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Sisters of the Moon	By : sarcastrow Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 2365 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Sisters of the Moon

Chapter 2

Performance

Pansy was swept back into the dark void. She felt the now familiar sensation of becoming another person, and then she was Luna being led by Mr. Pettigrew up to the great room.

Another night had fallen, and yet again she was to be the evening’s entertainment. It had happened often enough that she was used to it by now. She would be taunted and ridiculed for her and her father’s peculiar beliefs. She would be Imperiused, and made to perform rude speeches for Mr. Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy would make her dance, and Draco liked her to sing. Madam Lestrange preferred other pleasures. She would Cruciate Luna, ask her if she was enjoying her stay, and then Cruciate her again. Sometimes she took the opportunity to make Draco cast the curse, but Draco’s curse lacked the edge and bite of Madam Lestrange’s, and this had not escaped the evil woman’s notice. She made Draco practice over and over, and Luna had taken to faking the same kind of agony that Madam Lestrange’s curse produced whenever the maniacal witch made Draco torture her. Luna was sure that Draco knew what she was doing.

Mr. Ollivander was a great help. He had been there when she arrived, and had helped her come back to herself after the Dark Lord had interrogated her. Voldemort had done something that she could not explain. He had invaded her, forced his way into her mind, rifled through her memories, thoughts and feelings, and cast her aside as useless. The old man had explained what Legilimency was, how he had a minor talent for it, and how it enabled him to be so good at matching wizard and wand. He had been very pleased to discover that she had an extraordinary gift for the art. Luna found that, with a bit of concentration, she could sense people’s feelings and immediate thoughts without them knowing. Unlike the Dark Lord, she didn’t force her way into others' minds; she touched them gently, like the breath of a butterfly. Sharing and retrieving memories was a bit more difficult and obvious, and she did that only with Mr. Ollivander’s permission. These parts of Legilimency could be practiced without a wand, and so they had sat there in the dark cellar, escaping into each other’s memories. As time passed, and the months went by, she became very good at it.

Mrs. Malfoy was always the one who healed her cuts and bruises, and cleaned her after her “performances”. She never spoke to Luna other than to give her instructions, but Luna thought she could see sadness behind her mask. One night, as Mrs. Malfoy was mending a particularly vicious cut Madam Lestrange had left on her thigh, she decided to look into her mind. What she found there shocked her. Narcissa Malfoy was a study in turmoil. She knew she was on the wrong side in this tragic conflict but could see no way out. Her husband had fallen from the Dark Lord’s grace; her son had barely escaped death and was torn and broken himself. One sister was barking mad, and the other she hadn’t seen in years. To add to all of that, there was this girl… this could have been her child if the stars had been right. She had almost the same white blond hair that was so striking on her husband and son, the same deep, soul searching eyes as she herself had, only Luna’s were misty blue, and she had a pleasant and polite demeanor even in the midst of torture. Her frustration, desperation, and misery at her situation resided just under the surface of her placid disguise. Luna cried for her that night, and Luna hardly ever cried.

From then on she would escape into Mrs. Malfoy’s mind when things got rough during her “performance”. She couldn’t go while she was being Cruciated, but when the pain let up she could take a small excursion and recuperate. While she danced she could feel Mrs. Malfoy’s pride in her, observing that Luna was treating these moments as lessons so that she could better entertain the lady of the house. When she sang she felt Narcissa’s love for her son, and knew Draco was a victim here too.

Mr. Pettigrew was shivering when he opened the door to the great room, and as she stepped onto her “stage” she saw why.

He was here.

“This is one of our toys, my Lord,” Madam Lestrange said. “Perhaps you remember it?”

“Yes.” The sibilant hiss slid across the room. “I remember it well. It has an interesting, if somewhat deluded mind. Very loyal to Potter as I recall.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Mr. Malfoy interjected. “But it has other talents. It’s a passable singer, a better dancer, and I thoroughly enjoy its speeches on the failings of Potter and Dumbledore.”

“What game shall we play with it tonight my Lord? Shall we make it dance for you? Sing your praise?” asked Madam Lestrange.

“I have a new game for you, a better one,” he said, leaning forward and smiling. “Make it beg for death.”

Madam Lestrange cackled with delight at the suggestion, and raised her wand.

“No Bella, you’ve had enough practice at this. The Longbottoms are a work of art.”

“My Lord embarrasses me,” she said with genuine humility.

“Draco, come here. You still have so much to learn,” the Dark Lord said with a wave of his hand.

Draco moved to Voldemort’s side, and raised his wand. “Cru…”

“No, no, no, Draco. Take your time. You must relish this torture, not rush like a teenage boy to his first girl.” He stroked his chin. “Hmm… yes, make it disrobe.”

Luna had been expecting this for quite some time, and she had been surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. Her hands moved to the buttons on her collar.

“NO!” the Dark lord spat in a fury. “You will only do what you are made to do. Crucio!”

