heather11483 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heathershaped) wrote2007-07-28 10:14 pm
heathershaped) wrote2007-07-28 10:14 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Trapped (Luna Lovegood)
Title: Trapped
Characters: Luna Lovegood, Ollivander
Word count: 1710
Rating: Any Age
Note: This fic contains spoilers for DH. Summary is under the cut.
Summary: Luna doesn't make it home for the Christmas holidays.
The train hadn't gone this completely dark since she'd been in second year, and that time, everything had gone so cold and silent that she'd been sure that the train had gone through a herd of Wrackspurts. This was different. She wasn't cold at all; she heard heavy footsteps and was fairly sure that this was nothing so innocuous as Wrackspurts. Unfortunately, humans could be far more scary.
There were noises in every direction, but she couldn't make sense of them until her compartment door slid open. Then she heard whispers and smelled stale clothes and breath laced with firewhiskey, but she couldn't actually see them. Disillusioned, perhaps.
"Oi, c'mere -- this the one? I think this is 'er. Looks a bit like that stringy-haired bloke in the photograph."
A pause, then a thunk. Oh good, she thought. The Stunning spell had worked, and she hadn't even had to say it out loud. The DA was really quite useful. She would have to thank Neville when she saw him next.
"What was that? Bloody hell, she took Travers out!" Luna smiled faintly even as she felt grimy hands on her arm and her wand was wrenched roughly away.
"Shhh -- quiet! Just take 'er, won' be long 'fore they all come running." Oh, but their breath was terrible.
They must be the Snatchers everyone is talking about, she thought as they seized her. It was sort of a shame, really, as she had been looking forward to seeing her father for Christmas, and now it looked as if that might not happen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her head hurt rather badly near the back. It was impossible to even lift her hand to the spot, though, because there were ropes tied around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides. They could at least have put her in a more comfortable position than on her side like this, she thought as she wiggled to achieve an upright position. Now, there would be bruises on her shoulder and hip.
It could have been a cellar or dungeon of sorts; the room had that dampness in the air and an echo off the walls that seemed to suggest that. The floor was hard cement, and she could barely see anything through the darkness beyond a dull, faint sliver of light through the crack in a door. It didn't illuminate very much at all.
She had no concept of what time it was, where she'd been taken, or how long she'd been unconscious, but her eyes started to adjust to the darkness and she began to notice things in shadows. The room was, for the most part, empty, but there was a shadowy figure in a heap on the other side of the room. If she strained her ears, she could hear faint, labored breathing.
"Hello?" Her own voice sounded croaky and faint, and if this other person had heard her, they gave no answer. "Is someone there?" She was a bit clearer this time, but still nothing. Perhaps it was nighttime, and they were asleep, or ... yes, it was likely that they were only asleep. She tried to keep a hold on her wits and make sense of things.
It wasn't easy because, really, this was all rather scary. Something might happen to her, of course, but there was a reason she was taken, and that made her worry far more for her friends, and her father. If she was here, the chances of one of them eventually joining her were quite high.
Daddy would be waiting for her at King's Cross -- though, depending on what time it was now, perhaps he was already wondering where she was. She didn't like to make her father worry. Ever since her mother died, he always kept her close. Right now, they could be home searching for Freshwater Plimpies; Daddy had said in his last letter that they were thriving nicely in their pond. They liked the cold weather, and it was always lovely to catch a glimpse of one as they were so rare.
There were footsteps above her head and she listened hard for voices, trying fruitlessly to wiggle out of her binds. When the noises faded, she slumped against the wall. Though there was nothing much to see, her were eyes open and watchful until she drifted off into a light and fitful sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This time, she was woken by the sound of someone screaming from upstairs. Someone was being tortured, and she closed her eyes against the sounds. No one had tortured her yet. She could only assume that the Death Eaters had no use for her, only for the people who cared about her. She struggled against the ropes -- if it was Daddy, or one of her friends up there, she had to help them somehow, or at least try. Her hands, tingling from lack of blood flow, scrabbled along the dusty floor until they hit something long, thin, and cold. Some sort of nail. She closed her fingers around the iron and bent her arm at the elbow. It was painstaking and awkward, but she started to scrape at the ropes that wereholding her upper arms fast against her sides.
