Acquiring
When first placed in their hosts, the elements are not claimed. The master must find them, and bring them under control. The latter is easy. Simply look into their eyes and say “I claim what is mine by right, by power, and by deed.” These are the words that prove you are the master. They must be said to each of your elements.
After they have been claimed, they belong to the Master. They cannot act against the Master. They cannot harm the Master.
Sabriel Slytherin 114
~~~
Other than Air, Water is often the first to be found. As it always resides in a seer of some power, I believe they can see the futility of resistance. When one sees the inevitable, and knows there is no way around it, they are more likely to give in.
Make no mistake, though. While Water is the only one of the unaffiliated who will seek the Master out, they are not timid. They are still an elemental host, and Water can be as deadly, and as destructive, as any other.
Do not underestimate them because they surrender.
Despite your need to search for them, it is likely the elements will all be found within months of the ritual. It is difficult to hide the instinctive power that resides within the host. If the Master is observant in his search, he will have no trouble finding all but the most difficult of his elements.
The longest wait was Samuel Slytherin, who hunted his Fire for three months before finally claiming him. Be patient. The elements belong to the master. They cannot avoid you long.
Salazar Slytherin, 991
~~~
My Nature took eight months to acquire. I have never met a woman as obstinate as she is. She’s constantly fighting me, my orders, my objectives. Any option she has to work against me, she takes.
Within minutes of meeting the others, she established her dominance, something I had never before seen a woman manage over a man. If they don’t have my orders to obey, they follow hers.
A warning to the future Masters: Find the hosts quickly. The longer it takes, the more rebellious the host becomes.
Selwyn Slytherin, 1218
~*~*~*~
July 5, Friday
For the last week, his Death Eaters had been scouring the country, hunting the elemental hosts for him since it was better if Voldemort remained unseen. Though they were under orders not to harm the hosts, no matter where they were found, or who they inhabited, they had thus far been unsuccessful in finding any of them. Voldemort was losing what little patience he had left.
Nothing he’d found had told him the minimum time he’d find an element. Average was between three and five months for all of them to come under his control, but that didn’t tell him whether this first element was taking longer than it should.
Everyone had made it sound as though days after the ritual, Water would waltz right up to him without a single complaint. Barring that, surely Air should have come forward by now. He’d made it clear to each of his servants that the elements would enjoy a position no one else could hope to achieve.
Someone apparated into the other room, drawing him from his thoughts. Voldemort turned, wondering what disappointing news they had to offer him this time.
Lucius swept through the door, his child behind him. The young Malfoy froze in the doorway, staring at Voldemort’s visage. He smirked to himself, knowing he was terrifying to behold.
“My Lord,” Lucius brought his attention back to him. “My Lord, I bring good news.”
“About what, Lucius?” Voldemort demanded. “About my elements, perhaps? Or do you plan on giving me something inconsequential to make up for your incompetence?”
Lucius paused. “It's an element, my Lord,” he said.
Twisting in place, he motioned the younger Malfoy closer. Voldemort's eyes narrowed. Surely Lucius knew he'd be able to tell if his child was a fake.
“Show him your wrist, Draco.”
Swallow, the younger Malfoy pulled up the sleeve covering his right wrist. He then arched the hand backwards, lowering the arm just enough to allow Voldemort to see the marking on his fair skin.
He stepped forward, one long-fingered hand wrapping around the forearm just below the glittering white mark, barely visible against his already pale skin. The upright triangle with a single horizontal line through the tip. Drawing the boy closer - ignoring the way he tensed further- he ran a finger over the marking. There wasn't anything raised. The mark hadn't been inked into Draco's flesh.
The real proof wasn't that. It wasn't the way the mark of air seemed part of the skin. It was the rush of power that rose from it through Voldemort. It was the only way to verify a true host.
Depending on the element, the feel would be different, but each was distinct, and it couldn't be fake. But, Draco was a child. The elements were supposed to choose adults.
“How old are you, Draco?” he asked, wondering if, perhaps, he was misremembering the boy’s age.
But no, he distinctly remembered the younger Malfoy in Potter’s class, back during their first year. Which would make him 14.
“15, my lord,” Draco answered. “My birthday was last month.”
15 was not an adult. 15 was barely into their adolescence. 15 wasn't fully developed into who they would eventually become. Regardless, Air had chosen this one. The why and the how didn't matter in the long run.
“Well, Draco,” Voldemort told him, “Congratulations. we have much to prepare for.”
“Like what, my lord?”
“First, we must find the others,” he looked to Lucius as he spoke.
“Of course, my lord,” Lucius bowed, but didn’t move.
Voldemort stared at him. Lucius hesitated.
“Shall I take my son?”
“No. Draco will be staying here for the summer. As I said, we have much to prepare for.”
Another hesitation. Lucius glanced between Voldemort and Draco, worry in those pale eyes. Finally, he bowed again.
“As you wish, my lord. My wife is planning a party for Draco next weekend. May he return for it?”
“Of course. I’ll not keep him from his parents.”
Lucius seemed to relax at the pronouncement. He shouldn’t have. Voldemort would have liked nothing more than to sequester them all away until they were all properly bonded. Unfortunately, all the journals he’d read said his hosts needed to be happy, satisfied, and content. He supposed that meant Draco needed his parents on occasion.
