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☾ 。 ☽
the lovegood name doesn’t have a history.
that’s one of the first things luna has to learn by herself. it’s evident when she asks about aunts and cousins one day (the book her father read her talked about them), or how she discovers her father’s old books are marked “ noh il-sung ”, or eventually when she gets to visit her grandparents in south korea (the first and last time she’ll ever meet them, evidently). her parents teach her everything else with ease, like muggle music, and how to write, and that her hair grows out blonde because of her magic (it happened because of a sneezing fit, apparently).
they’re full of joy as they raise her. filling her up with curiosity while just making her crave to know more, letting her learn by herself as they keep her at arms length for safety. xenophilius teaches her about the nargles and toyols and squirrels, telling her of the beautiful outdoors even if he’s the one that’s a little hesitant to let her go play. pandora draws out everything from her magic, teaching her the importance of her magic, but also telling her of the wonderful muggle world, where her grandmother came from. all the same though, luna learns by herself. she reads her father’s books and watches her mum flick her wand and keeps asking, keeps learning, keeps asking to go out more.
she’s nine (two years since she started helping) when she watches her mum in awe. she’d always been an experimenter, but with luna being older, she’s begun getting bold - her recent success with creating an indoor breeze charm has her confident. then there’s a flash. light whizzes around them so quickly that she can barely react. she loses sight of the deep magenta streak for a moment before she lands back on her mum, chest bathed in that same light. pandora’s smile fades, and she crumples to the floor. (no amount of shaking wakes her up. not even from her father.)
when pandora dies, it’s another thing she has to teach herself. that death is irreversible.
the only other people at pandora’s funeral are their favorite shopkeep, a teacher she’ll later know as professor flitwick, her maternal grandparents, and her mum’s old friend. xenophilius doesn’t speak after. when they come back home, it’s emptier, hollow. but luna makes them tea, cuts the crusts off her own sandwiches, and makes baked beans for her father. he stays there, on the bed, for a while. but she doesn’t blame him. how can she?
(she grows up much faster than she realizes.)
one night, she ventures into her mum’s things, deciding that if her father can’t do it, she will. she stumbles on letters. not many to begin with, but then she finds it. kim soo-young . she barely recognizes the name before realizing it’s her father’s mother - her grandmother, the one she met only once. she can’t even recall the woman’s features (they share the same nose, she discovers after finding a photo later in life). it’s quite possibly the last letter her mum wrote, so of course, she reads it (always looking, always curious).
she’s never been sure about what the lovegood name means, but the warmth and the freeing love her mum describes when writing about their little family to luna’s grandmother must be it. not having to sacrifice themselves just to please someone else, only needing to be around those who love them. before doesn’t matter to them, only now and later . it’s what they’ve decided to make it to be, and that’s the only thing that matters.
that same night, she sends her mum’s letter to her father’s mother. she never gets a reply.
☾ 。 ☽
( her father digs himself into the quibbler from then on - the only thing alive left of pandora with her gone. what were possibilities and theories are now truths he swears upon and luna believes him. why wouldn’t she? he’s never been wrong, why would he be wrong now? they never really leave their home and she doesn’t mind too much. eventually, she learns how to do their weekly shop for the house. )
☾ 。 ☽
school is nothing like she’d ever imagined. all these people who are as tiny as her, who speak to her in ways that her parents never would. they’re loud, mostly. some of them are snooty. but luna doesn’t complain. the realization that the possibility of finding real friends matters more. it’s new and exciting, learning all these things from the girls and boys in her house, being taught interesting rules (ones she didn’t particularly think were too important). ecstatically telling her father of things she’s doing in the first week — then, being sent back the new issue of the quibbler.
of course! she’ll show them the quibbler! it’s her father’s hard work after all, what her parents built from the ground up, and many of the things he’s taught her so diligently. they’d definitely be impressed.
but, when she proudly shows off the magazine to the girls in her dorm, they look at her weird. reading through it, a couple of them laugh. for the first time in her life, luna feels small. the feeling is foreign but invasive, and she despises it.
and eventually, the word spreads around. they’re cruel, crass… especially the boys in her year. they take her quibbler and scribble and tear at it. the all-encompassing nerve of fear hits her again, and she runs away. they start the name loony lovegood . she doesn’t even know what to feel about it. resentment? fear? anger? what is she supposed to do? hide herself to please them? that’s exactly what her mum would never want for her.
but she doesn't explode, doesn’t cry, doesn’t bother (or rather, she won’t let herself). luna feels the gnawing, the fear, the shaking doubt, the anxiety but everything is buried deep. it’s inside instead of out, and eventually, her head just resigns to pushing things away from the surface to keep herself from going any further.
so eventually, they get bored. there’s always the occasional snicker and insult whenever she offers the latest issue of quibbler to anyone, but she doesn’t react anymore.
her head was always in her own thoughts, but that pulled her back even more. she’s still luna, but it’s all a little quieter on the outside, a lot more sporadic. at the very least, she’s still herself. and that’s what she would never give up on. this is who she is, and that’s what should matter. that much she knows.
she’s alone, and she accepts that now. her eyes are still always searching, and her mind is constantly alight.
