Chapter Fifteen: Cecily
You got me good, I knew you would
But you missed my heart
– "You Missed My Heart," Phoebe Bridgers
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Her next meeting with Abraxas Malfoy took place on the twenty-fifth of September, the following Saturday. They met in the same classroom, but he'd conjured two rather nice-looking chairs for the both of them, stationed across from one another and a few feet apart. Evidently he'd noticed her reluctance to be close to him physically, but he didn't seem bitter about it; when she came in he was sitting calmly in one of the chairs, looking more at ease than she'd ever seen him.
"Good afternoon, Lovegood," he said cordially. "Are you ready to begin?" At her nod, he actually smiled and gestured for her to sit.
"You said you'd be asking me more questions today," Luna prodded gently after a brief period of silence.
"Ah. Yes, of course." He leaned forward a little, and Luna was surprised that she didn't have to force herself not to move away; his presence wasn't nearly as offensive as it had been that day after class. "I thought we might focus today on the actual process of your resistance to the Imperius, to see if I might get a better picture of how you're doing it. Can you describe your experience to me? Do you remember it?"
"I do," she said unthinkingly, and stopped when she realised she could have just claimed she hadn't. But, she reminded herself, she'd accepted the risk of Riddle finding out more about her abilities with the possible reward of learning about them herself. It was possible he'd be able to use them against her somehow, but she doubted it.
Malfoy was staring at her expectantly, on the edge of looking irritated.
Luna took another breath. "It was like this… pink vapour. Or fog."
He cocked an eyebrow at her inclusion of a colour, but nodded. "Not dissimilar to how others have described it. Go on."
She shrugged, picking lightly at the opulent embroidery on the chair with a fingernail, and tried not to sound too evasive. "It's hard to describe what I did, how I got away from it – I don't know."
Malfoy met her gaze at this, his own sharp. "Got away. So you didn't stop it, didn't somehow end the spell while it was happening, but somehow escaped this… visualisation of the spell within your mind? Did you hide from it?"
Luna shook her head. "I don't think I could have," she admitted, twisting her hands together. "It filled up my head, like any other kind of gas would have. I couldn't stay there."
He looked a little confused, but seemed willing to go along with her. "Couldn't… stay in your head. Are you saying you started visualising somewhere other than the inside of your mind, for your consciousness to escape to?"
Before he had finished speaking, Luna was already shaking her head. "No. It wasn't just imagining. My mind was somewhere else. Physically… or, metaphysically, I suppose. Elsewhere."
His lips quirked, brows coming down. "You mean something similar to astral projection? Conventional magic isn't capable of things like that. There have been reports from remote areas, of course, but nothing's ever been replicable in any kind of formal research setting. Is that the sort of thing you're claiming?"
Luna smiled at him, and shrugged. "I've never heard of anybody else doing it," she replied simply.
Malfoy blew out his breath. "All right. Well, I suppose we'll go with that hypothesis for now. Can you describe what this… projection experience was like?"
She had to hold herself back and consider this; for the first time, her uncertainty wasn't because she was wary about telling him the truth, but because she truly didn't know how to respond. It was impossible to fully and accurately describe what she had seen and felt, of this she had absolutely no doubt. But she could try.
"I… stopped being myself. I was bigger." She paused again. "I was reaching out."
Malfoy just looked at her, impatient.
She shook her head and tried again. "I didn't feel like Luna any more. I could see everything, I think. I only remember… fragments. But I have this feeling – I think while it was happening, I saw more. Everything." She frowned, disconcerted by her sudden inability to articulate herself. "Everything," she repeated, and then, to her surprise: "Green."
He stared at her. "Everything green?"
Luna tugged at her hair in frustration. "No. It's – " She took a breath, and when she exhaled a split-second later, she was inexplicably far less sure of herself than before. "I don't know what I meant by that," she realised aloud, quietly. "Sorry." Where had that come from? She had no such memory. After a moment she realised her ears were buzzing faintly, and she frowned at the floor.
