Mad Snorkacks and Englishmen

A/N: Well, once again, I started with the intention to make this chapter one thing, but it became something else. I was going to fit more in this installment, but I don't like to make them too long, so I will be getting the second half of this up fairly shortly as it will be all hot stuff.



tommy, you're going to have to wait a bit before you get your wish. As for Harry, I don't think he knows what he is just yet, but he is very sexual, I would have to say, and is simply caught up in his libido for the moment. I see Harry's sexuality as pretty charged and liable to consume whoever gets in the way, so I don't think he's suddenly got a yen for his mate, but just wanted to 'go with it'.



Sneakyfox, I don't necessarily think Ron is homophobic, just uncomfortable with what happened, which was only compounded by the locket. As you say, Harry was pushing things, as he is wont to do, and he didn't exactly ask his buddy if he could suck him off, did he? Ron isn't a rube, but he definitely worries about how he's perceived by others, so I felt he would have needed to make those distinctions about being straight for his peace of mind. There's no malice there typically, just weirdness.



joshsmote, that's exactly how I pictured things for Harry, just getting caught up in the moment. I loved how you expressed yourself here!



SoftO, thanks for your praise on my re-creation of the fight. That was something that I hadn't initially expected to touch, but then it just felt like Ron was getting the shaft there in DH. Everybody was cranky, but he just had a harder time of it. As for who's 'snatched' Ron, well, go back to the source, dear! I don't want you to get too worried about your boy. I'm happy that you felt the trio's experimenting worked in the context of what they'd been going through. Yay!



pettrum, thank you for your words and thanks for reading!





Couple of Luna inspired things. Has anybody seen this? www.myspace.com/lunalovegoodandthecrumplehornedsnorkacks I was like, for reals? From my old stomping ground, no less. Also, a good chunk of this chappie was brought to you by this video http://media.ghostrobot.net/7020_wanderlust.html, proof that Bjork is a Luna Lovegood fan. Also, I would say heavily influenced by Princess Mononoke. The Snorkacks really live in Iceland!











Chapter 23: Cry Me a River











“Now, students, recall what we learned about the application of modifiers in basic Transfiguration spells. So in the advanced practice, if we are to prolong the state of the transfigured mammal, we need an augmentation to supply cognizance and behavioral patterns. Instead of simply suggesting the illusion of a mouse conjured from your thimble, appearing and acting as a mouse would do, we are going to focus on the inner workings of the mouse; the attention to its respiratory system and brain functions becoming more finely tuned so that we are not merely animating the animal but designing its spirit and free will.”





Luna listened to McGonagall carry on with the lesson while only partially absorbing the information. The rest of her attention was dedicated to relishing the sensation of having her starchy cotton school blouse rub up against the rings pierced through her nipples every time she moved slightly in her chair. She had purposely left off her brassiere today, wanting to savor the nerve endings in their phase of arousal as she attended her classes and let her thoughts continually move back to Harry. The heavy robe that layered her uniform lent the added thrill of weighing down the light material underneath and providing the necessary friction. It was become increasingly familiar to her to spend an entire day in this heightened condition. The sexually eager young witch had become habitual in her need to fantasize during most of her courses in light of how positively dreary many of them had become.





However, Professor McGonagall, as well as a few other teachers, had persisted in maintaining the idea of business as usual in their classrooms, shutting out the rest of the mad world with a loud thud of her door. Luna had noticed that no matter how much the customarily stern woman tried to pretend all was normal while she taught her pupils, she had scaled back on her strict style considerably, even going so far as to ease up on the amount of homework she typically set for their advanced level. Whenever someone would pose a question to her in regards to the lesson, it had become expected that the tartan-clad teacher would elaborate her answer to include tangential discussions on how to ensure one’s safety in hostile situations, or ramble into philosophical lectures on the nature of harmony and co-habitation; what it truly meant to be part of an enlightened society, how biology did not dictate one’s place in the world, and how man wasn’t just the sum total of his physical self but capable of changing and evolving as more information and stimuli were introduced into his environment.





It was all fascinating stuff and Luna would have loved to have engaged in a discourse with the Gryffindor Head of House, but she was too preoccupied with her body to care about their dubious education at the moment. Her beloved Professor Flitwick was still upholding his standards in Charms, but it seemed that poor Septimus was at a low ebb and did not enthuse much to his students these days; Arithmancy was not quite the challenge it used to be. Hagrid was apparently on constant tenterhooks and prone to crying jags during class, from what she’d heard. Sprout was keeping it together outwardly, but Neville told her that privately, she was a mess. He’d been doing some assistant work for her to fulfill some of his extra study hours, grading papers for her junior and sophomore classes, and he’d become something of a confidante for the stout teacher. He’d confessed to Luna that the woman had taken to imbibing as much as Trelawney these days. There had been a recent spat with Alecto Carrow, as well, and Pomona was effusively vocal in her hatred of the beastly lady when she had Neville as an audience in her office.





For all the difficulty the staff was having in their adjustments, however, it appeared that those in charge of the houses were faring a bit better if only because they could take their duties to heart. It was the area where at least four of the teachers could be at their most effective, providing the haven the students needed once classes were over for the day. Even Slughorn, for all his sucking up tendencies, seemed to be attentive to those in his class most likely to be targeted by his own house, but who knew how he was inside the Slytherin dorms when surrounded by that nest of vipers? Flitwick showed up routinely in the Ravenclaw common room to ask if students needed some counsel, which Luna couldn’t recall being the case in her previous years. She could only hope that McGonagall was helping Ginny out when she was released from her seemingly ongoing detentions.





At that thought, the girl turned her head so she could look over at the red-head while the professor lectured. Ginny was looking as lost in space as Luna perpetually appeared. Her face still bore her troubles; the dark circles advertising her lack of sleep, while a healing cut on her cheek spoke to the feisty witch’s many altercations with some of the other students. There had been that massive fight with Millicent Bulstrode and one of the Carrow twins the other day. The obnoxious nieces of Alecto and Amycus paraded through the halls with a sense of entitlement that would put Malfoy to shame. It had only been a matter of time before one of them pushed the smallest Weasley to the breaking point as they had continued to assault her character every time they laid eyes on her. Flora had taken to calling Ginny her uncle’s ‘pet’ and the frequency with which the trollish man sentenced her to spend her nights in his classroom serving highly suspect detentions cast an ignominious light on the Gryffindor as if the two were having some warped, illicit affair. She was being slighted even by members of her own house, and Luna wondered what could possibly be running through Ginny’s head as she sat in her seat like an illusory version of a girl.





It had been something of a task to get her to speak about any personal matters every time Luna met with her and Neville between classes. The pale blonde supposed that she could understand the defense mechanism. Ginny wasn’t really one to do a lot of confiding, Luna had noticed, as she re-examined the relationship between the young witch and Hermione outside of school. Perhaps Hermione had been a greater friend than Luna had previously imagined and now Ginny had no one to talk things over with. She got the sense that Neville, while very close to Ginny, was not getting a lot of information other than what she herself had been privy to in their chats during lunchtime. Luna took comfort in the fact that she was at least back to being in the girl’s inner circle, but it was still difficult to discern just how much Ginny was willing to trust her again. They had still as yet to discuss the big elephant in the room.





