Chapter Two
Though the morning was crisp and cool, signaling the upcoming season change, Draco could not find it within him to admire the lovely day. He was exhausted. He had wrongfully assumed that because he had spent all night keeping watch in the dungeons, he would be exempt from breakfast; however, the soft pop in his bedchamber followed by the gentle and fearful rousing from a House Elf proved his assumptions to be wrong. After spitting harsh words at the cowering creature, Draco threw the emerald bed covers from his body in an annoyed huff. His knees popped and his head throbbed from lack of rest and as he stretched, his entire body protested.
I'll have to find something more comfortable to sit upon this evening, Draco thought to himself with a flash of irritation as he thought about having to return to the dreaded duty.
After dressing and combing his hair into a perfect part, Draco descended the stairs leisurely. If he had to function on such a small amount of sleep, he wasn't going to rush for anyone. Walking into the dining room, Draco tried to hide a grimace. Whenever he looked at the table he had eaten meals at for all of his life, he could no longer see birthday celebrations or joyous Christmas feasts. No, all Draco could see now was a giant snake slithering across the dark wood, fangs bared with dripping venom aimed for his past professor. Though he knew Professor Burbage once taught a most ridiculous subject, Muggle Studies, and held the despicable idea of muggles and their offspring being equal to pureblood wizards, Draco never expected her to be eaten before his eyes.
The impatient clucking of his mother's tongue brought Draco out of the haunting memory. He morphed his face back into a look of indifference as he slid into his spot to the right of his father; because the Dark Lord was not present, Lucius was able to claim the seat at the head of the table. Once seated, Draco looked up to meet his mother's eyes; he saw any previous annoyance she held for him slip away. He supposed he looked a right mess; though he was dressed and groomed meticulously, Draco knew dark circles shadowed his eyes and his typically fair skin was ashen. The stress and fatigue did not befit him nor had it for the past two years.
Looking at Narcissa Malfoy, an outsider would never be able to read her small facial twitches or body language for anything other than indifference and natural poise. Draco, however, knew his mother, and in that moment, her concern was evident; he could tell she wanted to say something, but in doing so, she would go against his father and, most likely, the Dark Lord. A sharp look from Lucius caused her left eyebrow creased in worry, a telltale sign of her true feelings, to smooth out in a perfectly relaxed state. Lucius knew his wife still viewed Draco as the sickly infant he once was; he had yet to convince her Draco, their only child, was nearly a grown man. She had spoiled and coddled him for far too long.
"How nice it is for you to finally join us, Draco," Lucius drawled slowly distaste clear in his voice. "It is as if you've forgotten breakfast is served promptly at eight o'clock, just as it has been your entire life."
"My apologizes, Father," Draco smarted as the House Elves came bustling into the room; their wiry forms weighed down with platters as they carried what they could not levitate. "My duties to the Dark Lord kept me up until just before sunrise this morning."
"You mean your pathetic watching," Rodolphus Lestrange snorted. "You must be absolutely fatigued, my dear nephew. Tell us, who caused more trouble? The senile, old man or the emaciated, little girl?"
Draco's cheeks burned internally though he made sure to keep his face impassive as to not encourage his aunt's husband to mock him further. Just as his mouth was opening to shove a hefty portion of poached eggs to keep from saying something he would later regret, Bellatrix fixed her husband with a steely glare. Her dark eyes were fierce giving her the look of a wild animal, which her crazed, dark curls enhanced.
"Draco was given a direct task from the Dark Lord," she seethed. "That's more than you can say, husband."
For the rest of breakfast, the only sounds were the polite, quiet chewing and the gentle movement of silver utensils against fine china. Once everyone was finished, Draco wanted nothing more than to excuse himself and return to his enticing bed with the hope of remaining there until lunch was served; however Bellatrix had other plans for her nephew. As Draco rose from his seat and began making his way to the grand staircase, Bellatrix wrapped her long, talon-like fingers around his arm.
"Come, Draco," she said with a sickening, gleeful smile; his stomach dropped. "I think it would do you well to assist me in a bit of questioning."
"Of course," he replied stoically, his full mouth forming into a grim line.
Bellatrix led Draco down to the dungeons as her feet tapped manically in a graceful dance of destruction. He wanted to snatch his arm away from her and run upstairs to pretend this wasn't happening in his home, but, as if sensing his thoughts, Bellatrix tightened her grasp, her broken nails digging into his skin. He fought the urge to wince. Once in the dungeons, Draco's limbs felt heavy; there was no way for this to end well. As his aunt continued to lead him to her favorite cell, Draco attempted to evade the disgusting liquid her elated steps caused to splash upon him. Coming to a quick stop, Draco nearly toppled over his aunt as she stood staring into the cell he wanted to avoid most.
