Twelve Dark Moons

Luna was still barefoot as she followed Professor Snape down the hall of the Riddle House. Beneath her feet she felt the grain of the hardwood, punctuated by long carpet runners in dark colours. When Harry Potter described Lord Voldemort's father's home, he said it was decrepit and falling-apart after decades of vacancy. Apparently 12 Grimmauld Place had not been the only headquarters to undergo a renovation.

She expected to go back into the big empty throne room where Voldemort interrogated her last time, but instead they went down some stairs and entered another wing of the house. Luna was all turned around, disorientated, and stole looks about her while keeping Snape's back in front of her vision. She was also aware of the two hulking dark Death Eaters that trailed them, keeping an eye on her, the prisoner.

Snape knocked on a door and the voice issued forth, that voice that for three days had haunted Luna's thoughts, and she braced herself for whatever may come. Snape held the door open for her and closed it behind them; it relieved Luna to have her old professor with her in the room, for whatever that was worth.

It was the library, filled with more tomes than Luna had ever seen, barring the stacks of Hogwarts. She glanced over the titles nearest to her, eager to avoid looking at Voldemort; most of the books were on the Dark Arts. Luna had the thought that if he wanted to make some extra money, he could open up a bookstore, with owl-post order. Her eyes caught on one book in particular, with the title 'Dark Arts Dream Divination' in gold leaf lettering on a blue leather binding.

'Luna Lovegood.'

The smooth-as-silk voice floated through the air, caressing Luna's ears with unpleasant tingling. She turned her face toward Lord Voldemort.

He stood next to the fireplace, a book open in his hands, and the golden light of the fire did nothing to warm his skin. He gave a quirk of a smile, an ugly sight on his thin lips. 'Please, sit,' he said. 'You and I are going to play a game of chess. I'm tired of Severus.'

A small noise came from Snape's direction, but Luna could not discern what it meant. The former potions professor stood with hands clasped near the door. He was stiff as a board, uncomfortable, and looked as though he would rather be anywhere else but Voldemort's library. However, Luna was happy to have a chaperone; for some ridiculous reason she felt that Voldemort would not kill her or torture her in front of her former teacher. It was probably the worst kind of wishful thinking, but wishes were the only thing Luna had this week.

She looked around for the chess board and found it, centred on the fireplace and flanked by two grand armchairs. She sat down at Voldemort's invitation, feeling dwarfed by the chair, and clasped her hands in her lap. Her bare feet twitched. She looked with dread upon the chess set; the pieces swayed and moved in anticipation, and each one was like marble death. Voldemort's chess set had large pieces, large squares, and the figures had skulls as faces and wicked sharp weapons. Luna had chosen the side of black, leaving white for Voldemort. White like death, white like his skin, white as a bitter irony of the days when everything seemed light and happy.

White always made the first move.

'Normally I play chess with Snape over there, or Lucius Malfoy before he... fell out of favour,' said Voldemort. 'But Snape is getting so predictable.'

Luna, who thought Professor Snape was anything but predictable, nodded. She waited as Voldemort sat opposite her, grateful that she had an excuse to look down at the chessboard rather than at his horrible face. He began the game by moving the king's bishop's pawn two spaces forward. It was aggressive. Luna matched the move on her turn. She would be lucky just to keep up with Voldemort's strategy.

It was a surprisingly even game for awhile; Luna played with no rhyme or reason, so Voldemort could not anticipate her. And Voldemort's carefully laid plans and cunning moves did not provoke the response in Luna that could be expected from a rational thinking person. The game went on, tilting in favour of Voldemort more and more, but the fight was fair. When Voldemort moved his queen in a quick lash at Luna's bishop, she saw the outcome; two moves later she was checkmated. Her king let out a groan, crumpled over, and died.

After Luna's chess defeat, Voldemort ordered Snape away on 'the errand we discussed earlier.' Luna keenly felt the absence of the Potions Master, the dearth of hope encircling her to leave her defenseless. She had no choice but to surrender to the situation. Have faith, she told herself, but the old words did not give their usual comfort.

Voldemort sat back in satisfaction, eyeing Luna. 'The medallion around your neck. It is from Tibet, yes?'

Luna nodded affirmation. She did not like the glint in Voldemort's eyes as he looked at the big silver skull hanging from her neck. For a moment she contemplated telling him that it was a gift, that it was special, that it was for protection and made her think of her father. Then she thought better of it; for Voldemort to know the skull's significance would make him want to destroy it, Luna was sure.

