Love Is ... Acknowledgment

1. Love Is ... Acknowledgment

Love Is... Acknowledgement

Being forced by your best friends to play the role of a nurse was the most ungrateful job in the world, Ron Weasley decided while dragging his big feet unhappily towards the Hospital Wing, holding a bag in his right hand and a bouquet of lilies of the valley in his left and wanting nothing else but creep into the darkest corner in the Hogwarts dungeons and die of shame. Everyone he had met until then had either stared first at the flowers in his hand and then at him as though he had completely lost it, or (mainly the Slytherin students) openly laughed at his misery and mocked him about his horrible fate.

“It’s your own fault,” Hermione had snapped while pushing the bag (in which she’d put a bowl with hot chicken soup and one Butterbeer) and the bouquet into his hands, her scathing look silencing every protest he’d been about to utter. Even though Harry had looked as though he had had compassion for him, Ron hadn’t failed to notice that Harry had seemed to agree with Hermione nonetheless. While Ron was sure Harry would’ve spared him the humiliation of bringing Luna Lovegood soup and flowers, he suspected that had Hermione not been the quicker one to force him to visit Luna and apologise to her, Harry would’ve made him do the same, although for slightly different reasons. Hermione made him do it because it was the right thing to do, and Hermione always did the right things. Harry would’ve made him do it because Luna had become his friend sometime in their sixth year without Ron even noticing. Hermione had noticed, of course – that was how Ron had found out about Harry and Luna’s unusual friendship. He remembered her pursed lips and her ‘I still think Harry can do a lot better than her.’ Privately, Ron thought Hermione was just jealous that Harry’d picked such a strange girl to befriend when already having a best friend like Hermione. Ron couldn’t blame Hermione – Harry’s friendship with Luna was a mystery for him, too, and additionally, he knew how he would feel if suddenly Harry became friends with someone who was so unlike Ron, like Draco Malfoy.

Speaking of Draco Malfoy, Ron blinked once when he spotted the smug Slytherin git standing in front of him. Malfoy was staring at the bouquet in Ron’s hand and looking as though someone had just informed him his Daddy had been released from Azkaban.

“Hey!” Malfoy shouted, causing the students around them look in their direction, not to mention two classroom doors on Ron’s left snap open and a couple of curious heads peer out to see what was going on. “Weasley’s got a date! I need to note this day in my calendar – I’ve never thought I was going to live to see it!”

Most students who’d gathered around them in no time laughed. Malfoy bowed ironically. Frustrated and for some unknown reason wanting to make clear he wasn’t some idiot in love who was getting all cheesy and mushy, Ron shot out without thinking: “Shut up, Malfoy! I don’t have a date! The flowers are for Luna Lovegood!”

The moment the last two words had left his mouth, Ron realised what a big mistake he’d made. The crowd in the corridor nearly fell unconscious from laughter. The worst, of course, was Malfoy’s reaction – clutching his belly, he was laughing so hard that tears ran down his face. At that moment, Ron wished nothing more desperately than knowing a spell that would make the earth split in two and swallow him.

“Oh, I get it now, Weasley!” Malfoy managed about a couple of minutes later, after finally calming down a little. “You pushed your true wuv into the lake not, as I initially thought, to get rid of her and save the school from her insane presence, but because you wanted an excuse to show her how much you fancy her and bring her lilies of the valley! And I was there to witness that important moment of your life – what about inviting me to the wedding?”

The crowd, which hadn’t completely calmed down, had another fit of laughter. Losing it, Ron threw the bouquet and the bag on the marble floor, not caring about that the bowl could break, and pounced on Malfoy, knocking him sidewards before the other boy had even managed to blink. Malfoy’s head gave a satisfying bang when it hit the floor, making Ron feel slightly better.

“What’s going on here?” a cold, horribly familiar voice asked before two strong hands pulled Ron off Malfoy. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ron turned around, and sure enough, he found Snape sneering at his face, looking as always like a crow threatening to fly down and attack you with his oily long black hair and black robes. Rather inappropriately, Ron found himself wondering about whether Snape dyed his hair.

Malfoy stood up slowly, wincing and gingerly touching his right temple, on which a big red swelling could be seen, clearly visible on Draco’s pale skin.

“Detention, Weasley,” Snape said quietly, without even asking for an explanation. Ron didn’t bother to try and defend himself – he knew there was no use in doing it. Snape continued, “Tonight, eight o’clock, the Potions classroom. Draco, this swelling looks nasty, I’d go ask Madam Pomfrey to look at it if I were you. As for the rest of you…” He turned to the other students, who had stopped laughing the moment they’d spotted him. “Shoo. There’s nothing else to see here.”

