Hello everyone! I've never written an author's note, because I never felt the need, but alas, I feel like the time has come. I just wanted to thank everyone who has favorited, followed, reviewed, or simply read this story. The support means so much to me, and I am so grateful to all of you. Please continue to enjoy the story, and if you're up to it, let me know what you think! I appreciate every review and private message I receive. You all are treasures. Thank you! -Lillie

Chapter Five

Bellatrix was growing impatient; the insane brat locked away under the manor was grating her last nerve. It had been weeks, months since the little blood traitor was brought to Malfoy Manor, yet she had offered up no information on Potter's whereabouts. Her usefulness was beginning to wear off, and Bellatrix wondered her value. She was an avid follower of Potter, yet no rescue attempt had been made. She wasn't providing a very provocative bait for Potter or his two parasites, the Weasley child and the Mudblood. Maybe the whimsy snot wasn't so valuable after all; perhaps she was a waste of time and resources. Just as her mad father who was now rotting in Azkaban for failing to surrender Potter into her grasp. The Dark Lord had no time or patience for dead weight, and the Lovegood mutt was running out of value and would have to be exterminated like the pest she was. At the thought of the blood traitor's lifeless, bloody body lying at her feet, Bellatrix's mouth formed into a wide, wicked smile as a peal of wild laughter escaped her lips. Nothing pleased her more than pleasing the Dark Lord; however, torturing, and even killing those who opposed her Lord came in at a close second. Twirling a long, dark curl around her crooked finger, Bellatrix spun as if she were a child on a playground, free of restraint or confinement. The world was hers; she could do as she pleased.

"Bella," her sister's voice sounded from behind her; however, she kept spinning and skipping. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Cissy," Bellatrix smiled cunningly coming to a halt before her younger sister. She clasped their hands together, her mangled, dirty talons distinct in comparison to Narcissa's perfectly manicured hand. "I've been thinking of all the ways in which I can rid your home of the filthy brat in your dungeon. She's one of the fools who stood against us in the Department of Mysteries, you know? I bet Nott and Crabbe are dying to get their hands on her, probably your husband too, though not in the way the other two, of course," she said in a single breath, the mad smile never left her face.

"I bet she's untouched," Bellatrix mused to herself turning away from her sister lost in thought. "Oh how those two would have fun with her, tearing her from inside out. Wouldn't it be delightful?" she asked turning to her sister once more; Bellatrix was so lost in her own elation she didn't notice the look of disgust and shock displayed on her sister's face for a mere second.

"Positively wonderful," Narcissa said lamely. "Though, I do wonder if her usefulness is so lacking," she mused.

"What do you mean, Cissy? She is of no use any longer; she obviously has no information on Potter's whereabouts, or if she does, she's not revealing it," Bellatrix said in a huff.

"I do not doubt she has information on Potter," Narcissa said with a raise of her blond eyebrow. "I've never known you to give up, Bella," she challenged with a smirk befitting of a Malfoy.

"I haven't given up," the devoted Death Eater replied with a petulant stomp of her foot. "I will extract the information from her myself and then tear her apart limb by limb. Mark my word," she growled.

"You're dedication is quite inspiring, Bella," Narcissa said confidently gliding towards her older sister. Gone was the beautiful aristocrat Bellatrix Black; before her now stood the deranged madwoman Bellatrix Lestrange. Narcissa hardly recognized the woman who was once her best friend, her loving sister.

"However, I wonder if your torture is what is required to break such a peculiar creature. Perhaps someone she's familiar with, someone closer to her age could appeal to her if not persuade her with a more inexperienced touch. She knows what you are capable of and what to expect from you. After all, she is friends with the Longbottom boy," Narcissa explained placing an intentional seed in her sister's mind. In order for this to work, Bellatrix needed to think it was her own idea and not her sister's.

"Hm," Bellatrix said turning with her nose in the air. She looked to the ceiling where the black, mighty chandelier hung casting a warm glow on the cool evening. "Perhaps the girl would provide good practice for Draco," she mused. "I can tell he's grown quite fond of cursing her; he no longer hesitates. Maybe she will respond to him more so than she does to me. Cissy, what do you think?"

