Fanfic: Finding Sanctuary (Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood, PG-13)
I can finally claim my story! I actively came back to fandom a few months ago and 
hprarefest /
hp_rarefest was still open for claiming...so I claimed my own prompt. If you haven't made your way to the fest yet, I highly suggested. Loads of wonderful fic and art. The masterlists are posted on both LJ and DW, and there's also a collection where most of us are starting to post our works.
Here is my fic! Feel free to read it on Ao3 if you prefer!
Title: Finding Sanctuary
Author/Artist:
evening12
Pairing(s): Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood
Word Count: 1240
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s)/Content: mention of non-graphic torture, hurt/comfort
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: It’s the first fanfic I’ve written in close to 3 years, and I’m so grateful to the mod of this fest for running and keeping it alive. To
icicle33 , thank you for reading this story and letting me know that it could stand on it’s own when I wasn’t sure it wasn’t any good. To
digthewriter , thank you for beta-ing my story. It’s nice to know that there are still awesome people in our fandom that are helping others. The original posting can be found here.
Summary: That year Snape was Headmaster was the worse time to be at Hogwarts, but for Ginny it was also the best because she found Luna.
Another day spent with Madam Pomfrey. This time for a skin infection. Common things, they were these days. Salves were in low quantities, and infection settled quickly in the cuts. Most of Dumbledore’s Army already had scars on the back of their hands. But everybody knew that Blood Quills and Prefects were better than wands and the Carrows.
This wasn’t the first time Ginny landed in the hospital wing. She seemed to frequent it as much as Harry had while at Hogwarts. Somebody had to keep up the tradition.
Fred and George always told Ginny that scars and bruises were stories and adventures waiting to be told. But Fred and George weren’t here. And Ginny wasn’t sure she wanted to relive those stories. Or have any more of those sorts of adventures.
Classes. D.A. Detention. Classes. D.A. Detention. Classes. D.A. Detention. Hospital wing. It never stopped. It never stopped except for in the hospital wing. If any student needed an escape, Madam Pomfrey always found a reason to keep them in the hospital wing.
Away from the Carrows, the hospital wing had become a sort of sanctuary.
The fifth bed from Madam Pomfrey’s office belonged to Ginny. As much as a hospital bed could belong to someone. From there, she could see the window facing east, which oversaw the Quidditch pitch.
A few beds over, Neville practiced wand movements and Luna levitated copies of The Quibbler onto every side table. She made sure that Dumbledore’s Army was well stocked with Quibblers. And so, Luna had become a mainstay of the hospital wing too. And a mainstay in Ginny’s life. Quibbler in hand, she always had words to share with Ginny.
“We match,” said Luna as she showed Ginny the back of her bandaged hand.
Ginny hadn’t noticed when Luna settled on the edge of her bed.
“Mine says pure-blood. As a reminder, I suppose. But Memory Potions are much better to help people remember. Did you know that jobberknoll feathers are used in those potions?” asked Luna.
“No. no clue at all, Luna,” Ginny said as she made room for Luna on her hospital bed. Not that hospital beds were very accommodating.
“That’s okay, I suppose,” said Luna while making herself comfortable on the bed. Her legs brushed against Ginny’s.
With her hair falling from her messy bun all over her face, Luna looked like she’d just finished a broom race. Ginny noticed that Luna had pale freckles peppering the bridge of her nose. She wondered if Luna’s freckles darkened under the summer sun, like hers did. Ginny smiled at the thought, and blushed as she realized she missed Luna’s story.
“...harmed when their feathers are plucked.” Luna gave a small wave to Ginny. “Hogwarts to Ginny?”
“How about a smile for a smile?” Luna pushed a Chocolate Frog towards Ginny. “When I was little, my mum painted dirigible plums all over the walls of my bedroom. I’d go to sleep dreaming of reaching for the skies. One day, I’ll find some. Some real dirigible plums. Wouldn’t it be nice? Seeing the world? I want to see the world that my mum saw.”
