"Homecoming" for Antoshevu
Title: Homecoming
Rating: PG
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Deathly Hallows, Second Person POV
Summary (fic only): Luna doesn’t visit the Potters, but she does return to them.
Original Prompt: Briefly describe what you want: Luna visiting the Potters.
Tone of the fic: I'm open for anything-Luna/Harry/Ginny is my OT3, so romance or PWP is fine, het, femmeslash or a threesome; angst and/or fluff work; gen is cool too, though I like to see the ways in which Luna connects to Harry and Ginny as individuals and as a couple, so...
An element/line of dialogue/object you would like in your fic: Ravenclaw's diadem.
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: G to NC-17. Whatever!
Canon or AU? Canon would be my preference. AU's okay, so long as there's a clear point of departure from canon-and a clear reason for departing. Just saying EWE doesn't work for me.
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): Any ship that includes Draco with anyone other than a Slytherin really doesn't interest me-to be honest, Draco doesn't interest me, so if he's central to the plot it had better be for a really good reason. Darkfic-for-darkfic's-sake (it's-all-awful-and-then-people-die); I can enjoy exploring the dark side but again, I'd like it to be for a reason. I'm a curious-minded person, so some kinky stuff is okay (for a reason, blah-blah-blah), but any kink beyond the garden variety might be tough for me to swallow (so, yeah, no non-sexual-bodily-fluids kink, no heavy-duty S&M, D/s, bondage, breathplay, etc.). Chan (especially cross-gen), non-con and dub-con are major squicks for me, so if they are going to be included, it needs to be dealt with in a realistic manner. I don't find child abuse or rape sexy, so, once again... it'd better be there for a good reason. ;-)
You haven’t been in the company of friends in a long time. You feel like you’ve spent the last few years on the run, but you don’t know who you’re running from anymore--certainly not Death Eaters or Voldemort. But that same kind of panic that they used to incite runs through your veins. You feel like a caged bird that beats her wings so hard they might just break. So you stay on the move. You don’t settle in one place too long. You force yourself to see as much of the world as you possibly can. You need the adventure to convince yourself that life is worth living.
You don’t allow yourself to miss your friends too much.
But you can still see Dean’s face when you go to sleep at night.
You feel Neville with you when you’re bone tired.
You can hear Hermione whispering to you when you hunker down with an obscure book.
You smile at strangers with kind faces and it almost feels like Ron is smiling back at you.
You look to your side expecting to see Ginny’s face covered in freckles and mischief when you’re exploring some place new.
Your sadness abates just knowing that there is a Harry Potter in the world.
***
In the beginning it’s clear to everyone but you why you’re a girl on the run.
You’re afraid to be alone in that house on the hill just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole. It was always a house full of oddities, but now it’s haunted. The ghosts of your mother and your father are there, and you don’t quite understand why it distresses you so much. They’re not actual ghosts, like the ones that float around the halls of Hogwarts. No, these are proper spirits; the echoes of people after their earthly bodies have been buried. These ghosts don’t keep you company or provide insightful commentary. These ghosts make you feel like you’re nine years old again.
The Luna Lovegood that you became is not a result of magic, but rather a reaction to it. You didn’t always used to be unflappable; your expression wasn’t always ethereal, bordering on vacant. No, that Luna Lovegood took some training to become. You used to be just like all the other little girls. You cried when you fell and scraped your knees, you liked your crusts cut off, and you couldn’t sleep without being tucked in by your mum. But she was a trapped bird. Her wings did break. She could not be caged.
Daddy didn’t know how to handle you. So you grew up fast, fast enough to take care of him the best you could before you left for school, fast enough that you stopped expecting happy endings, fast enough that you learned to dwell in shadows and moonlight, fast enough that you learned the difference between being alone and being lonely.
***
After narrowly escaping the Malfoy mansion and just surviving a war--but only just--you came home with determination to start anew. Daddy seemed older after coming home from Azkaban, like the cold breath of the Dementors was resting inside him, in his heart. You two worked to rebuild the house. You painted more faces on your walls. Faces of friends you never wanted to miss, faces of friends you never wanted to forget. Things seemed like they were going to go back to normal.
You should have known, should have sensed it coming. Luna Lovegood is not meant for normal. You feel like you’ve become an orphan for the second time in ten years when you lay your father to rest. He refused to see a healer. You don’t need an official diagnosis to know that he died of a broken heart.
When all the leaves have fallen and the tops of the headstones are barely visible in the snow, you pack some things and apparate in the middle of the night. It's a miracle you don't get splinched because you aren't cognizant of any destination. You simply need to get gone. You don’t leave a note. You think you have no one to address it to. You convince yourself it's not running away when there’s no one to stop you or convince you to change your mind.
***
What you don’t know is that Ginny knocked furiously on your door for twenty minutes before she began to think the worst.
What you don’t know is that Harry paced for two days straight until Hedwig returned with a note from you.