"I think Draco would be more than pleased at your confidence in him; I'm sure he would rise to the occasion and meet your expectations. Though, I do wonder when he might be trusted to perform such tasks on his own," Narcissa replied as she sat delicately on a jade colored ottoman feigning a look of indifference towards response her sister may give though inside, she was freighted of what may become of the girl below; after all, she was only a child. "After all, you have taught him everything he knows; with that in mind, I have no doubt he is fully prepared for anything," Narcissa added to appeal to her sister's prideful nature.

"He has proven his loyalty to the Dark Lord," Bellatrix nodded her broken fingers skimming the onyx piano nestled in the corner. "And he is most skilled if I do say so," she smirked. "Narcissa, I do believe your little boy is ready to become a man, an honorable man of the Dark Lord," she grinned biting her bottom lip in glee as a smile overtook her face.

"He will be positively thrilled, Bella. He aspires to serve the Dark Lord as you do, faithfully and devotedly," Narcissa said breathlessly as if the idea brought her nothing short of total elation. "When will you tell Draco of this honor you are bestowing upon him? I can hardly wait to see his reaction."

"Tonight at dinner," Bellatrix said. "We'll toast in his name!"

"Splendid," Narcissa said rising from the velvet ottoman. "This is wonderful, Bella. I am so grateful for the guidance you have provided my son," she said embracing her sister lightly as she glared over the Death Eater's shoulder in disgust.

She made eye contact with the portrait of Draco as a child, slicked back hair to resemble his father and innocence in his grey eyes, a gleam she had not seen in years. Her child within the portrait gave her a wide grin, his silver eyes shining bright reminding Narcissa of her reasons for doing this: her son, her only child. Above all, she would protect him with her life, and keeping him from becoming a murderer was protecting him from himself. She refused to let him go without a fight; her son would not turn into the deranged human her sister morphed into, worried only about how much terror and destruction she caused and how deeply she pleased the Dark Lord. She loved not, cared not about anyone other than the he who was more serpent than man. Narcissa would not allow this fate for her son. She would rather die.

The moment Draco sat at the table, to the right of his father, he knew something was wrong. His mother's posture was tense, her face showed indifference but her left eyebrow was creased, her tell. Draco shifted his eyes to his father who seemed none the wiser to his wife's disposition. Throughout the first course, a beet salad with shredded Brussels sprouts, toasted walnuts, and lemon vinaigrette, his mother merely pushed the food around her plate taking a small bite every so often. Draco looked to his father once more, but Lucius continued to stare directly ahead waiting for the elves to finish placing the platters on the dark, mahogany table. Draco's silver eyes swept the room unconcerned with the platters before him overflowing with roasted parsnips and beets or seared lamb topped with thyme and rosemary; Draco's only appetite came in the form of knowing what was going on in his mother's mind. No one else seemed a bit on edge; in fact, Bellatrix looked positively elated as she speared a parsnip with her fork holding it in front of her face before biting it ferociously. Draco knew her happiness always came at a cost to someone else; his first course threatened to make a reappearance at the thought.

Like his mother, Draco's appetite seemed to dwindle as time went on though very little food was put into his mouth. His senses were heightened due to his anxiety of unknown and every scrape of silver on porcelain, every clank of glass was setting him on edge, making him grind his teeth down in frustration. After what seemed a lifetime, the main course was cleared and a decadent apple pie was placed before him. The sight of it made him physically ill, but both Bellatrix and his mother were looking at him expectantly as a slice was placed upon his plate. The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg invaded his senses; the apples smelled tart and sweet at the same time. This particular pie was made from the apples in the garden; it was also a well-known favorite of the young Slytherin. Draco forced a large bite in to his stomach in order to appease his onlookers; it felt as if hot sand was lodged in his throat the entire time.

"Draco," Bellatrix grinned wickedly as dropped a large dollop of cream on top of her pie. "I have grown impatient with the Lovegood brat in the basement, and I wish to be rid of her," she said nonchalantly as if Luna was nothing more than a crumb on the floor.

"The Lovegood girl," Draco said slowly as if he were trying to remember if anyone else in the basement shared the same name with the whimsy blonde.

"Yes, yes," Bellatrix nodded stabbing an apple slice. "Whatever her name is," she said with a wave of her mangled hand. "I've grown bored of her incompliance, and thus, I have decided she is no longer of any use to me."