When the bell sounded to send the students off to their next class, Luna tried to catch up to Ginny so that they could walk to Muggle Studies together. She was running up behind her ready to grab her wrist and call out her name, when she slammed unexpectedly into another body. She fell back on her bum with a loud groan as the person she’d hit tripped over her feet. The throng parted to move around them without slowing and she looked up to see who her klutzy comrade was on the floor. Terry looked at her with surprise, his face marred by a blackened, bluish bruise over his right eye. Luna was instantly wary, but got up to her feet and held out a hand to assist the boy, anyway.





“Watch where you’re going, Lovegood,” the boy muttered under his breath, but not particularly angry about it.





“Actually, I think it was you who knocked into me. I’m not surprised, though, if your vision is a bit compromised by that shiner. Looks pretty nasty.” She took no glee in seeing Terry’s distress, yet felt nothing at all about his misery since his attack on her in the Room of Requirement. It was certainly not up to her to make him feel better.





Terry had taken her hand and stood up while he curiously regarded her. There was something floating behind those eyes that seemed to be looking for an answer, but Luna wasn’t sure what the question was; although it did make her wonder what the Obliviation experience was like. Just how much did he really remember? Surely she figured into his memories prior to their meddling, but what exactly did it entail? The boy looked a little embarrassed by his appearance and stared at his shoes as he mumbled about being accosted by Goyle the day before. The bemused Ravenclaw could only shrug her shoulder and inquire as to the catalyst for the attack.





“Why did he do that?” she asked.





“Does he ever need a reason? Maybe he didn’t like what he had for breakfast, who knows?” He looked shiftily about, however, and Luna had the feeling that the boy knew exactly why the Slytherin had jumped him. Obviously, the suggestion they’d planted in the boys’ heads about some secret sexual experimenting was still evident.





Luna didn’t find it funny, though, and she thought about the battered faces that populated the hallways more and more each day. It wasn’t just the rash of nasty teachers inflicting their own idea of corporal punishment that the students had to worry about. Slytherin house was definitely getting out of control as the students laid siege to the rest of the residents of Hogwarts like little versions of the Carrows. They seemed to be drunk on the collective power they’d been granted by virtue of their status. Hogwarts was a dangerous place to be, no doubt about it, she thought soberly. If only the DA had been active again, they could corral some kind of opposing force to all the oppression. The thought suddenly gave her an idea.





“Terry, do you still have your Galleon from fifth year?” she asked in a low voice. Terry’s eyebrows flew upwards, but he nodded his head without comment.





“I’d keep it somewhere close by, just in case. It might be vibrating soon enough,” she implied mysteriously. Then without a second glance, she turned and headed quickly to her next class, thinking about how she was going to convince Neville and Ginny to get things started again.





Once she was seated in the bitch’s classroom, however, her mind was soon drifting back to Harry. Harry’s hands; how the calloused skin would feel on her breasts when he stroked her, or Harry’s sweet breath on her neck as he pulled her close and buried his face to her nape under her hair, or Harry’s indomitable cock; his strong plunges to her insides leaving her breathless, the way it felt so sure and unrelenting in her mouth as she feasted on him, the way that the more her cunt felt spread by his hands then the further she could take him down her throat. Morgana!, she cried to herself, as she imagined how her lips would stretch over his hardness if he were with her right now, how she would lavish his bollocks with her slobbering tongue, how she would push her face deep between the globes of his beautiful, shapely bum and let her licks circle and penetrate that tasty button, that undiluted pungency of Harry’s sex filling her senses until she felt drugged by him.





The girl suddenly realized that she had been sucking on her two fingers deeply for the last few minutes as Thing One started her class, and she took a brief glance around the room to make sure she hadn’t been noticed. The shrew was harping on about something ridiculous, she expected, but tried anyway to focus her attention to the board so that she had at least some idea what today’s lesson in revisionist history was about. Hmm, Joan of Arc; apparently the Wizards were claiming the saint as one of their own. Luna thought that Alecto was letting her Beauxbaton schooling show. She gathered they would be hearing another diatribe about burnings at the stake and the Muggles’ savagery even in the presence of such a powerful Seer yet again. These orations from the mad woman were getting pretty one-note, she decided. Muggles are evil, blah, blah, blah. You’d think that being Death Eaters, they’d be a bit more imaginative than simply ranting their dogma without any sense of irony. Then again, historically, fascism was usually born out of a supreme lack of imagination, wasn’t it?





She sighed and let her eyes wander around the students, settling once again on Ginny’s somber face. The red-head had dropped her spacey daydreaming for a more hardened, determined demeanor in the presence of her enemy. The girl’s narrow gaze never left the woman while she flounced around her desk and dramatically re-enacted the Rouen trial of Saint Joan. It might have been cause for amusement had Luna not already witnessed how malevolent the teacher could turn in an instant. Even as she thought this, Alecto turned back to face the class and her black dots quickly beaded on her favorite victim accompanied by a grimace.





“Ah, Miss Weasley, let’s see if you’ve been paying attention, today. I know you have quite a bit of difficulty thinking one thought at a time, so let’s put your ‘lessons’ from detention to the test and see what you’ve managed to accumulate in that thick skull of yours, shall we?” Ginny straightened in her seat and all eyes in the class turned to her as they waited to see what she’d have to withstand this time around.





“Twenty four years after Saint Joan's death, the French king, Charles VII, urged the Muggle Pope and their court to review her trial and find her posthumously innocent so he could recommend her canonization. However, in our society, Joan had already long been heralded for her critical role as the witch liaison to the Chief of the Wizards Council of the age before the Muggles’ Hundred Year War could be contained; their strife having already caused immeasurable damage to the wizard allegiances. Who was this Plantagenet Chief that guided us through the Renaissance period?”





Luna knew the answer but could only sit there and will her thoughts to her friend as she watched helplessly while Ginny squirmed. The vile professor tapped her shoe rapidly on the floor as she waited for her project to speak. The red head looked resigned for a moment before she pulled her shoulders back and replied in a strong, booming voice.





“That would be Burdock Muldoon, Professor Carrow. The one who decided a Being constituted anything that could walk on two legs,” she added confidently.





“Ah, you would be wrong, however. Muldoon was only Chief for two years, ending in 1450, to be followed by that ninny, Clagg.” Alecto gloated over her pupil’s supposedly incorrect answer, but then Luna interrupted.





“Actually, Professor Carrow, Ginny’s right. You might have gotten confused over his Chocolate Frog Card, however, which famously made the error and couldn’t be corrected until 120 printings later. Those first cards are considered something of a collector’s item, but he was indeed Chief of the Council from 1408 until the time you just mentioned. Elfrida Clagg wasn’t exactly his direct successor, either. There was a short term for Zacharias Mopsus. Elfrida’s term didn’t end until 1634, so she could hardly have been head of the council for a hundred and eighty four years no matter how enlightened she was considered.”





