2. In My Head

Luna stared at the shining copper head of the second youngest Weasley from across the Three Broomsticks. Her gaze never left him, even when he glanced at her occasionally with eyebrows raised in question. She finally looked away when he leaned over to whisper something to Hermione who looked over at Luna and scowled in a very Hermione-ish manner.

Luna sighed, feeling desperately lonely but knowing that if she were to mingle amongst the students it would be accompanied by disapproving looks, obvious whispers and an insult or two. Normally she didn’t mind it so much, but she had been feeling strangely lately. Especially when Ronald was about.

The Three Broomsticks was crowded and stifling, so much so that even she felt uncomfortable. Luna felt a sudden need for fresh air and fought her way through the crowd of Hogwarts students, some of whom sneered at her passing, toward the exit.

The fresh air filled her lungs not a moment too soon. She felt more herself after only a moment and looked about dreamily.

Citizens and Hogwarts visitors alike milled about the streets of Hogsmeade. Luna accidentally caught the eye of a pair of Slytherin seventh years. They started toward her, elbowing each other and laughing without taking their eyes off her. Luna looked around for some type of escape but they were on her in no time.

“Who are you waiting for out here, Looney? Is someone from St. Mungo’s coming to take you back home?” one of them taunted. The other laughed and knocked her large purse out of her hand. It fell to the dirty ground with a thump and a few things spilled out of it. Before she could move a muscle one of them snatched something off the ground. It gleamed in the bright afternoon sun.

“Who’s this, Looney? She looks as crazy as you do!” one of them said. He held in his hand one of the few portraits of her mother, which she had framed at her own expense and kept in her purse. It was a very small portrait but Luna treasured it. It had been taken when Luna was two years old. In it, her mother was kneeling down on Luna’s level and they blew soap bubbles into the air together. The bubbles floated and popped within the movement of the picture. It was a memory from her childhood that she did not recall but kept the picture regardless. She sometimes brought it out and wondered if her mum had ever blown soap bubbles with Luna’s father.

Any other possession and Luna would have simply given it up as gone for good and walked away with the remnants of her purse. But this was different. Luna reached for it but the boy levitated it high above her head. When she stood on her tiptoes to reach it the other boy tripped her. Before she could even think to hold her arms out to prevent her face from hitting the cobblestone she wasn’t falling anymore. She found herself being held up by a pair of very strong and very male arms. She was quickly brought back to her feet. Feeling more than a little dizzy, Luna nearly fell again.

“Give me that portrait,” Ron demanded. Standing nearly two inches above the taller boy, he made a formidable opponent. However the Slytherins weren’t about to lose face to not only a Gryffindor, but a Weasley to boot.

“What are you going to do about it?” one of the boys said with a sneer. The other snorted with laughter.

“Two against one, is it? Don’t you think we should even this out?” said Harry, as he stepped up behind Ron with his wand held firmly at his side. Luna moved her head between the two pairs as if she were watching a muggle tennis match.

Harry’s reputation preceded him and the Slytherins seemed a bit nervous at this. They knew of the tangles that Harry and Ron had gotten themselves into with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Their self preservation took priority against proving themselves. The one holding Luna’s portrait threw it down onto the cold ground and they both walked briskly away from the scene.

Luna kneeled down to pick up the shattered remnants of the picture frame her portrait had been held in. The portrait now safely tucked away in her pocket Luna felt once again at peace. She looked up to thank Ron for saving her from what could have been a rather painful fall but saw only Harry looking down at her.

“Do you need help, Luna?” he asked with a slight smile on his lips. He obviously had not forgotten their encounter at the very end of fifth year.

“No, I’ve got it from here. Thank you, Harry,” she assured him; trying to mask her disappointment that Ron had already left. She swept the rest of her possessions (a pair of muggle tweezers, a small plastic container holding sugar and a pair of very large bifocals missing their right lens) into her purse and straightened up. Harry had already run to catch up with Ron’s retreating form.

“Does that happen a lot, Luna?” a female voice said behind her. Luna turned to find Hermione in the doorway of the Three Broomsticks, staring into Luna’s wide eyes. Luna only smiled slightly and started humming “Weasely is Our King” as she walked slowly away. Hermione stared after her, shaking her head.

