Fic: "Accidental Symbolism", for janicechess

[springmod]

Title: Accidental Symbolism
Author: magentabear
Recipient: janicechess
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): Luna, Neville, Ginny, Harry
Warnings: brief allusion to violence
Summary: Luna judges people by what they wear.
Author's notes: Much thanks to shiiki for being there when my copy of HBP wasn't and big thanks to gestaltrose for the ever helpful, super speedy beta job.


Accidental Symbolism

Luna judges people by what they wear.

When she was little she would walk down the hill behind the back porch and skip over the little stream just beyond their fence. She never let her shoes get wet. From there, it was only a short walk to the clearing where the Weasley boys played Quidditch. They would be wearing grass green and sky blue and sunshine yellow and she would always think that they were the happiest boys she had ever seen.

None of them came to her mother’s funeral but their mother cooked for all the guests. Mrs. Weasley wore a yellow paisley apron over somber brown robes and when she enveloped Luna in a hug, the whole world smelled like soap, flour and chicken. Luna surprised them both by leaning into the hug and clinging to the yellow paisley apron. She left tiny little wrinkles in the yellow fabric, but Mrs. Weasley only tightened her hug and murmured something about wrinkles and laugh lines and heaven.

A month later a tired looking owl dropped a ratty package in Luna’s lap. Inside was a newly stitched skirt made of yellow paisley apron.

Many years later Ginny would find the skirt at the bottom of Luna’s trunk at school and grin softly. "My mum always liked yours," she would say and "your mum’s a good cook," Luna would reply and then they would finish their Transfiguration essay.

Professor McGonagall, Luna always suspected, knows the power of proper attire. Her prim hair, severe robes and pointed shoes say so much so clearly. For Merlin’s sake, even Neville knows not to mess with her and he started his Hogwarts career in brown shoes and a black belt.

But war changes everything, even Neville’s shoes. He starts to wear matching socks and neat robes. He no longer wears brown shoes with his black robes and Luna decides that he’s a man. She’s not sure if it’s because of the war or despite it, but she knows that he’s more aware now and she knows that can never be a bad thing. He’s not a soldier, never was and never will be, but he knows the world is a scary place and he’s willing to meet it head-on. Luna is proud to know him, though sometimes she does wish he’d remember to read the Quibbler articles she gives him about Herbology.

Neville sits with her at the Headmaster’s funeral. He’s wearing his dad’s old school things under the new dress robes his grandmother sent for the occasion. The pale blue handkerchief he twists through his fingers was embroidered by his mum many years ago and the smile he gives her is years older than she ever hoped to see. His round pudgy face was never meant to look like that. He’s supposed to be young forever until one day he marries some young thing and all the girls wonder how they missed what was right under their noses the whole time.

Her father isn’t sitting with her at the funeral (he’s with the other reporters) but that’s okay because too-old Neville is passing her his blue handkerchief and she’s wearing her yellow paisley skirt under her Hogwarts robes and she truly does believe that she’ll see Professor Dumbledore again. More than anything-more than Nargles, more than Daddy, more than the books she reads-she believes in connections. She believes Sturgis and Harry’s father are greeting the Headmaster and she believes that when Neville talks to himself his mother hears and she believes that she and Ginny are closer than sisters, even if they’re not in the same House or same family. She believes this and she hopes that Harry does, too, for all their sakes.

Ginny is wooden and pale when she joins them. The funeral has been over for almost an hour already and most of the guests have scattered. Neville seems frozen, though, and Luna is too tired to care if they sit out there all night. And besides, she likes watching the moon.

"I never really thought he could die," Ginny says. Her voice is hoarse but it’s steady, too, like she’s Dark magic itself. Luna is almost frightened to see her friend like this. Ginny isn’t supposed to be pale and hard. She’s wearing black, all black, only black, and it isn’t right. She’s supposed to wear bright purple socks and yellow t-shirts under her robes and laugh delightedly when others comment on all the colors.

"What do we do now?" Neville asks.

"Not ask questions," Ginny mutters to herself and Neville nods wisely, as if that makes any sense to him. And who knows, maybe it does. Neville understands more than he lets on.

Luna walks away.

She passes McGonagall in the corridor. The professor’s robes are as immaculate-Luna would expect no less-but on this particular day, the perfect robes only serve to show how not-perfect she is. Her eyes are dull and the wrinkles have never been more pronounced than they are at this moment. Luna fades into the background before McGonagall can notice her.

She doesn’t go to her tower. She doesn’t know where to go.