Hopefully, the others would be older and wouldn’t require that.
“I’ll let Narcissa know, my lord,” Lucius said, backing away.
“Father?” Draco’s voice rose, sounding panicked.
There was a tenseness around the boy’s eyes. Was it fear, or pain? Unclaimed, Air’s host had little control, and could hear the faintest sounds miles away. From what he understood, it wasn’t an ability that was always active, but when it was, it was quite painful as it sounded like someone was shouting against the host’s ear.
It was something the boy could learn to do at will, but the volume would be controlled. But, that would take time.
“I’ll see you soon, Draco,” Lucius told him.
The young Slytherin watched his father leave without another word. Voldemort watched his air element, practically giddy at the acquisition of one of them. The others would come soon, he knew. Now that the ritual had proven itself, Water would find him. Using their abilities, he’d have no trouble locating the others. He should have them all before the month was over.
A ‘pop’ signaled Lucius’ departure. Draco continued to stare after his father a moment longer. As the boy turned back to Voldemort, he took in the boy. Draco Malfoy was growing into an exceptional young man. In looks, anyway. He’d yet to see anything that suggested he was more than the spoiled, whiny, first year he remembered. Time would tell if he had changed.
If he hadn’t, Voldemort would change that soon enough. He might not have a choice as to who became a host, but he refused to allow that host to be weak. Whether he wanted to or not, Draco would learn to be strong.
First, he’d have to properly claim the boy.
Looking into those pale eyes, Voldemort said the words which would make Draco his.
“I claim what is mine by right, by power, and by deed.”
A white light appeared around the mark, quickly spreading up Draco’s arm. The blond inhaled sharply, his arm yanking back, as though to pull away from Voldemort, but the dark lord’s grip simply tightened until he settled.
The boy’s breathing quickened as the glow spread, covering the entirety of his body. Then, all at once, it vanished. Glancing down, Voldemort saw that two wavy lines had been added to the inside of the triangle, a symbol of the host and element being bonded, not just to each other, but to the master who’d summoned it.
Voldemort finally released his hold on Draco’s arm. The blond pulled away, unable to hide his relief from Voldemort’s experienced eyes. Yes, the boy would need training.
“Come along, Draco,” Voldemort said. “I’ll show you to your room.”
His muggle father’s home was a disgrace. It was no place for a wizard of his ancestry to be, but until he was ready to reveal himself, it was the only place nobody would look for him. However, if he was going to collect the hosts, everyone would need a better place than this rundown manor.
Sweeping past Draco, Voldemort went upstairs. He heard the blond following behind. He doubted his obedient air would like his accommodations, but knew there would be no complaints about them. Draco was not his rebellious element.
Draco’s room was the first door on the second landing. Pushing it open, he entered. Dust coated the room. A quick wave of his wand cleared it from the air, the room, and neither wizard had to breathe it in as they stood in the entryway.
Draco stopped beside him, staring around the room in silent horror. But, as he’d expected, the boy didn’t utter a single word of complaint.
“Thank you, my lord,” Draco choked out. “It’s lovely.”
Voldemort smirked. “I’m glad you like it. You’re allowed to go anywhere on the grounds you wish, but don’t leave them without permission.”
“I understand.”
~*~*~*~
July 8, Monday
Voldemort had seen little of his element the last three days. Draco had been busy reorganizing and redecorating his room. His mother had arrived less than 24 hours after Lucius had left. Several trips had given the elemental everything he needed to make the bedroom a comfortable place to stay.
Because Draco couldn’t use magic outside of Hogwarts, Narcissa had helped him. She’d also had dinner delivered each night she’d been present. Whatever she thought of her only son being with him, she obviously believed he wouldn’t properly feed the boy.
Her presence at dinner had kept them from being a silent affair, but it hadn't happened in such a way that angered him. Narcissa was many things. Among them, she was an exceptional hostess.
Now, with Draco’s room finished, and Narcissa’s attention elsewhere, tonight’s dinner was a silent affair. Draco hunched over his plate, taking careful bites across from him, and never once looking up in Voldemort’s direction.
Memories of the journals ran through his head. Certain factors contributed to strong elements. If he wanted Draco to be strong, he would have to do something outside his norm.
“Your mother has excellent taste, Draco.”
The blond jerked upright, blinking at him with wide eyes.
“Thank you, my lord,” Draco answered, tone shaky, though strong enough. “She’s decorated Malfoy Manor as well.”
He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I trust you’re now pleased with your room?”
It took more effort than he thought it might to make it a question rather than a statement.
The blond blinked once more, then nodded. “Yes, my lord. Not that it wasn’t fine before,” he stuttered out. “Mother simply brought a bit of home to it.”
Voldemort waved aside his worry, unconcerned. “The manor has been unused for years,” he said. “No doubt your mother was horrified at how out of date everything was, hmm?”
Draco hesitated again. “She’s too polite to have said anything about it.”
“I’m sure she is.”
“My lord …” Draco trailed off, uncertainty clear.
“Yes, Draco?”
“You mentioned that we had things to do. I was …”
“You were wondering what we had to do, and how you can help the cause.”