~ ~ ~ ~

“For Merlin’s sake, is she staring at me again?” Ron asked Hermione, exasperation heavy in his voice. Hermione couldn’t help the wide grin that split her face, for indeed Luna had been staring at the back of Ron’s head for the fifth time that day.

They sat in the dining hall, eating their evening meal. As Ron stuffed roasted turkey into his mouth with no lack of enthusiasm he had become aware of that funny feeling of being watched. It had become an all too familiar sensation that day, for he had caught Luna staring at him unabashedly several times. Her wide eyes nearly bore holes into the back of his head. Even when he had turned round to give her a dirty look she still had not looked away.

“Do you think she’s really nutters? D’you think she’ll do something weird to me?” Ron asked, setting his fork down and looking very harassed.

“She’s eccentric, but certainly not insane. What are you so worried for?” Harry asked, digging into his potatoes. Ron mumbled something, trying to hunch over as low as he could so as not to attract her attention.

“It’s not working,” Hermione said in an insanely annoying sing-song voice.

“That’s the last time I help a girl with anything,” Ron groaned, deeply regretting ever getting between Luna and the two Slytherin boys. Especially since the two had taken to harassing him in the hallways of Hogwarts. He did well enough when it came to taking care of himself and had felt a little put out by the fact that Harry had stepped in the day before. He was positive he could have handled the situation perfectly.

After they had finished their meal, the Trio made their way back to the common room with the other Gryffindors. Ron was relieved to see Luna headed toward the Ravenclaw dormitories. He decided to give her a taste of her own medicine and stared at the back of her head. She did not seem to notice however as she pushed past a gaggle of giggling Ravenclaw third years. The girls exchanged a comment or two about the bright blonde then went back to their commentary on the “cutest Quidditch player in third year”.

Ron felt a sharp jab to his ribs and had to stifle his surprised yip.

“You two seem to enjoy staring at one another. Why don’t you ask her out and get it over with?” Hermione said, clearly enjoying every minute of this. Harry, who had been silent the whole time couldn’t hide his smile in time. Ron caught it and scowled.

“I am not interested in Luna Lovegood in the least. She’s completely nutters!” Ron said in his defense. He and Hermione were both surprised when Harry finally spoke up.

“She’s not crazy at all. You don’t even know her,” he said quietly. At that moment they had approached the portrait of The Fat Lady. Harry called out the password and stepped through, Ron and Hermione following closely behind. Still sulking, Ron went straight to bed.

He laid in silence on his Gryffindor bed sheets, replaying the scene from the day before in his mind. Stepping out of the Three Broomsticks in time to see Luna Lovegood reaching for a shiny object held above her head by a Slytherin boy, watching her feet as they were swept out from under her and finally the fall that seemed to last an eternity.

He didn’t know why he caught her or where exactly those amazingly fast reflexes had come from.

All he knew was that incredibly thick-skulled girl wouldn’t stop looking at him!

The sway of her hips is wildly seductive and he imagines what it would be like to hold them firmly above his own. Would they be firm and muscled or soft and yielding? Her small gentle smile no longer seems vacant but is unmistakably intelligent. He knows she can hold her own and is turned on like he never has been before.

He watches her on the arm of another boy, the fluttering in his stomach an insane jealously. It tickles his throat and makes him want to scream. He imagines the boy running his fingers through her long golden hair. He imagines him stroking her skin. Hair, skin, teeth and nails that he thinks belong to him rightfully. He wants to hurt him and wipe the smile off his face. He wants her to look at him like she used to.

Everything changes and she is under him, asleep. He doesn’t put his weight on her because he’s afraid she’ll wake up. He doesn’t want to disturb her after the day she’s had. She had fallen asleep with wet tears still on her cheeks and they have still not dried completely. Her father has just died and her grief suffuses his insides so he feels as if his own father has died too. It is a strange feeling, because he has only met her father once or twice.

Next they are blowing bubbles together in a large field. She exclaims over their beauty as they pop and she catches them softly in the palm of her hand and keeps them intact for a few seconds. He is not looking at the bubbles. He is looking at her and imagining what their child will look like if they ever have one. She notices him looking at her and not the bubbles. She is waiting for him to say something, but he has never been able to form pretty words for her. So he smiles instead and hopes she understands.