What you don’t know is that Hermione missed seeing The Quibbler at the newsstand.
What you don’t know is that Ron wished it was you commentating quidditch.
What you don’t know is that Neville planted dirigible plums for you.
What you don’t know is that Dean looks for snorcacks on his own now.
Distance and secrecy don’t keep their owls away. They come at regular intervals. You want your friends to give up on you. You want to be a ghost too. You want to float in and out at your convenience. You don’t want messy feelings or fragile heartstrings. You hate lying, but you tell them you’re fine, that you’re keeping warm and taking fastidious notes for a book you'll publish someday.
***
You catch glimpses of yourself in mirrors and you remind yourself of some great wizards you had the privilege of knowing in what feels like a lifetime ago. Your face isn’t dreamy anymore. You seem to scowl at the sky, angry that the sun has come out to ruin your cloudy day. You walk briskly, with purpose, even though it feels like you move in circles, aimlessly. Your robes fly out like you’re surrounded by a storm. But your blonde hair couldn’t be further from Professor Snape's black, lank hair. Yours has grown wild. You look unkempt, almost fashionably bohemian. You look half-starved and people shy, like Professor Lupin. You know you make the people you pass by uncomfortable and ill at ease. It makes you retreat further into yourself. You’ve always had a reputation for being crazy, but unlike Professor Trelawney you don’t need sherry to quiet the voices. But you do envy the tower she lives in, the tower with the rope ladder.
***
Two years go by before you feel like surfacing. It’s time, you think. You start feeling it in your limbs. The wanderlust that’s pushed and pulled you is changing into something else entirely. There's an unfamiliar ache for home, for love, for family thrumming through you. You’re not sure you know where to go. You apparate again without a destination in mind, but you end up in the right place--whole and intact.
Your homecoming happens on the front steps of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Home is in Harry and Ginny’s embrace. You think your heart will burst; only it doesn’t, not until the Potters bring you to The Burrow--where people who aren’t even Weasleys pop in without invitations and stay past proper decency. No one seems to mind.
Your heart is a muscle and it hasn’t had to work quite like this in some time. But you like the burn of pushing it to its limits. You love the feeling of living; you can’t even remember why you wanted to stop before. You remember everything your heart knew already but somehow forgot. It’s like you’re wearing the lost diadem: bloodlines don't always determine a family; sometimes a family chooses you. You hear your mum's voice again, telling you that the things you lose have a way of coming back to you in the end, if not always in the way you expect.
Rating: PG
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Deathly Hallows, Second Person POV
Summary (fic only): Luna doesn’t visit the Potters, but she does return to them.
Original Prompt: Briefly describe what you want: Luna visiting the Potters.
Tone of the fic: I'm open for anything-Luna/Harry/Ginny is my OT3, so romance or PWP is fine, het, femmeslash or a threesome; angst and/or fluff work; gen is cool too, though I like to see the ways in which Luna connects to Harry and Ginny as individuals and as a couple, so...
An element/line of dialogue/object you would like in your fic: Ravenclaw's diadem.
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: G to NC-17. Whatever!
Canon or AU? Canon would be my preference. AU's okay, so long as there's a clear point of departure from canon-and a clear reason for departing. Just saying EWE doesn't work for me.
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): Any ship that includes Draco with anyone other than a Slytherin really doesn't interest me-to be honest, Draco doesn't interest me, so if he's central to the plot it had better be for a really good reason. Darkfic-for-darkfic's-sake (it's-all-awful-and-then-people-die); I can enjoy exploring the dark side but again, I'd like it to be for a reason. I'm a curious-minded person, so some kinky stuff is okay (for a reason, blah-blah-blah), but any kink beyond the garden variety might be tough for me to swallow (so, yeah, no non-sexual-bodily-fluids kink, no heavy-duty S&M, D/s, bondage, breathplay, etc.). Chan (especially cross-gen), non-con and dub-con are major squicks for me, so if they are going to be included, it needs to be dealt with in a realistic manner. I don't find child abuse or rape sexy, so, once again... it'd better be there for a good reason. ;-)
You haven’t been in the company of friends in a long time. You feel like you’ve spent the last few years on the run, but you don’t know who you’re running from anymore--certainly not Death Eaters or Voldemort. But that same kind of panic that they used to incite runs through your veins. You feel like a caged bird that beats her wings so hard they might just break. So you stay on the move. You don’t settle in one place too long. You force yourself to see as much of the world as you possibly can. You need the adventure to convince yourself that life is worth living.
You don’t allow yourself to miss your friends too much.
But you can still see Dean’s face when you go to sleep at night.
You feel Neville with you when you’re bone tired.
You can hear Hermione whispering to you when you hunker down with an obscure book.
You smile at strangers with kind faces and it almost feels like Ron is smiling back at you.
You look to your side expecting to see Ginny’s face covered in freckles and mischief when you’re exploring some place new.
