Dungeons always held creatures. Everyone knew that, but Luna could actually see them. Or rather, see the trails and evidence they left behind. She had been taken from the Hogwarts Express on the way home, so she had been dressed only in her school robes. There was no real protection from various dungeon creatures in school robes, though she supposed full plate armor couldn't have protected her, either.
That did beg the question: what was the right armor for dungeon crawling?
Luna thought about asking Draco that, but the boy seemed disturbed enough by recent events. His father did look ill, and he was taking part in the capture and torture of school mates. He was no killer, that much was clear, and Luna was glad that he was the one bringing her food. She had heard the screams when others had come with food, the whispers in the walls and the delighted chitter of the creatures waiting their turn. Draco was no killer, and because of that, the creatures kept a wide berth from her cell. They fed off of pain and fear, and Luna held neither for them. She wasn't as tasty a snack.
"You can come down here again if you need to talk," she had said when he had spoken with her the last time. He hadn't acknowledged it, but there were troubled waters inside of him. Perhaps he was drawing the creatures away from her cell, keeping her safe.
There were footfalls outside of her cell, and Luna stood up. It was the least she could do to indicate that she appreciated the effort. Draco didn't have to do this, after all. They could have let her starve or simply let a house elf give her food. He was bringing her a measure of human companionship and safety from the creatures of the dungeon. "Hello, Draco," Luna said, offering him a smile of thanks.
The shadows under his eyes were dark and gave his gray eyes a hollow cast. He handed her the plate with stale bread, but today there was a wedge of cheese as well. "Oh, this is lovely," she said, nibbling delicately on the cheese after eating the stale bread. "Cheddar, freshly cut from the wheel. I do like it, thank you."
"I didn't," Draco said, appearing discomfited. "Cut it, I mean."
"That's all right. I don't always make my own things, either." Luna nodded at him matter of factly, indicating solidarity with him. "Is your father better?"
"He's the same." Draco seemed transfixed by her eyes, and Luna tried hard not to blink. If there was something there, some sign of a warbling trach or renting garbler, she would want him to be able to see it and let her know. "Yours is, too," Draco told her abruptly. "I thought it would be different, because Harry got away anyway. But he said he put in a good faith effort, and he wasn't punished for it. He lost his home, though. Your home."
Luna finished the cheese. "For many, that's punishment enough. Where do you go if you have no home, nowhere to feel safe? Where do you stay if there's nothing but darkness all around you and no allies?"
If anything, Draco appeared angry. "What would you know about it?"
"Not all ravens are alike in a nest," she said simply, shrugging. It surprised him, so Luna shrugged again. "Knights find their way eventually, you know."
"You don't know what you're talking about," he snarled, turning around and heading back up the stairs. Luna thought she saw something shift in the shadows and curl around his shoulder. That was one less creature to haunt her cell.
He might not think much of himself, but he was the right kind of knight for this kind of darkness in the dungeon.