Then the war ends and the world is still broken. She curves her body around the cat that wouldn’t stop meowing and listens to the cars drive by. Stupid things, those automobiles, always banging around and spitting things and tripping over poor little defenseless cats.

Marianne nuzzles Luna. "Marianne," she whispers to trembling brown fluff, "what do you think of your new name, Marianne? Very sensible, don’t you think?"

Marianne only meows again and Luna sighs. She’s really not a cat person. Always been partial to birds, if she had to pick something, but even that’s a stretch. She doesn’t really like animals, at least not up close and personal. In books, they’re quite fascinating and maybe for the occasional visit they’re nice but to live with an animal? It’s odd, really. Seems rather pointless, if she were to be perfectly honest. Which she always is.

But the cat comes with her. There’s a quick visit to Magical Menagerie and Luna calmly hands half her paycheck to the stiff-looking man behind the counter.

"She ain’t magic, you know," he grunts.

"Clearly," Luna responds dreamily. "She let a car hit her."

"She’s young, too. Probably ain’t house trained."

"Then it’s lucky I live in a flat."

"I don’t think you understand, miss," he laughs.

"I have a lovely home," she says. "Marianne will be quite comfortable."

The cat meows. Luna arches her eyebrow and holds out her hand. He deposits the cat
safely in her arms and she thanks him politely before leaving the shop.

They develop a system. Marianne keeps to herself during the day and Luna goes about her business without sparing the cat a glance but at night they come together. Every night at seven sharp Luna prepares some tuna. Marianne watches her carefully, tail swinging and quick eyes following her every move. She makes quick work of it and within minutes of unwrapping the fish, Luna has a perfect meal prepared for her small friend. Marianne will meow once before jumping onto the corner of the counter she’s claimed as her own and inhaling her food.

Luna wanders back into her sitting room and waits for the cat. Marianne eats quickly, seeming to forget she’s no longer on the street and no longer has to guard her food. But once she’s done eating, she always remembers where she is and trots over to Luna.

"You’re a good kitty," Luna murmurs.

Marianne then jumps onto her lap and yet another peaceful evening passes in the Lovegood residence.

It’s a comfortable pattern. Luna likes the pattern, likes to watch it unfold. Some would perhaps call her life boring, especially after the excitement of war, but she likes her life. She likes it because it’s the exact opposite of the war. In every way, both good and bad, her life is different from the War.

During the war, people wanted to kill her. They wanted to rape her and Crucio her and they wanted to spill her blood. This wasn’t idle fear or paranoid dreams. This is what they told her when she was with them and this is what they would have done if Ginny hadn’t rescued her that dreadful Halloween night.

During the war, nothing could separate Ginny from Luna. Now she’s married to Harry and Luna has Marianne and her work with Daddy. They still talk, of course, and meet for tea every second Tuesday and third Friday of the month, but it’s not like it was when they were at Hogwarts. They clung to each other in those last two years, though always pretending the war wasn’t really affecting them. Oh no, not them. They were mature after all. They’d already survived the Death Eaters (more than once, even) so there was no need to be afraid. There was no need to think they couldn’t survive again if they had to.

But of course it didn’t work like that. Surviving only meant they know what to expect. They knew what they were afraid of, and it wasn’t the menacing snake-men the first years had cried about every night. No, they were afraid of something more real. And so their fear was more real.

That was during the war, though. Now Luna feels no fear. She walks to work every morning and writes her articles, then nips into the Leaky for lunch. She greets all the shopkeepers and chats with her colleagues.

During the war, before Harry finally killed him, Luna was good at playing pretend. She pretended everything was all right and then the war ended and suddenly everything was all right and she didn’t have to pretend anymore. It was odd, but certainly not bad. And at least it wasn’t war.

It’s been two years since everything ended. Her cat is still small but she doesn’t tremble anymore. Luna thinks this is good.

One day Neville comes to her. His dress is immaculate and his manners impeccable. It’s so unlike him she wants to cry, but Luna only welcome him into her home and asks about his little girl.

Neville puffs up with pride and tells a very long story. Luna makes all the right responses at all the right parts but doesn’t even try to listen to the story. Neville has changed so much, they all have, and sometimes it hard to find the little boy who used to stuff weeds in his pockets when he thought no one else was looking. She loved that little boy.

"I saw Ginny the other day," Neville says when his story is finally over.

"Oh? That’s nice."

Neville builds himself up for something, but then seems to think better of it. "Yes," he says lamely. "Very nice."