When she looked at Malfoy again, he was still staring, and had leaned forward slightly more. "Do you have any particular capability with Divination, Lovegood?" he queried suddenly.
From "Lovegood" to "Miss Lovegood" and back again in the span of a few weeks, she thought, vaguely annoyed. I may get whiplash. "I suppose."
"Do you believe that what you saw in your reaction to the curse was real?"
She shrugged helplessly and repeated herself. "I suppose. I really couldn't say." Despite, she noted, that a moment ago that had evidently been exactly what she was saying.
He scooted forward where he sat, apparently unconsciously. "Do you think you could do it again now?" he whispered, almost hissing in his agitation. Luna neglected to be amused at the extreme lack of irony.
"I don't know," she said honestly. She hadn't done it on purpose, really, since she was a child. There had never been a good enough time. Her mind always fell a little out of itself when she was painting, but she hadn't done that in a long time either.
"Try," he urged. She glared at him.
"It's not as easy as all that," she almost snapped, her voice rising slightly; but at his look of entreaty, she relented and closed her eyes. "Do you want me to look for something specific?"
He was silent a moment, then said, "Slytherin common room."
She concentrated, needing to focus on bringing down the walls she had so carefully built up over the years, in a way she hadn't had to when her mind was under immediate threat. It was incredibly difficult, bordering on brutal, and after a little while of trying she felt herself beginning to perspire. She centred her mind on the common room, willing her inner eye to open on the now-familiar space. A little of Malfoy's excitement and impatience, and the word Father, bled through the opening she was trying to widen.
After what felt like hours of unceasing effort, the walls at last came down. Luna able to catch a glimpse of Orion Black and Rabastan Lestrange sitting in front of the fire, side by side, before her barriers snapped back up like elastic. She came out of the vision holding her head, tears of pain and exertion streaming down her cheeks. Malfoy sprang out of his seat, looking sincerely concerned, and after a moment of hesitation offered her a handkerchief. She took it gratefully, wiping at her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he offered, and she waved a hand at him. "What happened?" he went on, after an awkward pause.
"It's all right. You had no way of knowing, and neither did I." She closed her mouth, opened it again, and added, "I've spent… a long time… trying very hard not to do that. It took a lot of effort, and several years. I'm not sure that I can do it at will anymore, and even if I were to teach myself how to again, I don't think I'd want to open myself to the possibility of it happening more often." She blinked. "And it hurts."
It still did, in fact. And she hadn't been able to see Malfoy's aura when she'd first opened her eyes, although it was beginning to fade back into her vision now.
"Did it hurt you when you did it in class?"
She considered this. "Not… exactly. But when it was happening, I knew it was going to be difficult to pull myself back together. I could feel myself falling apart, in a way that I'm not used to doing." Not anymore, anyway. "It was – uncomfortable." The realisation shocked her a little; that miraculous extension of herself had felt so natural at the time, but in retrospect, she wasn't sure she liked what it had put her through. Luna, the real her, not the nameless god-thing that had watched the earth from above.
Malfoy hummed in disappointment, the look of concern not leaving his face. "Well. That's… well." After a moment he asked, "Did you see anything at all?"
She nodded. "Yes, Black and Lestrange. They're in the common room together, or they were a minute or so ago. And…" She met his eyes. "Some of your thoughts and feelings too, actually. I heard the word 'father'."
Malfoy flinched, but looked infinitely more intrigued in spite of himself. Luna saw the question bubbling up in his eyes: Have you tried that around Riddle? She waited for him to voice it, but he said nothing. Evidently he still didn't want to admit, even indirectly, whose thumb he was under.
"All right," he said finally. "I think that's enough for today. You look as though you've exerted yourself a great deal. Try to rest some, won't you? I don't want my subject dropping dead from exhaustion. I'll see you next week." At this clear dismissal, Luna rose automatically from her chair and left the room.
