Impossible
Luna does not hate That Day. She doesn't fear it, or dread it for the weeks until it comes. She tries to forget it, in fact, until it arrives and pulls her into her own head. And when it does, she relinquishes her thoughts and chooses to relish the memories that come, ignoring the fact that the taste they leave behind is more bitter than sweet.
She wakes up on April the second the same way she wakes up any other day, with the sun coming in through her window and tickling along her eyelids until they jerk open. She remains in bed for a few moments, breathing in the cool spring air that's crept in. Her blankets are still warm over her when she realizes that it is That Day. She doesn't cry, not yet. She's saving her tears for later. For now, her fingers jerk with the realization and resume their frantic fiddling, the twitches and flutters that most assume are yet another sign of Luna's insanity. Really, her dancing fingers are just a nervous tic. A way to distract herself from her thrumming thoughts.
Around her, the other girls in Luna's dormitory are fast asleep. Hermione is in the bed next to her, wavy hair a lion's mane around her face, eyes closed peacefully as she clasps a weighty tome to her chest. Lavender snores lightly on Luna's other side, her soft whiffling breaths gentle and steady as she dreams. Luna pushes the covers off herself carefully, silently, trying not to wake up any of the other girls. Her hair falls in untidy waves to her waste, little feather-strands of it tickling her cheeks and her forehead. She stands up, still softly, stretching a little as she awakens fully. In moments, her hair is tied back in a long braid, and she's wearing a lavender colored, crocheted sweater over her black bathing suit. The sweater is too long, pooling up in bunches of soft yarn at her wrists and swinging gently against the back of her knees. Her feet are bare. To anyone in the school, her outfit would be just another loony quirk, but Luna doesn't think much of what others think of her.
She opens the door slowly, wincing when it creaks a bit. But her classmates remain asleep behind her; her little journey begins unnoticed. She creeps down the long staircases, through Hogwarts' winding hallways. She pads softly through the great hall and then out into the grounds. The sun is a pale buttercup yellow, but the sky is still the color of eggshells...palest grey tinted with blue as it touches the surrounding mountains. The grass is still spongy with dew, and though it's spring, the air is cool now that she is no longer in her cozy bed. Luna begins to walk faster as she passes the whomping willow, nearing the lake at last.
Her feet still delight at the moist fresh grass under them, but she forgets the pleasures of dewy greenness and focuses on her goal. She remembers as she runs now, long braid flying pale behind her. She remembers her mother's gentle laugh and bright eyes as her feet hit the silty mud at the edge of the lake. She remembers her mother's scent of cinnamon and potions, the sharp sweetness of magic resting on soft skin. She remembers her mother's endless curiosity as she strips of the lavender sweater and walks into the lake. She remembers bedtime stories filled with impossible creatures, with things waiting to be discovered, as the cold water reaches her knees, and then her stomach. Luna sinks into the water. She lets herself remember the final experiment. How her mother was always searching, for knowledge, for magic, for miracles. She remembers the sound of bells, and then the thunder of the explosion, and then gold flames that turned, at last, to grey ashes and emptiness. That Day. That Day which she would never forget. The day which left her a half-orphan with a will to never stop searching for the impossible. Because someday she will find the crumple-horned snorcax, tame the elusive occamy, observe the invisible demiguise. And once she has done all that is impossible, she will do what is too impossible to imagine for a twelve-year-old witch, and bring her mother back.
She doesn't imagine that yet, she just cries gently into the water, remembering the past. She can barely feel the tears; they disappear into the lake as soon as they leave her eyes. Luna floats there, safe in the water, until she's done with her memories and tears.
Soon, she's sitting on the bank, hair hung in long knotted strands across her shoulders, eyelashes dripping and lips chattering.
Harry doesn't make a sound until he's near Luna, just behind her and unwilling to cause any shock. He coughs a little, unsure of what to say. She turns towards him, grey-blue eyes shining with sorrow, and smiles a bit as if she isn't at all surprised. She looks so cold that Harry thinks he might shiver in sympathy. He pulls her sweater over her shoulders, and then drapes his own thick woolen cloak around her shoulders.
Luna feels a little better when Harry joins her. He bundles her up first, making her feel a bit childish, but childish in a not-too-horrible way. She's warm, and when Harry sits beside her she feels strangely protected. He reaches down and squeezes her hand. They sit there, contemplating the clear lake water and the sky as it grows ever more brilliant. The blue spreads across it in swaths of color, and the sun brightens until its rays edge the clouds in gold.
Luna feels perfectly at peace. The lake seems to reflect her soul, the water lapping gently at the shore and shining calmly. Calm and unremarkable, until the sparkle of a flashing tail draws her eyes to the center of the lake. It's a merrow, a small girl with silver hair and sea-grey eyes, her tail flashing brilliant as a ruby as she darts playfully in and out of the water. Luna doesn't realize it at first, and then the truth hits her all at once. She turns to Harry, eyes wild with the thrill of her discovery.
"Harry," she gasps, "a merrow with a ruby tail has never been seen before. Not ever."
Harry looks at her, perplexed but patient.
"But Luna, this lake isn't even a large one. The merrow population is small...for one of them to display this mutation would very unlikely. It would be almost impossible. Perhaps our eyes are playing tricks on us—"
"There are no tricks, Harry! And it wouldn't be almost impossible—it is impossible. But here it exists all the same! Defying impossibility..."
They watch the merrow until she grows tired of her play and dives at last beneath the water to rest. Luna forgets her sadness and revels thoughtfully in the possibility of her mother. She daydreams of a day when she too can defy; defy death and right the wrong that he had dealt her family.
The water whispers as it is riffled into little waves by a passing breeze. The lazy birds awake and sing slowly with the first shaky trills of spring. Behind the two, Hogwarts stirs with life and the hum of groggy morning voices. Luna's thoughts of her future fade away; for now it is enough to sit beside Harry and watch the lake and the sky. As the world stirs around her, Luna's mind clears and she allows herself perhaps the most impossible hope of all: for her own heart to heal itself at last.
AN: Thanks for reading! You're lovely if you clicked on this story and read it all the way through, and if you review you'll be even more lovely. I adore Luna and if anyone had prompts I'd love to write more...
Love and All Impossible Things,
thelittledormouse