back. I don't really care for this type though."
All he got in response was a smirk.
"You handle her like a doll," he commented. "Why do you treat her so gently here? I know no one would blink twice if you did otherwise."
"She looks prettier on her knees when only I can see." Blaise's smile was twisted, and his own insides curdled. Using women in such a way...he failed to see how that upheld pureblood tradition adequately, of classiness and elegance. It was all a sham.
"This makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it, Pucey," Blaise said. "I thought you would end up working with me. How did you manage to evade this job?"
He had been out of the country during the Battle of Hogwarts. That was it. That was the only reason. The Pucey purebloods were not good by any means, but sheer luck had ensured him an ordinary Ministry job, where he could keep his head down.
"I missed out on the opportunity," was all he said. He said it casually, and it was almost strained, as if he hadn't wept a thousand tears of relief, as if he hadn't thanked whatever outside force that had allowed him to keep his humanity.
"That's because you're weak," the other man sneered, and his cool exterior began to crack. "I suppose you were glad to."
The woman on his lap ceased her fascination with his hand, laying it down gently before she brought her eyes to Adrian Pucey. He remembered her then- two years younger than him and a thousand years older, with her lack of care, and odd wisdom. Either way, she had the eyes of a siren or a seer that burrowed into his soul. Everyone had called her Loony, but she was Luna Lovegood. "You should be nicer to him, Blaise," she said in her musical, quiet voice, and Adrian nearly choked on his own tongue. The last thing he had expected her to say.
"Careful," Blaise drawled as Adrian lurched forward in surprise. His lips curled upwards, and there was teasing in his tone, almost daring Adrian to comment.
The blonde was staring up at Blaise with a reproachful glance. "Not everyone had quite a bargaining chip like you."
Adrian watched Blaise for his reaction. With how he treated her before, he didn't think Blaise would condemn her. Indeed, he flicked his gaze back to Adrian, his hands on her lovely neck.
"Lenient," he remarked. "You let her talk like this?"
"Quite the feminist, isn't he?" Luna breezed, and it took Adrian a bit to realize that she had made a joke. Laughing in this atmosphere at such a thing and conversing with a blood traitor slut as if they were equals, were things that were unacceptable. Yet he couldn't help but chuckle, and then feel disgusted at himself and his complicity.
Luna leaned back against Blaise's chest. Both of them had their eyes fixed on him, making him fidgety and aware of his every move until Blaise broke eye contact to snuff out his cigarette. "Try not to let such disgust show on your face, Adrian," he said without looking at him. "One might think you hate it here."
Adrian schooled his features like he and his fellow Slytherins had been doing their whole life. "I'll leave you to it," he said, and neither of the two looked at him as he strode away.
The next day, Luna did not want to see Blaise, which was convenient since he was visiting someone else. She hadn't stayed with him after they had returned home last night. The proximity, the words, the implications, the memories. All were enough to make her panic.
She heard his awful, silky voice, and then a familiar one. For the life of her, she couldn't place it, but she knew it. It was a smooth, drawling voice she had heard at school, and that means she must have known him, which meant-
She stepped out from the door to see Blaise Zabini over Yaxley's shoulder. She had known him quite well. At Hogwarts, they had had a short affair in their sixth year, which stopped only because they got bored of each other. No one had known, as Gryffindors and Slytherins traditionally hated each other, but that was part of the fun. After the Battle of Hogwarts, she had been captured and auctioned off to a Death Eater, citing her allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix as the reason she was a captive.
His eyes widened fractionally as he took in the bruises on her body and her tattered chemise and then slid his eyes lazily back to Yaxley. "I see you finally got yourself another prize, Yaxley," he said calmly.
The older man grinned. "Pretty thing, isn't she? Take a look for yourself," he said, stepping aside. "You must've known her, right?"
Blaise strode over, and gripped her chin with a hand. He forced her to meet his eyes. There was no sign of pity or shock. He shrugged and gave a cruel smile, glancing back at the man who owned her. "How long have you had her?"
"Just got her yesterday," Yaxley leered. "Yours?"
"About three years," he said carelessly.
"You know, Avery and Rookwood think that you're more loyal to her than our Lord. I told them, there's no way that blonde bitch can form more than two eloquent sentences, much less take Zabini's balls. I bet she likes being your whore."
"I suppose so," Zabini drawled, "since she's given me my heir, and I see no reason to break my toys like most of you are keen on doing." He finished his inspection on her and gave her a grin. "It's sad, really, Corban, how you think that breaking them means you're stronger. You've gone through, what, three now? This one here was the biggest slag in our year and a coward. A Hufflepuff. You don't need to try with her."