"Has the Dark Lord approved of this?" Draco asked hastily before he could stop himself. "After all, I thought he wanted her in order to keep her father and his ridiculous publishing in check," he added hastily.

"You dare think I would go against the Dark Lord?" Bellatrix said, her dark eyes wide with fury.

"No, Aunt Bella, of course not," Draco said quickly; he noticed his mother shifted uncomfortably in front of him. "I just wanted to be certain; I know your loyalty to the Dark Lord is unwavering. I never meant to imply otherwise," Draco assured his crazed aunt hiding his shaking hands under the table. "Well, if she is of no use to you, she must be exterminated. The Dark Lord needs not to waste his time on her."

"I admire your willingness to be rid of such a horrible creature," Bellatrix said, her tense posture relaxed as she attempted to bear a look of sweetness; the expression looked maddening on her face. "However, her uselessness to me does not mean she cannot serve a purpose. I have decided to bestow her to you, Draco. Do what you wish to the filthy blood traitor; it is of no concern to me," Bellatrix shrugged placing a small bite of pie onto her tongue. "Kill her, torture her, defile her," she added with a predatory gleam in her eyes. "She's all yours, dear nephew."

He stared at his aunt dumbfounded; time seemed to slow down as he stared at her expectant gaze. His mouth opened and then closed like a fish out of water. His hands were shaking even more so now than before; he shoved them deeper under the table to hide his obvious sign of distress. From the corner of his eye, he saw his mother's face; she nodded minutely at him, but it was enough to persuade him to talk.

"I'm honored, Aunt Bella," Draco rasped out before clearing his throat to feign nonchalance and certainty. "I'm sure she'll make great practice for the curses you've taught me," he said forcing a smirk; his insane aunt beamed proudly at him. He saw his mother nod once more, a sign that he had said the right thing. It caused no relief.

"We're proud of you, Draco," Lucius said finally. Draco turned his head sharply to peer at his father, the older man's pointed face so similar to his own. "You've made the family proud."

"To Draco!" Bellatrix cackled raising her goblet of wine sloppily, the rich red contents threatening to spill with her enthusiasm.

"To Draco," the table echoed before taking a sip of the contents of their goblet. Narcissa Malfoy tipped her glass to her son first before taking a small sip and looking away, looking in the direction of the basement door.

After dinner, Draco made his way to the kitchen to perform his nightly duty of bringing the prisoners their sustenance before manning his post at the bottom of the stairs. He walked into the kitchen bustling with House Elves, all frantic and dirty from their working, and looked for the tray usually waiting for him. Seeing his annoyance at having to wait, one of the elves quickly grabbed a bowl and scooped a heap of slop out of the bin; Draco had to suppress a gag. The House Elf placed the metal bowl on a matching tray presenting it to his young master. However, Draco was not pleased.

"Where is the bread?" Draco demanded.

"There is no old bread left, young master," the elf quivered. "Only good bread for the honorable masters of the house, the house I live to serve."

"Then do as your told and put bread on this tray now; I don't care of its age," Draco commanded with a tone that left no room for argument.

The elf scurried away fumbling over its large feet to retrieve the bread. He returned only seconds later with a freshly baked loaf of pumpernickel bread, Draco's personal favorite. Without a word of thanks for the cowering creature, Draco turned on his heel and made his way to the basement. Unthinkingly, he cast a silent Lumos as he reached the bottom step and walked quietly to the cell. He could hear Luna humming, her breezy voice echoing in the cavernous space; he fought the urge to close his eyes as the calming sound. As he stood before her, she ceased humming to cast him a small smile. Draco did not return the gesture; he only leaned down and sent the tray beneath the bars. He jumped as Luna gasped in surprised. Her long, thin fingers touched the bread delicately as her eyes overflowed with shock. She picked the loaf of dark bread up carefully bringing it to rest under her nose as she inhaled deeply. Draco felt awkward watching such an intimate moment and turned to walk away, but, as usual, her voice made him halt.

"Thank you," she said brokenly. "How did you know this was my favorite?"

"I didn't," he confessed. "And don't ever thank me, Lovegood," he said walking away from her knowing that in a few hours, his post would be taken over and he would be expected to play with his new possession.