When the faint, pale light visible beneath the door flashed bright green, the screaming stopped and there was a dull thud. Luna only struggled harder. "Oh, no," she whispered, hacking at the ropes.
The voice she heard from the corner is weak and reedy. "It is ... no use, dear girl. You shall only draw attention to yourself, and it will anger them." There was a pause as the elderly man took a slow breath. "At any rate, there is no way out. I searched for months."
Luna stopped her movements. "Oh, hello," she said vaguely to the shadowy figure that was stirring across the room. "Well, I have to try. My friends could be in danger, and I'm beginning to lose feeling in my hands."
He shifted and gave a small, rueful laugh. "You are"-- he coughed weakly -- "very young, dear."
"Yes, but I don't think that's especially important right now," she said, moving her fingers along the rope. She was making progress. "I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way. Who are you?"
"Lovegood, did you say?" he asked quietly, by way of an answer. "Ah, yes....Willow; eleven inches and fairly springy. Core from the tail of a particularly flighty young unicorn."
"That's right. I don't think I'll ever see that wand again. The Death Eaters took it, on the train."
He sighed. "Yes, I imagine they did."
"I was quite attached to it, you know," she said dreamily, her breath catching as the rusty nail scraped against her skin, just short of breaking it. The rope was nearly shredded through. "I took it everywhere I went, and used it for so many things."
He didn't say anything.
"I even Stunned one of the Death Eaters with it," she added brightly. "One of the ones who took me. It was my first wordless spell, you know. Outside of practice, of course. Things like that aren't nearly so difficult when it's a life or death thing, are they? Some things, you just have to do. Oh!" She gave one more tug on the rope with the nail and the last thread broke; the rope loosened around her upper arms. She wiggled and waved them experimentally.
"Now, that's much better. The lack of circulation was becoming a problem, though now my fingers are quite cramped." She scooted over to him on her knees. "Are you tied up as well?"
"Oh no," he said tremulously. "I'm in and out of the room far too much for the trouble."
"Do you know where we are, then? I was unconscious when I was brought here."
He shifted, trying to sit up a bit straighter. "We are, I believe, in the residence of the Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy."
Luna nodded and sat back against the wall, looking around. "I never thought you'd joined them, you know," she told him absently. "The Death Eaters. That's what some people were saying when you went missing."
"Were they really?" he asked.
"Yes. Some others just thought you'd been killed, of course," she added matter-of-factly. "Which is a far worse fate, in my opinion."
The old man only made a noncommittal noise, and Luna continued. "But it wouldn't have made sense to kill you, would it? You're useful, fortunately."
"Fortunately?"
"Well, as long as you're of use to them, you're alive, aren't you?" she said. Luna didn't think that she was as useful, though, in the grand scheme of things, and wondered when her purpose would be served. "My friends will come -- hopefully not by force," she added, frowning. "They'll rescue us. Which works better if you're alive at the time, you know."
He gave a weak, wheezing laugh. "I suppose you're right, dear. I had such hopes, at one time. It has been....more than a year."
"You'll see," she said simply. "There's always hope if you have faith in your friends. I do wish there was a light in here, though."
"One gets used to it," he said wearily.
"I don't particularly want to get used to it," she pointed out, getting to her feet and beginning to move about the room. He told her again that he had already tried for months after he'd been caught, but Luna didn't listen. "Prickly Bormites like to burrow in the foundations of old buildings like this, you know. With enough time, they could wear right through the stone."
Apparently deciding not to push the issue, he rested his back tiredly against the wall.
Luna looked back, smiling slightly, before she crossed the room. "Everything will be alright," she said, moving to a crouch. "By the way," she reached out, her hand closing around frail fingers and papery skin as she shook his hand. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Ollivander."