"Come out and play, Mr. Ollivander," Bellatrix teased in a singsong voice; her hand released Draco's arm to glide over the metal bars, her nails scraping against the rusted surface. "We have much to discuss."
With a quick shock, Draco realized that the old man within Lovegood's cell was none other than Garrick Ollivander, the man from whom Draco had bought his wand from in Diagon Alley. He wondered why such a man was locked away; what use was he to the Dark Lord's cause?
"Lumos," Bellatrix said harshly as she pointed her mangled wand into the cell. Draco could see into the cell and assumed his aunt was addressing the lump in the corner. Though he had moved since this morning, Draco noted that the old man still looked as if he were dead.
"He's not been well," a dreamy voice said from the other end of the cell. Bellatrix whirled dramatically to the side, her wand pointing menacingly at Luna's face. "If you want him alive, I wouldn't suggest cursing him any time soon."
"You dare speak directly to me and tell me what to do?" Bellatrix fumed. Though it was still dark, Draco could tell her face was turning red with her loss of composure; in this state, his aunt was not one to be provoked. "You disgusting blood traitor," she spat waving her wand over the cell door and pushing it open as it unlocked.
Bellatrix Lestrange stormed into the cell grabbing Luna by her hair tightly. Though the blonde girl was taller than she, Bellatrix's firm grasp of her flaxen locks and Luna's waning strength enabled the terrifying Death Eater to overpower the young girl with ease. Draco, despite his disbelief, found himself horrified at the realization of what was happening. Ignoring her nephew, Bellatrix, dragging Luna by her hair, began marching towards the exit; Draco followed dumbly behind his stomach a pit of dread.
Once on the main floor, Bellatrix threw Luna to the ground in a broken heap. Her wand pointed unwaveringly at the wide-eyed girl, the Death Eater's face broke out in a chillingly joyous smile as if nothing brought her more joy than torturing people. Draco tried not to look down, but hearing the pained gasp as Luna's waif figure met the hardwood floor, he couldn't help but to cast his grey eyes down. If he thought she looked sick in the light of his wand the night before, she looked even more dreadful in the light of the day. Her skin was transparent, her blue veins visible and her bones jutting out at all angles. However, despite her obvious weakness, she remained composed, her eyes held the strength her body had lost.
"Well, little girl," Bellatrix sneered. "Seeing as you're so willing to supply ideas, what do you think we should do to you? Shall I torture you with magic? Or would you rather me to treat you like the dirty muggles you love so dearly and use my hands?" she taunted bending down to pull Luna to her feet. Bellatrix's fragmented nails left broken crescent moons of red on Luna's skin; Draco stared transfixed as the red started running down her arm. When Luna didn't answer, Bellatrix turned to her nephew unperturbed to the greenish hue his skin had taken.
"What about you, Draco?" she asked crazed. "How should we show the little blood traitor her rightful place? Break her, Draco. Show me how much she disgusts you," Bellatrix whispered in his ear. "Come now, come now. Let us see!"
With a shaking hand, Draco retrieved his wand from his robe pocket. He aimed it at Luna as she stood before him, but he didn't, no, he couldn't look at her. He gazed away unable to do the deed if her misty blue eyes were connected with his. His aunt was urging him to do it; his hands were shaking, palms sweating. His eyes shifted so that he was looking at the girl one year younger than he. She was calm, standing there waiting for the excruciating pain to begin though she looked as if she were waiting for an answer to an interesting question. Luna was pensive and curious, but she was not scared. She was unfazed by her fate, unaffected by the pain she was about to feel. He envied her composure.
"Do it, Draco," Bellatrix screeched. "Do it now! Crucio the blood traitor!"
"Draco, it's okay," Luna whispered lifting her chin defiantly in show of strength though she looked as if she could fall over with a slight breeze. Her jaw was set in determination, but her eyes were soft, begging him to do it now so his aunt would not.
"You dare speak to me, blood traitor," he spat, his lips curling into a snarl. "Crucio!" he yelled as a beam of scarlet light shot from the end of his hawthorn wand hitting her directly in the chest.
"There! That's it! That's it, well done!" Bellatrix cheered as she danced around Draco, her wild curls bouncing.
Draco could barely hear his aunt; Luna's screams echoed in his ears as she collapsed to the ground curling into herself in a futile attempt to keep the pain from spreading throughout her body. In that moment, he realized it was her scream that had awoken him so often in the dead of night echoing throughout the manor and his bedchambers. It was her scream that had shattered his fabricated ignorance during the day reminding him of what was truly happening in his home. It was her scream that haunted his mind at all hours of the day and well into the night. Her scream was the reason sleep so often evaded him. Her scream, Luna's scream, had always hit him the hardest. It was shrill and filled with tear educing agony. It was the sound of innocence leaving the world; it was the sound of a shattering soul.