“That would be something, indeed.” Ginny gave a small smile at the Dumbledore card she unravelled. “Bill took me up on his broom. We weren’t supposed to. Being the only girl, and all, Mum was a bit protective. I must’ve been four or five. We didn’t fly very high. And Bill was by my side the entire time, but I fell in love. I fell in love with flying that day.”
Small moments like these made Hogwarts bearable. Ginny could forget. Forget that Percy was estranged from the family. Forget that Ron and Harry were so far away. Forget that her whole family was at risk. She could forget it all with Luna. She’d focus on Luna’s smile. On Luna’s pursed lips as she did The Quibbler’s crosswords. She’d focus on how good it felt to be alive in that one moment.
When Madam Pomfrey did her rounds that night, Luna stayed still under the blankets, pretending to have left. In soft whispers, Ginny and Luna kept sharing of themselves. They kept sharing until they woke up in a tangle of limbs.
Ginny was tired. Tired of seeing the unused Quidditch pitch covered with leaves. Tired of a life that revolved around Dumbledore’s Army and detentions. If The Quibbler was to be believed, which Ginny did more often than not these days, You-Know-Who’s followers murdered Professor Burbage. What was the point of being at Hogwarts if she couldn’t protect anyone? If she couldn’t save anyone?
Ginny shielded the rays of sun coming through the hospital bed curtains with her copy of The Quibbler. Her hand ached something fierce. Detentions were starting to take its toll.
Luna sat on Ginny’s bed after she finished distributing the rest of the papers. Ginny let herself move a bit closer to Luna, curling in slightly so that their legs touched.
“How do you do it? How am I supposed to do to it, Luna?” Ginny asked.
Luna placed her hand on top of Ginny’s. “Worrying means you suffer twice1. At least, that’s what a book told me once. And so, things will get better. Thing have to get better.”
With her free hand, Luna started to trace words on Ginny’s skin. Brave, kind, good, strong and so on went the words until Ginny only felt the soft brush of Luna’s fingers on her skin. Imaginary lines, loops and curls that soothed Ginny. With the curtains drawn, it was safe here. Like a little cocoon. A little island. A sanctuary.
They talked about nothing and everything. Ginny learned of Luna’s quiet strength and unwavering hope. Luna always had a smile to share even when she was in pain. Ginny cherished those smiles.
Being with Luna was nice. Better than nice even. It felt like flying. It was calming and exhilarating all at once. Ginny could get used to this feeling. She could easily get used to always being in Luna’s life. Scattered-brain Luna, who misplaced everything but knew where to find the important things.
As autumn leaves gave way to the first dusting of snow, the hospital wing expended. Ten new hospital beds were added. It’s in one of these new beds that Ginny saw Luna. News of Luna’s injuries hit Ginny without giving her a chance to breath. She’d heard the whispers during transfiguration class and left. Two steps by two steps, Ginny got up to the hospital wing.
Creeping under Luna’s hospital gown, Ginny saw the making of an ugly, purple bruise.
“The Carrows,” said Luna as if answering Ginny’s unspoken question. “It seems they didn’t like Daddy’s latest article. What’s not to like?” She shrugged. Folded on Luna’s lap, part of The Quibbler’s title was visible: “SAVED BY UNDERGROUND BROADCAST”.
The bruises that began as a purple stain above Luna’s eyebrow had sunk into the socket, giving the appearance of a black eye. Ginny kissed her index finger and with it gingerly caressed the cut under Luna’s eye.
“Maybe...maybe when this is all over we could go someplace? Someplace, together?” Ginny asked as she sat beside Luna, a hopeful smile on her face.
Luna leaned against Ginny. “Hospital wings don’t make the best dates after all.”