Luna finished her long-winded defense before realizing what she’d just done. Alecto now had her death ray beams directed towards her and the girl gulped as her eyes bulged when it suddenly dawned on her how correcting the teacher might be seen as a punishable offense.





“Who asked you to speak?” the woman icily spit out. The students immediately swung their gaze towards her and Luna felt pinned by their scrutiny.





“Um, no one, I guess.” She could hear her voice fading but demanded of herself to stay strong; just like Ginny would always remain fearless no matter what the situation.





“I refuse to be subjected to such impudence. You never interrupt my lecture; I don’t care how right you think you may be. Are you the professor here? Answer me, you freakish girl. And stop staring at me like your eyes are about to pop out of your head,” Alecto snapped.





Luna tried to calm herself as she stared at the nasty Death Eater masquerading as a scholar.





“No, I’m not the professor, Miss,” she acknowledged boldly. “I would have to have gone through a long-term internship or at least served a decade in the field of study I was teaching before I could be considered as such.”





It was common knowledge by now that neither Alecto nor her disdainful brother had ever gone through such strenuous training before stepping into their roles on the staff. Alecto had previously been a businesswoman with a few pubs and a dress shop under her ownership. Amycus ran one of the pubs for want of something to do, as the Carrows were a long-standing pureblood family entitled to a fortune, but it was their oldest brother, Agenor, who held the purse strings. Amycus had been a dueling champ back in his day, but he had no known apprenticeship in Defense Against the Dark Arts other than what he learned at Hogwarts, although his skill with the plain old Dark Arts was obviously suspect.





Alecto was shouting at Luna in her indignation. “You’re damned certain you’re not! This is MY classroom! What I say goes! If I tell you the moon is made of gold, it is bloody well GOLD!! Do I make myself clear?!”





Luna put her hand up to her throat and held on to her butterbeer corks for some strength, she felt like her hair must have blown back in the woman’s heated blast. She kept her voice steady as she answered.





“Yes, you are very clear, Professor Carrow.” She bit her tongue so she wouldn’t say more.





“Well, then, let’s just follow that up with an aid to your understanding, shall we? Front and center, Miss Goodlove.”





Luna froze while a few sniggers broke out; she could only imagine they were coming from Vaisey and company as she refused to turn around to find out. Instead, she let her eyes burn through the woman in front of her and imagined she was setting her on fire with her eyeballs as she spoke coolly.





“That’s Lovegood, Professor. Luna Lovegood.”





“Is it now? That’s not what I heard,” Alecto sneered. Someone muttered a low slag between coughs and then a few more laughs rang out. Carrow did nothing to shush them.





The girl wasn’t sure who had been gossiping such hateful things to this abomination of a teacher, but she knew with aching certainty that the woman would use it to her advantage if she thought she had Luna pegged. She would have to be very careful around this hag, beginning with how she was going to approach the desk for her castigation. She swiftly tried to recall which knickers she had put on this morning, but then got a mental picture of her lime green ones with gold snitches all over them. It could have been worse, she reflected. At least these covered her rear end.



Alecto had now caned enough students in front of the class that the protocol for punishment was instilled firmly in everyone’s mind. Luna didn’t need the teacher dictating her to remove her robes; she did it automatically and folded them the way it was expected. When she moved up to bend over the desk, the vile bitch pushed her flat by pressing down in the middle of her back. She held her hand there as she hissed to the back of Luna’s head.





“Who is right in this class?”





Luna didn’t even hesitate. “You are, Miss.”





Then another voice, distinctly male, added another taunt to the proceedings. “Let’s see that arse, finally.” There was more open laughter throughout the room, but then their instructor abruptly discouraged any more comments.





“That’s enough! I want silence. Everyone needs to take note of how we deal with troublemakers inside these walls. Alright, girly, skirt up and get ready for your ten switches.”





The daydreaming witch had now become intently focused on everything happening around her. She breathed deeply into the wood directly under her nose before putting her hands down on either side of her to grab tufts of the skirt’s pleats and slowly bring them up. Once she had them over her hips with her backside exposed, there were more giggles as her underwear were revealed. Well, they were meant to be fun, she excused, even though she had bought the pair simply because they made her think of Harry. She didn’t have a chance to think of anything else, however, as she heard the rod slice through the air and then land on her soft bottom with a crack. The burning sting was unbearable at first, but then she let the pain flush through her and disappear in her exhale. Harry had trained her well, she decided, she could do this without turning into a weeping mess. She would beat Alecto at her own game.





By the fourth stripe, her body was quivering, but she gripped tightly to the desk’s edge with her hands still on either side of her hips and kept breathing out with the pain. Her arousal snuck up on her while she thought only of the arcing momentum of the cane as it descended each time, so much harder than she’d previously endured, and now she could feel the thud of her cunt hit the wood with every hit, her pierced nipples rubbing against the table through the thin shirt. If this awful woman detected the hint of a wet patch on her panties, it was guaranteed she would be humiliated in front of everybody, so Luna desperately attempted to keep her thoughts away from Harry, from the idea of her Master doing this to her and how he would cherish her afterward, making her body climax repeatedly for her reward. Terror ran through her when she suddenly noted that her legs had separated a little at her feet; her body had instinctively wanted to open wide with the thought of what might come after.





After the eighth strike, however, she could no longer contain her suffering and a long groan escaped her lips. Oh, Merlin, how she wanted him so badly! She would have gladly taken the pain if she was doing this for him. What a cruel mockery to be stuck with this public display as such a potent reminder. As soon as the tenth stroke landed, she was ready to leap from her spot and get back to her seat. The girl was running with sweat and out of breath, but she felt sort of elated that she had managed to make it through with such an iron will. She could no longer be easily broken, she felt with some pride. This was an awakening that gave the girl hope that she would prevail; they all would.





Yet, as she struggled to rise, something was holding her down. Instead of letting her get dressed and get back to her seat, Alecto seemed to be keeping her in place while she inspected something. Luna could feel the woman’s lingering gaze on her arse and she blushed trying to figure out what the harridan was looking for. She didn’t have long to wait for an answer.





“What…the devil is this?” Luna felt a chill on the small of her back as the woman moved her wand over the area and then gasped. The young girl immediately thought of her Master’s mark under the glamour. What had Alecto just done? Could she somehow see it under the charm? Luna felt suddenly sick, but looked over her shoulder to confirm what she was dreading. The evil woman looked up at her face with suspicion and then demanded outright to know what was on her back.





“What is this mark? Who does it belong to? I recognize this, child, don’t lie to me,” she commanded. Luna attempted to appear bewildered.





“What are you talking about? It’s—it’s just a birthmark. It’s always been there,” she insisted demurely.





“That’s utter rot! I can see the outline clearly. Someone painted this on you with magical ink, you bubble-headed tart. It looks like a bolt, a lightning bolt. Now, who else has a mark like that?”





