When Luna hears that she is having twins, she is delighted. Twins – twins are such a magical thing, and having two babies together ensures that neither one will grow up alone and friendless, like she was.
And then she remembers the two sets of twins she has known in her lifetime. She remembers how Padma had once told her how being a twin means never being your own person, how she and Parvati had begged the Sorting Hat to put them in different houses so that they could finally be Padma and Paravti instead of thePatiltwins or PadmaandParvati. And she remembers that Padma, nearly in tears, had confessed that, without their house colours, the twins sometimes felt as though only their parents could tell them apart.
But the one thing that has stuck with her the longest is Fred and George Weasley. She remembers how they were always FredandGeorge, and that they were happy to be one unit instead of two different people. And she recalls, with startling clarity, how lost George had looked when he was forced to be alone. How lost he still looked.
So she spends her pregnancy equal parts thrilled and terrified, wondering if her children are doomed by simply being born identical twins. What would be worse, she wonders – to be irrevocably lost without another by your side, or to hate the idea of being a twin so much that part of you wants nothing more than to reject your relationship with your sibling?
After a long 24 hours of labour, when her babies – Lorcan and Lysander, her mind whispers – are handed to her, she realizes with a jolt that in her panic, she has missed the obvious.
Lorcan, with his copper hair (so like Rolf's) and Lysander with his blonde head (just like hers) will never have a chance to be mistaken for each other.
This was written for:
Lady Phoenix Fire Rose's If you dare... challenge, prompt 316, Children