Parvati Patil had not been a Badger. Nor had her twin sister. He was lying for her, perhaps to lessen Yaxley's efforts to break her, which meant Zabini had defected, or at the very least, was not exactly loyal to Voldemort.
Yaxley guffawed. "Nice to know."
Blaise lifted his lips in a sneer. "I hate when they're covered in bruises, Corban. It's already clear who's the bitch and who's the master. No need to clarify."
"Fucking Italians. So protective with their things."
"I recognize worth when I see it. Mind games are much more fun than physical harm, anyhow."
Yaxley looked skeptical, but said, "Keep an eye on her for me. I left my wand upstairs."
Blaise rolled his eyes and grabbed her by the arm. Yaxley seemed to trust him enough. Blaise closed the door, locked it, and started setting up wards around the room. He turned around, sat on a chair, and jerked his head for her to sit down on the other one.
Parvati sat, and loosed a breath. Her former classmate sighed and asked, "Where have you been all these years?"
"You know the answer to that, Zabini."
He nodded. "Fair enough."
"Who's the blonde girl Yaxley said you had?"
He frowned. "Luna Lovegood. Did you not see us at the Battle of Hogwarts?"
Parvati shivered at that, and shook her head. "Is she okay?"
Blaise grinned at her. "She's fine. You know, I find it amusing when you all ask about her, as if you didn't tease and taunt her endlessly at Hogwarts."
How strange. This was the man who had sat behind her in double Potions with the Slytherins. In their first year, he had tugged hard on a lock of her waist-length hair, and Draco Malfoy had dipped it in his pot of ink. Now he had the Dark Mark, and she had bruises.
"Is-is it true she had a baby?" Parvati asked then. She could not picture Loony Lovegood being a mother, but he nodded and pulled a photo from his robes. Parvati took it to see the blonde girl from the year below her, holding a child. "She looks like you," she said.
She had never pictured the Slytherin like this, a slight expression of happiness on his aristocratic features as he put the picture away. At Hogwarts, he had always been casual with his lovers, and had a face of cunning. He had not been the type to dwell on one, much less derive happiness. Satisfaction? Pleasure? Yes. Joy? "You know, it's quite irresponsible of you to not use contraceptive."
Blaise's jaw clenched, and he pulled a Galleon out of his pocket abruptly, and started tapping it with his wand. "Is that a D.A. coin?" she asked. "You have contact with the Order?"
He nodded, and showed her the message he had put on the gold. Parvati Yaxley, then the location of Yaxley Manor.
"A Patronus would be less risky, you know."
"Death Eaters don't have a Patronus."
She stayed quiet as he put the coin away and then removed the wards, waiting for Yaxley to appear at the door.
"I need to leave. I'm sure my pet misses me. Come to my home tomorrow so we can go over the details," Zabini said when Yaxley reappeared. He stepped over to the fireplace, took a handful of Floo powder, and looked back at Parvati and gave her a cold smile and wink.
Yaxley didn't seem to notice the short length of the meeting. It was obvious to Parvati that he had come just to pass along her location. She hoped no one else would notice.
Yaxley went to Zabini's house the following day.
Corban was led to a sitting room, and to his satisfaction, Zabini's whore was there, waiting for him. The younger man sat down, and she kneeled at his feet. She had a vacant and stupid look on her face, and leaned against his leg. Zabini was stroking her hair with one hand, like a dog, while his other hand held a parchment map of a town in France. Merlin, that bastard had broken her well. He remembered a few years back that the young Italian said he preferred to use sex as reward and not a punishment. That he preferred to have her love him. Worship him. "Easier to do what you want with them," he had said, smirking over his drink. "I own her body and her soul. You just own a body."
Yaxley saw it firsthand. He wouldn't say Zabini had gone soft, no, although he treated his whore as tenderly as he would a child, there was an obvious sense of ownership.
The girl had turned from her spot on the floor to face her master, and whispered something to him. Zabini laughed. "Good girl," he said, and leaned down to brush his tongue against her bottom lip, sliding in quickly.
Yaxley hated to admit it, but he wanted to try that way of breaking his new prize. Breaking them to insanity had grown boring. He had previously thought Zabini weak. Now he wondered...
It did not matter. While he had been gone, someone had broken into his house and captured Parvati away from him.
"You must learn to produce a corporeal Patronus. There is an increased use in dementors, and it is generally a useful and powerful spell in your arsenal. Have you done it before?"
"Yes, at school Harry taught me how. In the D.A."
Blaise didn't look surprised. "It drove Draco mad, not being able to catch Potter's group. Umbridge too."
"Whatever happened to Umbridge?"
Blaise frowned. "No one's fond of her, not even the Death Eaters, but of course that doesn't deter her. She is working her way up to Minister of Magic, although she's Undersecretary now. My lord likes her because she is pliable. No more than his servant. Just as annoying as ever. Anyways, Patronuses. Can you do one now?"
"I haven't a strong memory."
"Think of one. I'll leave, just practice them whenever you can."
"Can you cast one now, just so I can..."
"I don't have one. None of the Death Eaters can produce a Patronus. Snape was the only one who could, and it wasn't because he was pure of heart- he was just mooning for Potter's mother."
"Did you have one before you joined?"
"Yes," Blaise said, and a wistful expression passed his face. "It was a grey eagle."
Luna giggled. "That's not what I expected for you."
"What did you expect, love?"
He had learned it with Theodore Nott, practicing in abandoned classrooms their sixth year, until they had succeeded. He would never quite forget that time of his life, when his soul had been untouched by Dark Magic, his sister was alive, he had good marks and anyone he wanted. When they had managed to cast the charm for the first time, Theo had kissed him. And then they tried to have a relationship, but at that point, they had both learned that they would both seriously be recruited for the Dark Lord's forces. So they decided to remain friends.
They had both only cast the charm once before they took the Mark.
He had not bothered to cast it again after he had been Marked. Best not to mock himself for trying.
"A peacock, perhaps, or a feline of some sort. Or a snake. I think everyone associates others with their House colors and animals, to be quite honest. It's silly. What did you think of to cast it?"
"I thought of when a particularly abusive stepfather of mine died, and my mother informed me that she would not be marrying another man for a while," Blaise said, smirking at the shocked expression it brought.
"That's a very Slytherin thing to say," Luna said. "Well, perhaps not. But most of its house does seem to thrive off of pain inflicted by others. Does that stereotype bother you?"
"I suppose not," Blaise mused. "It never bothered me. My Housemates were proud of the reputation. Most of us couldn't produce a Patronus, though."
"I think Katharina will be a Hufflepuff." Luna remembered how some of the Ravenclaws and Slytherins had scathing remarks about the badger House. "That is if the fate of Hogwarts weren't so unfortunate. Would you have wanted her to be a Slytherin?"
"It doesn't matter now. We will be teaching her magic at home. I will not let her around that sort of corruption."
Luna picked up her wand. "I will practice now, so, if you could..."
Blaise turned to leave. Pausing at the door frame, he turned back and said, "For what it's worth, Katharina might have been a Gryffindor."
Luna tried to think of a memory. Casting her first Patronus at fourteen? Traveling to Sweden with her father? Early memories of fishing with her mother?
Those were too distant. Too far away. Too hard to remember, and too painful. Luna focused on the thing in her life that she knew she could always find solace in. Her daughter.
She had her eyes squeezed shut, sweating with the effort. Tying her hair back, Luna took a deep breath, trying not to be nervous at how much thought it took. "Expecto Patronum," she said, and her voice shook, Katharina's smile clearly in her mind. "Expecto Patronum!"
The hare was almost flickering, barely corporeal, but as it meandered closer to her, she could feel herself getting lighter, as if she was cleansed. She had heard Muggles used other techniques of soul purification, but at that moment Luna could not imagine anything quite like the feeling of her soul's animal swimming around her, leaving wisps of silver. When the rabbit stopped running in circles, it bounded away and down the hall. She was tempted to let it dissipate, but she followed it up several staircases until she was at a window to the roof.
"Do you mean me to jump?" she whispered to her Patronus, but it flicked away. The latches of the window were already undone, so she opened it and carefully climbed out to the roof, and to her surprise, Blaise was sitting there.
He turned to see her climb out, his surprise evident, and extended a hand to help her. "Did you cast your Patronus?" he asked, and she nodded. "What are you doing out here?"
"I might ask you the same thing," she said, throwing a glance at the glass of liquor he had next to him, a cigarette in his hand. "You might fall off the roof if you get too drunk."
"I used to sit here with Naomi," he said, taking a drag.
"Would you like me to leave? I can leave if you want to be alone."
"Stay," he said, quickly. "Stay forever if you would like, Luna. There is no one's company I would prefer but yours."
"The Patronus led me here," she said, shifting her legs to her chest. "The stars are so beautiful. My mother always said I belonged with them. She is up there right now."
"Don't come any closer," Luna said, throwing out a hand. "Get away from me. Please. Please. Stop. Please." The guttural noise she made after was enough to pause him in his tracks. "How could you do this to me, Blaise?" she continued to sob. "How could you do this to me. Please stop. I'm sorry. Please..."