When she looks away he knows that she does.

Ron awakened to the sight of Harry’s face right above him. It certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting. He had been thoroughly convinced that a face framed by long blonde hair would greet him, but instead he found himself uncomfortably close to his best friend.

“Gah! What are you doing, you stupid git?” Ron said, sitting up in bed and throwing off his covers. Harry looked embarrassed and backed away.

“You wouldn’t wake up so I was going to shake you. We’re going to be late,” Harry said. Ron pulled on his school clothes and robes in a flash and was running out of the abandoned dormitory with Harry in a matter of five minutes. They were accustomed to this by now, as Ron was particularly fond of sleeping in.

“What kind of dream were you having, Ron? It must have been a good one,” Harry said as they made their way to Divinations. Ron turned an unnatural shade of red and Harry took this as answer enough.

“Who was in it, then? Lavender Brown? Parvati Patil?”

“Can’t I even keep my dreams to myself?” Ron asked gruffly. Harry was not fooled and laughed at his friend’s embarrassed coloring.

As red as his face was, it wasn’t nearly as red as it would be later when he spotted the object of his dream in the dining hall. The dream had left him with questions upon questions. He found that he could not look at her wide eyes without imagining them glazed over with pleasure or half-closed in the midst of an orgasm. This served to not only give him a humiliating tightening in his trousers but to also make him more angry than he’d been in a long time.

That damned minx has cursed me. I suddenly go from not noticing her a bit to having her in my fecking dreams!

He turned round to give her a glare and show her that he was on to her dirty tricks, but found that she was nowhere to be seen. This infuriated Ron to no end. When he got up from the table he ignored both Hermione and Harry with their questioning looks.

He just hoped he would be able to catch her while he was still angry. He had a hell of a lot to say and if he was allowed to calm down at all he’d never get a chance to say it.

He was fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to catch her in the hall leading to Ravenclaw Tower. Luna did not seem to notice his rapidly approaching footsteps as she made her way calmly to the stairwell. He had to grab her upper arm to turn her around. When they were face to face, he found that the words he had been repeating over and over in his head would not do him any good. She had an oblivious grin on her face.

“Hello, Ronald. I’m happy to see you, too,” she said, taking his grabbing her as an enthusiastic greeting.

“Don’t call me Ronald!” was all he could muster, even though he had a lot of other things to be angrier about.

“That’s your name, isn’t it? My father used to have a man working for his newspaper who was named Ronald. He didn’t have red hair, though. It was brown. Do you have trouble finding clothes that coordinate with your hair?” she went on, not the least bit as frazzled as Ron was.

“What have you done to me?” Ron asked, pointing his finger in her face.

“Done?” Luna asked, her smile still plastered to her face but a confused gleam in her blue eyes.

“You’ve cursed me! You’d better tell me what you used on me and lift it. Do you think it’s funny that I have to think about you all the time? It’s very selfish of you,” he said through his clenched jaw. That seemed to wipe the smile right off her face.

“Cursed you? Cursed you? And they call me Looney? Ha!” She said. With that she turned around, whipping her hair behind her shoulder hard enough to hit Ron with the ends and walked away.

Ron was left behind, gaping at her.

3. Flying Toast

Short Author’s Note: I just want to start off by thanking everyone who reviewed the first chapter. I was very pleasantly surprised by all the compliments and constructive feedback. You guys rock.

“Oh, shut up already! Why don’t you just talk to him?” Gretchen exploded, waving her arms animatedly. That was Gretchen’s way of showing she was fed up, and Luna was quite used to seeing the display. Luna rather enjoyed it though and goaded the other Ravenclaw on.

“He looks at me now like I’m some awful potion ingredient in Professor Snape’s class. I’d rather he didn’t notice me at all,” Luna responded, sighing dramatically and hiding her smile when Gretchen practically growled and slammed her fist on the table.