'It is for protection,' Voldemort said, and he laughed softly.

She turned her head away from him.

'I want it.'

'Pardon?' Luna said. No, no, no, she thought.

'I want to wear it. Take it off your neck.' Voldemort stretched out a white hand for Luna to drop the medallion.

She got a lump in her throat as she reached up and untied the heavy black ribbon, loosening the necklace and letting it slide off her neck. She held it out and after a moment's hesitation she let go, letting it drop into Voldemort's hand without touching him. A sob threatened to escape her throat as she saw her last vestige of home and safety, her defiant skull necklace, now in the hands of white death.

Voldemort peered at the artefact closely and made a small noise of satisfaction. 'This is valuable,' he said. 'And ancient. Yet look how it resembles my Mark! I invented my own symbol independent of Tibetan magic, yet it is a universal sigil of power.' Voldemort glanced up at Luna. 'Your precious Order of the Phoenix did not object to your wearing this?'

'Compared to some of my other jewelry, I think they found the skull to be relatively normal,' said Luna.

Voldemort swung the necklace wide and held the two thick pieces of black ribbon together behind his neck. 'Tie it,' he said.

Luna shuddered. But she stood up and crossed over to where Voldemort sat. She was so close to him that she imagined a cold, poisonous aura shimmering off his skin. She leaned forward and took the ribbons, brushing his hands as she did so, and then with fingers moving as fast as she could make them, Luna tied the necklace secure. It was impossible to ignore the feel of his skin: smooth, almost soft. Warm, as though he were a normal human being. But so unnatural was his pale hue that even as she bent forward away from his face, Luna did not forget this was the Dark Lord.

'There,' she said, stepping away with relief.

'Do I frighten you?' Voldemort asked with clear relish.

'Yes,' said Luna.

It made her angry to think it, but the skull medallion suited Voldemort. It was a masculine artefact to begin with, worn by Luna with her usual carelessness for gender propriety, and now the skull seemed to come into its own as it rested on Voldemort's breast. Luna imagined the skull's eyes glowing dim and red, and she vowed to never wear the thing again, even if Voldemort should return it to her.

'Step forward,' said Voldemort.

'Please -' Luna whispered. Following his voice, her feet moved as though of independent mind. She took two steps toward Voldemort and again stood mere inches away from his seated frame.

'Kneel.'

Luna's heart knocked in her chest and she felt blood pulsing through her veins. What new thing was this? She knew that Voldemort adored having followers; it was apparent whenever his Death Eaters bowed and slobbered in his presence and the Dark Lord got that gloating, mocking, self-satisfied look on his features. Perhaps he just wanted to see Luna kneel of her own accord.

From the corner, Nagini hissed and it sounded like laughter as Luna sank down onto her knees.

Like a snake striking out at its prey, Voldemort's hands reached out and snatched Luna's haphazard braid of hair, unknotting it so that it fell loose about her face. She let out a little whimper of pain and fear as he tugged at her hair, pulling it with rough purpose, destroying the braid in the back. Then, suddenly, Voldemort's hands turned gentle. He raked his fingers along her scalp, caressing it, moving in soft, wide circles. He held the strands of Luna's pale hair and let them fall away again, playing with it as though he'd never seen hair before.

She stared down at the floor in front of his feet, afraid to look up.

Then swift again, as Voldemort bent forward and jerked her head up at a tight angle. She felt his tongue run along beneath her jaw, heading toward her ear. Luna could not breathe, so instead she let the experience wash over her, trying not to judge, feeling a little bit outside of herself. She felt a trail of cool air on the skin of her jaw where Voldemort had licked it.

He leaned back in perfect stillness. 'Look in my eyes.'

Luna obliged him, no longer frightened now that her consciousness floated somewhere in the white place where peace resided. When her grey eyes met his red ones, she knew that he read her thoughts, saw the residue of her disgust and terror. This pleased him and the red glow of his eyes brightened as he saw it. Luna held the gaze. After a moment, Voldemort's lips flicked down into a scowl, and it was clear that residue did not satisfy him. He wanted Luna to be frightened again.

'Go,' said Voldemort.

She did not need to be told twice. With light and quiet steps she scurried out of the room and was met outside by her two Death Eater guards.