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Luna knew she wasn't 'normal'.

She knew that most people didn't spend their spare time wandering the castle corridors lighting incense to ward off bad luck, or wear butter beer corks around their necks because nargles just simply would not stop stealing their things.

She knew that she was different, she knew that people called her crazy…and she minded maybe a bit more than she liked to admit to herself.

She sighed. Loony Lovegood, she thought, as she pushed along the quiet stream of sunshine yellow in her gondola, heading towards the shore.

They think I'm crazy. They call me Loony Lovegood.

Today had been the first time she'd heard a group of girls mutter that insulting nickname behind their hands, giggling and pointing as they passed by her in the common room. She pursed his lips as she approached the beach, where the shallow golden water led to equally golden sand.

Well, of course, she wasn't really on a river of oddly colored water. At least, not in the physical sense.

She was dreaming.

Luna had always been exceptionally good at lucid dreaming. It was a very strange, obscure branch of magic which her mother had taught her about when she was young.

'If you believe, Luna, and you really will it to be… Your dreams will come true. They will be more real and powerful than anything you experience in the waking world. And don't you let anyone tell you differently!'

And so Luna Lovegood was a very talented dreamer…even if she did lack basic social skills.

Sometimes, she even found that she was able to see other people's dreams.

Once, she had dreamt briefly of an old, muggle man. He was a gardener who tended to the grounds of an abandoned mansion. The old soul had been dreaming about a family he did not have, of days before a war which had ruined his knee and left him crippled. Luna had watched his fantasy and made roses bloom in the garden he cared for, so that he could give them to his make-believe wife.

Another time, she'd witnessed a horrible nightmare which gave her chills every time she recalled it. And it was so strange, too, because she wouldn't have thought it possible, to observe the dreams of an animal—but she most certainly had experienced one torrid vision of a rat. A fat, old rodent, and it had been running for its life from a massive hound which very much resembled the Grim. Fearing for the poor creature, Luna had breathed into the rat just a bit more speed, a bit more nimbleness…and it had, just barely, escaped into the night.

Well, it wasn't like she tried to peer into other people's dreams. Luna just happened upon them, sometimes, when it was another soul which was in some kind of distress. And when it happened, she always tried to help.

As it turned it, she would encounter another unfortunate person tonight.

Luna heard her before she saw her.

A quiet and velvety voice, whispering words rapidly under her breath like a monotonous song. Luna forced her small boat fully onto the shore, looking for the source of such a troubled, disquieting sound.

It only took her a moment to find where it was coming from. The shimmering entryway which, by now, she knew would lead into another person's dream.

On her side of the dreamscape, it was all bright colors, beautiful flowers, and clear skies.

On the other side, this sufferer's dream…was quite the antithesis.

A tall and desolate lair of dark bricks towered over her, the only building on a tiny island surrounded by perilous seas.

Luna didn't hesitate. She let the sound of the strained whispers guide her.

It was a prison.

There was nothing else this place could possibly be. Iron bars and empty rooms confirmed it—whoever was reaching out for help was dreaming of being in a castle-like prison in the middle of the ocean. Was this Azkaban? Luna had heard of it, of course, but she had never seen it...

She knew she was right, though, when she saw the dementors.

Luna held her breath, willing them away with thoughts of sunshine and golden rivers. She didn't need to be able to produce a corporal patronus, not here. This was a dream…

And she had power, here.

The dementors faded.

Luna continued towards the whispers.

…There.

A woman. It was a woman who was dreaming, and she was the only entity in this, her nightmare. She was leaning against the wall of her cell with her head in her hands, her black hair a mess of curls falling over her shaking arms like a tangled curtain. But even though it was her dream, this witch was locked inside of her cell. Trapped, trembling and afraid.

And the words she was whispering, over and over… Luna could hear them, now.

I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy.

Luna wrapped her fingers around the cold, metal bars and smiled. "Hello," she said brightly.

The witch looked up with an expression of deepest shock, and Luna couldn't help but feel a bit breathless just at the one glance.

