Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (though I wish I did!), all rights go to JK Rowling, and I also do not own So Cold, all rights go to Ben Cocks, the singer and I believe songwriter. Thanks for checking this fic out!
PS: There are no longer song lyrics, so you may want to check out the song "So Cold" by Ben Cocks instead. It was the inspiration for this fic. Thank you Summer Leigh Wind for alerting me.
Luna Lovegood is just sick and tired. She's sick; sick of the taunting chills that run through the creaking cellar. She's tired; tired of the sleepless nights and the pleading screams that haunt her nightmares. And she's just sick and tired of meeting new people in the cellar. They do make rather good neighbours, but it doesn't take a genius to know what has happened when they tumble down the stairs; the stairs that she prays — dear Merlin, how she prays! — are stained with brewed Ashwinder essence. But Lovegood is not an idiot, nor an oddity at that.
Although sometimes maybe she is. She has a lot of 'spare time' on her hands down in the cellar. She normally uses it to ponder over everything: the lovely shapes the 'brewed Ashinder essence' fabricates on the dust (though the ghastly screams tend to interrupt her lovely pondering sessions); the patterns of whoever is called in for ruthless interrogations. That awful woman they seem to call 'Madam LeStrange' normally leads the interrogations. That woman is not very nice, Luna decides. Luna starts saying that "Madam LeDeranged is waiting for them next" to her fellow neighbours. That earns her a lot of horrified looks. Sometimes they don't even look at her; they just seem to wail in despair.
It does get a quite lonely in the cellar sometimes. The only person who keeps her company all of the time is Mr Ollivander. He is much nicer than that unkindly Madam LeStrange, Luna decides.
Luna Lovegood does need the company. She just finds it awful when Mr Ollivander is taken away for a while. The only company she has then is her lonely, tortured thoughts. She likes pondering and talking about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks; it seems to take her mind off of these thoughts.
Luna feels lonely with these thoughts. They aren't just one thought; they're a whole bunch of horrid ones. Like those those bouquets of dreadful flowers that Mike Horner likes to give that popular Chow Twang. Luna thinks of Hogwarts with a pang. It hurts to remember such bittersweet memories.
Bittersweet; bittersweet because she misses Hogwarts very much. She misses the D.A. and her friends. She misses having friends . . . She has had them for a while now. She misses Ginny's fiery mop of ruby and her uniquely blazing personality; she misses her lovely humour and her unwavering ability to love such an oddity without doubt. And Luna misses Neville. She misses his awkward smile and his immediate defence; she misses the way he addresses the D.A. with sincere loyalty and his everlasting gratefulness for his army and his friends. But bitter . . . Bitter because of the pain that rips through her at every single class she attends, the pain that attacks with such monstrosity at the flick of a wand. The pain isn't always directed at her, but it does hurt all the same when it's Ginny or Colin or anyone else. And it hurts when she hears the tortured screams of the now-tortured. It hurts to see the hopeless sadness in the even bravest of eyes.
Whatever has happened to her home? Whatever has happened to the cheery dinners? Whatever has happened to Hogwarts?
Luna still remembers that fateful day. But it is not exactly easy to forget — forget? Merlin forbid! She did enjoy it for a while, oh yes. She remembers boarding the scarlet steam-engine with her — oh joy! — friends. She remembers propping up The Quibbler quite proudly (it had a funny drawing of the Death Eaters on the front page, did you notice?), and chatting away with Ginny and Neville about their future misdeeds. She never got to carry these out these clever misdeeds, and that still saddens her.
She remembers the cold fear creeping into her (quite hungry) stomach when the train stopped to an abrupt hault. She remembers a faint, rattling chill in the air, and she remembers a faint bang and Mummy's last, terrifying scream. Then she remembers another bang; a bang that is not from her silly memory. A bang that announces the melodramatic arrival of her kidnappers. She remembers two screams; she is quite flattered, as those screams belong to Neville and Ginny. Then all she remembers is a flash of fluorescent red light and sinking into total darkness.
Her memories after that affair are now the present. She cannot call them memories now.
And all she remembers is being supported by the cold, wooden floor of Malfoy Manor, with the LeStrange lady dangling over her head. She remembers lying in a rather marvellously grand but hopelessly depressing room. Then it comes quick and fast — the pain: deep, torturous, haunting, uncontrollable pain, and she remembers faint, mad, ravenous cackling; and then she remembers her return to the welcoming darkness. She remembers waking up after tumbling down the stained and splattered stairs. She looks down at herself. She is surprised that Daddy hasn't told her that people are made of brewed Ashwinder essence before. She supposes she'll tell him later. Then she remembers that the flowing darkness absorbed her once more.
Luna tries to ask that little, toothy man with the wispy hair who keeps appearing at the top of the stairs, stuttering loudly, about her Daddy ever-so-nicely, but all she gets is the same response: "Y-your p-p-precious papa is being watched. M-m-make one move and try to escap-p-pe, and you'll be g-gone. A-and — so will he!" Luna does not like that man very much. He seems awfully cowardly.
Luna Lovegood's hopes in the cellar really are destroyed.
She is very cross that she can't talk to Daddy. And Ginny. And Neville. And . . . dear Merlin — Harry and Ron and Hermione!
Neville and Ginny are plotting misdeeds. Luna can't pretend she's not upset. Daddy is home, praying for the plums and for The Quibbler and her, brewing tea in Mummy's bed probably.
But dear, dear — Luna has forgotten about The Golden Trio! The cellar is driving her mad! Luna is mad and lonely. The Trio are probably carrying out heroic misdeeds: suddenly Luna is very proud. She is proud of kindly Harry with his brilliant emerald eyes and his amazing bravery. She is proud of protective Ron with his mane of dazzling fire and his undeniable loyalty. She is proud of sassy Hermione with her frizzy hair and incredible knowledge. Luna really is proud of the Trio. Yet she wonders why they won't hurry up and save them: Mr Ollivander needs some food. And so does she. And Hogwarts — Hogwarts needs help urgently.
Luna Lovegood's life really needs help right now. She is mad and lonely and hungry and hurt and scared. She is in a war. Luna Lovegood is a warrior: a fighter. She is not simply an oddity. She simply has a topsy-turvy, messed-up, very unfortunate, bittersweet life. Luna Lovegood cannot fix that. Luna Lovegood is a warrior, but she is mad and lonely and hungry and hurt and scared, but most of all: Luna Lovegood is sick and tired.
This took an absolute age to write, so I hope that you like it. I do adore Luna Lovegood, and I felt a fic from her point-of-view was necessary. Don't mess with Luna! If you didn't know, the title is from the song titled "So Cold" by Ben Cocks. Enough chit-chat! Thanks for reading, please review!
Adios amigos!