Entry tags:

ginny/luna, pg

Happy Traditions, riot_grrrl_ria!
Title: Unsung
Author: ???
Gift for: riot_grrrl_ria
Pairing: Ginny/Luna
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~3200
Summary: Ginny is slipping through the cracks in her carefully constructed reality.
Warnings: not epilogue compliant in that Ginny is not with Harry.
Author's notes: First of all, thanks to my beta, who will be credited after the reveal. All characters belong to JKR, &tc; title and quoted lyrics (only a few lines: this is not a songfic) are Vanessa Carlton's. To my giftee: I'm sorry to have this in for you so late, but I hope you enjoy it.

About the traditions you requested and the way I used them: I included Buddhist meditation and moon symbolism, taking the interpretation of the tarot moon card: the Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition (quoted from this page). However, drawing from my own experience with meditation, I used it as an almost customizable tradition, something that's different for everyone, and not necessarily needing to follow strict rules or techniques. They were... Luna- and Ginny-ified to fit the plot, is what I'm trying to say, essentially.

Read it here or at Livejournal, and be sure to leave feedback for all of our lovely participants!

Things are going crazy and I'm not sure who to blame
Everything is changing and I do not feel the same
I'm slipping through the cracks of floors I thought that were strong
I'm trying to find a place where can feel like I belong
~Vanessa Carlton

The first time it happened Ginny thought it was a dream.

She woke up in a cold sweat, the lingering terror of a nightmare still clinging her to like an extra layer of skin. It didn't leave her until she had built a fire--before, there had never been fire, it was always cold, always water--and huddled up next to it, wrapped in her blanket, with the solidity of a chair at her back.

She didn't tell anyone, because there was no one to tell.

Harry would have listened, she supposed. He had saved her from this before, he had saved the whole world, but she knew she couldn't tell him. He'd either think it unimportant and try half-heartedly to comfort her (he had never been very good at that, he left her behind to solve his own problems), or get overly worried that he had not destroyed all of Voldemort's soul; Ginny was not sure which would be worse. Her mother's reactions were likely to be about the same or worse, even; she had been obsessively protective of her remaining children ever since George's death.

The only other person Ginny had really kept in touch with since school--aside from Harry's friends--was Luna. But she was in Sweden, doing Merlin only knew what, and would not be available by Floo.

That was alright, Ginny told herself. She could deal with it; her imagination was playing tricks on her, that was all.

Her mind chose that moment to remind her that she'd tried to tell herself the same thing in first year, to no avail.

The fire crackled, and Ginny almost jumped out of her skin.




She didn't remember falling asleep, but she awoke the next morning curled up next to the fireplace, still alive. She checked her hands first, to make sure there was no blood on them. Once she was sure she had not murdered anything or anyone in her sleep (or at least, she had murdered them in a very clean manner), she looked around. The room around her was empty, and much friendlier looking now that daylight was coming in through the curtains.

There were still a few smoldering embers in the grate, the last of the fire that had protected her the night before. It occurred to her that she could have caught on fire, but that risk had seemed much less than getting swallowed by the darkness.

Stretching out, Ginny felt every little bit of stiffness from sleeping in her muscles. She let herself lie splayed on the floor for a moment, then stood with a sigh and ran a hand through her hair. The blanket stayed on the floor, rumpled, and she headed into the bathroom.

The water from the shower felt good at first, warm and soothing, the way the heat of the fire had felt the night before. But just as Ginny began to relax in it, she started to feel every drop individually, like fingers tapping on her skin, trying to get inside. She paused, hands tangled in her wet, shampooed hair, and stared at the showerhead. Was she going mad?

It had to be because of the nightmare, she decided, trying to calm herself down. It didn't work. She was nearly hyperventilating by the time she got all of the shampoo out of her hair (didn't bother with anything else) and fled from the bathroom. She dressed as quickly as possible, pinning the last of her hopes for sanity on getting outside. It didn't really matter where she went--she just needed to get out of there immediately.

She ran from the flat, down the seemingly endless stairs, out of breath despite all of her professional Quidditch training. Yet still she ran, nearly crashing into one of her neighbours with a mumbled hello, until she burst out the front door. On the sidewalk she paused, tilting her face up into the morning sun, breathing in the brisk air that circled her in welcome, and finally she felt safe.

