A Captive Path Chapter 1, a harry potter fanfic

Well looky here, another Luna-centric fic! This one is actually loosely based on an RPG I was in for almost a year, where I played Luna. It was rather canon so one need not know of it to get the plot, for any important bits will be mentioned right in the story. It should be quite amusing to those who were in it, though. This one is dark. And not all smutty, but the first part is. Basically, this is what might happen to our characters, should things go wrong.

Awake

"I'll see when I fall asleep,

you invade all my dreams..."

She struck a match in the cold darkness. A scraping, and spark, and the one bit of warmth Luna would have that day. With the extra long match and bit of flame, she lit fourteen candles in the basement, which sat all year round on the table by her bed. Each candle was different. One was blue in a polka-dot jar. Many were nearly burnt out lumps she'd dug out of the silver candlesticks in the dining room and sitting rooms. Another she'd made herself when she was twelve, tie-dyed. Luna had saved it for something special. Five years later, it was now her father's light.

"Hail Mary, full of grace," She whispered into the flickering shadows, the soft glow reflected in her pale, tired eyes. Beaten eyes, "Watch over my loved ones tonight, as they rest in the life beyond this," Luna's mother had been Catholic. Luna herself prayed to many. They all had to be up there somewhere, "Elgi, give Harry a Quidditch match tonight," The blue candle got that request, "Send him to Ginny in her dreams, she needs him…"

Her voice stopped short. Luna sucked in her bottom lip, as a floorboard creaked above her head. But none followed it. She let out her breath. Perhaps it was the cat prowling the kitchen. She did not know why she feared so much, they had seen her candles. They knew she was still foolishly hopeful. Or at least, they thought she was. Luna sighed, shutting her eyes and wishing she could feel tears. But she didn't feel tears. She didn't feel anything tightening in her throat or her chest. Luna didn't feel anything.

It had been almost an entire year, since her father had been killed. Almost a year exactly that Harry had died in the fight against Voldemort. He hadn't gone down easily, of course. Hermione and Ron went with him, and The Dark Lord had taken weeks to recover. The Dark Lord…that was what they made her call Him now.

After the war was over, the Ministry was quickly taken over and laws were passed that allowed the extermination of those with tainted blood. The pure that had supported Harry and Dumbledore were killed, brainwashed, or slowly broken, depending on the situation and who found them. Luna and Ginny, being among the viable young female purebloods who'd been the boy's faithful friends, were unfortunately among the latter.

Aeneas Nott had been the one to perform the killing curse on Alexander Lovegood, after several rounds of Crucio. As such, he'd taken Luna in as household staff. She was treated lower than a house elf, berated and at times hexed for so reason at all. Once she seemed sufficiently broken, she'd likely be sold off as someone's breeding mare and get a few more galleons in the old man's pocket. At times Luna wondered if that was why she kept lighting the candles. They made her seem still alive.

Pouring polish into a rag, she began shining all the candlesticks in the main dining room of Nott manor on the 14th of January. Luna's wand had been taken away a long time ago. He liked to see her working like a muggle. She shivered, standing in the frigid, echoing room in black robes and her tattered old school scarf. The master of the house wouldn't heat the room until just before his guest arrived. The Dark Lord liked the cold, and he liked Nott's company as well.

When she finished the rows of candlesticks, Luna hurried through the large hallways and secret doors, her breath a cloud in the blue-tinted finery around her. Slipping into the large kitchen, holding her numb hands in their fingerless school gloves over the warm oven. The house elves hardly noticed her anymore. Plenty of their kind were sharing their kitchens with one or two humans those days. Little had changed for them than that.

One especially old and wrinkled elf did look up though, from stirring her pot of onions and turnips. She reached a wizened hand out to the young human girl, pushing the long, lank ash-colored hair away from her eyes, "Oooo missus Luna, he did throw sparks in your eyes again?"

Luna absently touched under her bruised and slightly burned eyes, nodding, "I didn't clear out the ashes fast enough this morning Lotty, I am afraid," Her dreamy, drifty voice of old sounded odd to her. She hadn't spoken to anyone in four days, not since Lotty had asked her if the laundry was done. The elf named Lotty shook her head, touching just under Luna's eyes and seeming to wipe away the bruises and burns with the subtle magic of a House Elf.

"Can't be looking beat for that bad man, missus Luna," The old elf said stoutly, as Luna's eyes slowly widened. Certainly, Lotty would never say a bad word about her master, but she said plenty about Voldemort. Luna opened her mouth to thank her, but Lotty shook her head, "You gots time for a nap missus, before they makes you serve them dinner." Without a word or a change in facial expression, Luna turned and crept down the stairs to the cellar. She left the stubs of candles she'd found that day on her little table, by the candle that was Ernie's, and fell limply on the pile of blankets that was her bed.