Your sadness abates just knowing that there is a Harry Potter in the world.
***
In the beginning it’s clear to everyone but you why you’re a girl on the run.
You’re afraid to be alone in that house on the hill just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole. It was always a house full of oddities, but now it’s haunted. The ghosts of your mother and your father are there, and you don’t quite understand why it distresses you so much. They’re not actual ghosts, like the ones that float around the halls of Hogwarts. No, these are proper spirits; the echoes of people after their earthly bodies have been buried. These ghosts don’t keep you company or provide insightful commentary. These ghosts make you feel like you’re nine years old again.
The Luna Lovegood that you became is not a result of magic, but rather a reaction to it. You didn’t always used to be unflappable; your expression wasn’t always ethereal, bordering on vacant. No, that Luna Lovegood took some training to become. You used to be just like all the other little girls. You cried when you fell and scraped your knees, you liked your crusts cut off, and you couldn’t sleep without being tucked in by your mum. But she was a trapped bird. Her wings did break. She could not be caged.
Daddy didn’t know how to handle you. So you grew up fast, fast enough to take care of him the best you could before you left for school, fast enough that you stopped expecting happy endings, fast enough that you learned to dwell in shadows and moonlight, fast enough that you learned the difference between being alone and being lonely.
***
After narrowly escaping the Malfoy mansion and just surviving a war--but only just--you came home with determination to start anew. Daddy seemed older after coming home from Azkaban, like the cold breath of the Dementors was resting inside him, in his heart. You two worked to rebuild the house. You painted more faces on your walls. Faces of friends you never wanted to miss, faces of friends you never wanted to forget. Things seemed like they were going to go back to normal.
You should have known, should have sensed it coming. Luna Lovegood is not meant for normal. You feel like you’ve become an orphan for the second time in ten years when you lay your father to rest. He refused to see a healer. You don’t need an official diagnosis to know that he died of a broken heart.
When all the leaves have fallen and the tops of the headstones are barely visible in the snow, you pack some things and apparate in the middle of the night. It's a miracle you don't get splinched because you aren't cognizant of any destination. You simply need to get gone. You don’t leave a note. You think you have no one to address it to. You convince yourself it's not running away when there’s no one to stop you or convince you to change your mind.
***
What you don’t know is that Ginny knocked furiously on your door for twenty minutes before she began to think the worst.
What you don’t know is that Harry paced for two days straight until Hedwig returned with a note from you.
What you don’t know is that Hermione missed seeing The Quibbler at the newsstand.
What you don’t know is that Ron wished it was you commentating quidditch.
What you don’t know is that Neville planted dirigible plums for you.
What you don’t know is that Dean looks for snorcacks on his own now.
Distance and secrecy don’t keep their owls away. They come at regular intervals. You want your friends to give up on you. You want to be a ghost too. You want to float in and out at your convenience. You don’t want messy feelings or fragile heartstrings. You hate lying, but you tell them you’re fine, that you’re keeping warm and taking fastidious notes for a book you'll publish someday.
***
You catch glimpses of yourself in mirrors and you remind yourself of some great wizards you had the privilege of knowing in what feels like a lifetime ago. Your face isn’t dreamy anymore. You seem to scowl at the sky, angry that the sun has come out to ruin your cloudy day. You walk briskly, with purpose, even though it feels like you move in circles, aimlessly. Your robes fly out like you’re surrounded by a storm. But your blonde hair couldn’t be further from Professor Snape's black, lank hair. Yours has grown wild. You look unkempt, almost fashionably bohemian. You look half-starved and people shy, like Professor Lupin. You know you make the people you pass by uncomfortable and ill at ease. It makes you retreat further into yourself. You’ve always had a reputation for being crazy, but unlike Professor Trelawney you don’t need sherry to quiet the voices. But you do envy the tower she lives in, the tower with the rope ladder.
***
Two years go by before you feel like surfacing. It’s time, you think. You start feeling it in your limbs. The wanderlust that’s pushed and pulled you is changing into something else entirely. There's an unfamiliar ache for home, for love, for family thrumming through you. You’re not sure you know where to go. You apparate again without a destination in mind, but you end up in the right place--whole and intact.
Your homecoming happens on the front steps of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Home is in Harry and Ginny’s embrace. You think your heart will burst; only it doesn’t, not until the Potters bring you to The Burrow--where people who aren’t even Weasleys pop in without invitations and stay past proper decency. No one seems to mind.
Your heart is a muscle and it hasn’t had to work quite like this in some time. But you like the burn of pushing it to its limits. You love the feeling of living; you can’t even remember why you wanted to stop before. You remember everything your heart knew already but somehow forgot. It’s like you’re wearing the lost diadem: bloodlines don't always determine a family; sometimes a family chooses you. You hear your mum's voice again, telling you that the things you lose have a way of coming back to you in the end, if not always in the way you expect.