Springfic: "Prisoner" for Pinkelephant42
Title: Prisoner
Author/Artist: jennifergale
Recipient: Pinkelephant42
Character(s): Luna, Draco, Ollivander
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1,896
Warnings (highlight to view): No torture.
Summary: For Luna, certain truths do not require proof.
Author's/Artist’s Notes (if any): None
Prisoner
The first day she spent in the cold, moist darkness of the dungeon, Luna thought she could escape. Ollivander told her it couldn't be done, but Luna quickly ascertained that he didn't believe in Snorkacks and Sock Pixies, so she didn't trust his judgment. Daddy always said you couldn't completely trust someone with a closed mind -- just look at what the world had come to because of rigid thinking.
But later, after using an old nail to undo their bonds only to discover that the cell door was magically sealed, after finding the jug and filling it with rainwater from the ever-dripping corner of the dungeon only to have the rain and the dripping cease, after digging one brick from the dungeon wall only to find another brick behind it and a brick behind that one as well, after Ollivander's failed attempt to make a wand out of a broken chair leg and spider silk, Luna resigned herself to her capture. She succumbed to the darkness, the cold meals, the hard bread. She accepted that her only company was an old wizard who insisted that nargles were nothing more than motes of dust floating in the air and that pixies have no use for striped socks, not even the socks with bands of silver knitted into them.
Twice a day, Luna and Ollivander were brought food. Occasionally, briefly, other prisoners joined them in the darkness, but those prisoners did not remain among them for long. Inevitably, when supper came, the new prisoners were taken upstairs and tortured to death.
"So why are they keeping you alive," Ollivander asked her once.
"My Father," Luna answered. She'd had a lot of time to think about it. "Daddy won't cooperate if they kill me."
Ollivander sniffed. "How would he know whether you're alive or dead?"
Luna sighed. It was so perfectly obvious, but she was tired of stating the perfectly obvious by now. Talking with closed-minded people was so absolutely horrid sometimes because one couldn't hold a proper conversation. She missed her father. She missed her friends who didn't always understand but at least took her seriously enough to hold an actual debate. She missed those debates.
"Go on," he said quietly. "I'm not trying to bait you this time. I want to know how you can be so certain that he's alive, and why he is so certain that you're alive. Is it a creature? A spell? A device?"
It wasn't any of those things.
"No," she said simply. "When you've been through what Daddy and I have been through, and when you've seen the things that we've seen...you just know. Like knowing that it's about to rain when you feel the first drop of water on your face, or knowing that we've been down here for days and days even though we haven't seen the sun."
"That's just silly," Ollivander grumbled. "As stupid as Sock Pixies."
Luna nodded in the darkness. "Yes," she said. "I agree. It's very silly and stupid, and it doesn't make sense from a certain point of view, but that doesn't mean it isn't true. Sometimes you just...know things. Without any reason for knowing them. The proof comes when you've found it."
Ollivander sighed. "Just what was Dumbledore been teaching you kids at Hogwarts all these years?"
#
Days later, Luna didn't know how many exactly, but it was several meals and a rainstorm before she sensed a change in the house.
Sometimes, you just know things.
She didn't know what had changed, but she knew that something had.
Sometimes, they could hear conversations echo down from the room above them, but not always. Their captors chose to torment prisoners in that room -- Luna didn't know why, but she supposed that the location was convenient because it was close to the dungeon and close to the incinerator where they burned the bodies afterward. But she and Ollivander couldn't hear everything. Not always.
But, one day, she heard a familiar voice.
"That sounds like Draco Malfoy," she murmured.
"You do know where we are, don't you?"
"Well, yes," Luna answered. "In a dungeon."
Ollivander sighed. "We're in their dungeon. The Malfoy dungeon."
"Oh!" Luna felt as though she suddenly understood so much. No wonder Draco always looked as though he smelled something foul. She had little doubt that the rest of Malfoy Manor smelled as bad as the dungeon, and her father had always said that if you kept your face in one position for too long, it got stuck that way -- it was one reason why Luna kept her face as expressionless as possible. She didn't want people to think she was sad when she was happy or happy when she was sad. What Luna hadn't counted on back then was that people would think she felt nothing at all. Now, when she smiled, it just unnerved people, but Luna tried not to let it bother her.
Poor Draco. He's been misunderstood too.
So, when Draco descended the staircase with a globe of light, reluctant steps, and a tray of dinner, Luna found herself smiling. She felt as though she finally understood him.
He scowled. "It's you. Figures."
She smiled wider. "It's you."
"What are you so cheerful about...? Nutter."
"They caught you too," she said. It was good to see a familiar face.
He looked at her the way everyone looked at her, uncomprehending.