The sight of Voldemort no longer registered in Luna's mind as shocking. Aeneas was one of his most loyal servants, and as such The Dark Lord made it his business to keep things that way. Now the dark wizard sat in front of the fire with the Death Eater, as the two spoke of the muggle scouring going on in The United States. Nott's son Theodore was home that week from the very country, where he'd been over-seeing the removal of large groups of the people. He stood by the fire, idly watching as Luna drifted through the background of the scene, refilling glasses of wine and seeing that candles stayed lit.

"Goyle is looking for someone for his son," Voldemort noted in a rather bored tone, turning the wine in his glass, "I told him you had a mare you were breaking in, Aeneas."

"And still breaking," Aeneas sighed dramatically, turning his head just slightly toward where Luna stood stoically by the door, dressed in her plain robe and staring at her feet, her hair covering her face, "Girl, this vintage is not meant to be drunk ice cold," Luna simply nodded dumbly, almost tilting her head in anticipation of the hex that stung the side of her face. Voldemort glanced over at her, and for the first time Luna felt what it meant to have his scrutiny upon her.

"Come," He said simply, and Luna felt as if she had no will to say no to a voice that would have had her shaking on the spot not so long ago. She stepped toward the fire, standing between the two chairs. She glanced up only once, to see that Theodore Nott was still staring as if trying to burn a hole through her. Perhaps he wanted to.

Voldemort regarded her quietly, his pale, inhuman face unreadable and his eyes a pensive red glow, "Your House?" He asked, as if speaking to a book of information that could talk back. Luna stared at her feet,

"I was a Ravenclaw," She whispered. The Dark Lord nodded,

"And your career meeting said what?"

"That I would do well with a career in Transfiguration."

Voldemort looked back at Aeneas, touching his chin thoughtfully, "You know that I take the prospective family lines of my faithful followers to be my business, Nott. Goyle's family is producing nothing but cow-like dunces," He looked back at Luna, as if she were a high grade piece of meat, "This one might throw some balance into their inbred clan. She is slim, she has a functioning brain, and I knew her mother. Her father was an idiot of course, but you saw to his removal. I could persuade Goyle to pay you quite well for her." Luna shut her eyes tightly, 'Please no, please no oh please no…'

"I will certainly consider, my Lord," Aeneas dipped his head, "Though honestly, she has a bit of breaking left to do. Bit too stuck on memories, I believe."

"Is she?" Voldemort said interestedly, as if someone had just suggested a mildly amusing parlor game. He looked back at the girl, before grabbing her arm and pulling her closer. Luna gasped, looking frantically up at Theodore, as if he might somehow help her. Why would she think such a thing? Luna did not know. Perhaps because they'd gone to school together. Perhaps because, unlike the other two men in the room, she had never seen him kill someone in front of her. Regardless, she caught herself and shut her eyes, as she felt the dark wizard probing her mind.

"Ah!" Voldemort let out a short laugh, pushing her away, "There it is. Still pining after your schoolgirl love, are you?" He laughed again, "Children. Theodore, my boy! What was his name?"

"MacMillan," Theodore Nott mumbled, slowly running a hand through his blonde hair, his blue eyes fixed on Luna's shaking form, "Ernest MacMillan."

"Young Malfoy took him out in Ottery St. Catchpole, the night we procured her," Aeneas Nott smirked, "Children indeed," He flicked his hand, motioning her back to her spot by the door.

Luna forced herself to stay numb. She wouldn't think about Ernie. She never let herself think about Ernie, save when she lit her candles. But now The Dark Lord had wrenched him out to the forefront of her mind.

That night, her hands shook as she lit her candles. Ernie's was in the jar from India with the lizard on it. She bit her lip hard, until she almost tasted blood. He was gone. Voldemort had brought him up to her mind and now it made her sick to think of him. Which just made her sick.

Luna curled up on her side on the pile of blankets, staring into the rows of tiny flames, each one a name, each name a memory of something that would never come back. Maybe that was why she was still there, she had even fooled herself into having hope. She hoped in those candles….

She froze, hearing footsteps again, from the same place she'd heard them last night. This time however, the sounds continued. Her fingers gripping the top quilt, knees drawn up to her chest under her faded white school nightgown, Luna listened as the footsteps grew closer. She didn't even lift her head as he came down the stairs, his footsteps slow and his posture slightly slouched. Maybe she was numb now. Maybe she was ready to just let herself roll over and be someone's rag-doll…

He leaned back against the wall, tilting his head forward and staring at her through his hair. It had gotten longer while he was in America, she noted dimly. Luna blinked slowly, once, before opening her mouth. She closed it again. He was just standing there, watching her, with eyes that used to make her highly uncomfortable at school. Luna was used to them now, they only made her curious. What odd mood was he in now?