☾ 。 ☽
( when christmas comes around, luna dismisses her father’s questions about friends and quickly asks about the next issue of the quibbler. she recognizes his inquiring, wandering eyes - the worry - but she doesn’t stop to let it bother her. luna knows better than to let him worry. plus, his explanation on what a heliopath is is much more interesting in every way. )
☾ 。 ☽
perhaps the fact she doesn’t want to replicate that hesitance, that skittishness, from her father that the resolve not to care grows. she doesn’t really engage with people, but when she does, she emulates her mum. blunt. speaking her mind, what she sees, what she knows. the truth. her truth. it doesn’t draw people to her, sure, in fact, it just pushes them further away. (people don’t like to be faced with her observations, she learns.) eventually, it helps her not care anymore.
let them be uncomfortable , as her mum would say when her dad would complain about the quibbler getting shunned by the daily prophet.
but it’s when she thinks she’s resigned to being alone, to letting her mind bury herself deep ever so quietly that she suddenly finds herself to be anything but.
“is this seat taken?”
(when she asks, luna blinks, somewhat confused. no one ever sat next to luna willingly, so being asked catches her off guard.)
“no, i don’t believe so.”
and suddenly, when someone says “loony”, they’re brought down by a snap of fiery words and then an equally fiery smile follows to reach luna. she doesn’t know how or why ginny weasley is nice to her, but it’s welcome. makes her feel warm when she listens and engages when no one else would before. ginny even talks about their father’s fascination with muggles in return, their common ground only making them realize how they’re not that different.
“ you found him! ”
(the frog sits in luna’s lap peacefully, its owner relieved at the sight. the nervousness she’s always seen on his face fades slightly.)
“ he’s quite nice, what’s his name? ”
and suddenly, when she’s usually alone by her corners, hiding in nooks in the castle, she’s joined by another. it’s a little more hesitant, but she supposes she can’t blame neville longbottom when he’d been so similarly othered - but ultimately, it’s just what draws them closer, seeking each other when everyone else parted around them.
it’s the feeling she’d been chasing the moment she stepped into hogwarts. friends. real ones. ones she’s eager to see every morning and reluctant to part with every night.
everything surprises her - how they laugh when she’s only telling the truth (they like how blunt she is, they tell her), or how when she goes on to speak about her theories, she is only brought back with the same amount of love. even if she hesitates to tell them much, they still give and give, and she gives back as much as she can handle - holding them close, telling them her truths, wiping their tears.
she decides she doesn’t want to be alone - not if she could ever help it.
☾ 。 ☽
( there’s a scary stillness in the house the day luna comes back from her fourth year in school. the battle at the department of mysteries leaves a mark in her and her father that she can’t parse through - doesn’t want to parse through. leaves her head astray even more, lets in the creeping fear much more easily. it lives in the dark corners of her mind, coaxing the panic to well up in her throat. she’s constantly reminded in the form of the tiny scar on her right cheekbone, just before the start of her blonde hair. )
☾ 。 ☽
she’s shocked when, eventually, more friends appear in her life. she can’t fathom it for a while. luna opens up her head to them a tad, slowly, and for once in her life, her circle expands. they all understand each other, knowing what happened in the department, and she begins to open her heart too.
she loves them, she really does. when they write her letters, she writes back immediately. she paints their faces on her ceiling because they remind her of her mum in that way. strong. fearless. warm. they give her strength as she hopes she does for them.
(for some time, she feels like harry potter in particular seems to understand her the most and she doesn’t understand what it is she feels for him. should she pay any mind to it? she doesn’t know. she feels the sweetness of it the day he asks her to the slug club party. kind of sticky, like honey. but when she notices how ginny looks at him, not two days after, the feelings dissipate just as she recognizes what it is.)
even then... she can’t seem to give them everything as they do to her. she fears that it’s too much, that she’d make them run away, surely, what with the way it gnaws at her like some beast. it’ll eventually gnaw at them too in that case. and her father doesn’t help her in her case. (his behaviour worsens with every week, jumping at storms, sudden sternness when she asks to leave the house, that damned hesitation plaguing everything he does now.) reminding her constantly that it would be too much for them with how he’s turning out. and he never seems to recover from it.
in fact, it keeps going, growing worse as the year passes, despite the way he writes fervently about his support for harry - it’s his only way to add to the rebellion without leaving his home.
so luna does the opposite. she makes herself strong. stops with the hesitating, ignores the fear and drives herself head first. with neville and ginny by her side, she decides she can do anything, even if it means all that danger when she goes into her sixth year.
she assists in leading dumbledore’s army back into life, breathing the rebellion into action within the walls of the school. speaks even when she usually wouldn’t, sneaks out of ravenclaw tower to trick professors, and does what she does best, taking on other people’s pain instead of her own.
but when christmas comes around, she doesn’t make it back to her father.