There were a few more gasps and a hubbub started up among the students as they all derived a pretty good notion of just who Alecto was insinuating. Luna’s heart thumped wildly against her ribs and she scampered through her brain for some sound logic that could explain this all away. Harry’s connection to her being discovered by a member of Voldemort’s coterie was the least of her concerns with Ginny and Neville sitting a few feet away. She was terrified that they would understand just what the graphic meant and she couldn’t lose them now. Her insistence to Carrow sounded whiny and puling even to her ears.





“No, please, it’s not what you think! It’s from when I was a young child; I’m telling you the truth!” She pushed against the woman’s hold as she strained to stand up.





“You couldn’t possibly have any clue as to what I think, you absurd fool. Please do illuminate us on the story behind such a distinctive mark, however, I’m sure it shall be fascinating,” Alecto directed acerbically.





“My father, he…he marked me to cover up a…a healing charm gone wrong. I had a burn accident when I was three. He was trying to cover up the scar.” The girl felt it was the best she could come up with under the circumstances.





“Your father, eh? Just what kind of bumbling rubes do you take us for? What a pathetic story. More likely that doddering old coot was up to no good. Tell me, did he spend time ogling your young bum often? What other marks has he inflicted, hmm?”





The lurid suggestions the horrid thing was making were enough to cause Luna’s skin to crawl, but she was so incensed by the slanderous talk she leapt up to her feet; staring down the teacher as they were both now at eye level. The need to hurt this person was great as she defended the name of her daddy.





“Don’t you ever say such things about him like that again. How dare you besmirch my father like that; he’s a good man.” She wanted to yell in her disgust, but spoke reasonably in a hard, bitter tone.





Alecto was not one to stand for threats, but this time she merely turned her attention to provoking Luna with more ridicule at her father’s expense. “Oh, wait a blarney moment. We’re talking about Xeno Lovegood, aren’t we? Well, now, it all makes more sense, doesn’t it? You’re just as mad as he is, I see; apple not falling far from the ruddy tree. All that tripe he prints up in his preposterous excuse for a publication, what with all the Snorkumples and blithering nonsense. No wonder you’re the school’s village idiot being filled with such foolishness in that house. I would expect—”





“Shut up!!” An angry shout came from the seated students. Luna turned to her left to see Ginny stand up in defiance as she repeated her protest. “Shut the bloody hell up, you wicked woman! Don’t say another word!” The girl looked as outraged as Luna felt while she stood there, but the blonde suddenly worried what kind of discipline would be meted out at such a display and her skin felt pricked by pins and needles as she waited for Alecto’s response.





The woman glared but stayed silent for several minutes while the class seemed to hold in their breaths. Finally, she carefully enunciated her decisions regarding both girls.





“You, I will deal with…later,” she clipped to Ginny.

She then bent towards her desk and reached for a bit of parchment with her name inked at the top. The teacher had quickly grabbed quill in hand and jotted a brief note; rolling up the paper into a scroll and tying it with an enchanted ribbon that singed its way into the vellum. When she handed it to the wan girl, Luna immediately sensed that she’d just jumped from the frying pan and would be heading to the fire shortly.


“You,” as she looked over Luna, “will have some answering to do, but not to me.” Her eyes sharpened and she made a distasteful face, as if she’d just been assaulted with a malodorous stench. “I shan’t have you disturbing my lecture any longer. And the next time you attend my class, you can leave that rubbish around your neck elsewhere, understand? Proper dress code does not include the contents of the nearest dustbin. Now, get out of my sight and take this to Headmaster Snape.”





Very discreetly, Luna gave Ginny another guilty glance, then grabbed the missive and turned back to the desk, pulling her robe towards her to deftly slip it over her arms. She buttoned up the center row as she shuffled to her seat and took hold of her wand and schoolbag. Once more she glanced over the students, this time settling her gaze on Neville’s concerned face, before she hurriedly left the room and headed to the Headmaster’s office.







~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~









Waltzing up to the entrance concealed by the stone gargoyle, Luna was suddenly remiss in how to proceed. She wasn’t given any sort of password, and from her limited experience with the Headmaster’s study she knew one was necessary in order to pass to the moving spiral staircase. As she stood there in her confusion, the winged statue leapt aside and the wall slid open. With a determined huff, the pale girl moved forward and let the steps take her upwards to the belly of the beast.





When she stood before the oak doors, she thought she could hear Snape speaking to someone on the other side and she was unsure if she should interrupt. Then again, the Headmaster was expecting her, was he not? He obviously was aware she was on her way up. She hesitantly knocked on the great door.





“Enter,” a deep voice rang out, and Luna nervously ran her hands down her front to smooth out any wrinkles. She took a deep breath and pulled back on the handle. As she stepped into the intimidating space with its cathedral ceiling and grand bay windows that took up one wall, the young witch swiveled her head around to identify Snape’s visitor. There appeared to be no one else in the room. Her eyes went to the imposing figure behind the huge desk seated in the high-backed chair and she was immediately drawn to the portrait above him. That was new, she decided. The twinkly blue eyes peered out at her from within the framed canvas, yet Albus Dumbledore did not appear to move except for those eyes, which watched her cannily as she walked over to stand in front of her adjudicator.





“What business do you have here, Miss Lovegood? I am a busy man; I do not need the added inconvenience of following up with every wayward child Professor Carrow deems to discipline. Speak succinctly, let us deal with this swiftly,” he urged.





Luna’s mouth felt dry as Harry’s warning came back to flood her thoughts. He wanted to end Snape, she knew that, but did not agree that the man was as despicable as her Master believed. Even with the blood of his former Headmaster on his hands, and the poisonous message he spewed during their orientation feast, she thought of him as a pragmatist. For as many years as she’d been a student in his Potions class, one thing she recognized most distinctly was that the man was too whip smart to be so obviously villainous. Here was someone with as many layers as an onion, and she doubted very much that his actions attested to his true nature. There was a long story inside him, she was sure. Perhaps they could have an agreeable discussion about the declining state of Muggle Studies in recent months. It never hurt to try, she trusted, as she leaned over to hand him Carrow’s note.





“I was being punished in Professor Carrow’s class but she seemed to find my birthmark suspicious, so she sent me to you for further questioning, Headmaster.” She did not dally on any details of the event, simply waited for her next prompting.





“A birthmark?” He looked at her sharply, his face disbelieving of her explanation, before ripping open the scroll and darting his eyes annoyingly over the script. “I do hope the shape is one worthy of marvel and infamy for it to have been so pressing a matter as to be brought to my immediate attention. And where, pray tell, is this mysterious birthmark of such renown located?” he snapped as he threw down the parchment. His hand waved over the paper and it instantaneously set fire, consuming into nothing more than embers a second later.





“It’s on the small of my back, right above my, um, rear, Sir. It isn’t much of anything, really,” she suggested hopefully. The girl was getting the impression that the Headmaster was not particularly predisposed to the tell-tale paranoia of the unpleasant woman or her intrusive teaching style.





“If that is the case, how exactly did Professor Carrow come to be apprised of this wonder? Did you feel it incumbent upon you to mention it during the course of your trial or did this little factoid somehow stem from today’s lesson?” He watched her shrewdly as that inimitable baritone cut through her.