That was when she remembered that she was meant to be at the home pitch for practice at two, and she had left all of her Quidditch gear in her flat. Ginny stared up at her own windows--she had left the lights on--and decided that it wasn't worth going back inside.




Her mother was happily surprised to see her when she showed up at the Burrow. It had taken her a good half hour to get there, even though she'd passed her Apparation test easily; she was so on edge that she was afraid of Splinching herself.

"Ginny!" Molly exclaimed when she saw her daughter. She sounded afraid, Ginny thought--she wondered if it was only because Ginny had very nearly landed on top of her in the kitchen or whether Ginny was actually something to be feared. Or maybe it was just her imagination, finding fear everywhere.

Molly gave her a quick hug and bustled around for a moment, making a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits appear almost out of nowhere. Ginny knew they couldn't actually be from nowhere--first of the Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, and all that--but it was still a rather spectacular trick. Ginny wondered if she would get more visitors if she learned that trick, too.

"It's been a while since you visited," Molly said, hovering over her daughter as Ginny sat down. She took a seat at the edge of the table, just a little too close for Ginny's comfort, but she felt safe around her mother. Her mother had protected her from Bellatrix Lestrange: surely she could protect her from other things, as well.

"It's been two weeks," Ginny corrected, "And I've been training, Mum."

That was only half a lie. She had been training, but there had been time to come home if she had wanted to. Ginny had been enjoying the feeling of really getting away, of having a new flat--not new itself, but new to her--and she had wanted to be independent.

All she had really done was isolate herself.

"--getting very thin," Molly was worrying, sipping at her own cup of tea. "You need proper meals, Ginny, not just takeaway--"

Ginny opened her mouth to interrupt, but just then the fire in the hearth flared green and a musical voice sang out. "Hello, everyone!"

Luna Lovegood's head was sitting in the fireplace, bobbing up and down as if she were dancing. It was a very strange effect--but then, Ginny thought with a little smile, it was Luna.

"Hello, Luna," Molly said kindly. Ginny knew she couldn't be very pleased to be interrupted in the middle of speaking, but she had always liked the Lovegoods. 'Odd people, but their hearts are in the right place', she often said affectionately.

"Hi, Molly," Luna said brightly, still bobbing up and down. "Hi, Ginny! I just thought I'd pop in to tell you that we're back from Norway--unsuccessfully, unfortunately--and you don't have to worry about watering the Dirigible Plums any longer. Thank you very much for that, though, Molly, they look very well taken care of."

"You're welcome, darling," said Molly, a genuine smile spreading over her face. "Why don't you and your father come over for lunch? Ginny's home, and Percy, Ron, and Hermione usually stop by for lunch as well."

"I think we will," Luna said. She looked curiously at Ginny, who offered her a small smile, and received a smile in return. "I'll see you soon, then."

Molly turned back to Ginny, who had not said a word throughout the entire exchange, and gave her a pleading look. "You will stay for lunch, won't you, Ginny?"

Ginny crumbled a bit of biscuit between her fingers, feeling an odd need to destroy something. "Of course, Mum."




Lunch was a busy affair, as it always was at the Burrow. At one end of the table, Xenophilius Lovegood was talking loudly to Arthur about his trip to Norway, answering his friend's eager questions about the Muggle devices they used to find Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Molly was talking with Percy, Ron and Hermione about house elves, though only three of their voices could be heard; Ron seemed to be attempting to finish all of the food on the table while the others were distracted. That left Ginny and Luna sitting quietly next to each other, not saying much at all.

Ginny liked Luna. In fact, she liked Luna very much, despite the fact that in school she'd sometimes tried not to be associated with her; the blonde girl was odd, with quirky ideas that never failed to make Ginny laugh, and she had her own sort of wisdom. At the moment, though, Ginny couldn't really think of anything to say.

"You're alright, you know," Luna said after a long moment. Ginny looked up, startled, and realised that Luna had been watching her as she picked at her food.

"...Sorry?" Ginny asked, not sure what she meant.

"You're alright. You're not going mad." Luna's eyes were not blinking, but her clear gaze did not really bother Ginny.

She wasn't sure she believed her friend, though. Ginny set down her fork, but that immediately drew her mother's eyes, and she hurriedly ate a piece of potato to ensure their privacy again. "How do you know?" she asked Luna, under her breath.

Luna smiled. "It's easy to tell when someone's really gone mad. Their thoughts start unraveling, like a Wrackspurt's gotten to them--but it's not always a Wrackspurt."