Brilliant, Ron thought, while picking his bag (the bowl wasn’t broken – apparently, Hermione had thought of everything) and the flowers up. Now he not only had to face Luna Lovegood after the disaster yesterday, but also managed to get himself into a detention with Snape. After making a couple of steps, he noticed a rubbish bin next to the right wall, and without hesitating, he threw the flowers in it. Bringing Luna a little hot soup because he’d managed to make her get ill was all right, but flowers were something else entirely. Too bad he hadn’t thrown them away the moment he’d left Gryffindor Tower.

The Hospital Wing was only a couple of stairs away now, and without intending to, Ron found himself recollecting what’d exactly happened the previous day and why it had brought him into such a ridiculous situation.

**********

Everything had started innocently enough. The first snow of the season had fallen in the night, and after their last lesson, Harry, Ron and Hermione decided to get out of Gryffindor Tower for some time in order to relax a little and enjoy the snow, before returning and starting with their homework. Even Hermione didn’t protest much after Harry made that suggestion, so, in mutual agreement, the three of them crossed the grounds and approached the lake, which was covered with a thin sheet of ice. Even without leaning down, Ron could see the fish swimming freely under the shiny ice, which meant that the ice still wasn’t thick enough for ice-skating.

Ron loved the winter. It was his favourite season despite the cold weather. He loved winter even though when he’d still lived at home, his mother had made him sweep the snow from the backyard of the Burrow, which had made his hands feel so frozen that after going inside, his fingers had hurt so much he’d wanted to cry. He enjoyed the peaceful silence the winter always seemed to bring with it, as well as the miracle called snow and everything connected to it – from the magnificent beauty of individual snowflakes, through the unique way they united and fell to the ground, to the white perfection they formed in the end. He could spend hours just watching the snow fall without getting distracted – Hermione had once noted he looked mesmerised by it. However, whenever he had the chance to get out in the snow, he never felt inclined to relish it in a peaceful way – it made him feel young and free, like a child.

 “Hey!” he called out with a badly hidden enthusiasm, grabbing a handful of snow and forming a snowball. “D'you know I can throw a snowball farther than anyone else in my family? Look, I'll show you!"  

And springing up in the air as high as he could, Ron threw the ball with all his might towards the lake.

It fell sharply down, but didn’t manage to break the thin coating of ice – instead, it slid gracefully on it, getting slower and slower, until it came to a stop somewhere in the middle.

Glowing with pride, Ron turned around to grin at Ron and Hermione, and got a handful of snow in the face.

“Aw!” he managed, trying to sound angry and failing, pushing the snow away from his cheek at the same time. Harry and Hermione were laughing. Quick as the light, he bent down and grabbed another handful of snow. “Who did that?” he asked, laughing despite himself. “You know you’re going to pay for it, don’t you?”

Five minutes later, the three of them were chasing each other around the lake, all of them looking like snowmen with exception of their flushed faces, and all holding snowballs in their hands. It had been long ago since they’d laughed and had fun like that, and secretly, Ron felt proud of being the one who’d initiated the snow fight.

He hadn’t seen other people approaching them, being far too immersed in his task of bombarding his best friends with snowballs. It wasn’t until he heard a hysterical giggle, followed quickly by a shriek, that he noticed he and his friends weren’t alone anymore. A big group of Slytherins, including Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and a girl which name Ron didn’t know, stood not far away from them. Through his soaked fringe, Ron couldn’t see the expression on their faces very clearly, but Malfoy appeared to be glaring, and Pansy Parkinson definitely looked furious. There was a small white fleck in the middle of her chest, clearly visible on her dark-coloured robes.

Before Ron could ask when the hell those gits had managed to arrive without him noticing, Pansy left the Slytherin group and hurried in Hermione’s direction, her features contorted with anger. Malfoy and the others followed her, but didn’t seem able to keep up with her – she had reached Hermione before Ron could react at all.

“You stupid bush-head!” Pansy screamed in Hermione´s face, looking even more infuriated by Hermione’s smile, which hadn’t faltered for a bit, despite Pansy’s expression. “You did that on purpose!”

“No, I didn’t, you absolute cow!” Hermione replied as heatedly, her smile disappearing. She glared at Pansy. “I was aiming for Harry! How could I know you were going to turn up?”

