notes | this is still in the realm of magic, but the beginning of her life is pretty much au - it incorporates some lunaneville, but mostly is lunacentric - hope you like this, lauren (insanities)! happy holidays to everyone, (:
characters and pairings: luna&neville
prompts (3-4): christmas sweaters, candy rings, snow angels, "let me live that fantasy"
take the weight off of me
luna lovegoods
.
The day that she is born, her mother dies.
Her father knows her forever as the illegitimate child who killed the woman that he loves - it's too soon for the past tense - and everybody hates her forever. There's no hope in the sky - a darkened day, perhaps - and small blue eyes stare up at the harsh world around her; there are other children playing outside, just small games, child's play, and glass shatters across the room, falling upon the face of the child. It all started there, when everybody hated her, because she kept on ruining everything, even from the very beginning of her life.
Sometimes, Luna wishes that she should have never been born; it would have been worth it, to escape everything, to never have to deal with the consequences of never being good enough, never being the golden child.
Her mother was a Muggle - her father had been a wizard; a half-blood had been created, but as soon as her mother died, it was almost as if that link to the normal world ( the world that she had wanted to be part of from the age of a child ) was destroyed, and there was no other choice but to listen to the commands of her father - a father who couldn't keep a paternal role, who threw glass and liquor.
The only skill that she had learned from home was how to dodge objects flying at her, and how to conceal bruises.
It wasn't much - nobody really understands her; it was a common ritual, and Luna soon came to understand how to deal with everything - everything changed the day that the envelope came. Somehow, it managed to find her on a walk away from the apartment - it was a beacon of hope, almost, the only way that she was ever going to get through life; she had always known that there was something different about her, different from all of the other children at school.
They had always made fun of her because of the weird purple bruises that had appeared on her hand, but they finally shut up when their leader got slammed into the wall, and suffered a severe concussion. The children at school never learned their lesson, though; all along, Luna had been feeling as though there must have been some other way to show them that they would be sorry once she was gone, that they would finally regret her - a posthumous parade, perhaps, all in her honor, and they would be sorry; they would cry for days and remember her.
She thinks about death more than any other eleven year old girl probably should - Luna declares it normal for her situation, however.
The last time that she comes home, Luna stares at her haunting reflection in the mirror. Her wispy blonde hair is tied up into small pigtails, and her glasses illuminate bloodshot eyes, brown pupils barely shining through with the exuberance of a normal child - but then again, Luna's never been normal, and maybe that's okay. Her glasses have thin frames, framed by thick, bushy eyebrows, several shades darker than her much lighter hair; her lips are pale, and her face is haggard.
Eyes so old, for a child so young - but Luna's not quite a child anymore. She's seen enough. Maybe too much.
Luna takes a red suitcase - something that she had kept in handy since the age of eight - from underneath a lumpy mattress, money concealed in some of the smaller pockets; she hastily picks up everything she thinks that she'll need; a few pairs of clothing, some money, a cardboard board, pencils, books, coins, and some of those strange candy rings that remain on a finger, and a bottle of liquid - never water, of course - and leaves before her father comes home.
She hopes that he misses her, but in a way, Luna knows that she's never coming back, even when she's only half way down the street - she can't go back to a place that broke her, and maybe, just maybe, she'll find another home.
.
Hogwarts is wonderful - she's sorted into a house by the name of Ravenclaw, somewhere where Luna think that she might actually have a place to belong, and maybe they'll make up for the lack of her own family and friends, and maybe everything will be perfect - and there's copious amounts of food. Her uniform is tight on slightly flabby legs and arms, and there's some fat underneath her chin, something that she's never had before, and Luna assumes that it's because of all of the food - the sweet, succulent sweets that are smuggled in by third-years from Honeyduke's, and all of the possible nutrients in the world - there's candy, and dark, rich chocolates that melt on her tongue - and pancakes with dripping syrup, hot out of the oven.
One of the older girls knits ugly Christmas sweaters, and hands them out to all of the first-years, welcoming them into their new home. The feasts are heavenly, and Luna has no concern about diving in for seconds, letting the caramel fall into the sides of her mouth, providing a certain warmth that she hasn't felt ever before. There's a place called home, perhaps - Ravenclaw has almost become her family, the place where she can go whenever the troubles arise; there's a place where she lives with four other girls, who seem like actually decent human beings.
The castle is located in a mountains, near a loch; it's protected, and her father won't be finding her here, so Luna can't think of any other time in her life when she's ever felt so safe and happy, almost like this place is now becoming her own home. There's a motto, Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus, which just really translates to 'never tickle a sleeping dragon' and there's magic everywhere she goes; there are older students who wave their wands, vanishing from one place and appearing in another with only one leg (they call it apparition); there are wonderful teachers who can turn themselves from cats into humans into all sorts of things - Luna pores over books in the library, reading everything that she can, and all of the knowledge is slightly overwhelming.
Yet, not much is different - Luna still stands out from the rest of them, with her interesting viewpoints and the way that she doesn't fawn over the new wizard boys who walk through the hallways, laughing and giggling - and she barely makes a friend or two along the way. It's nothing that she could have hoped for, but Luna thinks that she should have expected this.
Her childhood dreams were a bit fairytale-ish, and it's alright to grow up - growing up is rubbish; you should never do that - and move on from the past, because that's what it is - the past.
.
Even at Hogwarts, a place which was meant for weird people of all sorts, Luna feels out of place.
She is out of place - she always will be, and she thinks that maybe, just maybe, it's going to be okay. Luna loses herself in the mixture of amazement and awe, as the insults go through one ear, flying out the next; she twirls in bright pink dresses with fruit designs, and spirited red gowns underneath a pair of woolen robes, just because she can.
