Shock and disbelief
Luna's POV
People don't know how much it hurts. They pretend. They fawn over you with pity in their voices and gossipy curiosity lurking in their eyes. Their fingers crawling over your shoulders. Saying that they understood. Saying that it will be all right. That it was just a phase. They acted like they knew. Like their hungry eyes were full of grief. But they don't care. Not really.
From the day I was born, I was ''weird''. People would watch me and snicker behind their hands. Point and laugh. Giggle at the radishes hanging from my ears. Even the kindest Hufflepuff couldn't resist a snort at ''Loony Lovegood.''
Even when my belly start to swell, the only thing they said was: ''Oooh, who would hook up with her?''
I was hurt by their accusations and bullying. I was only seventeen when I fell pregnant. After a drunk one night stand. They were disgusted with me. They pointed at me and laughed. But I was shocked and disgusted with myself too. And disgusted with my uterus. For housing this creature. With my period. For not arriving that day it was supposed to.
I had a few friends. It was a hard time to be pregnant. The war had ended the year before and we were shaken by the effect it had left on us. I had only Ginny in my year who I could count on. She was the first one I told about the pregnancy. She accepted it and, through her acceptance, I learned to accept as well.
After that, things only grew better. I learned to ignore the bullies and realized who my true friends were. Hermione, Neville and a few other students from the year above came back to redo their Seventh Year. These students became my friends. People who had previously been rude to me were changed, softened by war and pain.
I gave birth to a healthy baby girl on the twelfth of July nineteen-ninety nine. I can remember holding her against my breast, watching her slowly latch on to my nipple and drink the snow white mother's milk that came from me. My body. I can remember the way her tiny fingers clung on to my hand. The way I had to support her head.
But, most of all, I can remember the way I marveled at her existence. The way a quick, frenzied sex in the back room of a forgotten bar could create such a lovely, beloved and cherished thing.
I touched her everywhere. My fingers explored her body. I stroked the hair on her body. I kissed the top of her head many, many times. I wondered at her. So beautiful and strangely peaceful. I loved her fiercely.
I called her Lyric Ginevra Lovegood.
And I loved her. So very, very much.
In the present time...
It was the sixth of June 2005
She was only six. Her lovely, large grey-blue eyes raised up. Her pale-blond hair curling into ringlets. Falling down in differently sized spirals. Dimples sunk into her elbows. Plump arms and legs. I watched her go out and play. I kissed the dimples in her cheeks. I didn't know that would be the last time I'd ever see her again.
In public, I answered the questions the Ministry officials shot at me quietly but with dry eyes and steady voice.
In private, I broke down and cried so hard my body hurt. I mourned her loss as if she was dead. I pulled the warmth of hope close to my heart. The hope that she wasn't dead. That she was missing and she would come back. She would be found.
My friends came to visit me. Ginny was pregnant with a baby boy due next month. But she and Harry still came nearly everyday. She hugged me and comforted me. She became my closest friend. Hermione and Ron visited too. Hermione had suffered a miscarriage recently and she understood what I was going through, in a way. We bonded over our losses.
But it hurt.
Flashback
A knock on the door.
I move to open it. My heart hammers in my chest. It always does when someone knocks.
A Ministry official stands outside. His eyes are filled with sadness.
''I'm so sorry.''
Oh, God. I can't do this. I try to close the door but his shoe is there. I struggle.
It's a blur. His words are mixed in my mind.
I can hear his voice repeat.
''I'm so sorry.''
Everything fades as I crumple down to the ground.
Back in the present...
Two years later...
It's March fifteenth 2007.
Not much of a change. I'm sitting in a chair in Ginny's house. Ginny sits opposite me. She leans forward in her chair. Her baby is due in August. Her face is flushed from excitement. Her stomach makes a bulge in her beige colored sweater. Her flaming red hair hair is pulled into a messy, high ponytail and her hazel eyes glow brightly. She's glowing.
Harry sits beside her, his glasses on the end of his nose. He's laughing. Ron and Hermione sit on the sofa. Hermione looks very nice. Her bushy brown hair falls over her shoulders and her warm, brown eyes stand out from the pale glow of her skin. Hermione is extra careful. She's pregnant. She cradles her stomach. Her baby is due in August too. But she's scared she might lose this baby. She's already suffered two miscarriages. Lost two babies.
Most of our friends aren't in England anymore. Sometimes they come back. But not often.
I watch James play on the floor. He's turning two in July. His hair is jet black and mussed up, like his father's. His eyes are hazel though, like his mother. He claps his hands and smiles a wide, big-toothed smile. Teddy sits next to James. Teddy is a Metamorphmagus. His hair is teal now and his eyes are a clear, sky blue. He's turning eight next month. He picks up a ball and throws it. James laughs and claps his hands.
I like to watch them. Two children- two happy children playing together. Sometimes, when I look at them, I can forget that there's a war going on around us. The Death Eaters are fighting. Voldemort may be gone but his Death Eaters still raged at the loss of their leader. We weren't as frightened as we were under Voldemort's rule, but we were still afraid. For our children. For our loved ones.
''Luna?''
