Chapter 2 - Captivity
I’m dead.
Luna, wide awake, lied on the grimy carpet without moving. She was aware that her eyelids were moving up and down. But why, oh why, was it still pitch black?
Luna pushed herself up from the floor and immediately groaned aloud in pain. Clutching her stomach, she groped the darkness for something to lean on. Resting her hand upon a nearby armchair, Luna balanced herself on her wobbly legs. The sudden movement surprised her mind, and instantly, Luna was back on her knees, dry-heaving and panting.
“Oh, Merlin,” she moaned in pain as stars swam before her eyes. As she recovered, she noticed a light approaching from her left side.
Footsteps.
Instinctively, Luna reached behind her ear, looking vainly for her wand. Ah yes, she remembered. That particular tendency had irked him so much that she now placed her wand in the pockets of her robes, a common enough place.
Luna’s wandering mind was suddenly brought back to the present when a scraggly figure appeared before her. A disheveled young man dressed in fine black robes made from the richest materials stood in front of Luna, tall and proud. His stringy blond hair hung limply to his abdomen, framing a stony face with chiseled, prominent chin and cheeks. In one hand, he held the dancing candle. In the other, he held a wand.
Oh, the dangers of putting something everyone else does.
Luna’s eyes widened. “Hey! That’s my wand!” Weakness dissipated into anger as Luna shot up and marched straight to the stranger. Embarrassed to see that she was still a head or so shorter than him, but nonetheless fired up, she stared straight into his eyes.
His eyes.
Luna was startled to see her captor’s sea-grey eyes. There was something familiar about his eyes. She knew there was something deeper, something more to this man. Through his eyes, she saw a man who has been hurt, rejected, and confused all his life.
Someone like me.
Luna was surprised to hear herself think that thought. True, she’d been teased her entire life, yet it hadn’t affected her much at all. But she didn’t think she’d go as far as to characterise herself in the same category as this…this…
“You’re the magical Muggle aren’t you?” The words burst out of her before she could stop it, a habit Ron had asked her many times to break.
The man let out a hoarse, deep laugh, throwing his blond hair back as he did so. However, even as he chuckled, Luna still noticed the droop in his grin and the dull look in his eyes. “Is that what they call me nowadays?” He shook his head. “Three years ago, I went by a different name. A cursed name,” he added quietly.
“Who are you?” Damn her tongue.
All remains of his empty mirth disappeared. He cleared his throat nervously, “That’s none of your business, Luna.”
Luna frowned. “How do you know my name?”
The stranger glowered. “Don’t ask so many questions,” he snapped. “It’s what got you here in the first place. Besides,” he mused softly, “you’ll find out soon enough.
“Here,” the man’s tone shifted abruptly, “is where you will be staying for as long as it takes you to do what I need you to do.” Muttering a spell underneath his breath, he pointed his “ Luna’s “ wand at the nearby candles, immediately lighting up the room to give it a delightful glow.
Luna looked around, observing her new quarters. For a loner in the mountains, she mused, he kept very large quarters. The armchair she had felt earlier was paired with another matching green one, covered in the same grainy layer of dust. Both were placed in front of a grand fireplace that never seemed to have been used. On the far side of the room sat a huge bed, unlike any she’d seen before. It, too, had a cover of dark green with silver linings.
The colours of the Slytherins.
Luna suppressed a shiver, looking up at the ceiling for a distraction. Almost ghost-like, and adding to the haunting atmosphere, the shape of a chandelier underneath a draped piece of cloth hung from the high ceilings.
As she lowered her head, Luna’s mind raced with questions, all of which she was careful not to blurt out. She felt the stranger’s keen eyes watching her closely, so she turned to face him, keeping her face as calm and serene as she could.
“It could do with a bit of remodeling,” she stated coolly. “I’ll guess that you haven’t kept this place tidy for quite some time.”
The man smiled grimly. “This used to be my old bedroom. But I sleep across the hall now. You might say I’m haunted by…nightmares.” For a moment, Luna detected a flash of concealed rage in this stranger’s eyes. But when she blinked, it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.
The man now stared at her with raised eyebrows. “What, no questions?” he asked sarcastically.
Luna replied indifferently, “Well, considering you’re holding me captive and ordering me to hold my tongue, I can’t very well disobey you, can I?”
The stranger smirked. “Smart girl.” He straightened his posture. “Come, it’s dinnertime.” With that, he turned smartly and marched out the room without glancing behind or waiting for the surprised Luna to catch up.
The man led Luna into a lovely, though sorely neglected, dining room where a simple meal had already been prepared at the table, a small square-shaped thing that did the elegant dining room no justice.
“Shall we?” Her captor motioned to the nearest chair, indicating where Luna was expected to sit. He himself sat across from her, tucking her wand safely in his pocket.
Luna eyed the roasted chicken warily. True, she was hungry “ no, starving “ but she had paid attention long enough in Potions to know of the existence of certain undetectable poisons.