Since Professor Snape had not invited her to sit in the lone chair in front of the desk, she remained standing still as she tried to hold the dark man’s steely gaze. When she replied, she made sure not to let her voice waver, but spoke assuredly and calmly. This was not a man who would be swayed by lachrymosity; she was well aware. She couldn’t imagine any teary eyed student regaling the Headmaster with their tale of woe at the hands of the Carrows and receiving sympathetic graces.





“Neither, Sir, she saw it herself when she beat me over her desk.”





Snape stared intensely for several minutes before he spoke in a rush. “What are you talking about, you silly girl. What beating? How was she able to see the mark?”





Luna heedlessly laid out the bare truth of the situation. He could choose to believe her or not, but Luna had no control over that.





“I spoke disrespectfully and out of turn, I admit. Then I challenged her authority by suggesting she was incorrect about Mulrood’s term as Chief of the Wizards Council. My penalty was to submit to ten stripes from her cane; delivered upon my backside as I bent over her desk. We have to take off our robes, but the girls are instructed to lift up their skirts while the boys have to drop their trousers. She would only have to inspect the space above my knickers to see the scar if it had been visible, but curiously, it was under a glamor and she discovered it, anyway. I haven’t had it exposed since I started school, Sir. You know how other students can tease one for deformities and unfortunate flaws in the showers. ”





It was more than likely that Snape knew personally, she gambled, but she played her hand confidently to see what kind of result it would bring her. Though his mask was impenetrable, she thought she could detect a slight flinch in the top lip. The Headmaster continued to glare at her for what seemed an interminable stretch of time, and her back started to itch around the jagged lines of her mark as if sensing it was the topic of debate. The longer she stood there needing to scratch at the distraction, the more her body called her attention to the dampening heat collecting between her thighs; those black irises piercing her own and causing a light thudding in the apex. Severus Snape was as formidable as they came, and his intimidating presence flamed the girl’s desire as she imagined how he would look slinging a bullwhip across his hapless victim’s naked body.





Before her mind could start to wander to the kind of Death Eater tortures Snape might have been commandeered to perform for the Dark Lord, the grim Potions master stood up and promptly glided over to the fireplace. He threw in the Floo powder then barked out for Madam Pomfrey. The woman’s greenish-hued face appeared almost instantly and looked inquiringly to her boss.





“Madam Pomfrey, I need you to come immediately to my office to assist me in a matter of some exigency.” He turned back towards his mammoth mahogany workspace, but before he could even get halfway, the healer had come through and stepped off the hearth, still seeming quizzical by the summons.





Then Snape’s attention was back on Luna, and the girl was starting to become a bit concerned. What did he have planned for her? Her palms had grown sweaty as the two wielded around her and Snape put his hand on her shoulder in an almost soothing manner. He pressed his weight on it, though, until the girl realized he wanted her to turn the other way. Haltingly, she slowly spun so that she was facing the view of the Quidditch pitch; the bright sunshine filtering in through the glass panes. It looked like the Hufflepuff team was getting some practice time in this morning, before lunchtime brought the students outside.





However, Quidditch was soon dropped from her thoughts as she felt a hand run over her lower back while Snape informed the nurse of his requirement of her.





His voice went low so that she could barely hear him. “Poppy, I need to inspect Miss Lovegood for a supposedly disturbing mark on her skin. I would like you here as a secondary witness and also to search the girl for any other…unusual signs.”





Luna’s nerves were now jangled as she hadn’t expected him to call in reinforcements. If they took a good hard look at the mark, she wouldn’t be able to use the same excuse. Although Luna herself had only been able to see the full shape of it in the reflection of a mirror, she knew without a doubt that a closer scan would show its very source. She started to panic when she was asked to remove her school robes, but complied. When she felt the tip of someone’s wand scrape along the back of her shirt as if it were drawing a box around the intended area, her breath caught while her brain seemed to loop in fevered circles. The girl thought of those early Occlumency lessons her father attempted to teach her at one time, and she tried to put his instructions into practice now. It had been a long time, though, and she’d never had much use for it.





She heard Snape use an incantation and then cool air was upon her back. There was a sharp gasp from his cohort.





“What is that? Goodness gracious, it’s greener than a killing curse,” exclaimed Pomfrey. Green? When did that happen? Luna was now spare as she tried to wiggle out of this predicament once and for all. She tried to turn around, but Snape’s vice-like grip was still on her shoulder.





“Please! It’s nothing, I tell you. Just a little act of foolish daring on my part, if you must know. I wanted a tattoo, and had someone do it over the summer. I didn’t want my father to know what I’d done, please. This is all a misunderstanding.” Her cries were insistent again, but the nurse only shushed the girl.





“Child, hold still and calm down. This quite obviously has been magically affixed. The glowing is troubling, however. Where did you go for this? It’s very good work, but I suspect it was not done professionally, was it?”





Luna could feel the woman’s hands brush over the spot and she shivered. She could only shake her head and hope that they didn’t ask for any names. Then she heard the wicked voice of the Headmaster remark on it.





“I never took you for a Potter groupie, Miss Lovegood. Carrying a bit of a torch for the boy?” he asked her snidely. She wasn’t sure how far she should push the connection to her Master. Perhaps if they thought this was merely a simple case of a lovelorn girl wanting to be rebellious under her clothes, she could get away without further inquiries as to its origins.





“Harry is my friend. I greatly admire and respect him,” she answered.





“Oh, yes, I’m sure admiration had everything to do with it,” he quipped.





He then spoke very lowly to Madam Pomfrey again and suddenly the woman was pulling her to a corner of the office as she magically transformed a screen to block them from the rest of the room and bid the girl to strip off her top and skirt. Luna made sure to keep her back turned to the woman as she undressed, then folded her arms across her breast as if she were modestly trying to cover herself. The healer spent a several minutes running a wand over her back and scanning visually and with light touches for any other designs on Luna’s skin. When she turned the girl around, Luna kept her arms folded and stared off into space while the while the woman inspected her lower front. She did not want to hear what the pair of them thought of her nipple jewelry.





Then Poppy was turning her back around and instructing her to put her clothes back on. She kept her voice down as she suggested to the girl that not only was it proper to wear a bra at her age, but it would be better for the continued development of her breasts. Luna blushed but nodded in agreement. She left to talk to the Headmaster while the girl dressed. As soon as the young witch was decent again, the screen disappeared and Madam Pomfrey was on her way back to the fireplace only to vanish into the green flames as well. The girl noticed that her shirt was intact again as she put her robes back over her uniform.





“Miss Lovegood, I’d like you to take a seat, please. We have more to discuss.”





Luna sat down feeling that churning in her stomach again. It would not do to show any signs of fear in front of Snape. She was rapidly losing control of her cool façade and her vacillating between stories was not helping. The Headmaster duly noted her poor attempts once she was facing him.





“Do you care to explain why you chose to lie to me, Miss Lovegood?” he asked with a supercilious arch to his brow.





“I’m sorry, Sir. I suppose I panicked. I never meant for anyone to see that. I’m not sure why Professor Carrow found it worthy of such scrutiny,” she admitted.





