It had been exactly one month since they had said a word to each other, one month since Gretchen had kissed him and one month since Seamus Finnigan had been suspended from Hogwarts when Ron finally approached Luna Lovegood again.
A lot could happen in a month, yet Ron found that November had been a pathetically uneventful thirty-day period. Perhaps it could have been more exciting but Ron had cared very little for everything and everyone around him. He had served his week long detention at the beginning with no arguments and no emotion. He had said good-bye to Seamus when Dumbledore decided to suspend the boy from November first to January first for his violent behavior. He would be forced to make up the time later in the summer, when everyone else had gone home. Seamus had been afraid but his mother had sent word that Mr. Finnigan would be spending the holidays in France for an "unexpected work project". When Seamus showed Ron the letter there had been tears in his eyes.
Draco Malfoy had been forced to do the most disgusting and deplorable act he could ever think of: apologize to Ronald Weasley. When the words "I'm sorry" had been mumbled by Draco, Ron found that he didn't care in the slightest. As far as Ron knew, Ginny and Draco were no longer speaking to each other and that was apology enough for him. When he paid attention to what was going on around him, he noticed that they no longer stole glances at each other from across the dining room nor did they exchange secret smiles in the hallways.
When Ron saw Luna in the hallways, she would never look at him. Her back was always turned, or her eyes were always fixed on something else. They had regained that wide, vacant look that he had always seen before. Once in a while he would see a flicker of something, but it would always be gone before he could name what it was. She was always alone, just like she had been before the arrival of Gretchen. Occasionally Ginny would walk with her or wave hello, but nothing more than that. A month without interaction hadn't made things "better" like Hermione had assured him. "Give it time," she had said gently. Oh, how he had wanted to believe her. He had wanted that blasted ache in his chest to go away but it festered and grew worse every time he saw her, forcing him to face facts and admit a few things to himself that he hadn't had the courage to before.
He was hopelessly in love with Luna Lovegood, had no idea what he wanted to do with the rest of his life but couldn't imagine a happy future without the blonde Ravenclaw, and he had no friggin' clue how to talk to girls and never would. His father used to tell him that "the truth will set you free". He still felt like a damn slave.
So it was with all of these emotions that Ron prepared for winter break. His usual excitement was missing in action and the thought of going home for a little less than a month didn't make him the least bit happy. He felt sorry for himself and damned if he'd let anything get in the way of that. As he re-packed his few things into his scruffy suitcase (he'd done a half-assed job the first time and the clasps wouldn't close) an equally scruffy owl appeared on the stone window ledge next to his bed. The poor bird was obviously exhausted, his feathers ruffled and unkempt and more than a few were missing. The creature had a small bit of paper attached to his leg and Ron took off the clip.
"You're a pathetic looking beast, aren't you?" Ron muttered as he opened up the folded parchment.
Ronnie darling,
Your father and I are preparing for the holidays and we must know who you plan to invite. It would be most helpful of you to confirm if Harry and Hermione plan to stay with us or not. Owl me as soon as possible. Stay warm, dear.
Mum
He knew he had forgotten something. He had naturally assumed that Harry would be coming along with him to the burrow so hadn't really taken steps to officially ask. Since classes were over for the day, Ron decided to find him and extend the invitation. Harry was so damned polite that he probably wouldn't think to "impose" without a direct invitation. He hoped that Harry and Hermione would spend the holiday with him. Perhaps they could take his mind off the blonde siren that plagued his thoughts.
Of course, either way he would be lonely.
…
"Sorry, Ron. I already promised," Harry explained, but didn't seem the least bit apologetic. Ron had to clench his hands into fists to keep from ripping his own hair out in frustration.
"How long have you two been planning this?" Ron demanded.
"Um-a month, I guess. You were moping about so we didn't want to burden you. We both figured that a quiet vacation with your family would be the remedy you needed," Harry said, avoiding eye contact with Ron and fidgeting as if embarrassed. Ron wasn't the slightest bit fooled. He knew that he had been the furthest thing from Harry's mind when those plans were set in motion.
There was no help for it. Harry and Hermione would be spending the holidays together.
Without him.
Ron sighed. He supposed that he had seen it coming. He had distanced himself from his friends and sent all the wrong messages. He should have known that Harry and Hermione would snatch up any opportunity (unconsciously) to be together. He had only himself to blame for everything that had been going wrong in his life lately.
Ron climbed up to the owlery to deliver the news to his mum. Pig was taking a much needed rest at the burrow after having a tussle with another owl a couple of months before.
As soon as he entered the room, the pungent stench of many birds crowded together filled his nostrils and the even harder to ignore presence of someone in particular filled all of his senses. The brightness of her hair framed in morning sunlight flooding from the many windows caught his eye first. When she heard his footsteps she turned around slowly to face him, as if she had been expecting him. Her eyes were round and strange, as if she didn't know where she was.
Ron's heart seemed to be beating through his ribcage. Something wasn't right about her. It was-eerie.
"Luna? Hello?" Ron asked, coming closer to wave his hand in her face. With a blink her face came alive again and she looked at him.
"Hullo, Ronald. Did you need something?"
Yes, I need you to listen while I confess my undying love for you. I need to feel you and know that you forgive me for being a bloody moron. I need to rip off your clothes and press you against that wall over there and worship your skin. I need-
"Uh, no. I just-you seemed out of sorts," he said instead, unable to look her directly in the eye now. She stared into his face, as if searching for something there. He was afraid she would find what she was looking for, the one thing that would make him vulnerable to her.