She was not fully there, he suspected. She crumpled to a fetal position on the floor, with her hands wrapped tightly around her neck, and screamed. It was a siren's scream, long and desperate and sent chills down his spine. She kept screaming, and a small cluster of the house-elves appeared to check on the noise, their large eyes fixed on the shaking form of their mistress on the ground.
Maro the elf was upset that Master Blaise wasn't doing anything, simply watching, before scolding herself for thinking so. She made the promise to shut her fingers in the door later.
Blaise waited until she stopped screaming before kneeling in front of her, laying his hand gently on top of hers, which were clasped on the nape of her neck. She flinched so violently when he touched her, and her eyes were crazed. "Why were you covered in blood?" she demanded hoarsely, although he was spotless. "You always are near me...sometimes I can touch you but sometimes I can't. Usually when I can't you're hurt or hurting me. One wrong move and we're dead, Blaise. Soon we'll be dead. Do you think I'll die? I do not think I am afraid of death. Are you afraid to die?"
Blaise kissed her forehead. "I do not think you will die, moonshine." He watched her babble and sob and spew words, some making sense, others hysterical and garbled. Luna stayed in the hallway for the rest of the day.
"Zabini doesn't share his toys and I'm fucking sick of it," Montague said, hands running over her body. His nails were long and dirty. His warm breath on her neck made her heart clench. His wandering hands found the waistline of her underwear, and he greedily played with the hem.
The sadistic Death Eater would take his time, she knew. He was enjoying this, she knew. His eyes were alight with glee, and he whispered in her ear, "You're going to be fucked tonight, pretty girl." He kissed her on the lips, so lightly and gently at first it was mocking, and then harder, with more force, his tongue claiming her mouth. He kissed her neck then, licking his way down, all the while holding both of her wrists in an iron grip. He fastened them to the ground above her with a sticking charm from his wand, and grinned at her, dragging his tongue against the wet lashlines of her eyes before the tears could spill.
Luna was transported back to September first, 1997, that day she was taken from the Hogwarts Express, but this was a much worse thing, and she would not recover from this. She would not. She would not. She could not.
"You won't even remember Zabini's name after I'm done," the man continued, casting a silencing charm on her. "Ever since I saw you with him at the auction..." Montague resumed his position over her, gripping her waist so tightly she was sure to bruise. "I asked Macnair for help, and he was too pleased to give it." He pressed his cheek to hers, feeling her shaking. "What's so different about you?" he breathed. His hands were on her thighs now, and he frowned. "Dry," he tsked, and unzipped his pants. She closed her eyes.
He never entered her. "Impedimenta!" Blaise bellowed, and the man was thrown back from Luna, hitting the wall with such a force several of his bones made a crunching noise. He flicked his wand towards Luna, and the sticking charm was lifted, and she bolted up, grasping at her clothes.
"Fuck you, Zabini!" the sadistic Death Eater snapped, and his left hand reached out blindly, grasping for his wand-
Luna darted out and grabbed it before he could.
Blaise tortured him,
"She's mine," he snarled. "Don't you ever fucking forget that." He used the spell Draco had taught him, watched as the gashes opened and the blood seep into the carpets. And he did not stop until hours later. Luna watched every second of it, calmly, her eyes glued to the movements of his body. His screaming was background noise.
killed him,
There was no life in Graham Montague's eyes, and Blaise spat on the Death Eater.
and walked over to where she sat against the wall.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, and sat next to her with his legs out in front of him.
"I don't know," she said, face blank.
He was no better. Salazar, he'd done the same, but there had been no one to stop him. He wished that there had been someone to kill him, back when he had been seventeen. Then he would have been dead, but maybe he wouldn't have been destined for hell. Maybe his soul would've been clean.
He stood up, and Luna followed suit. She stared up at him, and tears were clinging to her lashes, her whole body wracking with hyperventilation, so he stopped and cradled her face in his hands, kissing both of her cheeks and her forehead. "Tell me," he begged. "Tell me what you need from me and I swear I will do it for you. Take what you need. Whatever you need."
Hermione Granger stood over Tom Riddle's dead body, his heart cut out. The Sword of Gryffindor hanging limply from her blood-spattered hands.
Luna was struck with the same feeling she had when she had seen Harry Potter fall after facing Voldemort. But there was joy, not dread that followed.
She saw the small group of rebellion in the doorway, who moved to show a small child standing with them.
And perhaps the best moment of her life was the relief coursing through her veins, dropping to her knees, and burying her face in her daughter's clean, freshly-washed hair.