"...Oh," Ginny said, looking down at her plate. She'd hoped that Luna would have some real insight to offer her.

The hand on her arm startled her, and she looked up to find Luna leaning in very close. "I can help you," she whispered, a promise. "I'll come over tomorrow morning."

Then, for a reason that Ginny would never be able to explain, even to herself--it wasn't only because she was afraid to go back to her flat, she knew that much--she blurted out, "Why don't you come back with me tonight?"




Luna insisted on being the first to step into the flat. Ginny didn't object, she felt better for the blonde's presence.

"Braver than me," she said with a wry smile, and then wondered why she said it. She always seemed to say more things out loud than she intended when Luna was around.

But Luna just smiled and opened the door. Ginny half-expected to be bombarded with darkness or dragged inside, but there was only dim light, and then Luna lit the lamps with a flick of her wand. Ginny followed her through the flat, seeing it with new eyes: it was small and very normal-looking now, which made Ginny feel ashamed. What was it that she had been afraid of?

"Yes," Luna said in a breathy voice, interrupting Ginny's thoughts. "Yes, I feel it."

Ginny looked up in surprise. "You do?"

"Yes." Luna nodded toward the room at large, then looked over her shoulder at Ginny. "You've let the past creep in through the cracks in the windows."

"The windows?" Ginny repeated. She looked at them skeptically; they didn't seem to have any cracks.

But Luna was still looking at Ginny. "Yes," she said for the fourth time, eyes kind. "Too many cracks."

The words had a different significance this time. Inexplicably, they made Ginny blush.




The first thing Luna did was bring a large, woven tapestry. A mandala, she called it--a strange, finely detailed thing with a plump blue man sitting in the middle of it, who stared at Ginny when Luna hung it on the wall.

"This is the Medicine Buddha," Luna told her, smiling at the thing as if it were an old friend. Ginny had always admired that about her: Luna treated everything with care, from inanimate objects to the people that bullied her. "Daddy bought it for Mother on one of their first trips."

Ginny felt more than a little bit odd having something so obviously important to their family in her little flat, but she felt it would be rude to refuse. "What does it do?" she asked.

Before answering, Luna took her hands and sat her down on the floor. She crossed her legs and tucked her feet beneath her knees; Ginny, imitating her, did the same.

"Meditating will help you," Luna said earnestly. She was still holding Ginny's hands, leaning forward, her face framed by straggly blonde hair and the mandala in the background. "Close your eyes."

Ginny closed her eyes obediently, but she felt incredibly awkward. "Are you sure...?" she began, "I mean, I don't know..."

She stopped when Luna squeezed her hands. "Yes," Luna whispered, and for some reason Ginny found significance in that. Her mother had always said no, her brothers often said it too. Harry had said no, though he'd said it was in an effort to protect her. He--Tom Riddle--had never really said either, but he certainly never said yes.

"Can you picture it?" Luna asked, and Ginny found that she could. She wasn't sure how it would help her to imagine the woven blue man, but she had always liked going along with Luna's ideas, no matter how ridiculous.

"He looks peaceful," Ginny said doubtfully. Luna's earrings clinked when she nodded eagerly. Her hands squeezed Ginny's.

"There's no one here but us," Luna intoned. She sounded as though her thoughts were somewhere far away, as if she were observing the situation from above. Ginny shivered and opened her eyes, half afraid to find that her friend was in a trance, or worse.

Luna's eyes were still closed, and she was rocking gently back and forth. But she must have felt Ginny looking at her, because she stilled after a moment, and her eyelids fluttered open. Ginny shifted uncomfortably under the clarity of her gaze.

"I'm not sure this is working," she said quietly. Now, she knew, she was going to get the lecture about how she had only just begun. Luna would be disappointed, and she would pack up her mandala with a sigh and take it home again.

But she had not counted on Luna's intuition and quick mind. Solving problems had never been Ginny's strong suit--she had to either fly under the radar to avoid them or be indestructible and perfect to keep them from getting in her way at all--but Luna liked to think her way around them.

"Alright," Luna said thoughtfully. "Don't mind the Buddha, then. Close your eyes again, I'll talk you through it."

Ginny was not sure that this would work any better, but she closed her eyes and tried it anyway.