She was a little taken aback at his solicitous demeanour. It didn't fit with her first impression of him at all, but then again, perhaps she had been wrong.
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As per Malfoy's request, Luna tried to take it easy for the rest of the day. She spent some time with her friends, doing her best to relax, and then headed back to the dormitory to catch up on homework.
To her astonishment, the dormitory was not empty when she arrived, as it almost always was. Cecily was there, lying prone on her bed, not appearing to be doing anything other than staring out of the massive window. She glanced toward the door, saw Luna, and returned to staring vacantly into the depths of the lake. "Hi."
"Hello, Cecily," Luna responded softly. As quickly as she could, she retrieved her books from their place near her bed and made to leave, but the other girl interrupted her.
"How long have you known that you weren't supposed to be in Slytherin?"
Luna stopped. "Sorry?"
"You're not happy here," Cecily said tonelessly. "Everybody can see it. Your friends are from every other house but this one." She shifted to glare at Luna. "Why did you bother getting Sorted here?"
Luna opened her mouth to respond, and then paused. "Are you all right?"
Cecily attempted a laugh, but it came out more as a choking noise, muffled slightly by her pillow. "Why do you care?"
Luna stared at her. "Cecily."
Her tone of quiet reproof was enough to make the other girl sit up, sniffling and wiping at her eyes. She looked back at Luna sullenly, but said, "Sorry."
Luna waved the apology off and sat on the bed with her, a little gingerly. "What's wrong?"
Cecily's face crumpled briefly, then went blank again. Her eyes were very red. "Nothing. I don't know."
Luna was silent for several moments, and then asked as diplomatically as she could, "Is it anything to do with… who you've been spending your time with lately?"
"Spotted that, had you?" Her voice was flat. "I can't talk to you about him."
Luna couldn't stop herself asking, the wounded feeling of that night after the incident in Dumbledore's class suddenly bubbling to the surface like acid: "Why are you so loyal to him all of a sudden?"
Cecily met her eyes suddenly, bloodshot gaze oddly intent. "Why aren't you?"
That hit her like a blow to the chest, although Luna didn't want to think about why.
Trying to hold back the stricken expression she knew was taking shape on her face, she shook her head wordlessly and waited for Cecily to explain. Something in Luna's distress must have resonated, because Cecily's resolve seemed to fall away a little.
"I know he's awful," the other girl admitted. "I know… a lot of the things he asks me to do are wrong… and I know, as a Slytherin, I shouldn't care. I do, though." She breathed deeply for a moment. "But – it doesn't matter."
Luna gaped at her, stunned again into silence. "What do you mean, it doesn't matter?" she demanded after a moment, keeping her voice low. "He hurts people. It's wrong. You just admitted it."
"I don't know!" Cecily almost wailed, covering her face with her hands and curling up away from Luna. "I didn't have to think about it before! He never wanted me!"
Oh. Suddenly the situation was clearer than water, and Luna was berating herself for not having figured it out sooner. "You're in love with him?" She knew the answer, but her voice crept up at the end anyway, making it sound like a question.
Cecily hiccuped and sat up to meet Luna's eyes again, clearly trying hard to control her breathing and keep from crying any more. "Yes," she said finally. "Yes, but you don't understand." She stretched her hand out toward Luna's, shuffling forward so she could reach. "You don't understand. We all are. It's like we're — imprisoned. Every one."
"Is that really all it is?" Luna inquired softly, eyes open wide, trying to control her anger. "You love him, so you let him do all of this. And not only that, but you do it with him – for him?"
"Yes," said Cecily earnestly, gripping her hand tighter. "I know I — I know I've got a choice, really. But it never feels like it." She shook her head again. "I just have to be with him… and that makes it all worth it." Her breathing had steadied, and she was looking at Luna with an intense, level gaze; trying with all her might, it would seem, to make herself understood.
Luna ripped her hand away before she could stop herself. "I don't understand you," she whispered, in complete honesty. "I don't understand any of this."