“Perhaps because it bears the hallmark of a very wanted, very troublesome young miscreant, you foolish girl; I cannot imagine any other relevance attached to a tattoo of a lightning bolt in the obvious shape of Mr. Potter’s scar. Have you been in contact with the suspect?”





Luna was thrown for a moment by his bluntness, but she summoned Harry’s strength once more and let that calm settle into her muscles and bone. The wan girl leveled her gaze at the bitter man and decided the best way to navigate his cunning would be to avoid answering any question directly. She needed to protect Harry at all costs, and she harked back to her father’s first attempt to show her how to Occlude her mind when she was eleven. Think about the Snorkack, Poppet he had told her. Imagine every detail until the great beast fills your mind completely, allowing for no other thought to surface. It had been unfortunate that she couldn’t master the skill right away, her bustling thoughts could never quite recede so as to bring her the needed focus till, eventually, her father let it pass into his forgetfulness. She had not asked for more lessons since then, but now in the face of her accuser, she wished she had.





“I wouldn’t think Harry Potter would be eager to make himself known to anyone within the Hogwarts walls, Headmaster, in light of your ascendance. It’s well known the disdain he holds for you and I expect he now thinks of the school as a bastion of treachery. It would seem like a careless move to contact anyone here in his current position, but even if he did, I would hardly be the logical choice for a correspondence.” She then remembered she was Loony Lovegood and employed a bit of rambling to fit the part.





“And a thunderbolt has much significance, Sir. It is of course the weapon given to Zeus by the Cyclops in Greek mythology. Also, the Hindu god, Indra, carries his Vajra as a weapon to kill his enemies. Let’s not forget Thor, the Norse god of thunder and lightning wielding his Mjolnir. Or it could be from a Muggle comic book about a band of supervillians. Maybe I just want to declare myself a warrior, Sir. It is a symbol of war, after all. There is also the Heliopaths to consider. They are only deterred by lightning, you know.”





Headmaster Snape folded his hands in front of his face and pointed his index fingers to rest on his bottom lip while the top one curled towards his hawkish nose. His eyes were narrowed as he thought while he watched her and when he spoke it was a blast into the silence.





“Why does it glow? The mark has obviously been charmed as an alert of some sort. It would appear to denote your distress. Who is being informed of your moods, Miss Lovegood? I have some knowledge of these magicked brands, so do not attempt to play the innocent.”





“But I am innocent, Sir. I have no idea why my skin is doing that,” she told him truthfully.





“There is no tingle or burning sensation accompanying this emanation?” he enquired in an impatient tone.





“No, Headmaster. I didn’t even realize it was green until Madam Pomfrey said something. If it is broadcasting anything, I wouldn’t know what that could possibly be.”





She was intensely curious about the added trick herself. Harry had not said anything about imbuing the mark with any kind of sensory signal. However, as she thought this, something suddenly tickled her brain, which was an odd sensation to note. It felt like fingers were stroking the gray ridges embedded in the organ, and a rainbow of colors flashed behind her eyes as various images from her past shimmered into the forefront of her thoughts. She had a vision of Harry working intently over her back as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. The girl fiercely shook her head to shake the thought free, but then another image popped into the moving film of her memory like she’d just been dumped into a rapidly sped up Pensieve.





This time, Harry was over her body as he slowly moved inside of her, his eyes black pinpoints that bore into her retinas. Then it dissolved instantly into a scene of Harry in the Department of Mysteries, striking his wand down as he threw a hex to block one coming Luna’s way. Luna shut her eyes tight as she focused all her attention onto the idea she held of the Snorkack; its heavy mass and small purple ears, the curling horns protruding from its head, that shaggy whitish coat with its matted fur full of flowers and sprigs. But she couldn’t hold onto the picture and soon the frames were moving at a clip once more, quick outtakes of her life blooming behind her eyes. She was ten years old and her father was holding her hand as she lay in a hospital bed, his face wracked with pain. She was being pushed to kneel on the ground as Crabbe held on to her shoulders, Malfoy waving his cock in front of her face as he grabbed hold of her hair. Ginny was smiling at her on the train as she introduced her to the rest of the gang and the boy that would change her life. The boy that fucked her hard while he brought down the crop on her breasts, his mouth muttering in her ear all the while.





Luna’s heart was beating furiously as she tried to regain control of her thoughts once more, battling Snape to release her and leave her mind. She thought again of her father; she could see him clearly seated in front of her at the kitchen table. Clear your mind, Luna dear, and think of the Snorkack. We’ll try this again, but remember to push me out while you envision all the details. Don’t let me in, Luna. Yet she couldn’t wall him out no matter how she’d tried, and she felt desperate now that her skills hadn’t gotten any better. The Snorkack watched her from a distance, the mountains behind him as it stood in a field of wildflowers and heather, but the other images kept intruding into that fixed point like a puddle of paint bleeding into the next block of an animated strip. She saw her mother laugh heartily as she stood in the study calling to her husband in his Firecall, while Luna watched from the doorway. Then her mother was holding her in her lap as they rocked in a chair by the window, little five years-old Luna listening rapt to tales of the Gods on Mount Olympus.





When the image of her mother’s face morphed into the lifeless visage that had lain unseeing on the study floor as the blood flowed out of her side, Luna in the here and now shouted out in her pain. She didn’t want to see this, and she fought as the long ago, deeply buried visions of those two monstrous faces came back to haunt her next, the scarred man laughing as he pulled her legs apart. The girl screamed again and when she opened her eyes, bulging in their horror, she found herself on the floor looking upwards to the expanse of the great desk. Footsteps were clicking over to her head and then she felt a presence kneel over her as strong hands pulled the young witch to a sitting position. She jerked back from his touch and let the anger forming surge through her.





“Please get up from the floor and be seated again, Lovegood. We are hardly through yet,” he intoned ominously.





Luna stood to face him, her face hardened and accusing as she went to sit back in the chair. Her gaze never left the man as he moved back to his own imposing throne and the girl thought she caught a faint look of surprise on Dumbledore’s features staring out from the painting in her periphery of sight. Snape regarded her impassively once more, but when he questioned her this time, his voice was much softer.





“When did your father attempt to teach you Occlumency?” he queried without preamble.





“Just before I started Hogwarts, Sir. He was trying to help me block out some bad memories. Even though the worst of them were absorbed in the vials, I still kept getting impressions and they often affected my sleeping. It didn’t work out very well, as you could probably glean, Headmaster, but Daddy didn’t press it and the lessons only lasted a short time.”





Her reply was brittle and dull, but she felt it was pointless to play up the charade any further. Snape had seen enough that lying would be counterproductive. The girl held on to the belief that Snape was a conflicted man, however, and that running to the Dark Lord with information of her association to Harry would not be a priority. She tried to determine how she could keep his confidence at this juncture. Luna looked up again at Dumbledore’s portrait and wondered about the conversation she overheard before entering.





“Really, it is not so difficult a task to clear one’s mind and resist an aggressor. I don’t understand why you children can’t grasp so simple a skill. Well, I think we have discerned why the boy criminal would make you his “logical choice” of contact, so why don’t we just skip the fanciful prevarications and you can answer me properly this time. Is Potter signaling you through his mark? Where is he now?”





