InsaneJournal

NaNo FanFic Part 7
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Pairings this part: None
Rating: PG-13
Last one in the Malfoy cellar, I swear. 

February, 1998, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire (cont'd)

Luna turned seventeen in that cellar. She wasn't entirely sure what day it was. 

It could have been the day she managed to ignite the entire sleeve of her robe and had to stamp it out with the other sleeve wrapped around her foot. 

It could have been the day that Mr. Ollivander was taken away again, and the faceless man (or it could have been a woman this time, the figure was slender but overwhelmed by heavy black robes) hoisting the old man's left arm flicked his wand at Luna and left a trail of burning ice across her chest.  The wound burned for all the remaining hours of her current candle, even after she had poured that day's ration of water over it through the slash in her clothes. 

It could even have been one of the days when she thought she had a fever and barely managed to light the candle wick.  Her recollection of those days later was a confusing jumble of thirst, headache, swollen eyes, and red-eyed wolves growling out of the walls. 

Nevertheless by the time Mr. Ollivander came back to the cell it was the end of February, she was seventeen, and her count of wax marks on the wall was hopelessly off.  She didn't bother to begin again.  If she was in this room for another year, she didn't really want to know it anymore. 

March, 1998, Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

When Draco Malfoy opened the door to her cell again, Luna wasn't entirely certain she was awake.  Or perhaps she was still feverish, and hallucinating. 

But Mr. Ollivander shifted nervously, and braced himself as if expecting another summons, so Luna realized that Malfoy was really there.  He stood in the doorway for a long, uncomfortable moment, staring with such a look of shocked anger on his face that Luna cowered from him. He was the first person besides Mr. Ollivander who had entered this cell in everyday robes rather than the heavy black of Death Eaters. 

"Merlin, Lovegood.  What happened to you?" 

Luna said nothing, but he did not appear to require an answer. 

Malfoy seemed slightly more relaxed this time as he stepped inside and closed the door.  He said a quiet Lumos to give more light than Luna's little candle, then snapped his fingers twice.

A house-elf appeared at his feet with a loud crack, and Luna gave a little shriek, then covered her eyes.  Her hands were shaking.  

"Have you been given new orders regarding these prisoners?" Malfoy asked the elf, apparently ignoring Luna's distress and her attempts to control it. 

"Mistress is giving orders long ago, and not changing them." 

"I want you to clean them up.  Basins for a decent wash, and replace their clothes, immediately when I leave.  Understand?" 

"Yes, Master Draco." 

The second crack as the elf presumably disapparated made Luna shake once more.  Then she felt a touch to her wrist.  She fought not to pull away, wanting the contact as much as she wanted to recoil from the person offering it. 

"They really did forget about you, didn't they?"  There was something in Malfoy's voice that made Luna shudder.  He pitied her.  She may even have disgusted him.   The rivalry and condescension which he had shown her at school had been transformed and she didn't want any of it.  She would rather he hexed her into the wall like the others.

But she remembered that he had been frightened and he had been kind once, and she sat still as he curled his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand away from her face.

Malfoy still looked haggard, but not as bad as he had during the Christmas hols. Life at the new Hogwarts must have agreed with him. Luna felt a horrifying anger welling within her, burning up her spine as she sat up straight, leaning as far away from his as she could while he still held her wrist.  She wondered if he had come to leave more candles, enough to last until the end of the school year.  Would his kindness still be kindness then, or a cruelty deeper than Luna could fathom?  Candles gave her time, they gave her consciousness, they made her remember and feel and hope. At least floating in the darkness alone she could go mad in peace, and forget that somewhere there was light and life and people who might know her name. 

Something of her rage must have communicated itself to Malfoy.  He let go of her wrist, shook his head, and stepped away.  He knelt beside Mr. Ollivander, whispering questions that the old man answered. 

Luna wondered what she would do when the day came that Malfoy and his classmates were the ones in the black robes, retrieving their captive wandmaker and tormenting their resident lunatic. Maybe by then she would be able to set all their robes on fire, and they could all be immolated together.

The door slammed shut on Luna's thoughts and Malfoy's footsteps retreated down the corridor.  Three breaths after the door closed, a series of explosive cracks sounded within the cell as two house-elves, two steaming tubs of water, and two stacks of folded clothes filled the empty space between Luna and Mr. Ollivander. 

Luna bit her lip and hesitated just long enough for the house-elf to take over.  For such a small being, the elf was amazingly efficient.  Luna found herself stripped and washed almost before she could utter even token protests.  A cellar prison was no place for modesty.  

Soon enough she was clean.  The cuts and burns on her skin stung from the soap and Luna could have kissed the house-elf, or even Malfoy if he had returned.  Clean.  Even her hair had been washed, although it now hung cold and dripping and tangled down her back because the house-elf's instructions had not included a comb.  The clean clothes were old and probably had once belonged to Malfoy.  Luna didn't want to guess at what the elves had found for Mr. Ollivander.  The old man had been unable to do much for himself, so once it was clear to the elves that Luna was capable of bathing and dressing herself, they focused all of their household magic upon him. 

When the house-elves left, taking the basins with them although Luna had persuaded them to leave the old, dirty clothes, the room itself felt brighter.  The candle flame was no stronger, but Luna breathed easier, and felt more like her old self. 

"Well, Mr. Ollivander."  She sat down next to the man and took his hand in hers, just as she had sat for so many hours before.  "What shall we talk about today?" 



The very next time the door opened, Luna's entire world shifted. Harry Potter, here in her cell, with Ronald and Dean from school, and a goblin.   Screams from the rooms above.  Someone under Cruciatus, and Luna understood it was Hermione after the first few confused seconds. 

It wasn't that she didn't want to leave, when it came right down to it.  She didn't want to leave them, now that she had them. But when the next house-elf apparated in, she didn't flinch from the crack, and she took his hand.  She closed her eyes inside the cellar, and when she opened them again she saw blue sky and grass and trees, and she heard the roar of ocean waves.  She collapsed to her knees beside Mr. Ollivander, hearing more noise behind her as others arrived, and she didn't know if she was laughing or crying.  Perhaps both.  There were no more walls.  She was free. 

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