This woman, this prisoner…was undoubtedly stunning. Even in her ragged, worn robes, even malnourished and pale as she was. She had eyes like polished, onyx gemstones and lips like rose petals. Luna was instantly reminded of princesses from fairy tales—and maybe that was what this nightmare was.

Maybe this woman was a damsel in distress, locked within a tower…praying for someone to rescue her.

Yet the witch's look of pure surprise lasted only a moment. Dark, dark eyes flickered quickly up and down Luna's body before she snarled, quite lethally and in a very un-princess-like fashion:

"Who the fuck are you?"

But Luna only smiled more broadly. "My name is Luna. And who are you?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "None of your damn business," she hissed.

"Oh. Okay, then," Luna said, shrugging. And then, "…You're not crazy, by the way."

The woman's condescending expression slid once more into one of shock.

"You're not. People call me crazy, too, but…we're not. We're just dreaming. You know that, don't you? That this is only a nightmare, and you'll wake up soon, and…and none of this will be real."

The woman paused for a moment, stunned…before she threw her head back and laughed. It was a manic, troubling sound.

"Oh, no, sweetie," she gasped between breaths, her chest heaving. "This, for me—this is very, very real. I'll wake up, and this," she brandished one arm about the dismal cell, "is exactly where I'll be."

"Where are we, precisely?" Luna asked in a hedged tone. "Is this… Is this the wizarding prison, Azkaban?"

The woman nodded feverishly. "Very good, pet. Welcome to my personal hell. Both in my nightmares, and in my reality."

"Who…are you?" Luna's voice hitched. For the first time ever in her dreams, the young, Ravenclaw girl was afraid.

The woman's red lips curled into a sinister and dangerous grin.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," she purred, eyes glinting. Luna felt the blood drain from her face.

She paled, because everyone, everyone in the wizarding world knew that name…and what that woman had done.

And she was no damsel in distress.

The dark witch smiled in such a stunning, twisted way.

"My name is Bellatrix Lestrange."

This is just a dream.

Luna had to remind herself of this as she peered in through the metal bars. Bellatrix Lestrange was leaning forward as far as she could, her shackled wrists lifted over her knees as though she was offering them up.

"Take these cursed chains off," she commanded. "If you can help me, then do it."

Luna hesitated. This is just a dream, she repeated to herself. She took a deep breath and drew her wand, aiming it towards where the links chained Bellatrix to the wall.

And I have power here.

"Diffindo."

The chains shattered and fell apart.

Bellatrix sighed in relief, pulling the deteriorating metal off of her bleeding skin and tossing the fragments of silver aside. "That was a damn effective severing charm," she murmured appreciatively.

"Well, it probably wouldn't have worked in the waking world," Luna admitted. "But this is a dream. Belief is everything, here."

Bellatrix pushed herself to her feet, using the wall to steady herself. "Is that right, Moon Child?" She stretched with both of her arms above her head, moaning softly as she did.

Luna stared, noting the way that Bellatrix's shapeless prison uniform shifted when she moved. She could tell by her exposed thighs alone that the prisoner of Azkaban was extremely malnourished. Her legs were so thin, practically skeletal.

Bellatrix dropped her arms. Luna's attention snapped back to her face, which was also very gaunt and pale. Her cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut stone. She sauntered over towards the window, her black eyes gleaming with an intensity Luna would not have expected from someone in this dreary prison.

"So…Luna."

Luna hovered on her crane on the other side of the bars, still untouchable by the dark witch, even though she was now no longer in chains. "Tell me more about how my dreams work."

"Well," Luna said, "to be honest, I don't understand it all. But I don't try to, either. I just know that sometimes spells work, and sometimes they don't. Other times, I just will something to happen, and it does." She paused, aping her wand against her chin and thinking. "Then again, there have been plenty of times where I have not tried to conjure anything at all, and yet the dream has just…happened."

"No shit," Bellatrix sneered, gesturing around at her cell. "I didn't exactly try and conjure myself into Azkaban. I get enough of this hellhole during the day, thanks."

"You could leave."