“I am the cow? I am the cow?” Pansy shrieked even louder. Malfoy had finally reached her and tried to put his hand on her shoulder, but she pushed it off. “Get off, Draco, I’m going to deal with that… that… I saw you laughing when you threw that snowball at me, you…”

Hermione, who of course wasn’t to be intimidated by Pansy Parkinson of all people, made a step forward and now both girls were standing face to face, glaring threateningly at each other.

Ron shifted uncomfortably on his place, and when he glanced at Harry, he noticed him doing the same, looking hesitant. Ron knew why – he and Harry had seen what Hermione was like when seriously pissed off, and no one would be able to stop her if she tried to slap Pansy the way she had slapped Malfoy four years ago.

Malfoy looked hesitant and strangely awkward as well, but nonetheless, he tried to calm Pansy down for a second time.

“Come on,” he started, reaching carefully for Pansy’s shoulder again; this time, she didn’t try to push his hand away. “She is not worth it, you know it. Come with us. Let’s not allow the Holy Trinity to ruin our day for once. Come on…”

Slowly, Pansy turned away from Hermione, then took a couple of steps towards the other Slytherins. Just when Ron had almost overcome wondering how Malfoy, of all people, had managed to prevent a fight between the two girls, Pansy turned around again with the speed of light. Before anyone understood what was happening, she had pulled her wand out and sent a hex at Hermione, who fell on the ground on her back, her head landing in a big bank of snow.

“Hermione!” Harry shouted, storming to her and pushing the snow off her face, trying to check whether she was conscious.

Ron, shaking with uncontrollable rage, had pulled his wand out before he even thought what he was doing. Pansy had fled in the direction of the lake, dragging Malfoy with her. Through the veils of rage, Ron could vaguely see that someone else stood in Malfoy and Pansy’s spot, but he didn’t stop to think about it – he just pointed his wand in Pansy’s direction and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”

A wand flew right at him and he caught it deftly, grinning widely – Pansy had got what she’d deserved for hurting Hermione. At the next moment, he heard a loud crack, followed by an immediate splash, and with a horror, he realised that his spell had caused the person he’d disarmed to fly backwards and end up in the lake. Observing more carefully, he saw that the student he’d hit with his spell definitely wasn’t Pansy, even though it was another girl – someone with long blonde hair was just appearing on the lake’s surface. Pansy and Malfoy were laughing like mad, their giggles not bothering Ron at all – he was too busy staring numbly at the girl in the lake.

“Ron, what the hell did you do?” he heard Harry asking somewhere behind him. A moment later, he appeared on Ron’s side, accompanied by Hermione – it seemed he’d managed to make her recover pretty quickly.

“It’s Luna,” Hermione said hoarsely, staring at the girl in the lake.

Harry threw Ron an angry look and hurried to the lake, throwing himself in it. Hermione gave Ron a look that matched Harry’s, and pushed him towards the lake.

“What are you waiting for?” she snapped. “Do something!”

Ron heard her, but couldn’t react to her words, even though he wanted to. He felt as though someone had turned his legs into lead – he couldn’t make them do the slightest movement. His mouth didn’t feel much better.

“Professor!” he heard Malfoy shouting somewhere in the background. “Professor, Weasley pushed Lovegood into the lake!”

Professor McGonagall's tight-lipped face appeared in Ron's vision. She was accompanied by a wet, shaking Harry holding in his arms an equally ashen-faced Luna Lovegood, who regarded Ron with her strange eyes.

"I was just passing by," she muttered through blue lips.

Only then did Ron realise that, once again, he'd got it all wrong. Maybe he should abandon the idea of getting revenge on people who assaulted Hermione and let Harry do the job, after all.  

**********

Ron hadn’t expected he’d have to search for Luna when he entered the Hospital Wing, because he’d never seen it so full of ill students before. Almost all of them seemed to be suffering from the cold weather – their noses were red and puffy from the constant rubbing and blowing, many were coughing for such a long time that Ron thought they’d suffocate themselves, and from time to time, a powerful sneeze would make the walls shake. Ron immediately put his hand in front of his nose and mouth – being in a room full of viruses had never been a dream of his.