"Nobody captured me, Lovegood. This is my home. It's where I sleep at night."
"What difference does it make where you sleep?" She smiled. "I sleep here too, but that doesn't make this my house. I slept on the train once, and in the woods, and in a catacombs, and in an Egyptian sarcophagus, and in the middle of this lovely garden haunted by mer-ghosts -- it used to be underwater, you know. But that doesn't mean that any of those places were home to me."
He stared at her. Blinked. Shook himself. "Look. Do you want your food or not?"
"Yes, please."
"Then stand back so I can open the door. Stand way, way back."
Luna stepped away from the door and waited.
And waited.
Draco's wand was pointed at the door, it's tip jutting just beneath the food tray. He repeated his spell, frowning.
Luna cleared her throat. "Alohamora won't work," she said.
"Obviously," he muttered, settling the tray of food on the ground. He pushed up his sleeves and tried another spell. "Stupid wards on everything..."
"Yes, they have a special spell on it. So do you smell it too?"
"Smell what?" He muttered a spell under his breath and shook his wand at the door, but the lock remained stubbornly in place.
"Death," she said. "I was thinking that the smell of death must be why you always look as though you caught a sniff of something foul. This house smells like lots of things have died in it, and it can't have been a pleasant smell to grow up with. You can't ignore the way death smells; it makes your nose wrinkle. So is that why all of you look like you've smelled something awful? Daddy says your face can freeze if you keep it one way for too long."
"Shut up."
"That's not very nice," she said. "But that's all right." She paused. "Being a prisoner changes you, and it doesn't usually make a person nice."
"Well it changed you, Loony. And I told you already...I'm not a prisoner."
Luna took a step forward. She couldn't help studying his face, because his words and his expression didn't match. "Are you sure? Because I think you are. Ronald and the others don't like you, and I know you aren't a very nice person, but that's to be expected if you grow up surrounded by dark artifacts and cursed objects and bad people." She took another step forward. "But you aren't like the others. You aren't a killer."
Sometimes, you just know things...
The lock clicked and the door swung inwards.
"I'll kill you if you don't step back," he said.
"No. I don't think you will." Luna felt sure of her words. She took another step forward. She was standing in the doorway of the cell, now, her toes inches from his.
Draco pointed his wand at her chest, but his hand was shaking. Luna nodded.
"You aren't like them," she whispered.
He was staring at her. She could see the sweat on his forehead beneath the cold blue glow of the light he had brought with him. He looked petrified. She knew exactly how he felt.
"Please," she whispered. "Can't you get us out of here?"
"Step back," he mouthed. All that came from his mouth was a squeak.
Luna thought about it. She thought about going back into the cell, and she thought about pushing forwards, moving past Draco and up the stairs to...to where? When she'd dug one brick out of the dungeon wall, there'd been another behind it. Malfoy Manor was not some place you could easily break out of. If she were to leave via the dungeon steps, she would need Draco's help. She'd listened to enough torture sessions above stairs to know that she might not survive her escape attempt otherwise. Not if Bellatrix was home, anyway.
"Draaaaco, Sweetie," sing-songed a voice from above them. "You're taking too long!"
Bellatrix.
"Step back," Draco whispered. He was shaking harder now, and this time Luna saw what she hadn't seen before: the mark on his arm. The mark of a death eater.
At last, Luna understood. She and Ollivander had used a nail to break free from their bonds, but the thing that imprisoned Draco was not something he could escape.
Sometimes, you just know. He wasn't like the rest of his family, but he couldn't help her either. He really was as much a prisoner as she and Ollivander were.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured. "It must be so difficult. I won't make it any harder on you."
Luna took three obedient steps back into her cell. With his wand still leveled at her, Draco used his foot to push the supper tray into the cell and used his free hand to close the door. It re-locked upon closing, as it was designed to.
"When they come to rescue us," Luna said, her voice low and calm, "I hope someone rescues you too. I know you aren't like them."
"Shut up," he said, and disappeared up the stairs taking the light with him, but not before Luna had seen his expression.
After listening to a brief exchange between Draco and his aunt and hearing them exit the room above, Luna stooped to divide the supper into two portions. She brought the larger portion to Ollivander.
"You're smarter than you look," he said. "How did you know he wasn't a killer?"
"I'm a Ravenclaw. Besides, I already told you. There are some things that you just know." She sighed and muttered, "So closed-minded..."
"Hm. Ah. Well, he was almost convinced. You could try again the next time..."
"No," she said quietly, remembering the mark on his arm. "He's a prisoner too....even more so than you and I."
But there was one good thing that came of her conversation with Draco.