Luna said it without thinking. Bellatrix's eyes widened, her face slipping into one of shock. "How?" she asked, breathless. She leaned forward and grabbed the bars at the window. Luna flinched away from her, her heart racing at the advance. "How do I get out of here? Just…believe? Help me. Help me out of here, girl! Now!"

"That's not a very polite way to ask for help," Luna said, sounding far braver than she felt. Bellatrix scowled.

"What kind of bullshit, subconscious thing have I invented…?" she muttered under her breath. Cleary, she still did not believe that Luna was real. Bellatrix shook her head, sending black curls cascading down her back. "Okay, fine." She looked up and stuck her lower lip out, pouting. "Won't you please help me out of here, Moon Child?"

Luna folded her arms across her chest, her wand still held firmly in one hand. Fortune the crane let out a low note as though in warning. "I might," Luna said boldly. "But you have to answer a question for me, first, before I help you out of there."

Bellatrix waited. Luna took a deep breath and asked, "Why did you do it? Why did you torture the Longbottoms? Why would you do something so heinous?"

Bellatrix's pouty expression contorted into a viscous glower. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No. Tell me why, if you want my help."

Bellatrix released her death grip on the bars, huffing. "Merlin. Is this some self-reflective bullshit or what?" She ran her hands through her hair and sighed. "All right, Luna. I did it because… I did it because of love."

Luna's jaw dropped, watching in disbelief as Bellatrix's face softened in reverie. Her dark eyes went out of focus, and her voice, when she spoke next, was low and reverent. "I adored him, I worshipped him… I loved him… And he was taken from me. But I know—I know that he is not gone…" Her gaze shifted back to Luna. It was now far hollower; the kind of look most of Azkaban's inhabitant acquired over time.

"I tortured the Longbottoms because I thought they may know something. I had… My Lord had talked to me, not long before he went to the Potters… We discussed enemies… Those who had opposed him multiple times, and we realized together that both the Potters and the Longbottoms had somehow managed to defy him thrice, and live… It seemed very important to him, to know this…"

Luna said nothing when she paused, for she could tell that Bellatrix was not finished. After a moment of silence, she continued in a raspy voice. "So when he vanished, at the Potter household… I thought that they may know something. The other family that he had seemed so keen on learning about. I went to question them, taking Barty and my husband with me."

"So you tortured them into insanity?" Luna gasped, horrified.

"I did not do it purposefully," Bellatrix said in that same, throaty voice. "Not truly. I regret it to this day. We should have fled long before that. We could have escaped. I could still be out there, searching for him, rather than be trapped in this horrible place, reliving that night over, and over… But I… I lost myself. I lost myself, when they knew nothing. I was so consumed with grief, with pain… I couldn't stop, I couldn't stop…"

Luna was shocked to see tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Love has ruined me," she whispered. "I have failed him… I am unable to go to him, to find him, now…"

"But he's gone," Luna said softly. "Even if you weren't in Azkaban, there isn't anything you could do. He's gone."

Something dangerous suddenly sparked to life in the depths of Bellatrix's eyes. Luna's heart skipped a beat. "No," she hissed, wiping away the tears that had yet to fall. "No, he is not gone. He is alive. I know—he said, he swore that nothing could kill him—that he had taken precautions—that he—he could not die, and he would not lie to me!"

Her voice, which had started so softly, had risen to a shrill cry by her last words. She lunged, grabbing the bars and yanking on them, like she might rip them from the wall. "He is not gone! You cannot—I will never give up on him, I will never say it—if this is some horrible, sub-conscious trick to make me come to terms with that—"

"No!" Luna shouted, terrified by Bellatrix's ferocity. Fortune beat its wings, moving her further away from the tower. "No, I—"

"He is not gone!" Bellatrix screamed. "He is not gone!"

One of the bars snapped within her grasp. The sound was like a wand backfiring, sharp and loud.

On the other side of reality, Luna awoke with a violent start.

Luna swore that she wouldn't follow the sounds of a former Death Eater's pleas again, if she ever heard them.

Clearly, Bellatrix Lestrange didn't want her help, anyway. She didn't even think Luna was real.

