AN: Concluding Luna's stay at Malfoy Manor because I couldn't resist. The story becomes AU in this chapter. I don't own Harry Potter.


Part 3

The Dark Lord gains more prisoners to lock in the cellar, effectively putting an end to his secret visits with Lovegood. He doesn't see her again until the day a slew of people barge into the drawing room, the procession led by his mother and her steel poker-face, the snatchers crowing about having caught Potter. Since he has the misfortune of existing, his father pushes him forward, urging him to confirm Potter's identity in a tone that can only be described as anticipatory and greedy. (His father only cares about their redemption in the eyes of the Dark Lord, not about wondering why he signed their lives away to a madman.)

He looks at the other boy's face, which looks a bit like he tried and failed to transfigure it into a puffer fish. The lightning-shaped scar is just visible, but could easily be mistaken for a fresh bump to the head.

In his mind, he sees another visage, one with blue eyes and a faint, knowing smile. It's this image that leads him to say, "I can't be sure."

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer! If we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv-"

Greyback interrupts his father and they start arguing over who will get the credit, but he's too much in his own head to notice. His father is right: if they hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, he will be pleased with them again. Their quality of life will improve drastically. They'll no longer be treated like dirt in their own home. He can see it, the triumphant gleam in the Dark Lord's eyes as they offer him the Golden Trio on a silver platter...

"Draco, look properly. What do you think?"

...but he can also see those blue eyes filling with disappointment, which is somehow worse than anger.

"I don't know," he says.

His mother chimes in: "We had better be certain, Lucius, completely sure that it is Potter before we summon the Dark Lord. They say this is his, but it does not resemble Ollivander's description." She holds up a wand that doesn't match the wand Potter owns in his memory. "If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing… remember what he did to Rowley and Dolohov?"

He swallows the bile that creeps into his throat at the mention of that particular episode.

"What about the Mudblood then?" says Greyback. The use of the slur triggers a guilt that was never there before.

His mother's calm facade begins to fade as she says excitedly, "Wait. Yes, yes, she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"

He tries to look at her without really looking at her. "I-" he swallows. Damn it, he can't think of a good denial. Where is his Slytherin cunning when he needs it? "Maybe. Yeah?"

His father lights up like a fucking Christmas tree. "But then that's the Weasley boy!" he exclaims. "It's them, it's Potter's friends. Draco, look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name—?"

"...Yeah. Could be."

Before anyone can press the Dark Mark, the room vibrates with Bellatrix's shrill voice saying, "What is this? What's happened Cissy?"

He winces as the group dissolves into another argument over who will get the credit for the capture, and then something about a sword, which ends with Bellatrix stunning the snatchers, whose bodies hit the cold hard floor with a loud thud. His aunt must be able to read the distaste on his face, because she orders, "Move this scum outside, Draco. If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."

His mother steps forward furiously. "Don't you dare speak to Draco like that," she begins, but he lays a comforting hand on her arm at the same time as Bellatrix yells, "Be quiet!"

He takes his leave.

For a good thirty seconds, he steels himself to kill the snatchers just to prove Bellatrix wrong, but then he pictures Lovegood's disappointed face again and stops. She's gotten under his skin and made him soft, and he can't tell whether that's a good or bad thing.

When he returns, things are even more chaotic than when he left. Bellatrix screams hysterically, still on about the sword or something, while Granger rolls around on the floor, also screaming, except for the very good reason of being tortured. He almost leaves the room as soon as he's entered, but Bellatrix glances up briefly before returning her attention to her victim, and his pride wins over his churning stomach. He hopes everyone is too focused on Granger and his aunt to notice how badly his hands are shaking.

He is trying to use whatever Occlumency skills he has (not many; Snape recommended he learn, but he never did, and now he's regretting it) to block out the sound of Granger's screams when his father calls his name.

"Draco"—he blinks sluggishly—"fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not."

Had the situation been less dire, he might have rolled his eyes. He knows that the sword in question is the Sword of Gryffindor because it's too distinct not to recognize, but it's still just a sword.

"Stand back," he yells as he descends the steps to the cellar. "Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you."

Just like you killed those two snatchers in the courtyard, whispers a voice in the back of his head. He tells it to shut up.

The prisoners follow his orders, and he makes quick work of locating Griphook and hauling him back up to the drawing room. It takes all his willpower not to look at Lovegood, but he can tell that her gaze is on him. She could hear the tremor in his voice, he knows she could. He hopes she doesn't judge him one way or the other.

"I've got him," he says, but his voice is drowned out by Granger's screams. Bellatrix has a knife now, her second favourite tool of choice. She looks up as he moves into her periphery, and during the pause, they hear the distinct sound of apparation.