The next time Draco brought down their tray of food, their dinner was still warm.
Author/Artist: jennifergale
Recipient: Pinkelephant42
Character(s): Luna, Draco, Ollivander
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1,896
Warnings (highlight to view): No torture.
Summary: For Luna, certain truths do not require proof.
Author's/Artist’s Notes (if any): None
Prisoner
The first day she spent in the cold, moist darkness of the dungeon, Luna thought she could escape. Ollivander told her it couldn't be done, but Luna quickly ascertained that he didn't believe in Snorkacks and Sock Pixies, so she didn't trust his judgment. Daddy always said you couldn't completely trust someone with a closed mind -- just look at what the world had come to because of rigid thinking.
But later, after using an old nail to undo their bonds only to discover that the cell door was magically sealed, after finding the jug and filling it with rainwater from the ever-dripping corner of the dungeon only to have the rain and the dripping cease, after digging one brick from the dungeon wall only to find another brick behind it and a brick behind that one as well, after Ollivander's failed attempt to make a wand out of a broken chair leg and spider silk, Luna resigned herself to her capture. She succumbed to the darkness, the cold meals, the hard bread. She accepted that her only company was an old wizard who insisted that nargles were nothing more than motes of dust floating in the air and that pixies have no use for striped socks, not even the socks with bands of silver knitted into them.
Twice a day, Luna and Ollivander were brought food. Occasionally, briefly, other prisoners joined them in the darkness, but those prisoners did not remain among them for long. Inevitably, when supper came, the new prisoners were taken upstairs and tortured to death.
"So why are they keeping you alive," Ollivander asked her once.
"My Father," Luna answered. She'd had a lot of time to think about it. "Daddy won't cooperate if they kill me."
Ollivander sniffed. "How would he know whether you're alive or dead?"
Luna sighed. It was so perfectly obvious, but she was tired of stating the perfectly obvious by now. Talking with closed-minded people was so absolutely horrid sometimes because one couldn't hold a proper conversation. She missed her father. She missed her friends who didn't always understand but at least took her seriously enough to hold an actual debate. She missed those debates.
"Go on," he said quietly. "I'm not trying to bait you this time. I want to know how you can be so certain that he's alive, and why he is so certain that you're alive. Is it a creature? A spell? A device?"
It wasn't any of those things.
"No," she said simply. "When you've been through what Daddy and I have been through, and when you've seen the things that we've seen...you just know. Like knowing that it's about to rain when you feel the first drop of water on your face, or knowing that we've been down here for days and days even though we haven't seen the sun."
"That's just silly," Ollivander grumbled. "As stupid as Sock Pixies."
Luna nodded in the darkness. "Yes," she said. "I agree. It's very silly and stupid, and it doesn't make sense from a certain point of view, but that doesn't mean it isn't true. Sometimes you just...know things. Without any reason for knowing them. The proof comes when you've found it."
Ollivander sighed. "Just what was Dumbledore been teaching you kids at Hogwarts all these years?"
#
Days later, Luna didn't know how many exactly, but it was several meals and a rainstorm before she sensed a change in the house.
Sometimes, you just know things.
She didn't know what had changed, but she knew that something had.
Sometimes, they could hear conversations echo down from the room above them, but not always. Their captors chose to torment prisoners in that room -- Luna didn't know why, but she supposed that the location was convenient because it was close to the dungeon and close to the incinerator where they burned the bodies afterward. But she and Ollivander couldn't hear everything. Not always.
But, one day, she heard a familiar voice.
"That sounds like Draco Malfoy," she murmured.
"You do know where we are, don't you?"
"Well, yes," Luna answered. "In a dungeon."
Ollivander sighed. "We're in their dungeon. The Malfoy dungeon."
"Oh!" Luna felt as though she suddenly understood so much. No wonder Draco always looked as though he smelled something foul. She had little doubt that the rest of Malfoy Manor smelled as bad as the dungeon, and her father had always said that if you kept your face in one position for too long, it got stuck that way -- it was one reason why Luna kept her face as expressionless as possible. She didn't want people to think she was sad when she was happy or happy when she was sad. What Luna hadn't counted on back then was that people would think she felt nothing at all. Now, when she smiled, it just unnerved people, but Luna tried not to let it bother her.
Poor Draco. He's been misunderstood too.
So, when Draco descended the staircase with a globe of light, reluctant steps, and a tray of dinner, Luna found herself smiling. She felt as though she finally understood him.
He scowled. "It's you. Figures."
She smiled wider. "It's you."
"What are you so cheerful about...? Nutter."
"They caught you too," she said. It was good to see a familiar face.
He looked at her the way everyone looked at her, uncomprehending.