______________
1. Rowling, J.K. (2016). Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them: The Original Screenplay. New York: Arthur A. Levine Books
This entry was originally posted at http://evening12.dreamwidth.org/42623.html. Please comment on LJ or there using OpenID.
hprarefest /
hp_rarefest was still open for claiming...so I claimed my own prompt. If you haven't made your way to the fest yet, I highly suggested. Loads of wonderful fic and art. The masterlists are posted on both LJ and DW, and there's also a collection where most of us are starting to post our works.
Here is my fic! Feel free to read it on Ao3 if you prefer!
Title: Finding Sanctuary
Author/Artist:
evening12
Pairing(s): Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood
Word Count: 1240
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s)/Content: mention of non-graphic torture, hurt/comfort
Disclaimer:Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: It’s the first fanfic I’ve written in close to 3 years, and I’m so grateful to the mod of this fest for running and keeping it alive. To
icicle33 , thank you for reading this story and letting me know that it could stand on it’s own when I wasn’t sure it wasn’t any good. To
digthewriter , thank you for beta-ing my story. It’s nice to know that there are still awesome people in our fandom that are helping others. The original posting can be found here.
Summary: That year Snape was Headmaster was the worse time to be at Hogwarts, but for Ginny it was also the best because she found Luna.
Another day spent with Madam Pomfrey. This time for a skin infection. Common things, they were these days. Salves were in low quantities, and infection settled quickly in the cuts. Most of Dumbledore’s Army already had scars on the back of their hands. But everybody knew that Blood Quills and Prefects were better than wands and the Carrows.
This wasn’t the first time Ginny landed in the hospital wing. She seemed to frequent it as much as Harry had while at Hogwarts. Somebody had to keep up the tradition.
Fred and George always told Ginny that scars and bruises were stories and adventures waiting to be told. But Fred and George weren’t here. And Ginny wasn’t sure she wanted to relive those stories. Or have any more of those sorts of adventures.
Classes. D.A. Detention. Classes. D.A. Detention. Classes. D.A. Detention. Hospital wing. It never stopped. It never stopped except for in the hospital wing. If any student needed an escape, Madam Pomfrey always found a reason to keep them in the hospital wing.
Away from the Carrows, the hospital wing had become a sort of sanctuary.
The fifth bed from Madam Pomfrey’s office belonged to Ginny. As much as a hospital bed could belong to someone. From there, she could see the window facing east, which oversaw the Quidditch pitch.
A few beds over, Neville practiced wand movements and Luna levitated copies of The Quibbler onto every side table. She made sure that Dumbledore’s Army was well stocked with Quibblers. And so, Luna had become a mainstay of the hospital wing too. And a mainstay in Ginny’s life. Quibbler in hand, she always had words to share with Ginny.
“We match,” said Luna as she showed Ginny the back of her bandaged hand.
Ginny hadn’t noticed when Luna settled on the edge of her bed.
“Mine says pure-blood. As a reminder, I suppose. But Memory Potions are much better to help people remember. Did you know that jobberknoll feathers are used in those potions?” asked Luna.
“No. no clue at all, Luna,” Ginny said as she made room for Luna on her hospital bed. Not that hospital beds were very accommodating.
“That’s okay, I suppose,” said Luna while making herself comfortable on the bed. Her legs brushed against Ginny’s.
With her hair falling from her messy bun all over her face, Luna looked like she’d just finished a broom race. Ginny noticed that Luna had pale freckles peppering the bridge of her nose. She wondered if Luna’s freckles darkened under the summer sun, like hers did. Ginny smiled at the thought, and blushed as she realized she missed Luna’s story.
“...harmed when their feathers are plucked.” Luna gave a small wave to Ginny. “Hogwarts to Ginny?”
“How about a smile for a smile?” Luna pushed a Chocolate Frog towards Ginny. “When I was little, my mum painted dirigible plums all over the walls of my bedroom. I’d go to sleep dreaming of reaching for the skies. One day, I’ll find some. Some real dirigible plums. Wouldn’t it be nice? Seeing the world? I want to see the world that my mum saw.”