Cecily laughed a little in disbelief, her eyes brighter now. "Oh, Luna! You can't really mean that. Haven't you ever been in love before?"
Luna closed her eyes at the sudden image of another handsome face, not Tom Riddle's, one she hadn't seen in a long time. She wondered at it a little, for a moment, but then spoke.
"I haven't, no. Not really. I almost was, with… one person. But I saw it coming, and I sort of just – went around it. Hid it from myself. It never had the chance to grow into that, I suppose." She was a little surprised at her own frankness, given that she'd never before admitted this even to herself, but she supposed that Cecily's raw honesty deserved a response in kind.
"Are you in love with him, too?" Cecily asked bluntly, a smile tugging at her lips.
"No," Luna said instantly. She didn't have to think about that one, nor did she have any desire to.
"I don't believe you," her former friend declared, staring at her out of the corners of her hazel eyes.
At this, she'd had enough. "Believe what you like," Luna snapped. "There was no reason we needed to be enemies. You, and he, started this."
"Yes, well," the other girl sighed, "I haven't got any friends any more, anyway. We all hate each other, stab each other in the back whenever we can, envy and spite each other. Just because we're all terrified children… and in love." She smiled sardonically. "It's tragic, really." Despite her caustic tone, there was something desperate in her eyes, something seeking a kind of connection, or empathy.
But for once, inexplicably, and in an instant Luna knew she would always regret, she found that she could not do it. She couldn't bring herself to lay aside her hurt, her revulsion, her bitter disappointment.
"How right you are," Luna remarked, her high voice wavering. Trying to control her anger and disgust, she picked up her books again and nearly ran out of the dormitory, biting back the urge to cry over her shoulder, Stay away from me!
She slept in the library that night, hiding in the Restricted Section with a key from Euphemia, which was given to her without question after her friend saw the look on her face.
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Saturday, September the 25th, 1943. 10:05 pm.
Another interesting development has been brought to my attention today. Apparently Abraxas Malfoy has been conducting an independent study with the Lovegood girl, right under my very nose, and has been hoping to keep it from my knowledge. My level of surprise was embarrassing, but then, I have been distracted of late.
It seems that at the end of the hour, that day I duelled Lovegood in Defence Against the Dark Arts, I had some half-formed inkling of getting Malfoy to stop her before she left the classroom. I placed a rather vague wandless compulsion on him to do something of the kind, which I promptly abandoned and forgot about within the span of a few minutes (I admit I can be, at times, fairly capricious; but I was fairly agitated at the time). Under my influence, he nevertheless was allowed enough leeway within the spell to ask her to help him with an independent study, to which she agreed. Apparently he is unhappy with my ability to place him under compulsion whenever I choose, and harbours some resentment over times that I have deigned to do so in the past. He wished to tap into Lovegood's abilities and somehow discern for himself a way of imitating her, and thereby escape my control.
I cannot believe this escaped my attention for so long. Still, after a little persuasion, he is eager to accede to my wishes. I have ordered him to stop dawdling and proceed directly to testing her with Veritaserum – outside of Merrythought's supervision, if possible. I doubt he has been or will ever be able to discover anything useful by simply questioning her; from what he has already learned, it appears that her abilities are not replicable by others, or in any case, not easily so. (When my time is not so occupied, I might try my hand at them, but at the moment such pursuits are not practical.)
She may be disappointed that I will no longer allow her to learn more about her abilities, as this is evidently the reason why she agreed to work with Malfoy. This is a burden she will simply have to bear; ripping the truth of her knowledge about me from her lips with a truth-serum is a much more efficient use for these studies.
On a better note, our research into Nott's finding is progressing well. The subject has not given us any trouble as of yet.
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A/N: Hey guys! I'd been planning to get this one out about a week earlier, but my beta and I have both been really busy with the end of the semester. I hope those of you in school have a manageable week of exams 3 Happy December! xo shai