Well, Luna mused, as she strolled through a field of lollipops—some so tall that they reached her knees—she supposed she couldn't really blame her for that. Most people thought dreams and everything in them was nonsensical and meaningless… even if she knew better.

Luna was currently having a very pleasant dream in a forest made of candy, wearing a bright pink, poufy dress, because it just seemed like a pink sort of day. The lollipops which sprouted from the ground like flowers at her feet shone in the sunlight as though they were made of glass. She found herself a moderately sized one and plucked it from the ground. A pink one, of course.

"I don't want to go back, I can't…"

Now that was odd. Luna rubbed her ears, sure she was mishearing the familiar voice.

"No, no, no…"

She wasn't.

Luna braced herself. It must be bad, if someone like Professor Snape was desperate enough in his subconscious that she could hear it. She followed his voice, quickly grabbing another lollipop on her way.

Luna found him in a dark corner. Snape's nightmare was a sinister cloud of blackness, the trees surrounding him reminding her of the Forbidden Forest. He was sitting with his head between his knees, clutching at his forearm like he was in great pain.

"Professor?"

His face snapped up to hers, ashen and panicked-looking. It was nothing like any expression she'd ever seen on Snape in the waking world.

He didn't say anything—just stared at Luna Lovegood in her bright pink dress like she was an apparition. Which she supposed she was, to him.

"Are you all right, sir?" Luna sauntered over to him, sitting beside him and smoothing the fabric of her dress out as she did. She looked up at her Potions Professor with wide, expectant eyes.

Snape continued to stare blankly. "…I should not consume alcohol before bed," he said at length.

"Probably not. What's on your mind, sir? You look troubled."

He was silent for a long while. Luna said nothing else, just waited patiently. If he wanted to talk about it, he would.

"…He will be back, soon."

Snape's voice was barely a whisper. Luna listened intently. "He will be back, and… And I don't want to do it. I can't do it again…"

He looked at Luna, anxiety carved into his every feature. "I will be told to go back to him, and I cannot do it… I know it is the right thing, the only thing to do… What she would want me to do… But I fear I-I am not strong enough…"

Luna had no idea what he was talking about, but she knew that asking for details probably wasn't wise. "Well, I think you are very strong, sir. And I know that you'll do the right thing, no matter how hard it is." She smiled brightly. "Here, have a lolly."

Snape slowly and apprehensively took the lollipop she offered to him—pink, of course. It was a pink sort of day.

He didn't eat it, just stared at it, his expression vacant. Luna started humming to break the tense and heavy silence.

"…Thank you," Snape finally said after a time.

"You're welcome, sir."

Snape shook his head. "This is the strangest dream I've ever had… What a miserable week," he murmured. Then, after a thoughtful pause he frowned, adding:

"Potter stole my gillyweed."

Luna patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Of course he did, sir... Of course he did."

Somehow, this actually seemed to make Snape feel much better. He even began enjoying his lollipop.

Luna started humming again, and the rest of the dream passed peacefully.

"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy…"

Luna bristled.

It was the end of May, and she had not had her dreams interrupted by another's lamentations since she'd found Professor Snape in a forest weeks ago.

The other side of consciousness was stressful as exams loomed ever closer, and she, as a third year, was trying to decide whether or not she should continue with three electives or whittle it down to two. She was already taking Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, and Ancient Runes, and found the amount of homework a bit much. Luna knew it would be best to drop one, but which subject?

The conflict was affecting her on a subconscious level. Luna dreamt she was in a desert working on an excavation, only the sand was purple and the artifacts they unearthed were all covered in runes she couldn't read, no matter how she tried.

"I'm not crazy, I'm not…"

The familiar mantra ruined what little concentration she had. Luna clutched the stone tablet she was trying and failing to decipher to her chest, frowning.

She knew she should ignore it.

"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy…"

…But, yet again, she could not.

Luna sighed and followed the murmurings of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You're doing that to yourself, you know."

The dark witch was still locked in her cell, though she was no longer chained. Instead of needing to fly to her window, this time Luna's sandy world had morphed around her, bricks constructing themselves into a hall and leading her directly into the dark prison of Bellatrix's nightmare.