There were always times of course, when he was home, that Theodore would watch her. He would stand behind her as she polished the candlesticks, never saying a word. He would stare at her over meals as if the food were ornamental. As if the paintings and books and tapestries filling the house weren't there, or interesting at all. But then he'd always been watching people when they were in school.

Now though, something was different in his eyes, which were flickering sharply blue in the light of those holy, foolish candles. Pushing off of the wall, he wandered forward, looming over her as he bent down to look into the candles. Luna shifted a bit to keep watching him, blinking in the dim light. Theodore was reaching out into one of the candles, flicking a finger through the flame. He turned his head swiftly, eyes catching hers again, "Who is this one?" He asked, speaking to her directly for the first time since they'd been in school.

"My mother's," She answered dully, tucking a bit of hair out of her eyes. Theodore watched her as she did, pulling his deft fingers out of the flames, and reaching out to run one along the side of her face, just barely grazing her skin with his fingernail. His fingers were still warm from the candles, hot against her icy skin in the cold of that dark basement. Luna pressed her eyelids shut tightly, trying to turn her head away. He held her in place without much effort. She thought of Ginny…this was not an uncommon solution to breaking in a former follower of Harry Potter…

"How is Su Li?" Luna heard herself ask, swallowing and shutting her eyes again, as he bent down, pressing his lips against the side of her neck. Li had been a Ravenclaw, a year ahead of her. She and Theodore had once been together, snogging in all corners of the Nott House at any given hour of the day, when the boy thought no one was around to witness him with what was presumably his one weakness. Luna hadn't seen her for some time though, since Theodore had been sent to the US.

"Married," Theodore murmured against her skin, while moving to lean on his elbow, his other hand at her hip, leaving her trapped. Not that she had the will to move away from him, "To some wealthy Chinese fellow of means, I hear," He went on in his quiet drone, moving his lips to her throat. Luna bit her lip, even as her head tilted back of its own free will. She couldn't help but recall the last time this had happened, a dim, sweet memory that she never, ever let herself dwell on. Christmas songs on the wireless…Catherine Macmillan's spice cookies…the smell of boy's bed sheets after they'd been cleaned and ironed for the holls…no. She forced her eyes open, fixing them on the shadowed beams of the ceiling. Luna wasn't there. Her body was, but she was going somewhere else, somewhere far away, as Theodore Nott ran his hand up her leg…

"No," He whispered harshly, pushing himself up enough to look her in the face. Luna sucked in her breath, shutting her eyes again, turning her head away. But he pulled it back, his forehead almost touching hers and his eyes boring into her own, "You'll be here for this," He whispered, firmly but not forcefully. It was…quite strange, Luna realized, meeting his gaze with her shaky, highly conflicted one, "Have I ever once hurt you, Lovegood?"

Luna opened her mouth to reply but…no sound came out. He never had, after all. She shook her head slowly just once, before Theodore Nott was kissing her. Pressing her against the quilts, he had her in a bruising, hungry kiss, pushing up her gown as he did, "Goyle wouldn't know the first thing to do with you," He murmured, while breaking away long enough to pull the faded, mended old garment up over her head and through her hair. Luna shivered in the sudden cold, but he was there, face against her throat again. She let out a small gasp of pleasure against her own will, even as he had her movement restricted. Yes, he was firm in his actions but…in no way brutal.

Theodore gave a wolfish smile at the sound, pulling away to look down at her form for a moment, before meeting her eyes again, that gaze that had once made her quicken her steps in the school halls now having an entirely different effect. It made Luna…feel something. And maybe it was entirely wrong. Maybe she was still just being broken for Aeneas' gain. But she was the one who reached up with shaking, spindly, under-fed hands, and unclasped the fastening of Theodore's robes, resting her fingers in the longish hair at the nape of his neck.

He made a pleased growl against her, kissing her again, his hands roving over her now prone form beneath him. Luna was suddenly aware of every nerve ending, of every sensation he was giving her. She felt. She could feel. It was almost like being awake again. He buried a hand in her long, ash-colored hair and wrapped the other under her thigh, breathing by her ear, "Well?"

Luna was entirely incapable of speech at that point, as her mind was exploding on a few too many levels. She just nodded, her breathing unsteady as Theodore bit down on her ear-lobe, entering her slowly, but persistently. She sucked in her breath, and his hand slipped around from her thigh to stroke her at the same time. He wanted her to stay there. This wasn't the way you broke someone.

Theodore moved against her and Luna almost despised herself for enjoying it as much as she did, for moving against him with such a needy speed. But it had been so long since she'd felt any sort of pleasure, any sort of warmth, and there he was. Insistent, firm and yet…affectionate? She wouldn't go that far. But he was certainly doing quite a bit for her. She let out a moan as the pace quickened toward its end, and those intense eyes in his face were practically triumphant. But when he came inside of her, those eyes shut and he let out a long breath, resting his chin against her now damp shoulder, shining a bit in the light of her candles, which were all still burning, and spilling wax on the table in spots.

When he stood, pulling his robes back over his shoulders, Luna drew one of her quilts up to her chin, her head feeling dizzy. She fixed her eyes on the wall, trying to process what had just happened. Theodore moved away, his back to her until he reached the stairs, where he turned. Those unforgiving, beautiful eyes of his returned to her face, his breathing still ragged. Perhaps she should have been frightened of those eyes. But she wasn't. In fact, she felt herself turning faintly red under his scrutiny,

"You no longer have a choice in sides," He breathed quietly; "He is our absolute. But you…" He paused, as if he had to force himself to say the words to her, while not breaking eye contact, "You do not have to break for anyone," He stared at her for another long moment, before sweeping up the stairs without another word.

The next morning dawned as usual, in a grey, persistent cloud over London in the misty light. Luna was up with the House Elves, fixing Aeneas Nott his late breakfast and then setting out to the West Wing to air out the rooms. Apparently, the man was planning on having a dinner party the following weekend, for those high ranking Death Eaters who were in town, in celebration of having overcome the last large American city.

Luna did not know what or how she was supposed to think that day, as she mopped the floors and opened dusty curtains. But instead of feeling her mind go numb with the work, her thoughts kept returning to the previous night, and at times she would have to pause, shutting her eyes. But she did not see Theodore in the house at all that day.

However, at noon, as she polished the candlesticks that had seen use last night over Voldemort's dinner, footsteps sounded through the echoing dining hall. It was the heavy, clipped footfall of Aeneas Nott, and Luna turned expectantly, her hands clasped and her eyes fixed on the floor. He stopped very close to her, but it was some time before he actually spoke. Looking down at the marble floor, Luna could not see his face, but she could see the fists clenched at his sides. He was not happy about something, but this only caused her marginal alarm.

"You have been purchased," Aeneas said at last, in a very flat tone. Luna looked up in surprise. So soon? Her eyes went wide, and her hands began to shake, but…still, her Master (old Master?) did not look pleased at all, "And I got a fair price for you too, girl, make no mistake. But now I am the one who must explain to The Dark Lord that I cannot fulfill his request for my friend," He lifted his chin, staring down his nose at her. Luna knew why. He could no longer harm her, for she belonged to someone else now, and such was a crime. Oh, but he could have one last verbal sting, "You look like your father did, when you stare like that. Bug-eyed and waiting to be stepped on," He turned to go, "Get your things, the carriage will be waiting," But no good riddance. He would never quite be rid of her, after all.

Luna fled down the stairs to her basement, where Lotty was already laying out a simple set of new cream-colored traveling robes. They were nothing special…but far nicer than anything she owned. She left that room with the bag she had come with, an ancient carpet bag carrying a school scarf, gloves, a tattered copy of Wuthering Heights and scores of holy candles.

She hadn't been outside in months. Stepping out into the overcast day, Luna took a deep breath of the air, almost able to pretend that it didn't smell of death and ghosts, that the calmness and silence of the pristine, tree-lined street did not leave her mourning. For the moment, she was free. She was away. She was almost alive again.

She ran a hand along the neck of one of the Thestrals, which were to pull the black carriage she recognized right away. A ghost of a smile crossed her lips, as she stepped inside, sitting down across from Theodore and clasping her hands in her lap. Theodore licked his lips, glancing out one of the windows before looking at her. Luna glanced up to meet him, feeling her pulse quicken again. His eyes were indeed, always and ever quite beautifully unsettling.

"Have you ever been to America?" He asked quietly, in a rather conversational tone.

"Yes, many times," She replied softly, "I am sure it is quite changed, though."

"That it is," Theodore yawned, running a hand through his hair. He looked at her closely then, tilting his head, "You put your hair up."

"The collar of the dress is high," She informed him, in a tone that was very close to how her voice had been at school, distantly dreamy yet still, Ravenclaw know-it-all. Theodore blinked slowly, before leaning forward, reaching out and pulling out the two combs that were holding her hair up. The ashy, filmy and very long tresses came down around her shoulders, down to her elbows. He ran his hand through Luna's hair once, letting the strands slide through his fingers slowly, before sitting back in his seat.

Luna sat back in hers, gazing idly out across the quiet streets as the carriage started moving, taking them to Diagon Alley, where they would be spirited away, to yet another land that was going through extermination. Something that could not be stopped or slowed. But even in this world, she had a choice. They both did.

Authors Notes: Review? Maybe? Yes, no? Bueller? More to come, witches.