Finally, he discovered Luna on the second-last bed, mentally telling himself he really should’ve seen her earlier. True to her weird nature, she’d somehow convinced Madam Pomfrey to allow her to bring the blanket she’d sewn herselt into the Hospital Wing. Ron knew of the blanket, because last year, while Harry had been in the Hospital Wing after his most recent battle with Voldemort, Luna had arrived with that thing and solemnly insisted the blanket had been blessed by some Muggle priest she’d met while visiting the Rila convent in Bulgaria and it would help Harry recover faster if he covered himself with it. Even Harry, despite his friendship with Luna, had had a hard time hiding his horror at the sight of the blanket – it was striped purple and light blue, with an enormous poison-green grasshopper in the middle, its yellow, unnaturally realistic eyes startling Ron so much that he’d jumped.

Ron noticed that while some of the students in the Hospital Wing were talking to each other, no one seemed to pay attention to Luna – no wonder, actually, because that horrendous blanket could scare the bravest people off.

Feeling awkward, he approached Luna’s bed, grateful that there seemed to be only a couple of first-year Gryffindors in the room. He didn’t really fancy having Seamus or Lavender taunt him for speaking to someone who owned such a blanket and wore an eagle on her head by every Ravenclaw Quidditch game.

Luna didn’t notice him until he stood directly in front of the bed; she was reading a book, which a very puzzled Ron immediately recognised: it was Quidditch through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp.

“Isn’t that the best book ever?” he heard himself asking and winced. Things weren’t going on plan at all. He was supposed to apologise, not make small talk with her!

Luna looked up at him and Ron saw something like joy cross her face before it returned to its usual dreamy expression. She looked a lot better than the previous day, he noticed – her skin had lost its greyish colour, her lips, while pale, weren’t blue anymore, and her hair wasn’t hanging on rat tails around her face.

“Hello, Ronald,” Luna said, closing her book and resting her hands in her lap, directly over the grasshopper’s wing. “You know, whenever I read that book, I feel as though I’m Eunice Murray. It’s a nice feeling.”

“But she’s dead,” Ron exclaimed, before he could stop himself.

Luna regarded him with disinterested eyes, making it clear to him that Eunice Murray’s death was the last thing that could stop her imagining she was the famous Quidditch player.

“I don’t understand you,” Ron continued, after her message sank in, and finally voicing what he’d always thought of her. “If you like Quidditch that much, then why don’t you play? I’m not that good and yet I tried and got accepted in our team.”

“I prefer cheering while the others play,” Luna replied. “There’s nothing better than to be able to watch two Quidditch teams and enjoy the beauty of the game. As a spectator, I have privileges you as a player are never going to have, Ronald. What do you do when you play? You watch for the Chasers of the opposite team and pay attention so they won’t score, right?”

“Right,” Ron said, still confused. Maybe he should give up altogether to find any sense in what that girl was speaking. Or maybe not. He discovered that surprisingly enough, he was honestly interested in her answer.

“See? You can’t enjoy the beauty of the game, because you have a certain job to fulfil and can concentrate only on it. I can watch what you do, but I can watch Harry and Draco’s fights for the Snitch, Ginny’s moves or Zacharias’s scores.”

Ron opened his mouth to reply that he could watch the way Zacharias Smith flew whenever Hufflepuff wasn’t playing against Gryffindor, but decided against it at the last moment, when he reminded himself that he wasn’t there to argue with her logic.

“You’re calling Malfoy Draco?” he asked instead, cursing himself mentally once again. Just tell her you’re sorry about pushing her into the lake, give her the soup and go away, Hermione had advised him, and Hermione always had the right plans.

“I find the use of last names ridiculous,” Luna replied resolutely. “Draco can’t stand it when I call him by his proper name, but I don’t think badly of him nonetheless. He’s slightly frustrated about something all the time, don’t you think? He needs to relax, really. Maybe it’s just his skin colour. I’m going to advise him to visit Greece and let his skin face the sun.”

That speech caused a very disturbing image in Ron’s head. He tried not to listen to her next words, but unfortunately, it didn’t work.

“Too bad he’s always wearing that scowl on his face – he’d look cute without it. Maybe it’s stuck that way, what do you think?”

Ron stared, now completely traumatised.

“Cute? Malfoy?” he spluttered, feeling slightly sick himself.

“Uh-huh,” Luna nodded, shifting up and leaning more comfortably on her pillow. “Ginny thinks so, too.”

Had he been drinking something, Ron would’ve choked on it and suffocated. Fortunately, he wasn’t drinking anything, so instead he just felt his mouth drop open and stared in horror at Luna’s composed face.

“Well, I think you’re cuter than him,” Luna concluded, her expression not changing a bit.