Merely an hour later, large, heavy footsteps lumbered down stairs causing Draco to jump up, wand ready for an altercation; however, once Fenrir Greyback's mangy face appeared, Draco lowered his wand. He swallowed back bile as the scent from the constantly grungy werewolf evaded his senses; he smelled like rot and decay. Draco backed away instinctually causing the half-breed to grin predatorily.

"I've been sent to relieve you, little Malfoy," Greyback teased. "Bellatrix wanted you to have time to play with your new toy," he grinned licking his foul lips and giving a full view of his sharpened, yellow teeth. "A little bony she is, but I'm sure she'd be delicious just the same," he added with a repulsive gleam in his eyes as he craned his neck as if to get a better view of the girl. Draco wondered if Greyback could see in the dark.

"Yes, well," Draco said straightening his robes, "don't lay a repugnant claw on her; she's mine," he sneered. "If you touch her, I'll have to annihilate her immediately, and as you so implied, what a waste it would be."

Walking to the cell, Draco waved his wand over the rusted metal bars revealing a door that was not there moments before. He pushed it opened and beckoned for Luna to stand up. As she did so, Draco reached out and grabbed her arm in a firm clutch, though not tight enough to harm her. He closed the cell door behind it resealing it with magic and pulled Luna along with him.

"Come now, Lovegood," Draco sneered at Greyback not missing the way the werewolf's eyes traveled over Luna's body. "It's time for us to have a bit of fun."

Draco dragged her up the stairs, her feet struggling to keep up with his quick movements, but he didn't care. He couldn't quite understand why, but the thought of Greyback laying a claw on Luna made his stomach churn. Draco knew he reveled in mutilating the corpses of his victims both before and after they died; he basked in the blood that covered him as he killed mercilessly. Greyback's bloodlust was paralleled only by that of Bellatrix. At the thought of his deranged aunt, Draco saw a flash of black from the corner of his eye. He turned to see his aunt lounging on a emerald, crushed velvet chaise, her black robes surrounding her making it look as if she were levitating on a cloud of coals, like an angel of darkness, despair, and madness.

"Aunt Bella," Draco acknowledged her with a stoic voice. "Have you come to observe?"

"No, Draco," Bellatrix responded still lounging on the furniture. "You're a man now. You don't need my nor anyone else's supervision. And like I said, she is of no use to me. I do not wish to see her hideous face any longer. Take her away and do as you wish," Bellatrix said shooing him off with a wave of her righteous hand.

"Oh!" Bellatrix called after him just as Draco, and a silent Luna, were nearly out of the room. "I've just heard news of Azkaban's new prisoner," she sneered. "Any guesses on who that might be, blood traitor?"

"Someone undeserving I'm sure," Luna said with a wistful sigh; Draco wished she had remained silent.

"That nutter you call father will surely provide a wonderful plaything for the dementors, don't you think?" Bellatrix said ignoring Luna's dreamy retort. "I wonder if the mad have souls? I wonder if the Kiss works on insanity?"

Luna made no other sound but a small whimper Draco barely heard, but her body was trembling, her lip quivering. Despite her heartbreak, Luna raised her chin defiantly and refused to break under Bellatrix's dark gaze. She kept her eyes locked with the devoted Death Eater until the back of a mangled hand met her cheek. Luna's lip split at Bellatrix's assault, but because she could feel Draco's fingers tighten ever so slightly, Luna remained silent not even bothering to wipe away the blood that was running down her chin, creating a river of crimson down her pale neck.

"Enjoy her, Draco," Bellatrix said walking away resuming her position on the chaise. With this dismissal, Draco hauled Luna out of the room. He could feel when every drop of her blood hit the dark floors.

Dragging Luna's willowy frame to the secluded room in the back of the manor, Draco felt the panic rise in his throat. He was going to have to hurt her now, and he would have no one's orders to blame. It was his decision now; he was in charge. However, it all felt out of his control. Once in the room illuminated by the nearly full moon, Draco released Luna abruptly causing her to stumble forward slightly. She steadied herself standing directly in the moonbeams filtering through the window that stretched to the very top of the wall resting mere inches from the high ceiling. Draco took a moment to look at Luna as she stood stoically in the moonlight. Her pale skin was glowing; her filthy blonde hair was made into a halo of sorts. As the blood continued to fall down her face and run down her neck, Draco could liken her to nothing besides a broken angel, a celestial being who had taken a beating by some cruel demon.