"Tell us where Harry Potter is!" Bellatrix screeched as Luna's body shook on the floor once Draco had ceased the curse. "Tell us now and we might leave your lunatic of a father unharmed."
"I-I've told you," Luna gasped through clenched teeth; beads of sweat slid down her temple as her body trembled through the lingering effects of the Unforgiveable curse. "I have no idea w-where Harry is, I swear."
"Again, Draco!" his aunt called looking pointedly at him.
"Aunt Bella, I don't think—" he stammered as he looked at Luna shivering body; her face was contorted into an expression pure misery, a look he had never upon her face before
"Now, Draco," Bellatrix commanded gravely. "Or are you too weak?" she goaded eyeing him with her dark, crazed eyes. Draco looked away from her, his eyes landing on Luna. He stared in disbelief as the eccentric blonde gave him a nod of consent.
"Crucio!" he yelled once more before Luna's screams reverberated throughout the manor again.
As he held the curse, he wondered why Luna was so willing to sacrifice herself for the old wand maker and why she nodded at him to curse her. Was she really a glutton for punishment? Had all the creatures she believed in finally gone to her head? He could feel the curse weakening, but there was nothing he could do to force it stronger. Draco convinced himself that his exhaustion was preventing him from producing the curse as severe as he was capable; never once did the truth enter his mind, the truth being he didn't want to cause Luna harm.
"Well done, Draco," Bellatrix praised as Luna lay on the ground in a broken heap. The fragile girl's chest was heaving, a single tear rolled down her gaunt cheek as her misty eyes stared unseeingly in the distance.
Bellatrix glided to Luna's crumpled form her robes billowing around her as she circled over her body like a buzzard waiting for its prey to die. Crouching down, Bellatrix grasped Luna's hair, yanking her head up and placing snarling lips beside Luna's ear. Draco could see Luna trembling from aftershocks of the curse and the pain his aunt was now inflicting, but what shocked him most was the sympathy in her dreamy blue orbs as she gazed at him. He found it difficult to look away from such an expression.
"Maybe next time you won't be so brave, little Gryffindor," Bellatrix teased in a sickly sweet voice.
"I'm a Ravenclaw," Luna said weakly though the pride in her voice was evident. Her retort earned her a swift kick to the stomach after her skull was thrown to the floor; the girl barely responded to the attack.
"Then you should be clever enough to recognize when to keep your filthy mouth shut," Bellatrix barked before sweeping her robes up in a dramatic flair. "I'll send Rodolphus to return the blood traitor to her cell in a few minutes. Do what you please to her until then," she said before sauntering out of the room.
Draco felt his knees wobble and nearly give out once his aunt was no longer present, but a coughing fit broke his moment of weakness. He looked over at Luna as a steady trail of blood fell from her mouth and into the veins of the wood floor below her. Draco wondered how much of her blood was pumping through the foundation of his home. Bruises were forming on her face from where she had hit the floor and her breathing was labored. Despite her obvious pain, she never cried other than the one tear that had fallen from her dewy eyes after his second curse had finished.
For an unmeasured amount of time, neither said a word; instead, they both simply looked at each other. Luna's eyes still overflowed with pity while Draco's showed only disgust and disbelief. He didn't understand how someone could withstand such torture at the hands of another and not respond with hatred or fury. Though Draco was half of the cause of her current state, she didn't look at him with hatred brimming in her crystal ball eyes; she looked at him as if he had been the one tortured and beaten. Questions formed at the tip of his tongue begging to be asked, but he could only form one syllable.
"Why?" he chocked out hating the weakness in his mangled voice.
"Because I can take it," she responded in a simple whisper as her eyes closed, her face forming into a look of pure serenity.
Before Draco could say anything more, Rodolphus' heavy footsteps reverberated around the room as he stormed in. Without any regard for her current state, his uncle grabbed the weakened girl by her wrist emitting a nauseating pop. Luna barely flinched. Instead her eyes were focused on something behind Draco; her glassy eyes filled with joy as she was shoved towards the dungeon door and taken underground once more.
Dazed from the events that had unfolded, Draco turned to see what had captivated Luna so entirely. He stared dumfounded at the simplicity of what existed behind him. With a view of the Malfoy Manor's sprawling gardens, the large window was glowing with rays of light from the late morning sun. A red bird swooped down landing upon an apple tree heavy with bright green orbs. He wished, just in that moment, that he could find peace in the scene before him. Instead, all he was able to see was life flourishing as his spiraled out of control.