Azkaban. Luna was standing right outside of Bellatrix's cell.

The Death Eater ceased in her muttering, turning and glaring at Luna when she arrived. "Why look, it's my little moon child again," she drawled.

"It's Luna. And yes. Hello," Luna said, waving.

Bellatrix scowled. Her heavily hooded eyes flickered down Luna's body, and her distasteful expression grew more pronounced. "What are you wearing? And why are you covered in… purple dust?"

"Oh… It's a jumper. I was working on an excavation in a purple desert. See? I found this stone slab just a moment ago." Luna held up the tablet she'd unearthed. "Only I have no idea what it says."

"Let me see it."

Luna held it up to the bars where Bellatrix examined it, her dark eyes scanning the surface thoughtfully.

"…In iron bars, light can be found on the outside…and through her, salvation."

Bellatrix stared up at Luna for a time, silent.

Then she started laughed raucously. "Her? Her, as in you?" she shouted, incredulous. "Are you my light, Luna? Are you going to be my salvation?" She threw her head back and laughed some more.

"I don't know… Is that really what it says?" Luna looked down at the tablet again. To her, it still looked like meaningless squiggles and lines.

Bellatrix didn't answer her question, but she did stop laughing. "Let me out of this cell, Luna."

"Let yourself out," Luna responded coolly.

"How?" Bellatrix gripped the bars, her expression suddenly pleading and a bit crazed. "Tell me how. I need to get out of here, even if it's only in a god damn dream. I need to."

"You… You just have to believe you can," Luna explained, wary. "This is your dream. You can leave, if you want."

"No, I can't. I've tried a thousand times. You think I would still be in this fucking cell if I could just leave?"

Luna bit her lower lip, thinking. "I… I can bring you into my dream, maybe," she said slowly. "I've never pulled someone into my own dream before, I've always just stumbled into theirs… But I could try."

"Yes," Bellatrix agreed at once. "I have no idea what you're talking about, you crazy, imaginary thing, but yes. Do it. Try. Anything." She stuck her hand through the bars of her cell, reaching for Luna with a frantic look in her eyes.

"…Please."

Luna dropped the stone tablet to the floor, where it broke apart with a resounding thud. She wasn't sure exactly what she was doing, but then again, Luna rarely did.

She took Bellatrix's hand, and the prison walls fell apart.

There was a moment of suspension.

With Bellatrix's hand in hers, the two witches remained in place, hovering as the bricks of Azkaban's floors and walls dissolved like they had suddenly become dust, blowing away in a warm, summery wind. The metal bars between them evaporated. The gray of the sky was wiped clean by a bright and cerulean blue, and when their feet touched down again, it was a gentle landing on soft sand.

Purple sand. Luna beamed at her success. "I did it," she proclaimed happily. When she looked to the witch at her side, their hands still clasped, it was an oddly surreal sight.

Bellatrix Lestrange looked very out of place in Luna Lovegood's dreams.

Her eyes were huge, staring in disbelief at this colorful landscape like she found the whimsy and cheerfulness blinding. Luna could hardly blame her reaction. After spending so much time—both subconsciously and literally—in a world of bleakness, Luna's dreams must have been quite a shock to her senses.

Luna let go of her hand. Bellatrix dazedly started walked forward, her gaze full of wonder. She lifted her arms, the prison garb like a sack revealing her skinny legs when she did. She then tilted her head back and closed her eyes, basking in the sunlight of Luna's dream like she was experiencing something holy.

Bellatrix started laughing. It was not the manic cackle which she'd made before, but a genuine laugh, a happy one. She started spinning, too, twirling in circles and laughing and well, Luna couldn't help but laugh as well.

The second she did, Bellatrix froze, grinning widely as she looked at Luna with a sparkle in her eyes that had been wholly absent in her nightmare. "Moon child!" she shouted, jubilant. "My miraculous Luna!"

Then, in a motion that stunned Luna more than she could have ever anticipated, Bellatrix swooped down and hugged her, laughing over her shoulder.