Draco nodded. Leaning forward, Voldemort laid his hands along the top of the table. His element froze, pinned in place by Voldemort’s penetrating gaze.
“What did Lucius tell you?”
“Only that you were looking for me,” Draco answered. “And that I had to come meet you immediately.”
Voldemort nodded. Good.
None of them were supposed to say anything, lest their enemies find out what they were looking for. Their job was to find his elements and bring them to him, unharmed. It was up to him to tell them what was going on, and what it meant for them.
“You have the elemental power of Air within you, Draco,” Voldemort said. “You are one of four hosts, one for each element, and they all - you all,” he corrected, “belong to me.”
“Belong to you?” Draco asked. “I don’t understand.”
“I don’t expect you to,” Voldemort answered. “It’s through me you have your new abilities. Your loyalty to me determines your ability.”
Which wasn’t technically a lie. It wasn’t a complete truth, but Draco didn’t need to know everything. None of them did.
“What we’ll be doing is training your ability. We need to know what you can do before you’re of any use.”
“Am I to assume I’ll be helping you achieve our goals?” Draco asked, looking equal parts excited and nervous.
Voldemort nodded. “Once you’re trained, you will hold a position with the ranks above any of my death eaters.”
His rank within the elements would be determined by Draco. Not even Voldemort could change that. The most dominant element became the leader, and the others all had some sort of status amongst themselves. None of the journals had gone into what that meant, apparently deciding it wasn’t important, or was unnecessary for the future generations to know.
Voldemort was under no illusions about Draco, but he also knew he couldn’t write him off. He needed to put as much effort into his Air as he would with all the others. A petulant element was a disaster, or so he’d read.
“When do we get started, my lord?” Draco asked, for once looking excited about what was to come.
Voldemort leaned back in his seat, satisfied.
“We’ll start tomorrow,” he said. “For tonight, your job is to get plenty of rest. It will be a long day tomorrow. You’ll need all your energy.”
“Yes, my lord.”
~*~*~*~
July 12, Friday
Some things came to Draco easily. Already, he was able to levitate himself off the ground several inches. Though he was unable to move while he did it, the boy was sure he’d be able to do it soon enough. There were some uses for flight - though there were spells which could do it - but it wasn’t as useful as Air’s other abilities.
Draco had yet to be able to make the wind move with any conscious thought. Once, when the boy had almost fallen, a gust of wind had whipped in out of nowhere to stop the fall. He’d yet to do anything else.
He’d considered, briefly, forbidding Draco from going to the party, as punishment for not accomplishing more. Instead, he’d decided to call it a reward for what he had accomplished, and incentive to work harder.
Voldemort was a harsh taskmaster. He expected Draco to understand what needed to be done, and to be able to do it. Draco, it turned out, needed more than the explanations Voldemort was giving.
We still have time.
A knock on the door drew his attention. For a moment, he simply blinked, sure he’d imagined the noise. Riddle Manor didn’t get visitors. Certainly not anyone who’d feel they had to knock. All his Death Eaters apparated in, knowing better than to draw attention to the ‘abandoned’ building.
Shaking his head, he pushed the noise from his mind and went to find Draco. The boy would have to leave soon if he was to make the party. Voldemort, not wanting to deal with a petulant child, was allowing him to stay the night with his parents.
The knock sounded again. Louder. More insistent. Coming from the front door.
Voldemort turned in place, his wand appearing in his hand. He stalked toward the door. Whatever muggle had dared venture here would pay with their life, after learning why one did not bother Lord Voldemort.
Throwing open the door, he pointed his wand in the face of the stranger before he bothered looking. It wasn’t a muggle. The man before him - staring at him with wide eyes, and barely breathing - was wearing the oddest robes Voldemort had ever seen. White blond hair fell over his shoulders, but was not as well-kept as Lucius liked to keep his.
“Lord Voldemort?”
The voice did not come from the man at the end of his wand, but just behind him. Glancing over, Voldemort saw a girl, the man’s child based on her looks.
“Killing my father would be a bad beginning to our contract, don’t you think?” the child asked, blinking up at him without a hint of fear.
With a sinking feeling, Voldemort withdrew his wand. He could always use it if he turned out to be wrong, but something about the girl told him he should tread carefully. It wasn’t a feeling he was accustomed to. Especially not from some slip of a girl barely into adolescence.
“And what contract would that be?”
Her answer was wordless. In one fluid motion, the girl pulled back the sleeve on her right arm and lifted it so he could see the glittering blue mark on the underside of her wrist. Stepping forward, Voldemort pushed the man out of his way. He stumbled in his haste to get out of Voldemort’s way, but didn’t complain.
The girl didn’t move as Voldemort took her arm for closer inspection. Water’s symbol, the upside down triangle, stood out against her skin. For a moment, as Voldemort ran a thumb over the mark, he felt submerged in warm, gentle water. He closed his eyes, breathing through the sensation until it passed.
When it did, he opened his eyes to stare into her pale ones.
“I claim what is mine by right, by power, and by deed,” Voldemort intoned. The mark on her wrist lit up, spreading up her arm.
“Hey, now,” the man broke in. “What’s going on?”
“It’s alright, Father,” the girl answered, staring at the spreading light as fearlessly as she’d gazed at Voldemort.