"They gave you to me," Draco said in a hushed whisper. "You were given to me to do with whatever I choose."

"I know," Luna said quietly, her blue eyes wide.

"I was told to hurt you, to curse you until you offer information on Potter or until you go mad."

"People already think I'm mad," Luna shrugged, her thin fingers fiddling with the hem of the dress she wore. She looked so frail.

"Are you so blind, so naïve you can't understand what's going on? I have to hurt you, Lovegood. I have to bring you closer to death than you already are! Do you not understand?" he shouted at her, his left hand reached up to clutch his hair as his right hand tightened around his wand. "Do you get it? This is not a joke."

"Then do it," Luna encouraged him, turning her palms up for him to see. "Curse me, Draco," she said as she took a step towards him. She took another and then a few more until she was standing so close the wand clutched in his hand nearly touched her. Reaching down, she lifted Draco's hand with both of hers, touching the tip of the dark Hawthorn wand to the spot directly over her heart. "Do it," she said as her hands slid around his wrist keeping his hand in place.

Luna could feel him shaking. She looked down at where her hands were around his wrist, their pale skin glowing in the pure light from the moon. Her fingers tightened slightly as she lifted her eyes to meet his, but his silver orbs were hidden as Draco squeezed his eyes shut willing his mouth to form any curse, anything to rid himself of this moment. He briefly considered the Killing Curse, to end her suffering and pain, to offer her peace, but he couldn't do it.

"Draco," Luna whispered. "It's okay. I will forgive you, no matter what. Please, just do it," she begged him.

"I can't," he said his jaw locking to hide the emotional quivering slowly taking over his body. "I just can't," he said as her hands pulled his wand harder into her chest. He could see the indent the wood was making in her dress.

"You can, Draco, you can," Luna goaded him. "Please, Draco. I'll forgive you, it will be alright."

"How could you forgive someone like me," he asked her; tears welled in her eyes at his broken voice. One of her hands slid up his arm to grasp his bicep gently. He told himself he should break from her grasp, to flinch away from her touch, but she was so gentle, so tender; Draco didn't want to be rid of her touch. Her thin, cool fingers were comforting in his moment of panic and confusion.

"I know you don't want to do this, Draco," Luna explained, a sad smile forming on her full lips, a single tear escaped her eyes. "This isn't your choice; it's mine. Please, curse me. Protect yourself and your family," she said looking at him, begging him with her misty blue eyes holding a focus he had never seen before. "Pretend I'm someone else if you must, Draco. You have to mean it for it to work. Please," she said releasing his arm and his wrist as she squared her shoulders exhaling a deep breath.

"Luna," Draco said looking at her incredulously as if he couldn't believe the words that had just fallen from her mouth. She looked so at peace, so comfortable standing in the dark room with moonlight making her skin glow. She smiled as the young man before her unknowingly used her name for the first time as she ran her thumb across his wrist giving him a steady nod.

"Crucio," he whispered brokenly as her screamed reverberated around him. His jaw quivered with the pain his soul was bearing; he didn't try to blink back the tears that formed in his grey eyes.

He thought of Potter for not being quick enough to end this, he thought about his father forcing the horrible life lessons he couldn't rid himself of, he thought of his aunt who made him do this, and he thought of Voldemort who was so cruel and vile he sought out to end lives merely because people didn't meet his standard. But most of all, he thought of himself, if it were possible to stand before himself, Draco would cast the most vicious of Cruciatus curses because of his weakness, the raging battle within him to do what he had been taught and what he wanted. He lowered his wand as Luna stopped responded hating himself for hurting her to the point of unresponsiveness. The tears still refused to fall from his eyes.

However, Narcissa Malfoy, covered by the shadows in the doorway, shed the tears her son could not. She cried for her child and for the innocence he had lost, she cried for the broken girl who lay convulsing on the floor where Draco dropped to his knees beside her twitching body hidden in the darkness of the shadows cast by the heavy drapes, his wand still clutched in his right hand. Narcissa watched as he reached out his left hand to brush over the girl's fingers that remained outstretched in the moonlight, calm and relaxed as if she they were where they belonged lying there in the pale light. Narcissa nearly released a sob as her son's fingers tightened around the girl's as he whispered apology after apology to her unresponsive body. With each apology, Draco's soul split just a fraction more.