"We’re meeting for tea tomorrow," Luna remembers aloud. "I’m sure she’ll tell me to say hello, so I’ll say it now. Hello, Neville."

"Erm… hello, Luna."

"No, Neville. This is for Ginny."

He blinks stupidly for a moment before breaking out into a grin. The grin slowly becomes a chuckle and the chuckle quickly gains force. Soon he laughing one of those great big laughs, the ones that consume you. Luna watches him. She considers joining, but it’s really not that funny.

"Sorry-just that-not trying to…" He gasps for air.

Luna walks into the kitchen and prepares him a cool glass of water.
He follows her quietly, so unlike the boy she used to know, and places a hand on his shoulder. "We’re worried about you, Luna."

She turns to face him. "Why? That’s completely unnecessary."

"You live with a cat."

"You live with a toad."

He looks scandalized that she would dare compare that scroungey little mammal with Trevor’s very own grandson, but recovers quickly. "I live with my child, too, you know. But that’s beside the point. The war’s been over a long time, Luna. You need to move on."

Luna, who honestly hadn’t realized that she had to do any such thing, doesn’t know how to respond. Oh, wait. She does. "But I have moved on," she reminds him. "I have a very good life."

"What do you do?"

"I work and feed Marianne and have tea with Ginny and dinner with Daddy."

"Are you happy?"

"I’m content."

Neville shakes his head. "That’s not enough. You deserve happiness."

Even through her annoyance, she’s proud of him. The Neville of yesteryear, the pre-War Neville, never would have realized there’s a difference between happy and content. He’s grown up nicely.

"Everyone deserves happiness," Luna says. "Harry most of all, don’t you think? He almost lost everything. And poor Molly, after what happened to Bill and then almost losing Ron? Then losing Charlie? She deserves happiness, too."

He steps away from her, as if knowing what he says next will hurt most of all. Luna watches him. She knows what he’s going to say and she’s almost daring him. She’s even begging him to do it, to finally say what no one else has dared say to her.

"You miss the war, Luna. I don’t know why, but you do. You miss it."
She takes a deep breath and curls the fingers on her left hand. She presses the nails into her palm and feels the pain. "I do not miss the war," she whispers.

He shrugs, bids her good day and walks out the door.

She goes about her business but his words don’t leave her.

Why would she miss the war? The war was awful. They told her her blood was worth more on the ground, seeping through cracks and staining sheets, than it was in her body. She was wasting it, they told her, and called her a traitor.

So no. She doesn’t miss the war.

Sometimes, though-not often but sometimes-she does miss the connections. They were stronger during the war. The fear was so thick she could touch it, but she could also touch the connections. They were tangible.

During the war, they all knew nothing was promised. They knew the next Avada Kedavra could be their end, and they knew every goodbye could be their last. So they made it worth something.

Ginny never smiled without it reaching her eyes. The smiles were rare toward the end, of course, but they were always real. Now she smiles out of politeness.

The lessons they learned in those days mattered. When Professor Flitwick admonished them that the Aguamenti spell could save their lives, no one doubted him. No one doubted they could be captured, not after poor Eloise finally came public with her story. No one ignored Trelawny’s dire predictions. No one dared skip Defense.

Because when the end was that close, they all did everything they could to make the now matter. Seamus organized and ran an entire Quidditch season from the darkest, dankest corner of the dungeons and the entire school participated because no one doubted this was their last chance. They weren’t kids anymore, none of them, so they played Quidditch. But it wasn’t just any Quidditch. This was the kind of Quidditch that Dumbledore would have been proud to see, full of good sportsmanship and fair play. There were no rivals. Only players.

The twins visited one day and threw everyone a party. So many people came and no one left alone. It was their night. It was their youthful indiscretion. Tomorrow they would be adults again and they would feel the fear, but for that night they all banded together and lived a normal life.

Except it wasn’t normal. Because the fear was everywhere, they worked twice as hard to overcome it and the good was as good as the bad was bad.

Luna remembers reading the obituaries every morning. She remembers the shrieks she would hear from students receiving the news they never wanted. She remembers Ginny’s eyes the day she received her own news. She remembers cooking for Mrs Weasley. Luna has always been a terrible cook, but she knew her place. There was a connection between Mrs. Weasley and herself. Luna has the proof, has the apron.

Not that it was necessary during the war. During the war, the connection was so strong the fabric was only a fringe. Now, though, now that the war is over and her son’s gravestone is a little worn-down, now the connection is strained. Luna doesn’t doubt it’s there, but it’s hidden.

She hates hiding. It’s dishonest.