Voldemort watched as her eyes closed, seeming at complete peace with the proceedings as the glow covered her completely. As it faded, he glanced down at the once empty triangle. Now, a single drop of water had joined the design. Proof she was claimed.
“Who are you?” Voldemort demanded.
“Luna Lovegood,” she answered, without hesitation. “I’m 14. This is my father, Xenophilius.”
- 14. Another child.
“200 years ago, I’d have been married,” Luna said.
Voldemort blinked at her, wondering at the sudden comment. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re wondering why I’m so young.” Her head tilted to the side. “I can see it in your eyes. You should know that at the time this spell was created, women my age often had multiple children.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Every drop of water in the world has been around for time beyond counting, and will be until the end of time. If I concentrate, I can almost see it.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, as though attempting to do just that.
“The other two will be at Hogwarts.” Her eyes opened once more, gazing up at Voldemort with those eerie eyes of hers. “We’ll need to go there if you wish to find them.”
Voldemort actually smirked. “It will be difficult to get me back in there, child.”
She shook her head. “Not you. Air and me. If we don’t go, you’ll never find all of us in time.”
“And if you go, I will?” Voldemort arched a nonexistent eyebrow at the girl.
“Your chances are better,” she said.
Voldemort pulled back, finally releasing the girl. Her father immediately pulled her close. Luna curled into him, accepting the comfort the man offered for all she still didn’t seem to feel any fear.
“You’ll stay here for the summer,” Voldemort told her.
The man tensed despite Voldemort’s unrelenting gaze. Luna’s light touch interrupted the protest.
“I expected as much,” Luna said. Tilting her head upward, she looked at her father. “I’ve packed some bags, Father. Would you bring them to me?”
Xenophilius glanced between her and Voldemort. “Of course, Luna. Is there anything else you want?”
“No. I’ll be back for a visit in August.” She glanced up at Voldemort. “I expect I’ll have earned a reward by then.”
Somehow, Voldemort didn’t think it was avoidable. The girl was odd. He wondered if all Waters were, or if it was just this one. While not sure which he preferred, he knew training this one would be interesting.
“You can leave now,” he told Xenophilius. “Don’t return until tomorrow. We’re going to be busy today.”
With a glance toward his daughter, Xenophilius nodded.
“It’s alright, Father. He won’t hurt me. I’ll be quite safe.” Having said her piece, she stepped forward, entering the manor as soon as Voldemort allowed it.
“Love you, Papa.”
“Love you too.”
Voldemort closed the door. When he turned to face Luna, he found her staring back. Watching her, he wasn’t sure if she was looking at him, or something else. It was unnerving, and Voldemort wasn’t used to being unnerved by anyone. He made people nervous. Others didn’t have that effect on him.
“You knew you were going to stay.”
It wasn’t a question, but Luna nodded anyway.
“Why didn’t you bring your things with you?”
“Father wouldn’t have brought me if he knew I wouldn’t be back,” she answered. “Besides, father isn’t one of yours. Tomorrow might be the last time I see him for a month. Getting my together will help calm him.”
Voldemort’s finger ran over his wand. “How long have you known you would come to me?”
For the first time, the girl smiled. It was a small, enigmatic one that hid more than it revealed.
“Almost from the beginning,” she admitted.
“Why didn’t you come sooner?”
She shrugged, her shoulders barely moving with the action. “I wanted to spend time with my father. Finding me might have been inevitable, but it was my choice to come here now.”
This was not a timid host. Staring at her, Voldemort was reminded of a single entry from the 100’s.
Most often, Water is obedient. Do not mistake that for tame or submissive. They come because running is pointless. This doesn’t mean they aren’t rebellious. Watch them in the beginning. Eventually, they will reveal themselves.
Luna had just revealed herself.
“May I see my room now?”
“Of course. I’m afraid you’ll not be able to settle in until later. We have much to do to catch you up to Draco’s progress.”
She smiled again. “I expected as much.”
As they approached the stairs, Draco came hurrying down, dressed in the pale blue dress robes his mother had bought him for the party. Upon seeing him, Draco bowed.
“Lord Voldemort. Father will be here momentarily. Is there anything you need from me before I leave?”
“Draco, this is Luna, Water’s host.”
Draco turned to his fellow elemental, a frown appearing on his lips and brow. “I know you.”
Luna nodded. “Some do. We’ve never actually met.”
Draco’s eyes turned back to Voldemort, seeming to dismiss the girl. “Is she staying here too, my lord?”
“Yes. I’ll need to catch her up before we can continue, Draco.”
The blond’s frown deepened. “You won’t need me for the weekend then?”
“Unfortunately not. If you wish to stay with your parents, I will not object.”
Draco gave a slow nod. “When do you want me back?”
Voldemort paused, considering. “Tuesday, at the latest.”
They hadn’t gotten particularly far in his training, so a few days would be all he needed to get the girl caught up. And, it turned out, it was the right thing to say as Draco brightened considerably.
“I’ll see you Tuesday then.”
Voldemort nodded. “Have fun, Draco.”
“I will, my lord.”
As Voldemort swept up the stairs, he grimaced at the necessity of being nice . It wasn’t something done unless he absolutely had to, and he detested every minute of it.
