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The Malfoys had nearly forty generations of magic built into the walls of Malfoy Manor. Even the Dark Lord with his retinue of most foul magic could not access the oldest of Malfoy Manor’s secrets, a fact for which Draco was eternally grateful as he slipped unseen into the dungeons. He checked on Ollivander first, Griphook reluctantly, and finally Dean and Luna. Dean hadn’t trusted Malfoy at first, but hunger overcame suspicion, and now he took the offered plate and ate as far away from Draco as he could manage in the tiny cell. Luna took her plate graciously and, as if they were friends, offered some back to Draco.
“I know Tilly’s lavender cakes are your favorites,” she said, the dreariness of the dungeons not able to suppress the dreaminess of her voice.
He accepted wordlessly. Luna always seemed to know what was on his mind, anyway. He wondered if she was a Legilimens, or just perceptive.
“I’m ready to leave now, Draco.”
“And what would you have me do, Luna? Walk you out the front gates?” Draco laughed bitterly. How many times had he thought about escaping?
Luna put a hand on his arm through the bars. “I don’t need your help,” she said, pointing to a ring of mushrooms growing through the stone floor. “But I will take you with us.”
His mind raced as he stared at the fairy circle. How fitting it would be, to escape using fairy magic, which Voldemort ridiculed as inferior. “So you’ll take me as your prisoner?”
A sad smile crossed Luna’s face. “You’re already a prisoner. Make the right choice, and I’ll set you free.” She held out her hand.
Without another thought, he took it, and together they left behind the darkness. For the first time, Draco Malfoy stepped into the light.