Even more shocking was how Bellatrix Lestrange, the most dangerous witch of all time, did not simply embrace her, but continued to hold her afterwards, painfully tight. Luna froze at the unexpected gesture, her muscles tensing.

Bellatrix didn't seem to notice. "Oh, it has been so long since I've felt sunshine, or touched another person…" she murmured.

Even though showing physical affection to such a bloodthirsty person was easily the scariest thing she had ever done, Luna steeled herself and returned the embrace. Obviously, this—human contact—was very, very important to her.

Bellatrix melted into her arms when she did. She started running her fingers through her hair and rubbing her back, like she just couldn't get close enough.

Luna said nothing, but allowed her to carry on for some time. Bellatrix eventually released her, though she only seemed to do it so that she could grab Luna's face and stare at her, examining her every feature like she held a miracle in her hands.

Again, Luna said nothing. Even for a dream, this was unsettling. Bellatrix's face was inches from her own. Dark, heavily hooded eyes bored into her own, the woman's pale skin, full lips, and hallowed cheeks making her an emaciated beauty.

"I don't know what flavor of fucked up I must be, to have invented you as a coping mechanism, moon child," she murmured, gently dragging her long nails over Luna's scalp and through her hair. "But I am certainly grateful that I have."

Luna balked. "Coping mechanism? You think I'm just a coping mechanism…?"

Bellatrix laughed again, only much more gently. It softened her intense features, and for a moment, it was easy to imagine that this was not a Death Eater cradling her face. "What else would you be? You're my antithesis. Sweet, young, and so innocent that it makes my teeth hurt. And you call yourself Luna."

For some reason, this baffled Luna most of all. "Is that meaningful? My name?"

Bellatrix's smile faltered. She looked pensive for only a few seconds, though, and then she was grinning wider than ever. "So many questions, coming from my imagination. You really are just one giant, sub-conscious attempt at personal reflection, aren't you?"

Luna considered this predicament.

She could stand here and try and convince Bellatrix Lestrange that she was real… but then what? If the imprisoned witch knew that she was contacting a real, living person, what might she do, how might she react? What if she tried to persuade—or somehow force—Luna to try and set her free, or carry out some other horrible task?

She swallowed thickly, realizing what task Bellatrix Lestrange may have in mind.

Luna quickly decided. It would be much, much safer and easier to allow Bellatrix to think that she was right—that Luna was not real. "…Perhaps a little personal reflection is what you need," she answered serenely.

Then, to act the part more convincingly, Luna reached up and touched Bellatrix's face, resting her palm on her hallowed cheek and smiling.

"The moon," Bellatrix replied, "always fascinated me when I was little. The way it changed throughout the month, the fact that it had an entire side of itself which it kept shrouded in darkness. How on some nights it was huge and red, while on others it was a bright, white dot in the sky…"

She paused, looking wistful. "The Blacks are traditionally named after stars. I remember being jealous, when my idiot cousin was born, because his parents had named him Sirius. The brightest star in the sky! While mine, Bellatrix, is the twenty-fifth. It's not even the brightest in its constellation.

I thought this mattered, in my youth. I always wished I had been named after something more impressive, like the moon. Just like I always wished I'd had my sister's blonde hair and light eyes." She laughed again. "And here you are, just like that. All the things I used to wish I had."

"…Used to?"

"Yes. Used to. I came to appreciate my darker aspects, in time."

She grinned wolfishly at that, making Luna's skin crawl.

Bellatrix didn't seem to pick on her uneasiness. She turned her attention towards the violet sands, frowning. "Just where the bloody hell are we?"

"I told you. I was in the middle of an excavation, before. Oh! My tablet—I believe I left it behind in your nightmare… shame."

Bellatrix glanced back at Luna's attire distastefully—a dusty jumper—before looking critically at her own. "I'm not exactly dressed for excavating," she growled.

"Well, that's a simple enough fix," Luna said, shrugging. Bellatrix raised her brows at her. "What? It is. We're in a dream, Miss Lestrange. My dream. Anything is possible."