☾ 。 ☽
( when her friends ask where she went after the war, when the rebuilding started, luna smiles and says she helped her dad handle the quibbler and rebuild their home. but in reality, most of what she did was trying to recuperate herself. recognizing the same hesitance from her dad inside herself, feeling the suffocating nerves threaten to drown her, the memories of the dank, cold cell, all that time spent wondering if she would die the next day, if her friends were dead… and then burying them deep like she always did. she can’t let it do this to her. she’s meant to rebuild, not crumble anymore. )
☾ 。 ☽
returning to hogwarts only seemed like the right thing to do. (nothing good seemed to come from staying at home anymore.) she didn’t really get to do the last half either way so she supposes this is a good way to rebuild, and the decision is only made easier when ginny and neville return. being back in ravenclaw tower too helps - it brings a sort of familiar comfort.
then she sees draco. the same person who didn’t seem to give her a time of day, cold, mocking her friends, and then eventually who’d walk above her in the mansion.
but there’s no hatred or malice. luna doesn’t blame him. she never did. never will. she remembers his fear the first day she’d arrived at the manor. their eyes meeting, her own heart dropping, pleading, but draco’s eyes only helpless in return. so when they end up sitting next to each other that first night, luna only holds his hand. there’s an understanding there, one she can’t explain, but she accepts wholly. somehow, what she’d found difficult with her friends before becomes nothing when it’s draco. she tells him about her father, about the anxiety, about her own hesitance. they share their pain and she feels the gnaw release a little.
from then too, academics surprisingly become a good distraction. she dives deep into her love for magical creatures among all the other magic, absorbing the knowledge the way she observes the world. she supposes she’s always been a good learner, but never really bothered much with the effort to become a good student .
so, for awhile, it’s easy to forget. everything is brighter now. her best friends by her side along with new people to welcome into her heart. all the nights spent studying, and drinking, and laughing. luna never thought she could smile so much. she paints them into her small journal, holds them close as they bring her strength and warmth and love.
it’s why she hesitates when she decides to leave. but while leaving her friends seems like a heavy task - leaving her father makes her afraid. how would he be without her? especially when she’s not within arm’s reach like she was in school? would he become worse? better? but ultimately she knows she must do this. (she feels suffocated at home, but she can’t bring herself to admit that to herself, not yet, not when everything is too fresh.) luna wants - needs - to learn. needs to get out of everything she’s known, at least for a little, if only that. her life needs to expand past that of her little home just outside ottery st. catchpole and the strangeness of hogwarts. and those grades let her do just that.
☾ 。 ☽
( for the most part, sleeping becomes something luna can’t seem to get a grasp of. she’s either always awake or always asleep, the nerves climbing up ever so often to catch her off guard. she doesn’t know why this is happening, or if she should be alarmed, but she supposes it can’t get any worse. at least when she does get to sleep those long hours, the nightmares don’t show up. but neither does her mum anymore. )
☾ 。 ☽
learning is what she’s good at, she can say it confidently now. she’s done it herself all her life, taking in the world for herself to understand. she just gets to do it with books and academics now.
though, meeting and learning from experts in magical creatures seemed like a dead end when she first began the journey. not in the way they give her no knowledge, they give her more than enough, but just that small part of her wanting to find those creatures her father taught her. she knows that a lot of the things her dad used to teach her are false - she’s realized that for a long time now. (she knew for a while even in school, at some point it just became that she wanted to please him.) still, it feels like an obligation she has. to her dad and her younger self.
and when she meets madam aqila haroon, the wall becomes a door.
the creatures her father talked about never magically appeared in front of her, no, but the experience is close enough - madam aqila’s fascination with muggle mythology causes for many semi-secret excursions to different countries, trying to find if they’re real magical creatures spotted by muggles or if it really was a creation of the muggle collective. it’s eye-opening, that maybe, just maybe , everything her father had to say wasn’t complete hogwash.
after that, it’s when she gets her apprenticeship with sir david chew in indonesia that she finds how much she finds a kinship for charms. she’d always been a level good at it, but it had never been of much interest to her. (is it because of her mum? that she’d loved charms so very much? she’s not sure. she doesn’t think she’ll ever be sure - she got a recommendation from the norwegian magizoologist to meet sir david, so why not?) but quickly she realizes, it’s the little things in the subject that get to her - how the little flick of the wrist can alter a charm, or how saying anything the wrong way can destroy a spell completely. it opens up a new part of her thoughts, lets her ruminate in the cracks of details and intent.
☾ 。 ☽
( one night, when she thinks of her mum, trying to understand what’s happening in her life, if she’s doing the right thing - she’s reminded of the letter she wrote; the one she found after the funeral. it dawns on her then that the words echo in her. untethered, surrounded only by the people who matter, and getting to forge her own present and future, no matter what the past says. it’s one of the first things she learned after her mum passed. the lovegood name doesn’t need a history. and now she knows why.
because luna is its history. )
☾ 。 ☽