On the second landing, Voldemort chose the room across from Draco’s for his newest element. The room was almost identical to what Draco’s had been. A simple spell eliminated the dust.
Luna followed behind him, eyes scanning the room. She seemed most interested in the walls and the pictures hanging there. Eventually, she turned back to Voldemort. For once, the vaguely absent gaze she’d had since arriving vanished. Instead, she appeared determined.
“I can change this as I want?”
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s a fine room,” she answered, “but it’s not somewhere I want to spend my time.”
Well, she’s more honest than Draco.
“You may change it as you see fit.”
“Including the walls?” she pushed.
Voldemort nodded. “Just a note of caution: by this time next year, we’ll be elsewhere.”
“Then I’ll just have to decorate there too,” she said, completely unconcerned with the move, or the work that would require.
His Water certainly was an odd witch. Surely, if this was normal, someone would have mentioned it in the journals. They seemed fond of explaining, and re-explaining everything else. Its lack suggested Luna was odd, even for a host of water, but how much of it was because Water had chosen her?
“Is there water here?” Luna asked, drawing him from his internal debate.
“There’s a bathroom down the hall.”
She shook her head, white hair bouncing around her shoulders at the slight motion. “That’s not what I meant.”
Of course it wasn’t. It occurred to him, then, that the hosts needed their elements. Air was easy to satisfy, as it could be found, unaltered, almost everywhere. The others were more problematic.
“There’s an old pond on the grounds,” he told her. “I’ll show you tomorrow morning.”
Some hereto unnoticed tension in her shoulders eased.
“Come with me, Luna, we have much to do.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “though perhaps we can start with ending the forced joviality?”
Voldemort paused, staring at her.
“I don’t mean any insult,” she said, shrugging, “but I can tell it doesn’t come naturally. It would be better for us if you weren’t forcing yourself.” Again that smile appeared. “As long as I’m not the victim of the cruciatus, or verbal abuse. I think we’ll be fine,” she paused, “Lord Voldemort.”
Yes, his Water was going to be trouble.
~*~*~*~
July 13, Saturday
She’d been given the day to get her room in order. Her father had put the extra hours to good use, and had brought more than her packed bags with him. By mid-afternoon, everything had been switched out and covered in white sheets.
Her father had cycled through colors until she’d decided on a pale blue. It was a lovely color on its own, and it wouldn’t detract from anything else she wanted to do.
“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Her father asked, wrapping an arm around her as she observed the walls, trying to decide what should be on them.
“I can’t decide,” she answered.
“What are the options?”
“I don’t know yet. I suppose I could just get started and see what happens.”
“Some of our best work is done by accident,” he agreed.
Luna smiled, though it faded quickly. “I’m worried I might paint something dangerous.”
“Dangerous, how?”
“I don’t know.”
“One of your old feelings, then?”
She nodded. “Of a sort. It’s more than that though.”
Moving away from her father, she ran her fingers over the wall. She could almost see something rising from the surface.
“It’s like trying to make out something just beyond your sight. You can almost make it out, but you really can’t, no matter how much you try.
“Could be a Festid infesting you.”
Luna shook her head, holding up her wrist, where a bracelet of delicately knotted twine sat.
“It’s something else, papa. I’m afraid if I paint it, something bad will happen.”
“How bad?”
Luna shook her head. “I don’t know, but it might be the end of their resistance.”
“Who’s resistance?”
Her father had been pulling her feelings from her for years, forcing her to put them to words, and figure out what they meant. This was no different, but even as he tried, she didn’t understand what it was trying to tell her.
Her hands went to her head. “Theirs. Someone’s. I don’t know. I can’t see them.”
Her father pulled her away from the wall, wrapping her in his arms. For a long moment, he just held her, rocking her in place. He’d been doing this since she was little, and it never failed to calm her down. Finally, she relaxed into his hold.
“Why did you come here?” he asked, tone gentle and without judgment. “We could have hidden you from him.”
“For a time,” she agreed, “but others would have been hurt, and he still would have gotten me. This way there’s a chance.”
“A chance for what?”
“If he cannot claim us all in two years, we are released.”
“I still don’t know why you’re here then.”
She shook her head, burrowing further into her father’s hold. “There is only one of us who might evade him that long,” she said. “And it’s not me, but if I’m claimed, I might be able to help them.”
“For two years?”
“Hogwarts will do most of the work,” she admitted. “And if I’m not here, Lord Voldemort can’t know what I’m feeling.”
Her father began laughing. Confused, Luna pulled away, frowning up at him, wondering if he’d been infested by something.
“You’re as devious as your mother,” he said.
Luna grinned. “That’s good to know. Perhaps it means I can do this.”
“Of that I have no doubt, dear heart. Of that I have no doubt.”
~*~*~*~
July 23, Tuesday
With Draco’s return, they had quickly fallen into a routine. Luna, who was the earlier riser of the two, had her sessions in the morning. Draco’s were in the afternoon, just after lunch. The time between their sessions were their own, though they were both required to be present for dinner (still sent to them via Narcissa Malfoy). In the evening, he left them to their own devices - neither allowed outside when he was gone - while he dealt with his Death Eaters, and planned their next steps. Their campaign couldn’t just stop while he hunted and trained his elements. Now, while no one believed his return, it was the time to act and gather.