If Luna had intended to make Ron feel better after hearing about his sister finding that pale git ‘cute’, it certainly didn’t work. No one, girl or boy, had ever found Ron cute, as far as he knew. He felt himself blushing crimson and avoided looking at Luna’s face, staring at the thick strand of her hair that fell freely on her right shoulder instead. Unfortunately, the winter sun decided to shine through the window at that exact moment, making Luna’s fair hair catch the light and look almost golden. Ron felt himself blush even harder.

“I, er… I wanted to apologise for what happened yesterday… You know… pushing you into the lake and making you sick and all that stuff… I have a bowl with hot soup from Hermione and a Butterbeer from Harry for you… Er… Well, that’s what I wanted to tell you.” He put the bag on the floor and desperately wished she’d accept his apology and he’d be free to escape. The entire staring at her hair and her calling him cute was strangely unnerving.

“Sit down here, Ronald,” she said finally, pointing to the middle of the bed. Clearly, she wasn’t satisfied with his apology, Ron thought miserably, taking place on the bed’s edge.

“Thanks for the Butterbeer and the soup, but when I’m ill, I don’t drink anything except the strawberry juice my Dad makes for me,” Luna informed him. “Do you want a glass, too?”

“Yes, but I’m not sick,” Ron answered.

“You can drink it even if you’re not, although are you sure you’re not ill? You seem to be shuddering a little and your face is flaming.”

I’m shuddering because my ass landed on that hideous grasshopper’s head, Ron thought indignantly. He resolutely pushed the thoughts about why exactly his face was red away from his mind. Funny how little was needed to notice a girl as a girl, even if it was Luna Lovegood. Ron was certain that only the words ‘I think you’re cuter than Malfoy’ made him note the fact that she was wearing a frilly pink night dress, and her arms were almost completely bare. Her skin was even paler than Hermione’s, he thought absently, before catching himself and shifting his look to stare at his hands in his lap instead.

Her strawberry juice was the best he’d ever drunk, even when compared to his mother’s pumpkin juice, he admitted to himself a couple of minutes later, while drinking from his glass under her unblinking eyes.

“Why did you push me into the lake?” Luna asked after he was done.

“I didn’t want to,” Ron mumbled guiltily – he hadn’t expected the direct question. “Pansy Parkinson attacked Hermione. It was her I wanted to disarm. I didn’t want to push anyone into the lake, not even Parkinson. I didn’t even recognise it was you when I sent the spell.”

“So you didn’t intend to attack me or do something to me when you did it?” Luna asked, her voice sounding somehow… strained.

“No,” Ron replied. “If that’s going to be some sort of comfort, Hermione scolded me about it the whole night long. Sadly, I’ve never been very good at defending my friends.”

“Hermione is very lucky she has a friend like you, in my opinion,” Luna said quietly, making Ron finally raise his head from his lap and look her in the face. She was smiling. Ron blinked once, not being sure he was seeing right – he had never seen her smile before. It suited her.

“You need something like a lucky charm, I think,” Luna declared, looking away, her pale cheeks slightly flushed. “You can have my blanket. It’s always brought me luck.”

“Luna.” He used her given name for the first time in his life, and realised he liked how it sounded. “That blanket didn’t make me not push you into the lake yesterday.”

Luna regarded him accusingly, hugging the blanket’s border.

“It made me get healthy quicker than anyone expected,” she said. “It’ll bring you luck. Trust me.”

**********

After having a debate with Luna about believing in things no one had managed to prove, Ron left the Hospital Wing about an hour later with the blanket in his hand and feeling slightly dazed. After he’d taken a couple of steps, he met Professor Sprout.

“Oh, Mr. Weasley, I’ve been looking for you,” she said when she spotted him. “Professor Snape has been called home and will be away for the next two weeks. I’ve been appointed to supervise your detention this evening. Bring something to write. See you in my office at eight o’clock!”

After she was gone, Ron remained where he was for some time. The wonder of Luna’s blanket had started to work, as it seemed. Every student dreamed of having detention with Professor Sprout – she was the only one who made them write lines and let them go after less than an hour.

Hugging the blanket to his chest, Ron marched directly to the rubbish bin in which he’d thrown Luna’s lilies of the valley just a couple of hours ago. They were as fresh and smelled as nice as before, but when he looked at them, Ron realised that those weren’t the right flowers for Luna – far too colourless and small and depressing and sad. When he visited her tomorrow, he would bring her poppies. He had to ask Professor Sprout about flowers with big, colour-rich, happy blossoms tonight.

Fin