Luna’s body exploded in a maelstrom of fire, knives, and needles, and she screamed. Where Draco’s curse was a painful slap, and Madam Lestrange’s was a full body punch from a razor blade glove, this was being torn by a thousand dull blades and dropped in boiling salt water. Her throat ached as she rose to her feet to face her audience. But she would not let a tear fall, not for him. She was steel, and would not be broken by the likes of this fallen, debased, shell of a human. Luna stood with her arms at her sides, her face hard and determined. He was laughing, and continuing his instruction of Draco.

“There Draco, you see, that is a proper Cruciatus.”

Draco was staring at the floor. “I see, my Lord,” he said stiffly.

The Dark Lord smiled. “Now, make it disrobe.”

Draco raised his wand. Luna looked into his eyes, and saw the conflict. His expression told her that this was the last thing he wanted. She gave him a small nod trying to convey, it’s alright, you’re not doing this, he is. I’ll be fine. He straightened, and composed himself.

“Imperio.”

The warm, almost comforting sensation of the imperious curse filled her. Take off your shirt… please. Luna could feel his plead in the command. Draco’s Imperius was not strong to begin with, and when his heart wasn’t in the curse it really wasn’t that effective. She could have fought it easily but instead decided to help him. Her hands came to her shirt. The risk in helping Draco with his clumsy Imperius was causing her to tremble a little. If Voldemort caught her at it he’d Cruciate her again, or worse, and Luna thought that once was certainly enough. The Dark Lord didn’t seem to notice, however, and soon her shirt was off.

And now your skirt. Draco had a bit more confidence this time, but still the curse was weak. She helped again, and saw the relief in his eyes when he realized what she was doing.

“Good, Draco, you’re getting the feel for it now,” Madam Lestrange said.

Take off your shoes and stockings… I’m sorry. She felt the conflict and shame in his mind through the connection in the curse. Luna’s will and confidence were so much stronger than Draco’s that she could have turned the curse back on him if she had really tried, but at this point it would serve no purpose, and probably wind up getting them both tortured, so she helped him again. She sat down and slowly removed her shoes and stockings. He stood her up and turned her to the wall.

The rest… I hate him for this. His Imperious was really not very good; she should never have felt his revulsion. She sent a small wave of forgiveness back to Draco through the connection in the curse, and then her hands went to the clasp of her bra. The Dark Lord and Madam Lestrange roared with laughter as she undid the clasp. At last the small piece of lace and silk floated to the floor. Her knickers followed, and he made her turn to the room.

Luna was not embarrassed in the least to be naked. Her upbringing was such that she never felt ashamed or self-conscious of her body. She looked to Mrs. Malfoy, and found pride and compassion in her eyes. Luna stood, arms at her sides, waiting for the next command.

“I always find that removing their clothes makes them more vulnerable, don’t you Bella?” the Dark Lord asked.

“Of course my Lord, their clothes are part of their defense,” came her simpering answer.

“Draco,” – the younger Malfoy flinched visibly– “what does it do to please you?”

Draco’s voice quavered. “S.. sing, my Lord.”

“Show me.”

There was a relieved tone in the curse. Sing, Winter.... Please, Luna.

Her raw throat gave a huskiness to her voice that fitted with the popular song Draco chose.

“Snow can wait, I’ve forgot my mittens.

Wipe my nose; put my new boots on…”

Luna smiled at Draco as she sang. She liked this song, and Draco knew it.

“…I’ll tell you that I’ll always want you near.

They say that things change…my dear”

“Very nice Draco, but it doesn’t suit our game this evening. What should it do next?”

Draco had no answer apparently.

“You disappoint, Draco, but that is no surprise given your lineage.” Voldemort’s sneer was evident in his tone. “Allow me, I wish to hear it scream again. Crucio.”

In the part of her mind that wasn’t consumed in agony Luna was intrigued by the difference in the curse this time. Before it was the sensation of being flayed and boiled, this time it was being eaten from the inside by an army of ants and wasps.

She felt slightly sick as she rose to her feet, and she was shaking a little. Luna took this opportunity while they talked to slip into Mrs. Malfoy for a short break. She saw herself through Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes and became concerned. She was shaking far more than she had thought, her nose had bled, and few drops of blood were trailing down her breasts. Then darkness descended on her.

So, you can do it too, his voice said in her mind. So much the better. His presence bloomed around her, and the Dark Lord forcibly took her into Narcissa’s deepest core.

She was hopeless. She loved her husband powerfully, but was sorely disappointed by his lack of spine. Her son, her reason for continuing, was being used and abused by the Dark Lord and she could not object. She was completely isolated from the companionship of other women. She had no friends among the Death Eaters, Bellatrix was completely round the bend, and Andromeda…she missed her so. In the still of the night she wept cold tears of shame and remorse. Then there was Luna, whom she had come to care for far more deeply than she would have liked. She was going to die, here, tonight, by the Dark Lords hand, and Narcissa could do nothing to stop it. She was trapped, and she could see no way to change things. The Dark Lord relished her torment. It was like sweet wine on his lips, and he made Luna taste it too.