"Oh. I'll see you around then," she said and flounced away.
Ron closed his eyes and listened to her brush out of the room. She acted as if nothing at all had occurred between them. As if these feelings of angst and unrequited love did not exist between them.
Perhaps those feelings didn't exist for her. Had never existed for her.
Had it all been in his head, then? Had he only imagined the thick tension between them?
…
As Luna had stood before Ronald Weasley, she had felt a heaviness between her thighs. The wetness had started to spread and the warmth of it had left her feeling exhilarated.
The way he had been looking at her was-was so hard to describe. All she knew was that the feeling of his eyes burning into her and shaking her from her memories had suffused her entire body. She had felt a shiver run up inside of her. It had frightened her and she'd run away. She ran away from Ronald, away from his intensity and his effect on her.
Only when she was back in her dormitory, alone, did she allow herself to think again.
She imagined what would have happened had she stayed. She had wanted his hands on her, feeling her core and reveling in her. His fingers would have rubbed out all conscious thought. All she would have known were his hands shoved underneath her skirt, giving her things that she had never known she needed. He would have touched her everywhere she asked. His tongue would have followed where his hands had explored. He would have looked up at her with understanding and desire.
He wouldn't have gazed upon her with shame and embarrassment. He wouldn't ever look at her as if she were Looney again. He would be proud to walk side by side with her in front of others.
He would love her.
Luna suddenly felt the familiar rage all over again. Why was it that Ronald made her angrier than anyone or anything could ever have, and yet she still desired him? It wasn't fair that she was the one left with these unfamiliar emotions that served only to confuse her, while he wasn't bothered by anything at all.
I hate Ronald Weasley! The thought ran through her mind as she flipped her skirt above her waist and lay down on her neatly made bed. She pulled her knickers down angrily and fumbled blindly for the spot that ached for him. She sought to relieve it, to relieve her of the pain of wanting him. As she attacked herself she imagined it was him she was attacking. As her fingers stabbed into the ache and rubbed viciously, she imagined she was rubbing him out of her psyche. After this, she would never need him again.
When it was over, she was left shaking and sobbing. Her skin that had been on fire was now cold and her emotions now were not of rage or anything similar. Now she was full of shame. What had she done? Was she really as crazy as they all thought her to be?
Even with the regret and doubt, she still felt desire for him. Damn him! Now she was hurt all over and had no one to talk to, no one who would understand but him. How could she ever tell him?
I hate you, Ronald Weasley. I hate you hate you hate you. I hate you and love you so much that I think of you when I toss off. When I orgasm, I imagine your face above mine. You're so smug and self-satisfied and I have nothing but shame and regret.
When she calmed down enough to relax her muscles, she pulled her knickers up again and smoothed her skirt down. She stared at the window across the room and watched the sky.
…
At seven years old, Luna was already painfully alone. Her father was gone most of the time and she had been left in the care of a nanny. Her nanny had been nice enough, but she wasn't her mother. Luna would distance herself from all the women who tried to enter her life. First it had been her aunt. Shortly after her mother died, her aunt had moved into their modest home and had taken over the care of the little girl. Luna hated her aunt and the way she tried to change everything that her mother had so painstakingly created.
Small things, like removing the shelving from Luna's bedroom and replacing it with cabinetry had made her blood boil. Whenever her aunt brushed her hair for her, she would tug at it and rip out the long strands. Luna had hated her so much that soon every time the woman entered the same room, Luna would scream and cry. She wouldn't stop until her mother's sister left the room. Eventually her father had had to ask her to leave.
And so the live-in nanny had been hired soon after. She had been a tiny woman, short and seemingly fragile in stature. Her hair was a shiny dark brown color and she spoke with a thick Irish brogue.
At first she would try to get Luna to warm up to her. She would try to tell her stories about Ireland, or about her stint as a professional Quidditch player. One time she had made fluffy animal shapes come from her wand to amuse Luna.
Her name was Emily, and Luna had despised her too.
Emily had started to grow on her after a while. Luna had even started to like the pleasant, gentle woman. But she had started to slowly take over Luna's life. Emily thought her a fool. As if she hadn't noticed the long looks she exchanged with her father over dinner or the way she half-smiled when she bent over to pick something up in front of him when she could have just as easily levitated it with her wand.
One night Luna had heard strange noises coming from the kitchen. She had quietly tiptoed out of her bedroom and slowly made her way to the doorway. She looked inside only to see Emily sitting on the table, her head thrown back and her thighs spread, Luna's father sitting on a chair with his face planted firmly between them. They had been so completely possessed by one another that they hadn't noticed the little girl standing in the room, in plain view.
The next morning, Luna threw all of Emily's clothes into the well in the backyard. When Emily questioned her Luna ignored her, humming a soft tune to drown her out.
One week later, instead of punishing Luna, her father had terminated Emily's services. Luna ignored his questioning too, never revealing to him what she knew about his affair with a nanny.
It was just the two of them again and Luna liked it that way.
…
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! This chapter was long overdue and painfully short. It was difficult for me to write, because I wanted to capture Luna and give you, the reader, insight into why she behaves the way she does. I hope that I was able to do that. I thank all of you for being so patient with me and for giving me so many encouraging reviews. I promise that the next installment will be a little faster.