"Nobody captured me, Lovegood. This is my home. It's where I sleep at night."
"What difference does it make where you sleep?" She smiled. "I sleep here too, but that doesn't make this my house. I slept on the train once, and in the woods, and in a catacombs, and in an Egyptian sarcophagus, and in the middle of this lovely garden haunted by mer-ghosts -- it used to be underwater, you know. But that doesn't mean that any of those places were home to me."
He stared at her. Blinked. Shook himself. "Look. Do you want your food or not?"
"Yes, please."
"Then stand back so I can open the door. Stand way, way back."
Luna stepped away from the door and waited.
And waited.
Draco's wand was pointed at the door, it's tip jutting just beneath the food tray. He repeated his spell, frowning.
Luna cleared her throat. "Alohamora won't work," she said.
"Obviously," he muttered, settling the tray of food on the ground. He pushed up his sleeves and tried another spell. "Stupid wards on everything..."
"Yes, they have a special spell on it. So do you smell it too?"
"Smell what?" He muttered a spell under his breath and shook his wand at the door, but the lock remained stubbornly in place.
"Death," she said. "I was thinking that the smell of death must be why you always look as though you caught a sniff of something foul. This house smells like lots of things have died in it, and it can't have been a pleasant smell to grow up with. You can't ignore the way death smells; it makes your nose wrinkle. So is that why all of you look like you've smelled something awful? Daddy says your face can freeze if you keep it one way for too long."
"Shut up."
"That's not very nice," she said. "But that's all right." She paused. "Being a prisoner changes you, and it doesn't usually make a person nice."
"Well it changed you, Loony. And I told you already...I'm not a prisoner."
Luna took a step forward. She couldn't help studying his face, because his words and his expression didn't match. "Are you sure? Because I think you are. Ronald and the others don't like you, and I know you aren't a very nice person, but that's to be expected if you grow up surrounded by dark artifacts and cursed objects and bad people." She took another step forward. "But you aren't like the others. You aren't a killer."
Sometimes, you just know things...
The lock clicked and the door swung inwards.
"I'll kill you if you don't step back," he said.
"No. I don't think you will." Luna felt sure of her words. She took another step forward. She was standing in the doorway of the cell, now, her toes inches from his.
Draco pointed his wand at her chest, but his hand was shaking. Luna nodded.
"You aren't like them," she whispered.
He was staring at her. She could see the sweat on his forehead beneath the cold blue glow of the light he had brought with him. He looked petrified. She knew exactly how he felt.
"Please," she whispered. "Can't you get us out of here?"
"Step back," he mouthed. All that came from his mouth was a squeak.
Luna thought about it. She thought about going back into the cell, and she thought about pushing forwards, moving past Draco and up the stairs to...to where? When she'd dug one brick out of the dungeon wall, there'd been another behind it. Malfoy Manor was not some place you could easily break out of. If she were to leave via the dungeon steps, she would need Draco's help. She'd listened to enough torture sessions above stairs to know that she might not survive her escape attempt otherwise. Not if Bellatrix was home, anyway.
"Draaaaco, Sweetie," sing-songed a voice from above them. "You're taking too long!"
Bellatrix.
"Step back," Draco whispered. He was shaking harder now, and this time Luna saw what she hadn't seen before: the mark on his arm. The mark of a death eater.
At last, Luna understood. She and Ollivander had used a nail to break free from their bonds, but the thing that imprisoned Draco was not something he could escape.
Sometimes, you just know. He wasn't like the rest of his family, but he couldn't help her either. He really was as much a prisoner as she and Ollivander were.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured. "It must be so difficult. I won't make it any harder on you."
Luna took three obedient steps back into her cell. With his wand still leveled at her, Draco used his foot to push the supper tray into the cell and used his free hand to close the door. It re-locked upon closing, as it was designed to.
"When they come to rescue us," Luna said, her voice low and calm, "I hope someone rescues you too. I know you aren't like them."
"Shut up," he said, and disappeared up the stairs taking the light with him, but not before Luna had seen his expression.
After listening to a brief exchange between Draco and his aunt and hearing them exit the room above, Luna stooped to divide the supper into two portions. She brought the larger portion to Ollivander.
"You're smarter than you look," he said. "How did you know he wasn't a killer?"
"I'm a Ravenclaw. Besides, I already told you. There are some things that you just know." She sighed and muttered, "So closed-minded..."
"Hm. Ah. Well, he was almost convinced. You could try again the next time..."
"No," she said quietly, remembering the mark on his arm. "He's a prisoner too....even more so than you and I."
But there was one good thing that came of her conversation with Draco.
The next time Draco brought down their tray of food, their dinner was still warm.