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The Hogwarts Express was frozen and dark, but Luna’s Patronus flooded her compartment with silvery warmth. Four wide-eyed young Slytherins were huddled over it, giggling and brushing curious fingers along the hare’s phantasmal ears, successfully distracted from the wood cracking as the temperature in the corridor rose and fell with the intermittent passage of no fewer than three dementors. In the opposite compartment amidst a gaggle of tiny Gryffindors, Neville and Ginny were taking white-faced turns at maintaining their Patroni, which both had an unfortunate tendency to dissipate whenever one of the creatures floated into sight.
The sight of green and silver ties amidst the DA was new, and no one else was eager to claim protection of the paltry handful of tearful baby snakes who had begun showing up. Usually, they stuck with their own Houses, older Gryffindors taking charge of the younger Gryffindors and so on. However, the younger Ravenclaws, likely sensing their older peers’ quiet disdain of Luna, did not seek her out for protection. Instead, she found herself the metaphorical toad on top of the chicken eggs. The rest of the DA crept around her Slytherin brood warily, convinced that they would hatch into basilisks any day now. What they would grow up to be didn’t matter much to Luna. They were frightened children.
Ideally, they’d have someone who could cast a corporeal Patronus in each compartment. A lot of things weren't ideal at the moment. This sour pinch in Luna's stomach manifested merely as an irritated flick of her hare's ears. It was strong. A second one couldn't hurt.
Many people closed their eyes to cast the Patronus charm, but Luna never struggled to dream with her eyes open. Her mother burst across her vision, dark hair unbound, laughing. In Luna's memories, Pandora was always laughing. She had been laughing when she -
The fragile thread of the spell threatened to snap.
Mum loved to laugh, Luna thought fiercely, and she remembered her mother laughing: at Luna's father chasing the dirigible plums and drawing cartoons, at Luna keeping dust bunnies for pets and dancing in the kitchen, at herself ruining cauldrons and turning the gnomes to stone. Warmth fizzed in Luna's chest and blossomed from her wand into something with promising ears. Pandora had been delighted with the world, and now Luna would continue to be delighted with the world. She would, and so would her little Slytherins, and -
Luna was not on the train when she awoke. She was, however, still in the presence of a terrified face hovering over a green and silver tie. Draco Malfoy's features immediately snapped back to an empty mask when he realized her eyes were open. He was adrift in a sea of black robes. Luna held his gaze and thought of sailors clinging to wreckage. His eyelids flickered as he glanced away hurriedly.
"Yes, that's Lovegood," he said coolly. "You could have asked me on the Express."
Someone said, "You looked busy," with a suggestive lilt, and Draco went scarlet.
As she blinked away the remaining fuzziness, Luna became aware of the magic binding her in place. Experimentally, she tried to wiggle her tongue. Nothing. This was not the work of another student. The Death Eaters had swiped her off the train in front of the children. Nausea paused, heavy and inevitable, at the base of her frozen throat. Ginny, Neville, her father. Who would look after her father?
"All yours, Narcissa. Lucky break, eh?" said someone else.
The ocean of black retreated from Luna's sightline, leaving behind not Draco but a gaunt woman in fine robes of dove gray. Narcissa Malfoy held a silver knife and a silver bowl. Distantly, Luna realized how she was to be used.
"You are pure?" Narcissa asked coldly. She was not asking about ancestry; that was public knowledge. When Luna did not respond (how could she have?), she felt the unmistakable discomfort of undisguised Legilimency rake through her mind.
Narcissa's sour expression did not change, but she evidently liked what she found. With practised efficiency, she sliced open Luna's left arm at the inner elbow. Blood drooled down Luna's fingertips and dripped hotly into the bowl.
Pandora's research had also occasionally required the blood of a virgin, but she always put Luna to sleep. It was their special ritual, something that they only did once every few months. When Luna woke up, there were always cakes and games and treasures to make up for the wooziness and the sting.
There probably were not going to be cakes and games and treasures here.
Expressionless, Narcissa produced a second bowl and applied the knife handily to Luna's right arm. Obviously, she did not intend to spend any more time with Luna than was strictly necessary. Luna wondered if this was her first time bleeding someone other than Draco or herself. When Narcissa had done this to Draco as she so obviously had, when Draco had been useful in this crude manner, had she held his head to her breast as Luna's mother had hers? Had she fed him tea with milk and honey? Had she pressed kisses to the bandage on his arm for the next week?
Perhaps Narcissa meant to drain her dry. Luna's thoughts were melting into cotton. Her ears rang. Her arms numbed. Narcissa's fine features blurred together, duplicated, twisted. Panic whipped across Luna's fading awareness. In the muddle, grey eyes locked on hers: Mummy!
It was a scream of a thought; Narcissa backed up so quickly that she dropped the knife. After a tense moment, she stepped stiffly forward again and set about finishing up. Dizzy, Luna gazed at the twin silver vessels and their red satin contents. Poisons, curses, maledictions: what would her blood become to hurt her friends? How would Narcissa shape it?
Narcissa's hands were soft and pale and gentle as she silently wrapped Luna's arms. All the blood was crusted under Luna's nails, like she'd clawed herself to bits and Narcissa was her innocent caretaker.