I won I won I won!!!
This week’s sortinghatdrabs
was Hermione/Luna, with a prompt of mistletoe
. And I won! So I got
this prettyful banner:
And here’s the ficlet in question.Title:
An Extraordinary WitchAuthor: lokifanWord count:
Hermione can’t find out how to restore her parents’ minds. Luna is there to help.Warnings:
The boys belong to JKR, even though I’m often much nicer to them than she is.Author’s Notes:
This was written for last week’s sortinghatdrabs
; the pairing was Hermione/Luna, and the prompt was mistletoe
Hermione had always known that sometimes you needed to do bad things for the right reasons. Besides, she was going to fix it: now she had time, now the war was over.
Only it wasn’t quite as simple as she’d thought it was, and Hermione didn’t dare tell Professor McGonagall what she’d done to her parents. She couldn’t discuss it with Ron and Harry; Ron had never understood Hermione’s driving focus on her central goal. Harry wouldn’t understand the way she’d made herself an orphan.
Before long, she had regained that pale, dry-eyed look everyone else was steadily losing; she haunted the library searching for an answer. Luna wandered through sometime in October, and asked what Hermione was doing.
Hermione told her only because she was drooping with exhaustion and sick with the secret, but Luna looked proud to be Hermione’s confidant. Two days later, she returned with a stack of parchment.
“My mother was an extraordinary witch,” she explained. “She researched mind magics. I owled my father and he sent her papers.”
Over the next month, working side-by-side, labouring long into the night until they fell asleep in their books and woke with tangled hair and faces smudged with ink, they found the answer.
Hermione couldn’t admit to Luna that she had never given her enough credit. But when she asked Luna to come back with her for Christmas to help perform the spell, Luna smiled like she’d heard everything
Hermione couldn’t say.
It had worked, and now Hermione stood in the glow of Christmas light – not firelight, not in her parents’ bright, north London Muggle home – under mistletoe, watching Luna’s ash-blonde hair pale against the deep red of her jumper.
“Should we move?” Hermione asked, trying for some faith. “I hear mistletoe has Nargles in it.”
“It’s all right. I can fight them off.” Luna smiled. Hermione stared into those knowing grey eyes, and pressed her lips to the smile.