A/N: I'd like to take this opportunity to congratulate CrazyRopeDragon for her achievement this week IRL. You're an inspiration!
Written for the Wigtown Wanderer's "Practice Round: Clichés make the world go 'round" In the Quidditch League Fanfiction Writing Competition
Chaser 2: Write about the cliché of Time Travel
Optional Prompts:
8. (dialogue) "Are you asking me, or telling me?"
11. (word) Timeless
14. (word count) 1,250
The paint was peeling in Luna's ensuite, this was the case in most of their house's rooms. Her own room was the main exception, but that was because it was the only room in the house she hadn't painted with her Mother. Once her Mother had died neither Luna, nor her Father, had had the heart to cover up the woman's beloved brush strokes with fresh colour. For as long as she could remember the smell of wet paint had always reminded Luna of Pandora Lovegood. Luna liked to think she had grown up to be a lot like her.
She lowered her gaze to the necklace she wore, as she washed vibrant paint off of her pale hands. Luna had survived in the Ministry in June, along with her courageous friends. Most people knew that, what they didn't know was that Luna had not left with nothing. She lifted the time turner away from her orange blouse and examined it for the hundredth time. She thought of all the good she could do, as she often did, but disregarded the temptation. Terrible things happen to people who meddle with time. She mustn't forget, but then why take it?
She moved back into her bedroom and contemplated returning to the half finished mural of her friends up on the ceiling. She sat on the edge of her bed and picked up the framed picture of Pandora. Luna always felt that she glowed, even in photographs. Her fingers traced along the image.
She knew why she had taken the time turner, but she couldn't give in. Especially not to cheat death. Occasionally, Luna managed to accept that her Mother's death was another beautiful moment in the discordant harmony of the woman's life. On darker days, she could see only chaos, a needless accident. She told herself every day that death may be permanent but a Mother's love is timeless. It transcended all things. On this day, her usual platitudes weren't working. No amount of poetic language in the world could change the facts.
"No one would even have to know." She whispered to the photograph; "It could be just us, just for an hour." She wouldn't change anything, she just had to be careful.
Before she could change her mind, Luna gave in. She scrambled around the house, thankful that her Father was off interviewing the Welsh Thestral Herders Union. She pulled a flask from their grimy potions cupboard and then ran back upstairs, knocking over piles of magazines in her haste. She opened the chest at the end of her bed and rifled through it until she found a small dress. She carefully investigated the fabric until she found what she was looking for. A single, lengthy blonde hair.
She pushed all the things that might go wrong out of her mind. She had no time for worrying about expired polyjuice potion or mismatched hair. She was going to try an experiment and throw caution to the wind. She was her Mother's daughter afterall. She tucked the hair into the potion, preparing to find out if her hypothesis had any grounds as she took a gulp. Her skin bubbled, her legs receded into themselves, her clothes became baggy on her body and her horse radish earrings were forced out of her unpierced ears.
Luna rushed to her feet and tripped over the hem of her patchwork skirt as she made her way to the mirror. She stood on tiptoes, an eight year old Luna gawked at herself, looking flushed and excited. She pulled her clothes off and went back over to the child sized dress. It was turquoise and stained with paint from that day. She put it on. It was only for an hour.
She span the delicate dial for years seven times. She brought herself back to that precious evening in 1989. Her younger self had just gone to bed and her Mother could be heard humming in the living room where she continued to paint. Finishing the wall that little Luna had been too sleepy to help with. Luna stood on the spiral staircase and watched the blonde woman for a moment before calling out to her. For the first time in her adult life, her Mother answered.
"I love you." Luna called. Pandora turned and smiled;
"I love you too moonbeam, are you coming back down?"
Luna nodded dreamily. She stumbled to her Mother. She had wanted to grab onto the woman, but once she reached her she was terrified to touch her in case this whole surreal vision evaporated. Her Mother brushed her hair away from her face and touched her cheek, like it was nothing, it was a miracle. Luna leant into her hand like she starved for it.
"Paint with me." Luna said. She picked up a brush to distract herself, she wouldn't cry.
"Are you asking me or telling me?" Pandora's tone was light, this had been her way of telling Luna to mind her manners. To be considerate with every turn of phrase. Luna had forgotten, tears began to fall.
"Will you p-please paint with me?" Luna whispered and her Mother's brow creased. The woman fell to her knees and took the small girl into her arms. Luna knew it wasn't healthy, revelling in the past, but she let herself. She opened her arms and returned her Mother's embrace.
"Do you want to tell me about your tears?" Luna shook her head, sniffling.
"No, please can we paint instead? I'll feel better. I love watching your hands." Pandora sat back and wiped her daughter's tears away, kissing the little girl's wet cheeks.
"Alright sweetheart." Luna had been right, she really did glow. The pair of them set to work, finishing the wall, the time traveller carefully disguising what had become an expert hand. Luna had her hour, greedily coveting soft kisses and assurances. Taking all she could, knowing it could never be enough. Somehow, Luna never gave the forbidden warning.
"Don't stay up all night reading. I need you to wake up fresh to help your poor feeble Mother with the kitchen." Pandora gave her daughter a hug goodnight and turned to charm away the splatters of paint on the floor.
"I won't, good night." Something in Luna's voice caught the woman's attention then and she turned back around. She was about to ask her whether she was feeling alright, tears forgotten, but the blonde child must have run up the stairs. She was already gone. Pandora resolved to spend more time painting with her daughter.
Luna returned to 1996. She stood in her bedroom and wrenched off the tiny dress. Her limbs stretched out, reclaiming the space that was due to them. A moment later, there stood Luna Lovegood, grown up once more and basking in what was left of her Mother's glow. She had opened Pandora's box and, by sheer force of will, closed it again. She looked around the room and found it unchanged as she slipped back into her clothes.
"Everything's okay." She announced to the empty house and a voice rang out from the staircase as a blonde head bobbed into view.
"Are you asking me or telling me, sweet pea?" At the sound of her voice Luna pulled the time turner over her head and dropped it to the ground.
"Sorry, is everything okay, Mum?" She asked, and she stomped down on the delicate instrument, feeling it crack under her weight. At least she'd tried.