“You git! He’s the first boy who’s noticed you, who doesn’t have malicious intent might I add, and you’re sitting here whining about it? He hangs about Harry freaking Potter! He’s popular!” Gretchen said, digging in to her breakfast angrily. Luna could just feel the other girl’s jealousy seeping out between them. Since Gretchen had transferred to Hogwarts she’d had her eye on The Boy Who Lived. When she saw that she wasn’t up to his speed, she had started to cast her eye upon his best friend.

“Do you want me to ask him if he likes you?” Luna asked innocently. One could imagine her surprise when a piece of toast (butter side up) hit her square in the face. When she’d wiped the sticky mess off her face she opened her eyes to see Gretchen with her hand clamped tightly over her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Luna! I don’t know what came over me!” the other girl apologized profusely, even offering to wipe the bits of butter out of Luna’s eyebrows with her napkin. Luna looked up at the girl who had a napkin poised near Luna’s face and couldn’t help the laughter that seized her. Gretchen stared for a moment, still trying to maintain that horror-stricken look upon her face. But soon even she couldn’t contain the onslaught of giggles. When the laughter had died down several minutes later, the other girl spoke again.

“Honestly, Luna. If you’re that preoccupied with him, talk to him about it. Maybe if you calmly explained to him that you haven’t cursed him he’ll see reason,” Gretchen rationalized, picking up her other piece of toast and biting into it.

“Oh, no one takes me seriously. I’m sure he’ll discover on his own how much of a moron he’s being,” Luna said, more to convince herself than Gretchen. The girl gave her an odd look and gulped down her orange juice.

“C’mon, silly. It’s time for your favorite class,” Gretchen said, grabbing her school bag and scooting away from the table.

“Care for Magical Creatures?” Luna asked hopefully.

“No, better than that. Double Potions!”

Luna groaned.

Luna didn’t have to see Ronald all day until the evening rolled around. Before, she had been the one to stare at him. Now his eyes followed her everywhere she went. It was nice to have some attention from a boy, even if it was under unpleasant circumstances. Although she did find that at this particular meal on this particular day she wasn’t bothered in the least by thoughts of Ronald Weasley. She had just received an owl post from her father earlier when she’d been reading a favorite novel by the lake. An owl she’d never seen before had delivered the message and she’d fed him a piece of bread sprinkled with the sugar she kept handy in her purse.

My dear Luna,

Your last post made me very happy. I’m glad to hear that your classes are going so well. From what you’ve told me, there isn’t a student in Hogwarts whom you haven’t befriended! That brings me great relief.

I do have to give you a spot of bad news, which pains me. My assignment here in the tropics has gone on longer than any of us expected. We are seeing signs of our great beast, but of course I can’t give you the details here. You never know who has prying eyes and might steal our newspaper’s big break.

Sadly, that brings me to the point of this brief letter. I’ll not be able to take you with me on Christmas holiday to the Rainforests as we planned. I know you were very excited, love. I was too. But my work is making demands on me again and I must see to that and get it settled. But when I do, rest assured, I am going to spend time with my favorite blue-eyed girl! Although we won’t be spending the holidays together again, I did want to ask what you think of a vacation together this summer holiday. Of course our destination will be a surprise! Owl me and tell me what you think.

With love always,

Dad

Luna had learned long ago to quell her great disappointment and move on. It hadn’t been the first time that her father had backed out of a father/daughter vacation with her. She felt terrible for him, having to work all the time. She supposed that the newspaper needed him more often now in the past several years. She didn’t know if they were in trouble or when it all started.

All she knew was that he’d always been home for Christmas when Mum was alive.

“Oh, shut up already! Why don’t you just talk to her?” Harry said exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. Ron ignored this, looking over Harry’s shoulder again and narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Look at her over there. Talking to that—what’s her name? Gargantua? Greta?” Ron stumbled over the other girl’s name.

“Gretchen, I believe,” Harry supplied.

“Yes. Gretchen. They’re talking about me. I know it. And they’re laughing! They’re probably giggling over the curse they’ve conspired together to bring upon me,” Ron said, stuffing oatmeal into his mouth. Harry couldn’t take it anymore.

“If you don’t stop with your constant suspicion and conspiracy theories I will personally break your broomstick over my knee and forbid you to ever play Quidditch again!” Harry said, narrowing his eyes to show Ron he meant it.

