Nothing More

by fuzzypinkcupcake

Have you ever wondered about what actually happened to Luna's mother? Was her death really an accident? How does Luna feel about it? Rated M for the tragedy part, and mild language.

Title: Nothing More

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Never have, never will. If I did, I wouldn't be here, would I?

(A/N: OK, so this is my first songfic. Have you ever wondered about Luna's mother's death? Luna has never actually talked about it at school, although she admitted to Harry that she didn't think about it much anymore. Anyways, the song I used was "Mer Girl" by Madonna. It's the last track on the Ray of Light CD from 1998. I altered the lyrics slightly, because some of them didn't quite make sense in terms of the story. By the way, this is dedicated to the Scandinavian (?) lady who was watching me write this story last night on the Q train at around 11:30 PM, from 57th St to Times Square. Whoever you are and whatever your name is, you are my third beta reader and you rock!)

I ran from my house

That cannot contain me

From the life that I cannot keep

From my mother who haunts me

Even though she's gone

From my father that never sleeps

Luna awoke in a cold sweat, her face drenched with fear. It had only been a nightmare, nothing more. Luna reached out in the darkness and felt for the handle of the top drawer of her nightstand. She opened the drawer and took out her silk handkerchief, the one that her dad gave her for her seventeenth birthday. Wiping down her nose and forehead, Luna got out of bed and walked to the window.

I ran from the noise and the silence

From the traffic on the streets

The nightmare was about Luna's mother. Her death, that is. At Hogwarts, nobody ever seemed to care about Luna's real mental state. They called her "Loony Lovegood." It was all in jest. Only Harry Potter knew that Luna had witnessed her mother's "accidental" death; it was because of this that Luna could see thestrals. Still, even Harry was oblivious towards Luna's family life and history. It was irritating.

I ran to the treetops

I ran to the sky

Out to the lake

Into the rain

That matted my hair

And soaked my shoes and skin

Hid my tears, hid my fears

Mrs. Lovegood's demise had occurred on a Sunday, and Luna recalled it as being a dark, gloomy day with lots of heather-colored clouds, but no wind and no rain. Luna's mother's full name was Genevieve Laura Newton Lovegood. Genevieve Lovegood was thirty-three years old when she married Robert Aldemus Lovegood, and thirty-four years old when she gave birth to Luna. Robert was a fine man, and the editor of The Quibbler. Mrs. Lovegood was ten years older than all the other witch-mothers she knew. Often, Mrs. Lovegood would isolate herself in the house basement and keep to herself, shutting out her husband and daughter. Mrs. Lovegood would perform different experiments in her laboratory and make new scientific discoveries for the wizarding world. It was these times that Genevieve Lovegood was happiest. It was these times that Luna was most scared.

I ran to the forest

I ran to the trees

I ran and I ran

I was looking for me

One day when Luna was nine, Mrs. Lovegood called her downstairs, to the basement. Mrs. Lovegood sat Luna down on a small white stool and then Mrs. Lovegood proceeded to create her experiment.

The perfect poison.

I ran past the churches

And the crooked old mailbox

Past the apple orchards

And the lady that never talks

Up into the hills

Genevieve Lovegood stirred her cauldron, and Luna watched, anticipating a grand magical feat to occur. Conjuring a creature? Oh, what fun! Genevieve Lovegood turned around with a beakerful of the potion in her hand. She faced her daughter and spoke quietly and calmly.

"Luna, I am going to do something both terrible and wonderful. It will be liberation for me. You will probably be shocked and stunned. You will hate me for it. You will go into a state of denial. You will hate the reason why, and my reason is: I have done all that I can in this world. You'll be confused, of course; you're only nine years old. I don't expect you to love me for all this; I just hope you won't hate me in the morning. I am afraid, Luna, very afraid for you, and for Dad. So, I bid you adieu. Goodbye and farewell, dear girl, my daughter. You are going to tell everyone that this was an accident. A horrible accident. Nothing more. I will see you in a while."

And with that, Genevieve Laura Newton Lovegood, age forty-three, drank the poison.

All Luna could see for miles was red.

Red as blood. The blood of her mother. The blood of a suicide by magic.

The imaginary gore.

I ran to the cemetery

And held my breath

And thought about your death

This was what Luna had had recurring nightmares about for the past eight years. When Robert Lovegood found his wife's body that Sunday afternoon, he asked Luna if she knew anything about it.

Little Luna started at the wall. "It was an accident. Nothing more."

I ran to the lake

Up into the hills

I ran and I ran

I'm looking there still

Luna kept staring out the window. She dabbed at her forehead with the handkerchief again.

And I saw the crumbling tombstones

The forgotten names

Luna continued to stare out the window. The scenery outside reminded her of that Muggle novel she read last year, what was it called again? Oh, something like Wuthering Heights. Yes, that's just what it was like. Luna sometimes saw her mother walking in the valley at night, a pale sliver of silver shadow and moonlight against the cobalt sky.

I tasted the rain

I tasted my tears

I cursed the angels

I tasted my fears

A light rain began to fall outside; it was dawn. Luna got dressed and went downstairs. She sat at the kitchen table, reading The Daily Prophet, trying to feel like a normal teenage girl. Trying to feel unscarred.

And the ground gave way beneath my feet

And the earth took me in her arms

Leaves covered my face

Robert Lovegood came downstairs for breakfast. It was 7:00 AM. He made himself some wizard pancakes and sat at the head of the table. There was a distinct, awkward silence. Neither father nor daughter knew what to say to one another.

It had been like that for eight long years.

Ants marched across my back

The black sky opened up

Blinding me

The two ate without saying a word. They hardly made any noise at all. Robert Lovegood was cleaning his glasses. Just like every single damned day for eight years. Always the same. No emotion involved.

Luna sighed and looked out the kitchen window. She saw her mother's ghost again. She also saw thestrals. Beautiful and dangerous. Some days, Luna wished she could be a thestral. She would befriend the corpse gazers and fly off to foreign lands. All she wanted was to get, get, get away.

I ran to the forest

I ran to the trees

I ran and I ran

I was looking for me

I ran to the lakes

And up to the hill

I ran and I ran

I'm looking there still

For one fleeting moment, Luna wanted to scream out at her father, "MY MOTHER KILLED HERSELF BECAUSE SHE THOUGHT SHE HAD FAILED AS A MOTHER! COULD YOU HAVE BEEN TOO BLIND TO NOTICE? ARE YOU EVEN SAD AT ALL? DID YOU WANT HER DEAD?" Luna wanted to scream until she had no more voice.

Then again, she had no voice to begin with...

And I smelt her burning flesh

Her rotting bones

Her decay

Mr. Lovegood got up from the table and put on his cloak. "I'm off to the Quibbler station, Luna. Be back at 3:00 for lunch. Bye, Love." Mr. Lovegood kissed the top of Luna's head and tousled her hair. Luna gave a wan, fake smile and watched her father leave the house. He had ruined her chance for confession.

Luna clenched her fists and whispered to herself, aloud.

"Damn you, Mother. Why couldn't you have just left a note?"

I ran and I ran

I'm still running away

(A/N: I know, it's sad. Please review and tell me what your thoughts were/are. I would really appreciate it.)