This is my first HP fic. Please don't expect too much. Any feedback will be highly appreciated.
Title: Descent
Character(s): Luna Lovegood, her mother
Word Count: 540
Rating: G
Summary: Luna watches her mother pass away.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters belong to J.K Rowling.
There was a loud crash, then a strangely deafening silence. Suddenly, a weak, mirthless laugh echoed.
"Mother?" A nervous nine-year-old girl tightened her clutch on a battered old rag doll. Quivering dark blue eyes peered anxiously into the room as a free white slender hand kept a few stray strands of silvery blond hair from her face. She looked at a pale woman lying on the floor, so pale that she seemed almost like a corpse. "Mother, what's wrong?"
An alien faint chuckle sounded. "Come in, darling. Don't be afraid. The danger's over now."
Gingerly, the little girl tiptoed in. Then she broke into a small run and fell onto her knees beside her mother's unkempt, scattered hair on the floor. "Mother?" she whispered, her shaking hand half-daring to the kind yet phantom-like face.
"Dearie, it's over," assured the woman, smiling weakly. A thin hand reached for the small pair and held them gently. "Take a look around. Everything's damaged in one way or another."
Her daughter forced herself to face the damage created in the little room. To say that it was simply "damage" would be the understatement of the year. Books, furniture, glass objects... almost everything was destroyed. It was the result of yet another failed spell, but the little girl understood that this time, it meant something more terrible.
"Dearie, listen..." Her mother was speaking in a voice so lacking in its usual vivacity that it scared her, so much that she could hardly move." Mother's going on a little trip now... I want you to be strong, okay? Be strong while I'm gone... be strong for Daddy, for me..."
"You will come back, won't you?" asked the little girl, even though she already knew the answer. If her rag doll had been alive, it would have suffocated by then - her grip was so tight that her knuckles were whiter than ever.
Sure enough, her mother shook her head. "I won't, sweetheart, but you will come and see me someday, won't you?" She caressed her daughter's cheek affectionately. "Now be strong, Luna! For me, for Daddy, for yourself! It's unavoidable to be inconsistent like the moon, but always remember to shine again, all right? Even if it's not a very bright, powerful light..."
"Mother!" cried Luna, dropping her doll and grasping her mother's hand as though it were a lifeline. A smile lit the frail woman's features for the last time; then her head drooped to the side, her hand slipped out of her daughter's, and all the little life that had been left in her was completely drained away.
Luna could not cry. She simply picked up her doll, held it close to her heart, and continued staying by her mother's side. She quietly cradled her doll, rocking herself back and forth, mouthing the lyrics of a lullaby that her mother used to sing to her. Hard blue eyes watched the pale face, which seemed as though it was only sleep. There was such an expression of peace and rest, such a possibility that there was still a little life left behind, that Luna did not dare to disturb it.
Behind her, outside the half-opened window, a bright shooting star streaked across the dim sky.