Characters: Luna Lovegood, Ollivander
Word count: 1710
Rating: Any Age
Note: This fic contains spoilers for DH. Summary is under the cut.
Summary: Luna doesn't make it home for the Christmas holidays.
The train hadn't gone this completely dark since she'd been in second year, and that time, everything had gone so cold and silent that she'd been sure that the train had gone through a herd of Wrackspurts. This was different. She wasn't cold at all; she heard heavy footsteps and was fairly sure that this was nothing so innocuous as Wrackspurts. Unfortunately, humans could be far more scary.
There were noises in every direction, but she couldn't make sense of them until her compartment door slid open. Then she heard whispers and smelled stale clothes and breath laced with firewhiskey, but she couldn't actually see them. Disillusioned, perhaps.
"Oi, c'mere -- this the one? I think this is 'er. Looks a bit like that stringy-haired bloke in the photograph."
A pause, then a thunk. Oh good, she thought. The Stunning spell had worked, and she hadn't even had to say it out loud. The DA was really quite useful. She would have to thank Neville when she saw him next.
"What was that? Bloody hell, she took Travers out!" Luna smiled faintly even as she felt grimy hands on her arm and her wand was wrenched roughly away.
"Shhh -- quiet! Just take 'er, won' be long 'fore they all come running." Oh, but their breath was terrible.
They must be the Snatchers everyone is talking about, she thought as they seized her. It was sort of a shame, really, as she had been looking forward to seeing her father for Christmas, and now it looked as if that might not happen.
Her head hurt rather badly near the back. It was impossible to even lift her hand to the spot, though, because there were ropes tied around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides. They could at least have put her in a more comfortable position than on her side like this, she thought as she wiggled to achieve an upright position. Now, there would be bruises on her shoulder and hip.
It could have been a cellar or dungeon of sorts; the room had that dampness in the air and an echo off the walls that seemed to suggest that. The floor was hard cement, and she could barely see anything through the darkness beyond a dull, faint sliver of light through the crack in a door. It didn't illuminate very much at all.
She had no concept of what time it was, where she'd been taken, or how long she'd been unconscious, but her eyes started to adjust to the darkness and she began to notice things in shadows. The room was, for the most part, empty, but there was a shadowy figure in a heap on the other side of the room. If she strained her ears, she could hear faint, labored breathing.
"Hello?" Her own voice sounded croaky and faint, and if this other person had heard her, they gave no answer. "Is someone there?" She was a bit clearer this time, but still nothing. Perhaps it was nighttime, and they were asleep, or ... yes, it was likely that they were only asleep. She tried to keep a hold on her wits and make sense of things.
It wasn't easy because, really, this was all rather scary. Something might happen to her, of course, but there was a reason she was taken, and that made her worry far more for her friends, and her father. If she was here, the chances of one of them eventually joining her were quite high.
Daddy would be waiting for her at King's Cross -- though, depending on what time it was now, perhaps he was already wondering where she was. She didn't like to make her father worry. Ever since her mother died, he always kept her close. Right now, they could be home searching for Freshwater Plimpies; Daddy had said in his last letter that they were thriving nicely in their pond. They liked the cold weather, and it was always lovely to catch a glimpse of one as they were so rare.
There were footsteps above her head and she listened hard for voices, trying fruitlessly to wiggle out of her binds. When the noises faded, she slumped against the wall. Though there was nothing much to see, her were eyes open and watchful until she drifted off into a light and fitful sleep.
This time, she was woken by the sound of someone screaming from upstairs. Someone was being tortured, and she closed her eyes against the sounds. No one had tortured her yet. She could only assume that the Death Eaters had no use for her, only for the people who cared about her. She struggled against the ropes -- if it was Daddy, or one of her friends up there, she had to help them somehow, or at least try. Her hands, tingling from lack of blood flow, scrabbled along the dusty floor until they hit something long, thin, and cold. Some sort of nail. She closed her fingers around the iron and bent her arm at the elbow. It was painstaking and awkward, but she started to scrape at the ropes that wereholding her upper arms fast against her sides.