Draco, it appeared, worked better with a rival, though he did suffer from jealousy. Since his return, he’d worked harder, and longer, to master what Voldemort taught him, though he still struggled on a number of points. He was making progress. Not as much as Voldemort wanted him to, especially as he’d have to send them to Hogwarts in the fall.
The act went against everything he wanted to do, and yet, he couldn’t deny his little Water had a point. If all of them were teenagers, they’d be found at Hogwarts. While he wasn’t sure he trusted Luna to tell him everything, even with an order. Draco was shaping up to be an obedient host. He, if nothing else, would hunt the others down and bring them to him.
Unfortunately, that obedience was also Draco’s weakness, a fact which Voldemort was understanding the longer he had both elements together. It wasn’t that Luna was learning any faster, or that she understood her element any better. But, when she achieved something it was often stronger on the first successful try than Draco’s was on the third.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Draco snarled, whirling on Luna.
Unconcerned with his anger, she simply stared back. “Seeing as you know nothing about my element, I don’t see how you can say that.”
“It’s. Not. Working.”
“No, it’s not.”
Those three, simple, words, suggested that there was somewhere else the blame resided, because it wasn’t hers. Draco turned red, hand raising - to do what, Voldemort didn’t know, but he wouldn’t have them fighting each other.
“That’s enough,” he ordered.
For the first time, Draco almost disobeyed him. Before he could wonder at this development, however, his Air backed down. He still glared at Luna, but no longer seemed on the verge of causing her harm. Luna, still unphased by the events, just turned to face him. He was beginning to wonder if she was ever agitated.
“He wouldn’t have harmed me,” Luna assured him. “He was just attempting to assert dominance.”
“I’ve been here longer. I have a higher rank.”
To Voldemort’s ears, the argument sounded petulant. Luna, it seemed, agreed with him, because the glance she gave the blond was unimpressed.
“It doesn’t work that way, Draco,” she told him. “Now, instead of trying to enforce dominance you don’t have, you should work on this exercise.”
Draco went red again.
“She’s right, Draco,” Voldemort interrupted. “Argue on your own time. When you’re with me, I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
“Yes, Lord Voldemort,” Draco murmured, sounding petulant and contrite in equal measure.
“Good. Now, try again.”
They were trying to merge their talents. In theory, all four elements should be able to merge with each other, though certain combinations were easier, or harder. Air and Fire, and Water and Nature would meld almost seamlessly once they were trained, but Fire and Water would be almost impossible to accomplish. Air and Water, while not impossible, wasn’t easy.
With so little time training, Voldemort couldn’t expect them to get it perfect yet, but he felt they needed to be pushed to achieve their highest potential. He was also hoping to decrease the fighting between them.
Almost immediately, since Draco’s return three days ago, the two had been at each other’s throats. Draco seemed particularly threatened by her presence, and did everything in his power to undermine or threaten her. Luna took everything as she always did, in stride. She never rose to the bait he dangled before her, but neither did she allow him to trample over her. Watching them, together, the odd girl was quickly becoming his favorite, despite her questionable loyalties.
She had a subtle, almost asinine way of dealing with Draco’s barbs and accusations that spoke of a quick mind and intelligence. Even if he couldn’t understand what she was talking about half the time, she successfully threw Draco off about 80% of the time he came after her.
Obviously, she considered herself dominant.
“Luna,” Voldemort called after they’d both called up what they could, “you’re holding too much. Let some of it go.”
For a moment, Draco preened at her reprimand.
“I’m not sure I can make it any weaker,” she said, in that absent way she had. “Until Draco gets stronger, I don’t think this is possible.”
In an instant, Draco turned red in rage. The air turning in front of him whirled faster, almost doubling in size. As Draco turned to Luna, something deadly in his eyes, Luna gave that enigmatic smile of hers. A twist of her hand had her small spout of water colliding with his equally small twister. For a moment, they clashed, sending water over everything.
Then, Luna’s spout opened, accepting the twister inside. Voldemort held his breath for a second … two … three before they combined. Before them was a rising whirlpool. Done larger, and in combat, it would drag people towards it and trap them within. It only lasted a blink before collapsing.
Draco tackled Luna with a wordless yell. Luna yelped as she collapsed under his weight. Her water covered them, only to be shoved away by his air. His hands wrapped around her throat. In response, her hands covered his face, thumbs going for his eyes.
“That’s enough!”
Neither listened, continuing to fight like common muggles. Neither even attempted to call their element after the initial clash. Luna was beginning to turn blue, and her nails had cut into Draco’s skin. Her thumbs had moved from his eyes, at least, but she was still defending herself.
“Stop that Now!”
Still, Draco ignored him. Voldemort barely had time to wonder how they could ignore him before Luna’s leg jerked up, catching the blond between the legs. Groaning, Draco immediately released her, falling off her to the side. Luna gasped, coughing violently as her lungs refilled. She rolled to the side.
“Still undecided,” she croaked. “If you want dominance, you’ll need to use your element to do it.”
Draco’s only reply was a whine.
“We’re done,” Voldemort told them, voice chilled as he stared down at them. “You’re both to go directly to your rooms and stay there until I come get you.”
He swept from the room before he could give in to the urge to crucio the both of them.