When Luna told her to picture a healing, cleansing light, Ginny saw the moon. She seemed to be standing on a beach, looking up at the night sky. The whole place was dark, but she could feel the grains of sand under her bare feet--Ginny never wore shoes in dreams--and every once in a while, she would catch sight of the moon's reflection flickering among rolling waves somewhere off the shore. They crashed on the shore, sprinkling Ginny with salty drops that she felt keenly all over her body.

Tentatively, she stepped closer to the water, the light of the moon forgotten. She strained to see the boundary where the ocean met the land, but no matter how hard she squinted it remained invisible.

And then she was in it, caught by a rogue wave that snatched her by the ankles. Ginny cried out and flailed, shivering in the ice cold seawater. She couldn't breathe, the brine was in her mouth and filling her lungs, and everything had gone dark. Struggling was making it worse, but she fought anyway--she had always fought, even when he had punished her for it--and failed.

Then strong hands gripped her wrists and tugged her out. From far away, she heard Luna calling to her--Ginny, can you hear me? Ginny, come back--but she could not seem to open her eyes. She coughed, seawater running down her chin, tiny salt particles cutting like knives in her throat. Her skin burned with cold.

Ginny.

Suddenly, Luna was there. Ginny could see her as clear as day, though she felt sure that she had not opened her eyes; they were still on the beach, but it was sunny, and Luna was sitting next to her. Her blonde hair was not as straggly as it was in what Ginny had previously called reality, but wispy and made up of wriggling flyaway strands. She was smiling.

You're alright, she said. Ginny felt warmth suffusing her limbs, but it wasn't coming from the sun. Open your eyes.

Ginny did. Slowly, the room came into focus, and her eyes fixed on her friend. Some part of her mind registered that her hands were trembling, but she didn't feel cold or weak. Luna appeared to be waiting patiently for her to say something.

She cleared her throat. "Um," she said, and cringed at how hoarse her voice was, as if she had really choked on ocean water. "This might seem--do you think you could stay the night?"

Luna's smile was like the crescent shape of the moon, and it was also like the curve of foam that separated solid ground from freezing sea.




It should have seemed odd to sleep with a girl in her bed, but it didn't. Luna wrapped herself around Ginny like it was the most normal thing in the world: arms around her waist, chin tucked protectively on her left shoulder, legs twined around hers. Ginny took hold of Luna's hands, too--small hands, soft, with a few callouses that she must have gotten on one of her adventures--and clasped them over her chest.

With Luna at her back, Ginny felt safe. She was suddenly exhausted--terror had taken a toll on her sleeping pattern--and she yawned hugely. Luna hummed encouragingly in her ear, but Ginny couldn't fall asleep immediately.

"What are you thinking about?" Luna asked after a long moment.

Ginny wondered idly if the blonde could actually hear her mind working when her ear was pressed against the side of Ginny's skull. It didn't seem too unlikely.

"Just... that it's nice not to be alone," she said quietly. "I always seem to be alone."

She had been alone from the first day she was born, really--the only girl in a family of boys, the only Weasley girl in generations, and the youngest child to boot. They loved her, of course, because they were family, but she'd always felt as though she had missed some important part of their lives.

It had only gotten worse when she got to Hogwarts. Tom Riddle had chosen her for that reason--she was flying solo, and no one would notice if she got up to something odd or dangerous. He had been a companion for a while--of sorts--but in the end she'd been alone again. She had gotten so good at being alone, at being independent, to ensure that she would not be a victim again; she had purposefully tried to be everything her hero wanted in her quest to be with him, isolating the person she really was even more.

Luna didn't make her feel that way. Luna had always been the one to see her for what she really was and not judge her for it--and Luna was so vibrantly not alone, ever, even when her imagination took her on outrageous tangents. Ginny needed to learn how she did it.

"You don't have to be alone," Luna whispered in her ear. She let go of one of Ginny's hands and placed it over Ginny's heart. "No more cracks."

That night, Ginny dreamed of the earth splitting open. She saw cracks form in windows and felt them splintering through stone beneath her bare feet. She saw her own heart split and shred multiple times, and knew exactly how each rip had been wrought.

And through it all, Luna was there. She bridged the gaps in the earth with a foot on each side and made the soil knit together, mended the windows and the floors, and very carefully used a needle to sew up Ginny's heart.

No more cracks, Ginny whispered in her sleep, and hoped it was a promise Luna could keep.