“That’s cold. I thought you were my best pal. My confidant. My buddy,” Ron said.

“I am. Doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re an idiot sometimes. Besides, you need to get it out of your head that she’s plotting against you. Girls aren’t enemies anymore. It’s not first year, y’know,” Harry explained.

“I know that, you arse. But you’ve heard all the stories about her. How come you defend her?”

“I just know her better than you do, that’s all,” Harry said, loathe to explain that encounter at the end of fifth year. He didn’t think Ron would understand.

“How much better?” Ron asked, again with his familiar suspicion.

“Oh, will you just let up?” piped up a voice that had been quiet up ‘till then. They looked over at Hermione who had put her thick book down. She looked at Ron with that self-important look upon her face.

“She’s only a girl. A young woman, I might say. She’ll not pound you flat or anything if you just talk to her. She’s no Millicent Bullstrode,” Hermione said. Harry snorted and Ron couldn’t help laughing too. Hermione rarely said anything funny and when she did it was a rare treat. Hermione tried to look serious but they both saw the grin that she tried to hide behind her open book.

4. A Lesson or Two

Ronald Weasely had something that belonged to Luna Lovegood.

Ronald Weasely had stolen something that belonged to Luna Lovegood.

Ron couldn’t believe his good luck. The fact that he’d been behind her the precise moment that certain something had fallen out of her purse, the fact that she hadn’t noticed it at all or that he’d bent to pick something up immediately behind her was fantastically lucky, something he wasn’t accustomed to.

Okay, so he hadn’t technically stolen it. He’d simply picked it up and failed to mention it to her. What was he supposed to do, turn it into a lost and found?

Harry had insisted that he should, but Ron wasn’t about to let an opportunity like this slip through his fingers. Literally. Harry might be perfectly content playing the good guy, but Ron was going to exact revenge and enjoy every minute of it.

Ron picked his way through the throng of Hogwarts students toward the library. He had plans to spend his lunch break in there, looking up all sorts of curses and spells he could place on that silly Ravenclaw. Any other situation and he would have simply gone to Hermione, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be wise. She would probably run to tell Luna. Girls sometimes joined unlikely forces to plot against men folk, Fred and George used to say. Fred and George knew loads about people and what made them tick. Otherwise they wouldn’t be so successful at running a business.

Last night Ron had started to calm down and lose his grip on his various conspiracy theories involving Luna Lovegood. Harry had finally gotten him to listen to “reason” and see things “logically”. But then he’d had that dream and he was right back at square one. He’d had a dream about shagging, which wasn’t anything new to him recently. But his dream self had been shagging a particular Ravenclaw fifth year on a desk in Professor Snape’s Potions classroom.

He knew it was her handiwork, for he’d never be caught dead having a shag with anyone in Professor Snape’s dungeons. No matter how shiny and full their long blonde hair was or how round and firm their breasts were or how skilled their tongue—

He had to stop thinking about that.

Ron walked among the shelves upon shelves of books in the library. Madame Pince was too busy to notice him as she was preoccupied with glaring at a group of rowdy Slytherin first years.

Hmm. Love spells and Potions for Beginners. That sounded too good to be true, so he flipped through the pages.

Warning to all who purchase, borrow, steal, find, or—oh bugger it all! To anyone who reads this book:

These potions and spells are for the beginner lover. It is meant purely for entertainment and should never be used criminally or in a dangerous manner. These spells and potions are not long-lasting and only take effect for no more than three days at a time. If a potion or spell is used longer than this, I will know and I will personally find you and break your wand. If I am dead by the time you read this then I will haunt you for years to come.

Thank you for reading and please consider my other great works! Mary Poppins, a Biography and Healing Potions for Parents.

Ron flipped to check the About the Author page and assured himself that the author was indeed most likely dead by now. A ghost certainly wouldn’t have the authority to break his wand. Ron made his way to the desk of Madame Pince in short order to sign the book out. The librarian eyed him suspiciously and Ron laughed nervously.

“It’s for Charms,” Ron lied. Madam Pince narrowed her eyes as she muttered something and a date appeared on the inside cover.