“No, the food’s not poisoned, Luna,” the man read her thoughts exactly. “If I had wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble with waiting for you to wake up.” When Luna still did not move, he let out an impatient sigh. “Look, I’ll eat a piece just to show you.” He took his fork and dug right into the food then took a large bite.
Left with no other choice, Luna hesitatingly picked up her fork and took a piece herself. It does look mighty appetizing, she thought, before giving up to her stomach and shoving the piece into her mouth. Satisfied, the man, who had scrupulously watched Luna eat her first piece of chicken, resumed his meal in reciprocating silence.
After Luna finished a good portion of the dishes on the table, she sat back and stretched, feeling as relaxed as she could in her state. She closed her eyes and leaned back into her chair, letting her head droop over the back of the chair. She felt his calculating eyes, and she didn’t care.
“So, now that you’re filled up, how about a little story telling?”
“Hmm?” Luna smiled, her eyes still closed. “All right.” Bloody hell, Luna. Too much wine.
“Once upon a time, a great Pureblood family lived in this very same house until very recently. They were happy to a certain extent, living together in peace and wealth. There was a father, a mother, and a son. What more could they possibly ask for? But the father had a terrible secret: he was a member of the Dark Lord’s followers.”
Luna’s eyes snapped open. “A Death Eater lived here?” That would partially explain the ever-present green-and-silver theme decorating the house.
The man nodded solemnly. “A fervent Death Eater. Bent upon destroying all Muggles, Muggle-borns, and Muggle-lovers. During the rise of the Dark Lord, he never hesitated to cast Unforgivable Curses upon anyone who stood in his way. Soon, he himself rose to become one of the Dark Lord’s right-hand followers.
“However, eighteen years ago, when the Dark Lord was defeated the first time by the Boy Who Lived, he adamantly protested against all accusations that he was a Dark Lord’s follower, claiming that whatever harm he had done had been against his will and without his knowing. So he was free. Free to intimidate the sworn enemies of Death Eaters. Free to walk down the streets knowing his comrades were suffering in Azkaban. Free to impress his visions of a Pureblood society upon his young son.
“He taught his son all the beliefs and ideals the Death Eaters had clung to during their Reign of Terror. And, as all children do, his son grew up and was sent, albeit grudgingly, to the Hogwarts school under the tutelage of Muggle-loving Albus Dumbledore. There, living under the nose of his father’s lord’s enemy, the boy grew up, a model of the Pureblood race. And he did everything his father told him to do: terrorize the other children, spread the principles, and above all, get Harry Potter expelled.”
Luna felt the hairs on her arms rise. The wheels in her head spun wildly as she began to place a name with the face. A glance into the man’s stone-grey eyes confirmed her worst fear.
“Unfortunately,” the man plowed on, still gazing fiercely at Luna, “the boy never was able to accomplish his last task, as Dumbledore favored Potter too much. Suddenly, the boy found his father’s face on the front page of the Daily Prophet. The old Death Eater had been arrested and placed in Azkaban when he, along with a handful of other Death Eaters, were found in the Ministry of Magic, doing the bidding of the reborn Dark Lord.”
Luna shivered; she remembered that day all too well.
“Thirsty for vengeance, the boy pledged his allegiance recklessly to the Dark Lord resurrected, becoming a full-fledged Death Eater like his father. However, the boy was naïve; the foundations of his beliefs had been shaky and not at all as firm as his father’s. So when the Dark Lord assigned him the ultimate task, when the moment of triumphed arrived…” the man’s voice had reached a crescendo at this point. Luna’s hands gripped the sides of her chair to keep from launching at his throat. He spoke again, this time, softer, “He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to bring down the great man whom he feared yet respected. The man who represented the dreams and hopes of the people Pureblood wizards hated.”
The man sighed. “Unfortunately, though he didn’t kill Albus, he stood by and allowed a fellow Death Eater do it. The boy might not have learned much from his father, but he knew his father well enough to have picked up a key trait: cowardice. That’s right, the little boy ran instead of facing the hatred and wrath of the Purebloods or the Muggle-sided wizards. He had failed each and every one of them.”
Luna shook her head, biting her lower lip with anger. “I don’t want to hear anymore!” she shouted. “You killed Dumbledore! You killed Albus Dumbledore!”
For the first time since she’d arrived, the man took his piercing eyes off of her. “I might as well have,” he whispered softly.
Luna shuddered, collecting herself. “Malfoy,” she whispered, silently cursing her trembling voice. “What do you want with me?”
This time, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin poster boy, looked up with hardened eyes, “You will tell the world my story and my apology.”
Oh Merlin, what had she gotten herself into?
End notes: This chapter follows as closely to canon as my knowledge of the Harry Potter universe as of June 19, 2006 allows. Any information revealed to be false by Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows will not be changed.
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