Bellatrix snorted, like every word Luna had just said was deeply amusing to her. "Please," she drawled, patting Luna on the head like a pet. "Call me Bella."

"O…Okay. Bella," Luna said, trying to hide how very strange and nervous this made her feel. "I mean it, though. In a dream, you can wear whatever you want, be wherever you want. I'm fairly good at it."

"Is that right?" Bellatrix's eyes were positively smoldering now, burning with intrigue.

Luna wondered just what she had gotten herself into.

"All right, then," Bellatrix purred. She put her arms out and swayed her hips to one side, striking a pose that looked oddly regal, considering she was wearing what was essentially a burlap sack.

"Take me to a palace where the decadence is so overwhelming that I choke on it. I want to go to a party, I want to dance. I want wear so much jewelry I sparkle and heels so tall I can barely fucking walk. I want to wear a gown."

Bellatrix looked at Luna expectantly, excitement radiating around her like a living entity.

Luna took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She felt overwhelmed at so many specific requests. Before she could begin to even try and comply, however, Bellatrix interrupted her. "Oh, moon child?"

Luna looked up, anxious.

"Make it black."

For months, they dreamt together.

Maybe it was because Luna was getting better at lucid dreaming all the time, or maybe it was something about Bellatrix in particular that was easy to find. For whatever reason, Luna had no problem hearing the beckoning of Bellatrix Lestrange when she fell into slumber.

The dark witch's summons were the same as they'd always been.

"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy…"

Luna would hear the continuous lament of Bellatrix Lestrange, and that was always how she would find her—alone in her cell, imprisoned, afraid. Luna would walk right into the nightmare of Azkaban, shatter the bars, and take her away.

To ice crystal palaces made entirely of glass; to multi-colored, impossible rainforests with canopies like kaleidoscopes and creatures that made no sense whatsoever, even by wizarding standards. To rivers where the water ran gold and they would ride in a gondola beneath a picturesque sunset; to cities with buildings made of gemstones that would put London on its finest day to absolute shame. Luna would conjure up any manner of colorful, beautiful places, always trying to create something that would make Bellatrix Lestrange forget the bleakness of her reality, if only in her dreams.

The oddest part of it all was that Luna dearly enjoyed her company.

Luna was certain that Bellatrix only behaved the way that she did because she was dreaming. In Luna's experience, people always acted a bit oddly in their dreams, probably because their subconscious minds were a bit more open than their cognizant ones.

That, and Bellatrix still very clearly believed Luna to be a figment of her imagination.

Which suited Luna just fine, really. It made their conversations much easier. Because Bellatrix did not think Luna real, she never asked her difficult or personal questions about her life.

So, they talked about Bellatrix. And Bellatrix, as it transpired, adored talking about herself… when she thought she was speaking to her blonde-haired, girlish sub-conscious, as least.

"What's your favorite childhood memory?" Luna had asked once, as they'd reclined in the branches of a magnolia tree whose blossoms bloomed silver. Luna had been clad in a silver sundress to match for the occasion, while Bellatrix, as usual, requested black.

Luna was always very careful to not ask dangerous questions.

"My favorite childhood memory…" Bellatrix had murmured. Luna began weaving them flower crowns from silver blossoms. "I would have to say it was when I was sorted into Slytherin. That damn hat actually had the audacity to consider making me a Gryffindor for a moment."

"What? Really?"

"I know, can you believe that? Said I had a bold, fiery personality, that was I was very brave… Gryffindor could be good for you, you could thrive there, you know…" Bellatrix had scoffed afterwards, her imitation of the Sorting House's voice impressively on point. Luna had giggled.

"The hat considered placing me in Gryffindor as well," Luna had replied, placing the delicately wrought tiara in Bellatrix's hair. Bellatrix had let her, leaning down through the branches so that Luna could crown her more easily. She'd looked like a Queen from a fairy tale.

"Well of course it did, my moon child, you are my own," she'd said, smiling. "Is this a diadem, then? Would I have made a better Ravenclaw?"

"No, Bella, I don't think so," Luna had answered. She'd made herself a crown, too, and wore it like a princess. "Just me."