She lies upon the floor, staring upon the starry sky, the meteors and the comets moving at astronomical speeds, magic that could only come from perfection; tonight, though, they have all been blown out. There is this empty ache, the silence, the never-ending silence, that threatens to destroy every thought, every hope left in this desolate city. She is lying still, extending her hand upwards as if she can still reach past the stars, pulling them all back down to her heavy heart; she believes that the normal nights have passed long back.
.
She comes home for one of the summers - there's too much danger at Hogwarts, Headmaster Dumbledore says.
Luna walks through the streets, a lackadaisical expression on her face as the rest of the children mock her large, multi-colored sunglasses, and the strange robes that dangle off her increasingly bony frame, but she's fine with it. She reminds herself that she has hope and magic, and maybe even a family, and feels bad for the rest of these children - they're kept in the dark, from a world full of wonder.
She's smart enough to climb through the window, the top floor of her father's house, and steps inside, examining the waxed linoleum floors and the magnificent grandfather clocks, the gorgeous ceilings and ancient sculptures, paintings hanging on the wall as though they are treasured objects - staff, butlers and nannies, scatter throughout the house, muttering words of greetings to Miss Luna and she doesn't feel as though she belongs here anymore.
There's nowhere else for her to go - not really, so she travels.
.
Paris is first. There's genuine beauty in the city - the greatest temple ever built to material joys, and she loses herself in the aroma of hope and the feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be alright; she stays there for a little too much time. There are museums with thousands of paintings, and frozen lakes that she skates upon, thriving in the danger of almost being able to slip under.
She studies Wrackspurts and Boogles and looks at everything in a completely different way. As she walks down the street, Luna waves hello to all of the animals and the people and they look at her as if she's insane. Maybe she is. There's nothing wrong with being insane, she thinks.
.
Luna enjoyed the DA meetings - it was like having friends.
There were moments when she felt like she was accepted into society, instead of broken and incomplete and left on the side (because, honestly, nobody really cares about little loony, now do they?), casting that spell into the air and marveling at the world around her. There was a boy named Neville - she thinks that the two of them became friends through the meetings, and he didn't seem to care about how messed up and insane that she was. Maybe it's because he was sort of like her too - she liked to think along the lines of that.
It's fun though - honest, good fun that doesn't involve being left out on the side. Even if she is left out, again, Neville's also left alone - Luna's not completely alone. In the midst of the winter, the two of them go out to town, laughing as he teaches her out how to make snow angels in the ice, and then accidentally trips, and falls on his head (playing like toy soldiers, the two of them).
She casts spells, and Luna knows the truth, though. That pretending and even associating herself with people are actually nice and good and honest, won't get her anywhere in life - being a good person never helps anybody - and those stares at the back of her head, Luna knows what they're about. Everybody doesn't believe that a loony little child could have been friends with Harry Potter.
Everybody expects more. Except, that's the thing about high expectations - they always fall short.
.
In the frenzy of a battle - students running down staircases (they're not meant for this cruel, cruel world, only mere pawns in a game of chess) as though they're not quite toy soldiers yet, bloodthirsty for battle and stopping at the bottom, unsure of what they should do next. There are first-years who are dying on the side, left alone - Luna walks over to the one of the first-years, and closes his eyelids. Nobody deserves to die like this. It doesn't matter what they've done, or who many people they've hurt or killed in their lifetime, but nobody deserves to die on their own.
Near the back of her mind, Luna notices the mistletoe hanging off the sides of the castle - it's a few days before Christmas.
She stands alone in a crowd of her classmates - they're supposed to be her family, the group of people that Luna thinks are going to be the replacement for the lack of people who have ever loved her, but she still stands out with her lack of experience (she sees things that other people don't see, and she's still loony Luna).
At least some things haven't changed.
.
Years later, after the war is over, she still remembers -
There's a repeat of seventh year, and barely anybody chooses to attend Hogwarts for years, but Luna goes because after everything, Hogwarts is still her home. She wakes up to an empty room, waiting for her classmates, her friends, her family, to rise out of the empty beds, and then remembers. Luna remembers that she's been lucky - so terribly lucky - and it's not the same for most.
She stares at her reflection in the mirror, and traces the scar on her stomach, lightly fingering the blood as though slightly interested in it - it hasn't faded in years, a constant reminder of how easily she can be broken.
A bell rings, and Luna barely hears it; she speaks in a dreamy tone, fingering ancient maps and piles of dust that have transformed into webs, and everything is ancient. She should be dead. Dying would have been easier than having to live with the memories that at any moment, the war could happen again, and all would not be well. She paces down corridors - forwards, backwards, forwards, falling - running down switching staircases, and thinks about the life that she was supposed to lead - Luna was supposed to become an Auror, something that she could be proud of, something that could make her father proud of her (because, after all these years, he's still her father).
.
(Neville had told her that he liked her - Luna had replied in a lackadaisical tone that she thought of him as a good person.)
He had been taken into ICU a few days later - gunshot wound, the Muggle doctor had said (as Mungo's was quite too full for non-magical injuries) - for the first time, Luna had openly wept. She hadn't cried since her father had told her that she was the reason that mum had died, or since the war had finally been over, but she's sort of alone now. She stares up at the ceiling, wondering that if there were any Gods and magic above, why hadn't they stopped this. Please, God, she had prayed. You have my mum, you have my dad, you can't take him too. Let me live that fantasy, she murmurs.
Yet, there is no God in this mad, mad world, and Luna leaves the hospital. I'm a little too old to be believing in magic and miracles, anyways, Luna thinks.
notes | okay that was weird and not really lunaneville - happy holidays!
betaread by rachel (supernovas) and jo (mystiques), (: