Fairy Cakes

A slightly overweight, balding rat scuttled across the wooden floorboards of the Lovegood attic. Luna Lovegood sat in one corner of the room, drawing on the creaking boards with purple chalk.

The rat made his way over to her and paused in the middle of the moon, which she had drawn on the timber.

Luna smiled and reached out to pet it, unafraid. She found herself, however, patting a wrinkled, filthy foot. She withdrew her hand and looked up at a short, squatting man.

"Oh, hello…you must be one of those animagus people. It's nice to meet you, but Daddy's office is on the second floor."

Peter Pettigrew stood up properly and his quivering hand helped him keep his balance, as he clutched onto a grimy window sill.

"It isn't your 'daddy' I want to speak to, little girl. I wondered about you…" He paused, and ran an elongated fingernail over his lip. What could he tell this child? "I was wondering if you would like to come with me to a tea-party?" All little girls liked playing dolls and tea parties didn't they? Even he had, when he was a child.

Luna stared at him for a moment. Her father played with her, but this random stranger? What a funny man! "Well of course I'd love to, but I'll have to ask-"

"Your father? I've already asked him! We're friends you see…come along then, quick quick, little girl!"

"Didn't Daddy tell you my name?"

"Of course he did, come on!" Voldemort would be growing impatient, why wouldn't the stupid girl just come?

"What is it then?" She stared at him innocently, her intelligent eyes torturing him, never blinking.

"Err...Lolly?"

"Lolly!" She laughed at the idea.

"Lily?"

She just smiled.

"Lucy? Lorna? Lisa? Lipstick?" He frowned, wishing the girl wasn't so clever.

She smiled, "My name is Luna Lovegood, but I'm afraid I can't go anywhere with you."

"I have fairy cakes!" He was desperate now.

"So do I," Luna replied, smiling. She turned around and when she faced him again a tray was in her hands. She placed it before him and picked up the china tea-pot. "Tea?"

Wormtail stared helplessly at the iced cakes and little cups. He hadn't attended a tea-party for years. What joy there was, held in a little pink tinted cup.

Today, Peter Pettigrew would live a little. Today, he would drink tea and eat little cakes until it was time to go home. When he went home, wherever that might be, he would be punished. Punished badly. But nothing could take away the elated feeling of having been at a tea-party.

"Milk and two sugars please."

"Coming right up, do help yourself to a fairy cake."