But the world can’t deal with the honesty of war. Luna knows that. She pets Marianne softly and listens to the traffic outside her flat. It’s so normal. The world needs this, craves this normalcy.

But she craves the connections they used to have.

She’s at yet another birthday party. Being friends with the Weasleys means there’s rarely a month without some sort of gathering. Luna isn’t sure how it happened, but somehow she found herself on the stand-by list. She’s invited to every single party and Mrs. Weasley hovers and worries if she doesn’t show up. So she always does and she almost always has fun. They’re genuine people, the Weasleys.

Sometimes she brings Daddy and once or twice she dragged some bloke from the Leaky, but most of the time it’s just her. She likes it better that way. When she’s alone, she’s free to watch all the connections.

Fred and George still finish each other’s sentences. They’re wearing matching robes today, though Luna suspects that was on accident as they both turned red when Bill starts laughing. Fleur lays a hand on his shoulder and raises an eyebrow. Fred and George are delighted.

Fleur never will see the scars on Bill’s face and Bill will never forget Charlie. Sometimes he’ll watch the twins with this sad sort of grin on his face and Luna knows he’s remembering.

Hermione presses her lips against Ron’s cheek and he grins. Ginny hums as she wanders past. "Not in front of my virgin eyes," she teases. Ron grimaces and mutters something. Hermione laughs.

Mrs. Weasley shovels food onto Lupin’s plate. Percy gestures wildly as he tells his talks politics with his father. Tonks drops in suddenly and in the whirl of purple, no one but Luna notices that Lupin sits just a little straighter.

Harry drops into the chair beside her. "Did you have some cake? You should have some cake, Luna. It’s delicious."

"Mrs. Weasley is an excellent cook," she agrees.

He nods. "What’re the odds she’ll make us take home the leftovers?"

Luna is always amazed when he gets like this, when he acts happy and carefree and polite. Harry is not a polite boy.

"We had a reunion of sorts the other day, all us Gryffindor blokes. Went out to that new pub, the one by Seamus."

She knows where is going and she doesn’t like it. Neville is like a dog with a bone when it comes to this sort of thing. "I don’t miss it," she says.

"What? No, you wouldn’t have wanted to go with us, Luna. Trust me, Dean swears a blue streak after his third pint."

"I don’t miss the fear," Luna says vaguely.

Harry is thoroughly lost at this point but he soldiers on. He’s brave man.

Luna watches him scrub his hand over his face and take a deep breath. "I think I understand, Luna," he says quickly. "For once, I think I actually understand you. I talked to Neville and the poor boy is completely confused but Luna, I think I actually get it."

And the funny thing is, she believes him.

He turns red and starts to mumble to himself when she doesn’t answer. After some awkward small talk-well, that at least is a return to the Harry she knows and loves-he excuses himself to go find more cake. Luna watches him walk away. Then she looks at the family again. And she thinks of her cat and her friends and the lovely shopgirls she eats lunch with every day. She thinks of Daddy and his strange habits that only she understands. She remembers the times Ginny laughed so hard she cried. She remembers the funerals and the horrible nights everyone would huddle together and pretend they weren’t on the edge of tears but then she remembers that the tears were a little happier after the end. She remembers those first few months after the war, when everyone was pale with the realization that had just set in.

The world didn’t end with the war, Luna thinks as she walks into her flat that night. It just got a little paler.

Maybe, though. Maybe that’s okay.

Marianne is purring in her lap. Luna pets her absently as she remembers. It’s sort of like reading a book and not really liking it but then later, a couple weeks after finishing it maybe, you suddenly understand. So you pull the book out again and read it again and suddenly there’s this whole other world behind the pages. You can see everything, all the little hints the author left behind and all the (maybe accidental?) symbolism.

Luna loves accidental symbolism.

Ginny is wearing robes the color of her mum’s eyes a few days later at tea. And then the next day, when Luna’s doing a bit of shopping with Daddy’s secretary, the girls bond over a shared love of chocolate ice cream with strawberry topping. She bumps into Bill at the bank that afternoon and for just a moment he looks like the little boy who used to play Quidditch on holidays with his kid brothers. And then when Neville drops by he’s wearing his dad’s old tie, the one he wore to so many funerals and wedding.

Luna wears Ravenclaw blue and silver to the next Weasley gathering and gives Harry a vague nod that she can’t help thinking he understands. After all, he’s wearing the blue robes Ginny bought him at Madam Malkin’s Thank Merlin We Survived Blow-Out Sale all that time ago and they fit just as well as they always did.