“Turn it in before this date or else,” she threatened. Ron gave her a tense half-smile and hurried out as fast as his long legs could carry him.

…

Later on, he showed the book to Harry. They were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, heads bent over it. To Ron’s great surprise, Harry was not completely against the idea of Ron borrowing the book. Quite the opposite in fact, he was fascinated by it.

“So these spells will make anyone fall in love with you? For at least three days?” he had asked with his eyes wide beneath his glasses.

“It depends on which spell you choose, but some of them do. Did you have someone in mind?” Ron asked. Now it was Harry’s turn to flush a deep red. Ron quite enjoyed the payback.

“What are you two reading, then?” Hermione suddenly appeared above them and snatched the book from Harry’s hand. She glanced over it and her eyes became wide. She stared at Harry in a curious way.

“Harry Potter! What are you doing with this book?” she demanded, and Ron imagined steam coming out of her ears. Harry looked to Ron for support but Ron merely sat back to wait for Harry’s explanation.

“I—er, that is--Ron—“ he stammered, never quite reaching a solid sentence before Hermione dropped the book onto the chair and stomped off. The exchange had attracted Ginny Weasley’s attention and she walked over to pick up the offending book.

“Why is Hermione so fired up?” she asked them, leafing through the book and not seeming surprised at it in the least. Of course Ron knew why this was, but wasn’t about to reveal that yet.

Nearly everyone who attended Hogwarts knew that Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy were “seeing” each other, even if the two thought it was still a secret. It was never mentioned to Ron and everyone assumed that he was none the wiser. Even Harry and Hermione opted to keep him in the dark about the whole thing. Ron rather enjoyed playing the ignorant brother and looked at it as a very fun game.

Of course he’d initially detested the idea, especially after seeing it with his own eyes. One night he’d snuck out of bed and made his way to the kitchens for a midnight snack, but instead of a lovely peanut butter and pickle sandwich he’d gotten an eyeful. He had seen Draco Malfoy handling his sister’s feminine attributes in a very inappropriate way. Besides being sick to his stomach for days, he’d also been in a rage. Before he had gotten a chance to turn the Slytherin pervert into the pile of shite that he was, they had ducked out of sight without ever noticing him.

He had been more than ready the next morning to teach the pair a lesson, but when he had entered the dining hall and seen them looking at each other from across the room in a most unusual way; he had reasoned with himself that it would be a bad idea indeed. He rather imagined that Draco Malfoy glanced at Ginny in the same way his father looked at his mother at the Burrow. So he had played ignorant of the entire situation, sometimes teasing Ginny about the Slytherin prat. He said things like “that Draco Malfoy doesn’t seem to date very much. Perhaps he doesn’t like the ladies?” and would watch his sister’s face turn as red as her hair with anger. He could sometimes actually see her biting her tongue and straining to keep her fist from connecting with his eye.

“I believe she doesn’t like the idea of Harry casting love spells and cooking up love potions for unsuspecting girls,” Ron explained, grabbing his book away from his little sister and poring through it again. Harry looked over Ron’s shoulder again and Ginny giggled.

“You don’t need some stupid book to make a girl fall in love with you,” Ginny said, flipping her hair back with an air of superiority.

“Really? Then how?” Ron demanded, suddenly feeling very childish. This made him a bit angry.

“You do need a book, but not that one,” Hermione spoke up. She had returned without any of them noticing. Harry exhaled in relief and pretended he hadn’t been a bit interested in Ron’s book. Hermione placed the book she was carrying in Ginny’s outstretched hand. Ginny had the cover hidden beneath her hand so Ron and Harry couldn’t read the title. Ginny seemed fascinated by the thing and exclaimed over it.

“Oh my! May I borrow it, Hermione?” she asked, nearly putting her nose in it. Hermione snorted and snatched it back.

“You don’t need it, Ginny dear. They do, however,” she said, jerking her thumb toward the boys. She handed the book to them and they read the front title with wide eyes. Ron stared at it curiously, but Harry seemed to know immediately what it was and seemed embarrassed.