She was swept back into her own body, and she nearly fell over. Her very obvious sway elicited a round of laughter from Voldemort, Bellatrix, and Mr. Malfoy.

The Dark Lord clapped his hands. “An excellent game, but still the goal has not been reached.”

Luna steadied herself, and looked into the Dark Lord's red slit eyes.

Do your worst, she thought at him. I will not break.

Really, little girl, you over estimate yourself, came his wordless reply.

The Dark Lord turned to the young man at his side. “Draco, the Cruciatus curse.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Draco’s eyes begged Luna to forgive him. “Crucio!”

Draco’s heart really wasn’t in the curse, and Luna thought she should add a little to the show. She let out a wail she hoped would placate Voldemort, but then he was there again, in her mind, and he took her into Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius had been broken. His power, influence, and a large amount of his wealth were gone. He had failed Voldemort several times, and he was amazed at his continued existence, but he knew that his time was short. Voldemort was simply waiting for the right moment, the right task for Lucius to sacrifice himself. When it came he would have no choice but to obey, and so he was a man waiting for a death he knew was coming sooner rather than later. That Voldemort knew all this and still played the guest filled Luna with revulsion. The flavor of Lucius’s misery was deeper and more bitter than that of his wife. The Dark Lord savored it and forced Luna to partake of its depths.

The room was swimming around her, and she barely heard his voice as he spoke. “Again, Draco.”

The curse had a bit more strength this time, but still not enough to drive Voldemort from her. Together they invaded Draco.

He didn’t want this; he didn’t want any of it. He’d been enthralled by the thought of the Dark Lord, never considering the reality. Voldemort forced Draco to do the most cruel and evil things, but always with an air of instruction. Draco’s heartbreak was entirely different from that of his parents. He wanted nothing more than what he saw among his schoolmates; however, it seemed that was not to be. His mother was cold and aloof. He knew she loved him, but she hardly ever showed it. His father was a crushed man. He had failed, and Draco had been punished for it. He would continue to be punished for it. Torturing the old man was bad enough, but now he was plumbing an entirely new depth of depravity. The girl before him had shown him what bravery really was. She had dealt with the humiliations heaped upon her by him and his family with a grace and dignity that he could not comprehend. He hated it when his aunt made him hurt the girl. Bellatrix was certifiable and he was afraid that he would become like her in the end, soulless and insane.

Worst of all, he was beginning to have feelings for Luna. At first she was a curiosity and he shared his father’s humor at her oddity. As time passed, he found that the only times he was happy were those golden moments when she sang and danced for him and his mother. He had hoped she understood his silent thanks when she had played up the effects of his uninspired cursing and he came to understand that she was his only friend in this house that had become a prison. Now she stood before him in a state he had only thought about late at night, in his room, with the lights out. But this was not how it was supposed to be. She was suspended in the air from his curse, trembling, her beautiful naked body dappled in blood. He was deeply ashamed of the pain he was causing her and the stirring in his loins.

Voldemort was giddy with pleasure at Draco’s torment, and then he showed Luna the full scope of the game he was playing. Lucius had failed him, and he had to pay the price of failure. Draco was a tool in that punishment. The whole Malfoy family knew the truth, but lived in denial. Narcissa played the polite hostess, but could not hide her anguish at their situation. That he could drink deep from Narcissa’s private hell was a pleasant bonus. And then there was Draco; he was best of all. The slow, steady breaking of this young man had been a thrill that he had not anticipated. The taste of his disillusionment with his father, the sweet swirl of fear and disappointment at his own inability, and now the deliciousness of his shame and self-loathing at the torture of Luna. All these things were a banquet for Voldemort. Lastly he showed Luna what she was to him. Merely a tool to torture Draco and Narcissa with, and when it no longer pained Draco to hurt her she would serve her final purpose, to shatter Draco’s soul when Voldemort made him kill her.

Luna dropped to the floor, shivering and gasping for breath. She tasted blood, and spat some from her mouth. I must have bitten my tongue, she thought. Her surroundings were coming back to her and she could hear Voldemort and Madam Lestrange laughing. When she got to her hands and knees and looked up she saw Draco, with a sad and twisted grimace on his face. His wand was almost vibrating in his hand, it was quivering so much. Mrs. Malfoy was as stern and solemn as ever, but her eyes welled with unshed tears. When she looked at the Dark Lord he gave her a knowing nod and laughed even louder. Luna’s face and spirit mirrored each other and she rose once again to her feet. Cold determination and defiance coursed though her as she faced him. He was evil and she would be put to this use no longer.

In words that no one but the Dark Lord could hear she said, Kill me.

His red slit eyes narrowed slightly and he floated into her mind for the last time. No, silly girl. His eyes wandered to the Malfoy family beside him and then back to her. You’re not the object of the game, and he laughed.

A/N song quote : Winter by Tori Amos
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Sisters of the Moon