Fic: Mirror Image
Oct. 2nd, 2009 12:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
croissantkatieTitle: Mirror Image
Characters: Luna centric
Rating: G
Word Count: 552
Summary: The image she sees in the mirror is the one she expects to see, although she's beginning to wonder if it should have changed.
She stares dumbfounded at her reflection. This is not a habit she normally indulges in - staring at herself, or being dumbfounded for that matter. Many strange and unusual emotions are her best friends, but not that particular one. She has never cared much for her appearance. She has never cared what others think, so long as she is content with it. Contentment is her favourite emotion after all. It may not be a particularly enthralling or exciting state of being, but it is one she likes a great deal. Luna can be content nearly all the time, normally regardless of other’s opinions. If she had cared more she would have taken notice of the calls of "go wash your hair" and "nice new necklace, rats tails right?" and "she's wearing decorative vegetables again?" which have cropped up regularly throughout her life, mainly during her time at her beloved Hogwarts. Now though, she is looking properly. The image she sees is the one she expected to see - the picture she had painted of not quite madness for all these years. Nothing has changed. Outwardly she is the same as she was half an hour ago. Inwardly though something has shifted and despite all evidence to the contrary, she is suddenly a tiny little girl with too wide eyes clutching a mother's cooling hand.
She knows precisely what is happening, what has happened, but she still does not quite understand. There is a difference between knowing, and understanding after all though. In one brief, rare, stereotypical Ravenclaw moment she had felt the need to check in a book despite already knowing the answer. It doesn't feel quite right. Even though she’s older than any of Harry and Ginny and Ron and Hermione and Neville and Hannah were, it still doesn't feel quite right. They all slipped into their new roles effortlessly. Luna though still fits in the mould of the young girl who emerged at the end of the war. She's not young though anymore. Outside or in. Her body aged with time and her heart aged through loss. That is something she understands completely and fully. She’s fairly certain that you can’t go through a war without changing at least slightly. She never changed enough to be ready for this though. She hasn’t changed enough since the end of it either. Now it’s looking as if she’ll have to change, at least a bit, and she’s not certain she’s ready for that.
For some strange reason she is worried about hat people would think. All those people, some of them friends, some of the enemies, some of them casual observers who happened to be passing by who claim that she would lose her head if it wasn't already screwed on. Luna thinks they're all being a bit silly. She knows precisely where her head is all the time. Literally it's attached to her head, which in turn is joined to shoulders. The literal has never been all that important to her though. Her head might be attached to her body, but her mind is usually somewhere infinitely more interesting. Her head, or more specifically her mind (which is all there, despite popular belief), is rather important to her - in the same way she expects her children will become some day.
Characters: Luna centric
Rating: G
Word Count: 552
Summary: The image she sees in the mirror is the one she expects to see, although she's beginning to wonder if it should have changed.
She stares dumbfounded at her reflection. This is not a habit she normally indulges in - staring at herself, or being dumbfounded for that matter. Many strange and unusual emotions are her best friends, but not that particular one. She has never cared much for her appearance. She has never cared what others think, so long as she is content with it. Contentment is her favourite emotion after all. It may not be a particularly enthralling or exciting state of being, but it is one she likes a great deal. Luna can be content nearly all the time, normally regardless of other’s opinions. If she had cared more she would have taken notice of the calls of "go wash your hair" and "nice new necklace, rats tails right?" and "she's wearing decorative vegetables again?" which have cropped up regularly throughout her life, mainly during her time at her beloved Hogwarts. Now though, she is looking properly. The image she sees is the one she expected to see - the picture she had painted of not quite madness for all these years. Nothing has changed. Outwardly she is the same as she was half an hour ago. Inwardly though something has shifted and despite all evidence to the contrary, she is suddenly a tiny little girl with too wide eyes clutching a mother's cooling hand.
She knows precisely what is happening, what has happened, but she still does not quite understand. There is a difference between knowing, and understanding after all though. In one brief, rare, stereotypical Ravenclaw moment she had felt the need to check in a book despite already knowing the answer. It doesn't feel quite right. Even though she’s older than any of Harry and Ginny and Ron and Hermione and Neville and Hannah were, it still doesn't feel quite right. They all slipped into their new roles effortlessly. Luna though still fits in the mould of the young girl who emerged at the end of the war. She's not young though anymore. Outside or in. Her body aged with time and her heart aged through loss. That is something she understands completely and fully. She’s fairly certain that you can’t go through a war without changing at least slightly. She never changed enough to be ready for this though. She hasn’t changed enough since the end of it either. Now it’s looking as if she’ll have to change, at least a bit, and she’s not certain she’s ready for that.
For some strange reason she is worried about hat people would think. All those people, some of them friends, some of the enemies, some of them casual observers who happened to be passing by who claim that she would lose her head if it wasn't already screwed on. Luna thinks they're all being a bit silly. She knows precisely where her head is all the time. Literally it's attached to her head, which in turn is joined to shoulders. The literal has never been all that important to her though. Her head might be attached to her body, but her mind is usually somewhere infinitely more interesting. Her head, or more specifically her mind (which is all there, despite popular belief), is rather important to her - in the same way she expects her children will become some day.