“I do not know, Professor. Honestly, I don’t.” Her voice grew derisive when she decided to challenge him. “Why do you insist on referring to Harry like he’s done something wrong? We all know what happened on the rooftop, Sir. Do not think that I am unaware of your complicity in Headmaster Dumbledore’s death. You struck the final blow, and yet here you sit in your victim’s chair while purporting to pursue ‘the truth’. Which truth, exactly, should we be discussing, Sir?”





Snape’s face twisted into his outrage for but a second before he coolly reverted back to his mask. He breathed heavy as he silently judged her some more, but then stood up again and walked slowly to the right of his desk. Past the curios and instruments on their tables there sat a large glass case, the resplendent Sword of Gryffindor sitting inside on an ornate silver mount, and the black figure seemed to be heading for it. When he put his hand to the glass, he looked back at her and then cocked his head in invitation, summoning the girl over to him in front of the display. Luna’s curiosity took over and her anger abated as she wondered where this was leading.





As she glided over to stand in front of him again, the man faced the sword and spoke quietly.





“Godric Gryffindor might have been the definitive when it came to courage, but he was a fool in all other matters. Rushing in blindly to play hero when you are not aware of all the facts has never produced any desirable outcomes unless your bravery is playing into the hands of a manipulator. Your young Mister Potter is the very avatar of Gryffindor himself; no foresight whatsoever, just all daring and impetuous action without a thought to the consequences. He’s so obviously suited to bear the sword of a noble idiot. Do you not agree, Miss Lovegood?”





Luna was confused by the question. Of course she didn’t think of Harry as an idiot, although she could concede to his impulsiveness. Somehow, though, she didn’t feel that was what Snape was attempting to clarify.





“I would agree that the emblem of Gryffindor would make a very comfortable accoutrement for Harry. He’s as brave as they come. I wouldn’t be surprised if Harry was a direct descendant of the founder, you know. He’s got very exceptional genes.”





Snape glanced at her with some bemusement in his features, but then rolled his eyes and turned back to the glass. He almost appeared as if he were conspiring to recruit her for something, and that uneasy feeling continued as she determined whether the man was friend or foe.





“Indeed he does. It is a shameful thing that he has yet to put them too good use. He will not last long out there if he is busy attending to his lustful demands over his…mission. The Dark Lord will find him with the tiniest slip of a reveal to anyone about his location. The boy can’t afford to look for aid in his allies. Is this clear to you, girl?”





Without thinking, Luna answered with a nod of her head. When Snape looked at her again, she thought he seemed off, somehow. It struck her that he was trying to affect a tender expression which did not sit well with his features when his next question startled her.





“You cannot afford to implicate the boy with your carelessness, either, so I would advise you keep your relationship under wraps a little more securely. How long have Mister Crabbe and Mister Malfoy been sexually tormenting you, Miss Lovegood? I could detect your unwillingness to participate in their seedy exploits, so I am presuming this was not welcomed.”





Luna let her intuition take over and she answered openly without the need to guard her thoughts. She felt he was done invading her mind now that he’d seen whatever it was he had needed. The man was apparently not going to grill her about her involvement with Harry much at all, so for that she was thankful. Perhaps he could see that she had nothing of value to give to the man on Harry’s whereabouts.





“It happened last year, Headmaster. There wasn’t much I could do about it. No one ever tends to believe me, anyway.”





“And has this continued? Has Crabbe been up to any more harassment?”





“Not Crabbe, Sir. I’ve dealt with the other assailants already. I think they won’t be bothering me again anytime soon.”





“Do I need to send you to Madam Pomfrey for an examination? Who were these others you refer to?” he asked grimly.





“No, Sir. I’m alright. And it doesn’t matter anymore who they were.”





He regarded her closely for a second before breaking their locked gaze and heading back to his seat. He pointed his palm outward directing her to stand back before him as he took hold of a piece of parchment and his quill and bent over to begin writing while he spoke in that rich, deep voice flowing like water over rocks in a stream.





“I will excuse your tardiness for your next class, and I will speak with Professor Carrow on this matter later today. We will keep any information discussed in this room private for now. I do not wish to see you in my office again, Miss Lovegood, do you understand?” and he looked up for a moment to wait for her acknowledgment then let his head droop once he was satisfied. “If I must be forced to endure you presence here again, however, the password is Spinner to get inside. Please see to it that this does not come to pass,” he warned as he looked up at her again on that last note, “and employ whatever means necessary to abide my request.”





The girl took the scroll he handed her dutifully as she agreed to his demands. It was an odd conversation, she thought, but she was getting an inkling of an idea as she made ready to leave. When Snape bid her to depart, she took one more glance up at Dumbledore’s face to see if he had anything to add, but not seeing any indication of sentience she turned and headed for the exit. She was just about to reach for the door when she heard the Headmaster call out to her one last time.





“Tell me, Miss Lovegood, what was the term of Burdock Mulrood on the Wizard’s Council?”





She didn’t hesitate in her reply. “It was from 1408 to 1450, Sir.”





Snape nodded his agreement with a terse, “That is correct,” then bent back to his work. There would be much to think about in her bed tonight, she expected.





When Luna was back out in the hall, walking away from the gargoyle to head to her next class, she heard a whisper from behind her. She looked back over her shoulder to see both Ginny and Neville poking their heads out of a broom closet waving her over. The pale blonde had returned to her halcyon demeanor and wandered over to them as if she had all day to get there. As soon as she was close enough, however, they pulled her inside and shut the door. Neville sparked up a Lumos on his wand and the girl noticed that the interior was fairly spacious for a supplies cupboard. The pair crowded close to her, though, in their excitement.





“What happened, Luna, did you get detention?” Neville inquired hurriedly.





“Yeah, what’s that greasy bastard got planned for you? I hope it’s nothing too bad. At least you won’t have to sit with that scum, Amycus,” Ginny reasoned.





“No, nothing like that, actually. But I think he wants us to steal the sword of Gryffindor for Harry.” The other two could only gape at the strange girl as her silvery grey eyes gleamed with a plan.







~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~











Ginny’s arms trembled violently as she struggled to keep them up. They were currently laden with several hefty volumes of Dark Arts books, and she’d been standing up on Thing Two’s desk for the last ten minutes trying to endure the increasingly deadening weight as every second ticked by. Amycus’s weasely whine continued harping loudly to the two students he had facing off on the practice mats. Vaisey and Colin Creevey were engaged in a mock battle and the unpleasant man kept demanding a harsher level of hexes in their practice. She heard Creevey cry out in pain as he was hit with a Stinging hex, but she kept her eyes fixed resolutely in front of her, tuning their panting and drops to the floor out of her head as she counted down another one hundred with an intensity befitting her N.E.W.Ts.





