Disclaimer: JKR owns all recognizable characters and settings. No copyright infringement is intended.
Title: All the World's a Stage
Word Count: 400
Rating: T for a particular word
Prompt: Incorporate a line from either "Lose Yourself" by Eminem or "A Thread Cut With A Carving Knife" by Stars.
Comments: Set in Book 7 but with a few… back story insinuations.
All the World's a Stage
~o0o~
The dim light from the stairwell was just enough to reveal Ollivander's prone form curled up in the far corner. With wand outstretched, Draco placed the bowl of soup on the floor, carefully sliding it into the room.
"Tuck in, sir," he said with a sneer, in case anyone was listening. He wasn't to speak to their "guest," but the old wizard might not wake in time to eat otherwise. Ollivander was too frail to miss another feeding.
If Draco had learned one thing about himself throughout this entire ordeal, it was that he didn't want anyone's blood on his hands—not even indirectly.
He was about to return to the relative comfort of the upper floor when a familiar voice echoed against the damp stone.
"Draco?"
Fear slid down his spine like a finger. It couldn't be her. She was a pure-blood—they had no reason to take her. As if that would stop them, his conscience taunted.
Then she stepped from the shadows, her pale, stringy hair a tangled mess and her protuberant eyes larger still in her colorless face. "I was going home for the Christmas hols. They took me off the train."
Draco lurched toward her, his hands seeking… finding. They clung to each other, her body shaking from head to toe in the cool air.
"Are you still having nightmares?" she asked against his neck.
He choked back a hysterical laugh; only Luna would worry about his dreams whilst held prisoner in his musty cellar.
"I have to get you out of here," he said. "We'll leave together." His mind frantically searched for a way to make their escape.
"No."
He leaned back to look at her. "Are you mad?"
"I have to help Mr Ollivander… and I won't be the cause of harm to you. The war—"
"Fuck the war!" he whispered fiercely.
Luna merely smiled serenely. "All the world's a stage, Draco. You're playing your part—I must play mine."
His stomach twisted. "I can't leave you here."
"I'll be fine," Luna promised. "You really should be going—they'll come looking for you soon. I'll make sure Mr Ollivander eats."
Defeated, knowing for now there was nothing he could do, he turned to leave. "I will return," he swore.
"Draco?"
His step faltered.
"Try not to dream a dream tonight."
He closed his eyes against the pain. "Dreams are all I have."