Bellatrix stands, leaving Granger to roll over onto her side and curl into a fetal position. "What was that? From the cellar?" she asks. She wrenches Griphook from him with such force that he's surprised the goblin's arm doesn't rip off. "Well, why are you just standing there? Go check!"

He trudges back to the cellar. "Stand away from the door," he calls again. "I'm coming in."

He lights the torch on the side of the wall, and what meets him is a group composed of one less prisoner than there should be, plus a house elf in a ratty pillow case. All of them freeze, except Lovegood, who lifts a finger to her mouth.

He holds Lovegood's gaze as he yells, "Nothing! All fine!" and closes the door.

Weasley takes a bold step forward. "What the hell are you playing at, Malfoy?" he hisses. His voice is hoarse. He's been yelling just as much as Granger. (They should just get together already. A blind mole rat could see that they've been lusting after each other since fourth year.)

"A very tricky game," says Lovegood, before he can respond. "I asked my mother to send him some starspurts to help him with strategy."

Weasley sputters, and Potter stands there with his mouth hanging open. The house elf looks between Draco and the other three like he's waiting for instructions from someone.

Potter breaks the silence. "Luna," he says, delicately, as though trying to explain the concept of death or puberty to a five-year-old, "he's not on our side."

"Funny, I would've thought that decision was his to make," Lovegood chastises mildly.

The fact that she is defending him absolutely floors him. They've been having—civilized—interactions, yes, but the idea that she might talk kindly about him to her friends is shocking.

Weasley snorts. "Right then," he says. "Are you on our side, Malfoy?"

"I'm on whatever side Luna is on." The words are out before he can even realize what he's saying, and he wishes for the ground to swallow him up. Not only has he just betrayed the Dark Lord, but he's also suggested that he and Lovegood are an item. And he called her Luna.

The other boys' jaws have practically detached themselves from the rest of their skulls.

"You- you and- and Luna- you two- you're-"

"Both people who have to make choices in life," Lovegood interrupts smoothly. When they continue to stare incredulously, she adds, "You can trust him."

"We can?!"

"They can?"

Lovegood has the nerve to smile slightly. "Everyone here underestimates Draco," she says, and he knows she's including himself in that statement. But then she grows serious again. "We don't have much time."

Weasley and Potter both look dubious, but her words remind them of the situation at hand. Potter gives him a suspicious side glance. "Right, well. Luna, you go next."

"All right," Lovegood agrees easily. "Remember not to hurt Draco. The wrackspurts might try to make you forget. I'll see you and Hermione at the safe house." And with that, she extends her hand to the house elf, who apparates the both of them away.

Potter turns to him. "Well? Is Luna just crazy? Are you going to stop us?" he asks. In reality, they're completely defenceless, but Potter's tone dares him to try.

He scowls. "Don't talk about Luna like that," he says, because she defended him and Malfoys always pay their debts (at least, that's what he tells himself). He moves aside and opens the cellar door with a flick of his wand. "I think Greyback has your wands."

Potter and Weasley don't waste time questioning his motives, now, just run past him and out into the drawing room. He hears the sounds of a fight break out, but he stands alone in the cellar in a state of shock. When he finally goes upstairs, he's just in time to see the crystal chandelier come crashing down. Bellatrix, who was standing directly in the line of fire, dodges out of the way, dropping an unconscious Granger in the process. He turns away and raised an arm to help shield himself from the carnage.

"Stupefy!" someone yells.

As he faces the room again, he sees the house elf emerge from the wreckage. "You must not hurt Harry Potter," it declares solemnly.

To his surprise, his mother says, "Dobby! You stopped the chandelier?"

He looks a bit closer at the elf. He doesn't usually pay attention to house elves, but his mother's exclamation suggests that this one used to belong to them. Come to think of it, the creature does look familiar.

"Kill him, Cissy!" Bellatrix yells predictably, but there is a crack, and the elf disarms his mother with such force that her wand hits the wall on the other side of the room.

He'll reply the next moment in his memory over and over again, but he'll never quite be sure of what happens next. all he knows is there's more screaming and fighting, and then the trio, the goblin, and the house elf are all gone. He resists the urge to sink to the floor. His heart is pounding as if he's run a marathon, and he wasn't even involved in the skirmish.

His father, Greyback, and Bellatrix have all been knocked unconscious. He looks to his mother, the only other person left standing. She has gone paler than a ghost.

"Mother?"

She presses her shaking hands to her mouth as she turns to meet his gaze, a stricken look in her eyes.

"Mother, what is it?"

She takes in a long, deep breath. Then, she whispers, "We called the Dark Lord."

His stomach drops.