“That would be something, indeed.” Ginny gave a small smile at the Dumbledore card she unravelled. “Bill took me up on his broom. We weren’t supposed to. Being the only girl, and all, Mum was a bit protective. I must’ve been four or five. We didn’t fly very high. And Bill was by my side the entire time, but I fell in love. I fell in love with flying that day.”
Small moments like these made Hogwarts bearable. Ginny could forget. Forget that Percy was estranged from the family. Forget that Ron and Harry were so far away. Forget that her whole family was at risk. She could forget it all with Luna. She’d focus on Luna’s smile. On Luna’s pursed lips as she did The Quibbler’s crosswords. She’d focus on how good it felt to be alive in that one moment.
When Madam Pomfrey did her rounds that night, Luna stayed still under the blankets, pretending to have left. In soft whispers, Ginny and Luna kept sharing of themselves. They kept sharing until they woke up in a tangle of limbs.
Ginny was tired. Tired of seeing the unused Quidditch pitch covered with leaves. Tired of a life that revolved around Dumbledore’s Army and detentions. If The Quibbler was to be believed, which Ginny did more often than not these days, You-Know-Who’s followers murdered Professor Burbage. What was the point of being at Hogwarts if she couldn’t protect anyone? If she couldn’t save anyone?
Ginny shielded the rays of sun coming through the hospital bed curtains with her copy of The Quibbler. Her hand ached something fierce. Detentions were starting to take its toll.
Luna sat on Ginny’s bed after she finished distributing the rest of the papers. Ginny let herself move a bit closer to Luna, curling in slightly so that their legs touched.
“How do you do it? How am I supposed to do to it, Luna?” Ginny asked.
Luna placed her hand on top of Ginny’s. “Worrying means you suffer twice1. At least, that’s what a book told me once. And so, things will get better. Thing have to get better.”
With her free hand, Luna started to trace words on Ginny’s skin. Brave, kind, good, strong and so on went the words until Ginny only felt the soft brush of Luna’s fingers on her skin. Imaginary lines, loops and curls that soothed Ginny. With the curtains drawn, it was safe here. Like a little cocoon. A little island. A sanctuary.
They talked about nothing and everything. Ginny learned of Luna’s quiet strength and unwavering hope. Luna always had a smile to share even when she was in pain. Ginny cherished those smiles.
Being with Luna was nice. Better than nice even. It felt like flying. It was calming and exhilarating all at once. Ginny could get used to this feeling. She could easily get used to always being in Luna’s life. Scattered-brain Luna, who misplaced everything but knew where to find the important things.
As autumn leaves gave way to the first dusting of snow, the hospital wing expended. Ten new hospital beds were added. It’s in one of these new beds that Ginny saw Luna. News of Luna’s injuries hit Ginny without giving her a chance to breath. She’d heard the whispers during transfiguration class and left. Two steps by two steps, Ginny got up to the hospital wing.
Creeping under Luna’s hospital gown, Ginny saw the making of an ugly, purple bruise.
“The Carrows,” said Luna as if answering Ginny’s unspoken question. “It seems they didn’t like Daddy’s latest article. What’s not to like?” She shrugged. Folded on Luna’s lap, part of The Quibbler’s title was visible: “SAVED BY UNDERGROUND BROADCAST”.
The bruises that began as a purple stain above Luna’s eyebrow had sunk into the socket, giving the appearance of a black eye. Ginny kissed her index finger and with it gingerly caressed the cut under Luna’s eye.
“Maybe...maybe when this is all over we could go someplace? Someplace, together?” Ginny asked as she sat beside Luna, a hopeful smile on her face.
Luna leaned against Ginny. “Hospital wings don’t make the best dates after all.”
______________
1. Rowling, J.K. (2016). Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them: The Original Screenplay. New York: Arthur A. Levine Books
This entry was originally posted at http://evening12.dreamwidth.org/42623.html. Please comment on LJ or there using OpenID.