They're talking about war. I look up and try to force a smile. Ginny stretches out an arm and lays a hand on my knee. I look up at her and she smiles reassuringly at me. She understands. My fears. Ginny has them too. But slightly different. I'm scared for my friends and family. I have no close blood-relations. My friends are my family. Ginny is scared for her son and unborn child, her family, her friends, her husband and brother, who are Aurors, her godson, Teddy.
Harry shoots me an understanding look and glances at his son and Teddy, and then at Ginny. His face softens. He's scared too. He puts his arm around Ginny and she snuggles into him. Ron and Hermione cuddle on the sofa. Ron's hands are around Hermione, his palms flat on the curve of her baby bump. Teddy and James continue to play. The grief and fear that suddenly fill the room do not seem to disturb them.
For a while, we all stare at the two children. I pull at a pale-blond ringlet that falls over my forehead. A cold loneliness suddenly spreads through me, pulling me into it's slimy depths, it's long, sticky arms wrapped around me. I feel strangely empty. I force myself away from these thoughts. Negative thoughts always drew me to the same thing. And I'd rather do anything but think of it.
I shut my eyes tightly to block any unwanted images out. I press my knuckles to my mouth and sink my teeth into them. Everyone is used to my habit of biting my knuckles when I'm stressed. Ron throws me a compassionate look. I give him my best fake smile.
We sit silently. Sometimes, the war is talked about freely and loudly. But, mostly, it's hidden. Said in low whispers. Nobody knows what to believe. Or who to trust. Our best friend could be a spy. Quiet rumors are unanswered questions. A hint of mystery is a story of hidden secrets. It's a scary world. And, in the midst of a silent, eerie war, it's no time to grieve. Death Eaters are everywhere. Quietly making sure anyone who finds out something more than innocent ends up dead.
In particularly bad spells, I sometimes wonder whether I can trust my own friends. But, then, I'm hit with guilt and remorse for feeling like that.
We're too scared to talk; so we whisper. We whisper and pass on rumors. We don't- can't- help strangers anymore for fear that they're Death Eaters in disguise. We sneak around. We can't trust anyone with our secrets. So we hide them. Keep them close to us.
I get up. Everyone looks up. I try to smile at them. I can see that they're worried. Anxiety spreads over their faces quickly. Hermione untangles herself from Ron and stands up. We share an understanding glance.
''I have to go,'' I say.
''Thank for coming,'' Ginny promptly stands up and wraps me up in a warm, Weasley hug.
The rest take turns to hug me. Teddy sees that I'm about to leave and jumps up. He runs to me and I lift him off his feet in a bear hug. He grins and the teal shade of his hair change into a rosy red with happiness and love. I hug him again and give him a true ''Loony Lovegood'' kiss on the forehead and turn to Ginny, who is carrying James. I open up my arms and the toddler climbs in.
''I'll see you soon?'' I say, looking into his face.
James is already busy playing with a lock of blonde hair. He twists it around his plump finger. I bounce him a bit and kiss him. His mouth hangs a little open. I smile encouragingly at him. He gives me a cheeky James Potter smile and laughs as he squeezes my chin.
''Love you? Stay safe?'' I say. Whatever we say to James is an encouraging question.
''Aunty Loony,'' James babbles. ''Love you. Stay safe,'' he echoes.
''Stay safe,'' the adults chorus at me.
''You too!'' I call back.
I put him down after one last kiss and turn to the door. I pull my coat on and after one last air kiss to the children, I shut the door behind me. The snows billows around me. It's dirty and lays heaped on the sides of the roads. The bitingly cold wind whips my cheeks, turning them red. My scarf flies behind me. My hair falls loose over my shoulders under my woolen hat.
There are Apparating stations now. Large red circles painted on the ground. There is one nearby. I hunch up. My hands are deep in my coat pockets. Beggars are on the sides of the streets, their cupped hands raised, pleading for a little kindness. It's like their grubby, bony hands are squeezing my hearts. Guilt drenches me in it's murky depths. But I don't stop. I can't trust anyone anymore.
I continue to walk. I hate this world. The Death Eaters who destroy families everyday. Not only mine. I hate that they can get away with it. My passion and anger rise steadily. I choke it down. I don't care about the anger or the passion. On the contrary, I want to be angry. To give the people I hate with a burning passion what they deserve.
But with the anger comes a roaring grief and loneliness. I struggle to contain it, push it deeper under the rest of my thoughts. To pretend it isn't happening. That this isn't happening. This horrible war. With the war, a dreadful fear comes flooding in. But I let it take over me. I'd rather be swallowed up by fear than by grief. Images of the poverty and the people who are struggling fill my mind.
I'm so absorbed in my thoughts that I accidently bump into someone.
''Oh, I'm so-'' I begin and then my eyes widen.
A man is standing in front of me. His hair is blond and falls over his forehead. His face is lined with the grief I had come to know very well. His chin is unshaved and a light film of rough stubble cover it. His arms are lined with muscles. He looks distracted. He's good looking. Nothing like the buck toothed boy he had been earlier. His eyes are a clear blue.
''Neville!'' I cry out.