When the faint, pale light visible beneath the door flashed bright green, the screaming stopped and there was a dull thud. Luna only struggled harder. "Oh, no," she whispered, hacking at the ropes.
The voice she heard from the corner is weak and reedy. "It is ... no use, dear girl. You shall only draw attention to yourself, and it will anger them." There was a pause as the elderly man took a slow breath. "At any rate, there is no way out. I searched for months."
Luna stopped her movements. "Oh, hello," she said vaguely to the shadowy figure that was stirring across the room. "Well, I have to try. My friends could be in danger, and I'm beginning to lose feeling in my hands."
He shifted and gave a small, rueful laugh. "You are"-- he coughed weakly -- "very young, dear."
"Yes, but I don't think that's especially important right now," she said, moving her fingers along the rope. She was making progress. "I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way. Who are you?"
"Lovegood, did you say?" he asked quietly, by way of an answer. "Ah, yes....Willow; eleven inches and fairly springy. Core from the tail of a particularly flighty young unicorn."
"That's right. I don't think I'll ever see that wand again. The Death Eaters took it, on the train."
He sighed. "Yes, I imagine they did."
"I was quite attached to it, you know," she said dreamily, her breath catching as the rusty nail scraped against her skin, just short of breaking it. The rope was nearly shredded through. "I took it everywhere I went, and used it for so many things."
He didn't say anything.
"I even Stunned one of the Death Eaters with it," she added brightly. "One of the ones who took me. It was my first wordless spell, you know. Outside of practice, of course. Things like that aren't nearly so difficult when it's a life or death thing, are they? Some things, you just have to do. Oh!" She gave one more tug on the rope with the nail and the last thread broke; the rope loosened around her upper arms. She wiggled and waved them experimentally.
"Now, that's much better. The lack of circulation was becoming a problem, though now my fingers are quite cramped." She scooted over to him on her knees. "Are you tied up as well?"
"Oh no," he said tremulously. "I'm in and out of the room far too much for the trouble."
"Do you know where we are, then? I was unconscious when I was brought here."
He shifted, trying to sit up a bit straighter. "We are, I believe, in the residence of the Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy."
Luna nodded and sat back against the wall, looking around. "I never thought you'd joined them, you know," she told him absently. "The Death Eaters. That's what some people were saying when you went missing."
"Were they really?" he asked.
"Yes. Some others just thought you'd been killed, of course," she added matter-of-factly. "Which is a far worse fate, in my opinion."
The old man only made a noncommittal noise, and Luna continued. "But it wouldn't have made sense to kill you, would it? You're useful, fortunately."
"Fortunately?"
"Well, as long as you're of use to them, you're alive, aren't you?" she said. Luna didn't think that she was as useful, though, in the grand scheme of things, and wondered when her purpose would be served. "My friends will come -- hopefully not by force," she added, frowning. "They'll rescue us. Which works better if you're alive at the time, you know."
He gave a weak, wheezing laugh. "I suppose you're right, dear. I had such hopes, at one time. It has been....more than a year."
"You'll see," she said simply. "There's always hope if you have faith in your friends. I do wish there was a light in here, though."
"One gets used to it," he said wearily.
"I don't particularly want to get used to it," she pointed out, getting to her feet and beginning to move about the room. He told her again that he had already tried for months after he'd been caught, but Luna didn't listen. "Prickly Bormites like to burrow in the foundations of old buildings like this, you know. With enough time, they could wear right through the stone."
Apparently deciding not to push the issue, he rested his back tiredly against the wall.
Luna looked back, smiling slightly, before she crossed the room. "Everything will be alright," she said, moving to a crouch. "By the way," she reached out, her hand closing around frail fingers and papery skin as she shook his hand. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. Ollivander."
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I don't think it's physically possible to frazzle that girl.
If Luna were ever to get frightened, or mad, I think I would piss myself. Because really, if she gets angry, everyone would be scroot.
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