“The Joy of Sex?” Ron read the title questioningly, looking to Hermione for an explanation. Of course he knew what sex was, but how was this supposed to make Luna obsessed with him? He couldn’t very well apply any of this if she didn’t at least invite him to her bed, and the thought of that made Ron very nervous. He didn’t want to sleep with the girl; he just wanted to pay her back. No matter what his stupid dreams told him.

“I have a few chapters tabbed for quick study. Read this one,” she said, turning to a chapter that contained the word “cunnilingus”.

“Cunnilingus? Is that some sort of incantation or spell?” Ron asked, genuinely curious. Hermione paled a bit but answered as Ginny laughed harder than ever in the background.

“I suppose you could say that. Just read the book, you stupid git. If you want to know anything, you’ve got to study even if it is a muggle book. I’ve overheard you talking about Luna, and if you want to force her to think of you then this will do more than any spell,” she explained, squaring her shoulders and crossing her arms. Harry laughed a bit nervously to ease the silent tension.

“Thank you for the help, Hermione but I don’t think Ron should—“

“Shut up, Harry! You should read it too. Not that I condone underage sex, but you two should stop acting so immature when it comes to women. Perhaps if you know what it means to please us—I mean them, you’ll stop this demeaning behavior,” she said.

“Amen!” Ginny exclaimed. The two girls walked away together, laughing amongst themselves. Ron and Harry were left in the common room to stare at the white paperback book that Hermione had entrusted to them. They both read through it, glad that none of the other Gryffindors had noticed the exchange. Except for Seamus Finnigan.

“What’s this? The Joy of Sex? My mum and dad have a copy of that. Good book, that is. Are you brushing up on your techniques?” he asked, unconcerned with the fact that Harry and Ron were made very uncomfortable by his question. When they didn’t answer, Seamus laughed.

“You’ve never applied it then? What a shame! Who are you thinking of trying it out on? No, don’t answer that. D’you need tips and strategies?” Seamus rattled on. It was rather well known that Seamus was very successful with the female population of Hogwarts. Harry and Ron were a bit in awe of him and nodded, not about to refuse a friendly lesson from the other Gryffindor boy.

Seamus Finnigan seemed very knowledgeable despite the fact that he had never had a relationship last longer than twenty-four hours and found much hate mail left in his seats in various classes. Ron and Harry paid rapt attention.

“Right then, I’m starving. Let’s go eat! No pun intended,” Seamus winked. Ron and Harry forced a laugh and followed him out to the dining hall for dinner. When Ron entered his eye was immediately attracted to the blonde head of Luna Lovegood as if by magnet. She sat across from that friend of hers, (what was her name again? Goya? Garfield?) conversing. No doubt making fun of him. They saw him from across the room but ignored him, turning back to each other.

Ron decided to take matters into his own hands and let go of his shyness. Desperately hoping no on from his house besides Harry and Seamus would notice, he made his way to the Ravenclaw table. He plopped his arse down right next to Luna and leaned into her. Luna stopped in mid-sentence and turned very slowly to meet his eye.

“Forgive my interruption, ladies. May I have a word with you, Luna?” Ron said in what he hoped was a very charming manner. Luna, taken aback, merely nodded. Ron gently took hold of her arm to help her out of her seat and pulled her aside to the entrance. Her friend watched them leave with shock written all over her face.

When they were hidden in a bit of shadow, Ron pulled the object that Luna had dropped that very day from the pocket of his sweater. When she saw it, her eyes grew very wide and she looked at him with a sight lot more gratitude than he felt he deserved. He pushed his feelings of guilt aside, however and smiled winningly.

“You dropped this earlier. I wanted to return it to you,” he said, handing over her precious photograph. She took it reverently, touching his hand in the process.

“Ronald, you wonderful boy. I was beside myself without it! This is the second time you’ve retrieved it for me. Thank you!” she exclaimed gratefully, holding the piece of paper above her heart. Ron smiled and took a deep breath, remembering all that Seamus had told him.

“Yes, well I would do anything for a beautiful woman,” he said suavely, winking. Luna looked a bit confused but held her smile all the same. Ron decided to take things a bit further and leaned over to whisper into her ear. “Wouldn’t you like to repay my generosity?” then stood back to test her reaction. Fully expecting her to swoon at his feet, he was deeply shocked when she slapped him across the face instead.