It would set our progress back , he reminded himself. Still, his hand itched for his wand.
~*~*~*~
July 24, Wednesday
Draco paced his room, anger bubbling within him.
“What the hell happened?”
He didn't particularly like Luna, but his mother had taught him better than to attack a girl, let alone one younger than himself. And, if his father knew he'd been brawling like a common muggle, he'd have done more than send him to his room. Even without access to his magic, he knew better than to jump someone like that. A Malfoy didn't start altercations. They finished them with elegance and grace. They certainly didn't get their bits crammed into their body because of the girl they were strangling.
What he couldn’t figure out, was why he'd done it. Why did he have such an extreme reaction to Luna? Why couldn't he control himself around her? And what the bloody hell did she mean by dominance’?
He threw himself into a nearby chair, slouching down as he tried to think it through, just like he'd been doing since last night. He'd been brought dinner, and breakfast this morning. Just after breakfast, Voldemort stopped by long enough to inform him that until they could behave themselves and avoid such a situation in the future, they were both confined to their rooms.
He couldn't prevent it if he didn't know why it was happening.
A knock on the door dragged him from his thoughts. He shot to his feet.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Came the familiar soft voice.
“We're not supposed to meet up.”
“We need to talk, Draco. It's important.”
After another moment's hesitation, Draco crossed the room and opened the door. Luna stood on the other side. Her eyes met his. Slowly, without a word, he stepped back, allowing her in. He motioned her to the chair, settling onto his bed so he could still see her.
Luna smoothed her robes as she sat, gently laying her hands in her lap. For a long time, they just stared at each other, neither saying a word. It was a comfortable sort of discomfort. He wanted her to speak, to tell him what she wanted before whatever was happening between them started again.
Then, in seeming answer to his desire, she spoke.
“You’re confused,” she said. “You don't know why we’ve been fighting.”
“And you do?” Draco sneered.
Luna stared back, as unimpressed with him as she always was.
“Some of it.” She sighed, turning her gaze away as she sighed. “I’m not used to this, you know. I’ve always felt different things from others, but this is … almost impossible. I'm seeing bits and pieces out of sequence. Nothing makes sense. Sometimes, I get information. Sometimes, it makes sense. Sometimes, it doesn't. Sometimes, I know things I have no way of knowing, and I can’t make it stop.”
Her eyes found Draco’s once more. “I can't control it anymore than you can.”
Draco bristled, but something in her eyes demanded honesty. He inhaled. “What's happening, then?”
“We're fighting for dominance.”
“You've said that before, but I don't understand what you mean.”
“I don't know everything,” she warned.
Draco nodded. At the moment, he'd take anything that could help him avoid the dark lord’s wrath, and the deadly promises that went with it.
“In nature, the elements are balanced,” Luna said. “In certain areas, one element is more prominent than the others.”
Draco nodded again.
“Within us, the elements are attempting to find a new balance. We are human, and someone needs to be the leader.”
“Voldemort’s our leader.”
Luna shook her head. “He's the master. The leader will be one of us. They're in charge whenever the master hasn’t given instruction.”
Draco leaned forward, intrigued despite himself. “So we - our elements - are trying to be the leader.”
“Yes, she answered. “And, no.”
Draco sighed, with a roll of his eyes. “Then what?”
“Neither of us can be the leader, because neither of us are strong enough. We don't have the right … urge.”
“Urge?”
Luna shrugged. “It works. We’ve been fighting because our elements want to be dominant, or know who is dominant between the two of us.”
“So, how do we stop it?”
Luna fell silent, staring across the room at Draco as she considered the question. He stared back, something like trepidation rising within him. At the same time, expectation bubbled up underneath him. Their conversation had him wondering if he was really feeling either, or if the element within him was. Even considering the question made him shift in discomfort. He didn't like not being in control of his actions. Worse, he couldn't tell if he was in control until long after.
“I'm not dominant to you,” Luna finally said, drawing Draco’s thoughts back to the current issue. “Nor are you dominant to me. We are equals in our standing, siblings of circumstance.”
“Siblings?” Draco echoed, doubt coloring his voice as he frowned.
Luna was an odd girl. She might have been a pureblood, but his parents would throw a fit - however refined, it would still be a fit - if he actually claimed a blood relationship with her.
Luna rolled her eyes. “It's a metaphor, Draco,” she said. “You won't have to tell anyone else, and I won't mention it either.”
Suppose that makes sense, Draco thought, running a hand through his hair.
“You know,” Draco grinned, “If we’re siblings, I am older.”
Luna shrugged. “And I'm stronger. It evens out.” She leaned forward. “Would you say it already? I want to go outside.”
“Lord Voldemort wont allow that.”
She smiled. “He will if we show we won't try to kill each other.”
Draco stared at her a moment longer, considering his options. Finally, he sighed and repeated her oath. Luna finally relaxed, giving him a blinding smile full of relief. It was a pretty smile, Draco realized.
She leapt to her feet. “Let’s go find the master.”
“We’re not supposed to leave our rooms,” Draco protested.
“Until we can get along,” she countered. “Since we won't be fighting for dominance, we won't have any trouble. We’re not disobeying him.”