Bellatrix usually didn't question her odder statements, and had just hugged her and told her she was precious, instead.

She was always very touchy, desperately so. Bellatrix embraced and cradled and held Luna's hands like her touch gave her life, and Luna would be lying if she said the affections didn't make her heart flutter.

One night, after months of uninterrupted, lovely dreams with her dark witch, Luna heard the distraught cries of someone else. She had just slipped into a subconscious, mental landscape of an emerald beach with fiery orange water when she heard them—both loud, both desperate.

"I'm trapped, I'm trapped—help me, help—"

"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy…"

There were two suffering souls calling to her, tonight.

Luna frowned.

To go to Bellatrix right away, as she always had? Or to follow the sounds of someone else? A man, it sounded like…

It wouldn't be fair, to ignore everyone else in favor of Bellatrix, Luna decided. She would see who this person was, help them as best she could, and then, if there was time, go to Bella.

Bella. Luna's lips twitched at the realization that she had been calling her Bella for a very long time, now. And how nice did those two names sound together? Bella and Luna…

Brushing the strange, fuzzy feelings and that thought aside, Luna allowed the man's voice to lead her into his nightmare.

It was a house; a large, rather expensive house, Luna noted, taking in the surroundings which formed themselves around her. A manor, perhaps, like the ones her father told her that many of the older, rich, pureblood families lived in.

It was dark.

"Please, let me go, let me leave…"

Luna found him on the floor.

An older man in the fetal position, his forehead pressed to his knees and visibly shaking. He wasn't just pleading, he was crying.

"Are you all right, sir?" Luna asked, approaching with caution.

The man started violently, twisting on the ground at the sound of her voice. He looked up at her with a tear-stained, blotchy face, and Luna gasped at who it was.

Mr. Crouch? The man who was helping with the Triwizard tournament with Ludo Bagman, until he had stopped coming… Fallen ill, they'd said, and the Weasley boy was there in his stead…

Barty Crouch Sr. certainly did not look well in his dream.

"Help me!" he gasped, crawling on his hands and knees towards Luna. "Please, you've got to h-help me—he's in my mind—he's in my mind—"

He was raving; eyes wild, tears streaming, spit flying from his mouth as he shouted. He reached for Luna and grabbed her about the ankle, shaking her legs. "Please help me! He's holding me captive in my own h-home! Help me escape!"

"Who's holding you captive in your own home?" Luna asked. She looked around, and she did not see anyone else. Then again, this was a dream. Was his reality, like Bellatrix's, similar?

"Him!" Crouch cried, like that alone made it obvious. He looked absolutely horrified. "Him and Wormtail!"

He's mad, Luna thought, looking down at the deranged wizard at her feet. A pronoun was not a name, and Wormtail? What in the world was a Wormtail? Crouch must have been very sick, indeed.

But she saw no harm in giving him what he asked for in his dreams. "Okay, sir," she said placatingly, and his grip on her ankle loosened. "I'm going to help you. I'm going to help you get out. Okay?"

"R-really?"

Luna nodded, smiling as he wiped his face. It was very unsettling, to see what she recalled as a very poised, proud man reduced to a sniveling mess on the floor. "Yes. Come with me."

Luna pulled him to his feet and kept ahold of his hand. Slowly, she led him to the front door, which easily opened at her touch. A large yard which looked like it was not being properly care for stretched out before them, and woods in the distance. "See?" she said, pointing outside. "It's that easy. You just open the door and go."

His face went slack. He looked at Luna, then outside, then back to Luna again. He stared at her face for a long moment, and there was something very, very off about him, Luna could tell.

Mr. Crouch was not just sick.

He ran.

He took off so suddenly that Luna squealed in surprise, rushing away from the nightmare of his house, his supposed imprisonment. Luna shrugged, and watched him go, unsure of how to feel about that interaction.

She hoped he found his way to somewhere better. Clearly, based on the way he had just sprinted, with such swiftness and purpose, he had some place in mind.

"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy…"

Luna smiled as she turned from one nightmare to another.

She, too, had somewhere else, somewhere better, she'd like to be.