She refused to drop them and be sentenced to another night with that pig of a man. He’d had her under his thumb consecutively for the last three nights; the girl would run naked through the Great Hall before she’d submit to his touch ups for one more evening. Amycus was hardly intelligent, but he was wily, and he had managed to figure out just how to rile up the youngest Weasley into having a meltdown every time she got to his class. It seemed to be a particular delight of his, and no matter how much Ginny would will herself to remain unaffected by his taunts, he would always find just the right button to push to provoke her to shoot off her mouth. It was absolutely maddening; she didn’t know who she hated more, Amycus or herself.





The few times she’d been able to control her bloody tongue, however, he’d just find fault with something else she did, whether it was not striking a fellow classmate hard enough as they took turns casting painful spells or not having an answer ready on a topic they had yet to learn. It was getting ridiculous the type of magic they were expected to study now in their ‘preparedness’ for what was to come, as Thing Two would ambiguously allude to. At least a third of the students had been sent to Madame Pomfrey with wounds or broken bones from the work they were doing. She worried how serious it would get before the year was out. Their instructor was a corrosive ball of acid that was relentless in his demands for underhanded methods of destruction. He sought no honor in battle, merely to win through every dark spell at his disposal. Listening to him blather on about getting the best of one’s opponent as an art was nauseating.





It had been grotty business attending those first few detentions in his dungeon office. He had taken over Snape’s old lair and had determined that Ginny should be the one to give it a good cleaning in order to make way for his possessions. He sat at his desk and watched her the entire time as she kneeled on the floor with her bum in the air and washed the baseboards, then scrubbed the floors, all by hand and in her skirt. Her knees felt bruised by the time she was done, but it was her skin that crawled while his prurient gaze raked over every inch of her that drew her concern. Things had only grown worse since then as he became bolder with every sentencing thereafter. This last week had been close to unbearable and Ginny was at her wit’s end in how to deal with him on her own.





The memory of last night’s session came back to her now as she maintained the blocking out of everything around her. It had been building up over the weeks and months, but when Amycus had penalized her for her infraction by having her stand in the corner with her face to the wall and hands behind her head, she had thought she would be free from the torturous groping while she had systematically cleaned out his living quarters until the stones gleamed. Standing in her dunce position for two hours straight and not even having to look at him had seemed like a reprieve at first. Then the ogre had pressed his body to the back of the red-head and…smelled her for the duration. When his hands started to stroke the sides of her thighs while he moaned, she gritted her teeth and shut her eyes tightly, pretending she was anywhere else but that infernal place. She became alarmed as she heard a zip downwards and wondered how easy it would be to bash his head in if she found a window of opportunity, but Amycus took his hands off of her and moments later she could hear the slickened sounds of friction as the movement behind her suggested that her guard was in congress with his fist.





The image she got from that was regurgitating as bile filled her throat. She needed to dispel her thoughts immediately and find a way to wash her brain out. Her arms were so tired, and they kept slipping lower until she would eventually drop the books and Carrow Animus would be gleefully informing her of her next detention. She looked around the room to distract her, but felt her books become light as a feather all of a sudden, the pressure on her muscles alleviating instantaneously. Immediately, she sought out Luna’s face. The blonde was sitting in her seat watching the boys on the floor, but her wand was under the table and pointed surreptitiously to the front of the room as Amycus barked out his coaching.





Ginny was still in a quandary about her feelings for the girl. Outwardly, she had decided that they all needed to stick together to get through this, and she had relied on both Neville and Luna for support, even if they didn’t always know it. Her friends’ strength were all that was keeping her going right now, and with news from home getting bleaker with every correspondence; the Prophet detailing the hunt for Harry in every issue, her thoughts grew darker as she worried for the safety of her brother, Hermione, and that damned boy that she had fallen so hard for. The betrayal she’d experienced at the reveal that Harry had been intimate with someone she’d considered a good friend was still lingering, but she’d been so occupied with the slog of their existence at school that she’d limited her angst to the late nights after she’d gone to bed, always exhausted and depressed.





Could she forgive Luna, really? She still didn’t know the full details, but a voice in her head suggested that whatever had happened between them had been more than a fling or a one-time thing. The dreamy girl had changed since term had started, and Ginny could see Harry’s influence all over her. Her appearance, for starters, Ginny begrudgingly noted. She’d tidied herself up and looked more than presentable these days. That long hair shone almost brilliant white in the sunlight and when they were out of uniform, Luna had dressed herself in clothes that flattered her shape. It was the way she walked that was the biggest change, however. She glided still, but her shoulders were drawn back and her head was held almost regally as she moved between the crowds in the hallways. Luna appeared taller than Ginny had previously thought of her, and it was often that heads would turn as the girl passed by a cluster of boys while she stared straight ahead, even Eloise Midgen seemed to be harboring a crush. Her skin seemed different, too; no longer waxen and ghostly, but a rosy alabaster that gleamed with her growing confidence around the rest of the students.





Not that Luna was ever a diffident girl, but something was burning brightly from inside of her now and Ginny couldn’t help but be fascinated by the transformation. She could tell that the pale witch wanted to talk to her about all of the unresolved issues still between them, but it had taken Ginny some time to get to that point where she felt that she could discuss it and not want to just hurl objects at the Ravenclaw. Perhaps Luna would be the person to understand what she was going through right now and could be there for her. It had shocked her to discover just how deeply her friend had been exploited and to what ends the boys who’d assaulted her would go. She had felt wretched when she’d realized that Luna had never consented to any of the sexual acts that were whispered about her. When Michael Corner, of all people, had implied to Ginny that her odd friend was a bit of a slag, she really hadn’t believed it at all. The things she’d shouted at her at Bill and Fleur’s wedding had been hateful to be sure, but she’d wanted to lash out and pulled the first damaging insults at her disposal. She still hadn’t believed that Luna could be that kind of promiscuous tart, but then she couldn’t understand how Harry played into all of this, either.





Ginny sighed as she cricked her neck and lifted up a leg in her need to de-stress her body for a moment. It was grueling just standing up on the desk with her arms out flat and legs spread apart shoulder width before even worrying about the added weight of the books. They were precariously balanced by now as the sweat from her palms greased her hold on them. When her foot steadied on the desktop, she glanced quickly over to Luna again to see if she could make out what the girl was thinking. The Ravenclaw’s face gave away nothing. Luna was an enigma to her most of the time, but she was determined now to find out more about her and Harry’s relationship. Plus, she could use the comfort of having someone to talk to; her roommates were bugging the crap out of her with their tawdry gossip and constant looks of pity every time she got back from another punishment with one of the Carrows. She knew that she was frequently the object of their gossip when she wasn’t around, too, especially after the insinuations that horrid Flora had tossed at her in front of the lunch crowd.





She felt a trickle of sweat run down her back and in her discomfort, she tried to roll her shoulders to get it to stop. That proved to be a grave mistake, as first one, then the rest of her bundle on her left arm tumbled down to the desk in a loud clatter. All eyes turned to her and she wanted to cry. Amycus gleamed up at her with bright, piggy eyes.





“Arrr, well now, I see someone will have to finish their punishment in detention tonight, won’t they, lass?”





Ginny wondered what would happen if she stripped right this moment and went screaming mad through the halls.











Leave a message. You guys rock