Draco wasn't exactly sure the dark lord had meant for them to seek him out if they found a solution, but Luna wasn't giving him time to consider the consequences, or Voldemort's intent behind the order. Instead, she grabbed his arm, dragging him from the bed, and out of his room.
~*~*~*~
July 25, Thursday
Just past sunrise, Voldemort and Luna stood at the small pond on the grounds. Luna knelt at the edge, dipping her fingers into the cool liquid. With her eyes closed, she looked like some sort of fairy creature muggles liked to tell stories about. As she communed with her element, Voldemort observed her, content, for the moment, to do so in silence.
She didn't move for several minutes, and yet seemed in constant motion. When she finally stood, it was with a single fluid motion, as graceful as a stream flowing by. Her robes swished around her as she turned to face him, water dripping from her fingers.
“What are we doing today?” she asked.
“I wasn't expecting you and Draco’s truce so quickly,” he told her, rather than giving the expected answer. He had more important matters in mind right then.
Luna shrugged, an ancient, knowing, gleam in her eyes as she gazed back.
“I didn't feel like staying in my room any longer,” she admitted. “Neither did Draco, as it turned out.”
“You talked.”
“We are still human.” A familiar smile pulled on her lips. “And, humans do talk.”
Despite himself, Voldemort found himself amused at the girl. She had a way of speaking that cut through his irritation and frustration. It wasn't intentional, he could tell that by the confusion in her eyes as he smiled. He had a feeling that it wouldn't work nearly so well if she'd done it on purpose.
“What did you talk about, Luna?” he asked, not quite ordering her to answer yet.
Luna blinked back, head tilted as she considered her answer. She clasped her hands before her, the act making her seem more delicate and submissive than she actually was. He knew better, but he still didn’t say anything as he awaited her reply.
“Even we hosts are allowed secrets from the master,” Luna said, her voice soft in the early morning quiet. “This is one of those times, as it has no bearing on what you’re planning.”
He could still order it from her, and she knew it, but she stared back nonetheless, fearless, but unchallenging.
“Very well,” he allowed. He didn’t need to force it from her. Of the two elements, Draco was more likely to tell him what he wanted to know.
~*~*~*~
(Later)
Just beyond the private gardens, which had been left without nurturing for a year, Draco and Voldemort stood. It was just after lunch, and Draco had eaten lightly for the training.
Each of their sessions began with Draaco’s head back, breathing deeply as he attempted to connect with his element. Unlike Luna earlier, his stillness was truly still. He supposed it had something to do with the difference between their elements. Water was constantly moving. Even in confinement, water moved with the slightest provocation. Air could be still
Draco could be very energetic during his daily commune, but usually there was a breeze blowing past at the time. Today, the wind was dead. Standing there, the afternoon sun shining off his hair, Draco looked every inch the pureblood heir he actually was. Lucius had taught him well in that regard.
A final deep breath woke the boy from his standing meditation. Unlike Luna, who prompted him when she was ready, Draco turned to him and waited, allowing Voldemort to set the pace of their training session.
“Your truce with Luna came rather suddenly,” Voldemort said.
Draco blinked, eyes widening with each one. “Did it, my lord?
He hummed his assent. “Two days ago, you couldn’t stand each other. Today, you're rather pleasant together.”
“Ah.” Draco shifted, clearly uncomfortable with Voldemort's preferred conversation. “I thought you wanted us to get along.”
“Oh, I do. I'm simply curious as to how it came about. You talked, I assume?” Voldemort paused, expecting a reply. He wasn’t disappointed.
Draco nodded, pinned in place by Voldemort's piercing stare.
“About what?”
The blond shifted again, eyes dropping to avoid his gaze.
Interesting , he thought. He hadn't thought Draco had it in him.
“Nothing important.”
“No?” Voldemort asked, allowing astonishment to filter through his voice. “This conversation ended in your truce, and it's not important? Incredible.”
Draco reddened, not in anger this time, but embarrassment as he realized he wasn't going to get away with that answer.
“I’d just rather not talk about it, my lord,” Draco admitted. “It’s done, and we won't be a bother again.”
Voldemort remained silent for a moment. He could force it from Draco, just as he could have forced it from Luna, but that might negate some of the work he'd put into getting the boy to trust him.
“Very well.”
Less than 24 hours into their truce, and Draco was developing a backbone.
Interesting indeed.
~*~*~*~
July 26, Friday
“Pick it up, Draco,” Luna said, taunting the boy into meeting her own output.
Even two days ago, it would have angered Air’s host. Now, though the blond glared something fierce he concentrated on matching Luna's strength. In the silent response, Luna’s eyes sparkled mischievously.
Voldemort stood back, watching them through narrowed eyes. Whatever had happened between them had changed their attitude, at least in regards to the other element. And though he’d inquired about it, neither had revealed anything about the conversation they had to have had.
Despite that, they were working together better. Their banter concerned him, knowing how quickly it could cause them to backslide to their previous attitudes. But, unless he actually saw something detrimental to their progress, he was loath to stop them.
Besides, he thought. Luna’s making him work harder with her taunting.
As their elements combined once more, Luna laughed, clapping her hands in celebration. Draco smirked, satisfaction oozing from every pore.
“Good,” Voldemort told them. “Now, do it faster.”
Draco groaned. Luna sighed. Both got to work.