“How dare you? You are a perverted, hateful, conniving bastard! I’d rather make love to a Death Eater!” she drove her point home by stomping on his foot with all her weight. Everyone in the dining hall turned at this exchange and laughed when Ron was left behind gasping with pain as Luna Lovegood fled the dining hall. Her friend ran after her but not before kicking Ron in the shin before exiting.

Ron’s only thought at this point was one word. Fuck.

…

Luna ran all the way to her dormitory, never pausing in spite of the fact that her only friend was close on her heels and shouting for her to wait. Luna didn’t stop until she reached her bed and fell on it face first. Gretchen slowed down, thoroughly winded. She sat on the bed next to Luna to catch her breath.

“How dare he? That slimy git! A Slytherin would have had more tact than him. How dare he?” she asked again, fuming and pounding her bed with a fist. Gretchen said nothing, only stared at Luna. She had never seen her angry before, and was quite bewildered that she would let something so silly get to her when she never batted an eyelash when the girls would steal her sweaters and wear them right in front of her or put chewed gum in her slippers.

“He was making fun of me! Honestly, what have I ever done to him? Am I so unattractive that he has to be so sarcastic when it comes to having sex with me?” she demanded of Gretchen. Gretchen gasped when Luna looked up and she saw the tears on her cheeks. The other girl felt a lump in her throat at the sight and patted Luna on the back awkwardly.

“It’s not as bad as all that. How do you know he was being sarcastic? Perhaps he really is attracted to you, Luna,” Gretchen soothed. Luna’s tears only seemed to increase. Horrified, Gretchen grabbed Luna’s arm and pulled her up into a sitting position.

“Stop that simpering and carrying on right now! It doesn’t solve any damn thing! I don’t know why this is bothering you so much. He’s just a stupid boy and I, for one, will never speak to or look at him again. In my opinion, he’s only a sex-starved adolescent who needs a lesson or two in proper social behavior,” Gretchen stated firmly. This seemed to get through to Luna, for the girl wiped her tears away and had a determined look upon her face.

“You’re right, Gretchen. He’s only a stupid prat, and I’m going to teach him a lesson,” Luna said, looking beyond Gretchen and obviously plotting something. Gretchen didn’t like the sound of it.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I’m going to pretend to be in love with Ronald Weasley.”

5. Soggy Handkerchiefs

A/N: Standard disclaimers still apply. I apologize for not giving a warning prior to the previous chapter for all the sexual humor and references. Now, I will warn you that there will be more. Much more. Also, the rating will be upgraded eventually. The author’s note that I posted before the first chapter was meant for fanfiction.net and I forgot to change it for portkey.org. My claim that the adult chapters would be posted elsewhere was actually pertaining to the fact that I would post them at portkey.org. Hope that makes sense. Enjoy the story.

…

When Ron dug through his schoolbag for his Potions book, his hand fell on a piece of rolled up scroll. He pulled it out, fully expecting it to be the lost Herbology homework he’d been looking for over the past few days. But when he unrolled it, he found that it was a message.

Ronald,

I feel awful about last night. Meet me by the lake’s edge at four o’ clock so I can apologize properly.

L.L.

Ron stared at the large cursive handwriting, waiting for his brain to absorb the meaning. Last night had been humiliating, and students were still pointing and laughing at him between classes. He had had to endure taunts from Draco Malfoy and his cronies. The only thing that had stopped him from turning the pointy-faced blonde into a ferret had been the thought of his sister’s wrath. Ron was only afraid of three people. His mother, Ginny, and Voldemort. In that order.

So Luna Lovegood had finally come around, just as Seamus had assured him she would. So why, exactly, was his heart pounding in his ears?

Perhaps because he couldn’t rightly imagine what Luna had in mind when she mentioned apologizing properly and perhaps because he had his own ideas as to how she could make it up to him.

“What does it say?” Hermione asked, looking over his shoulder and trying to catch a glimpse of the note. Ron crumpled it up in his hand before she could read it, but the damage had been done.

“I saw that! I wonder what her intentions are after such a dramatic display in the dining hall last night,” Hermione mused.

“It was dramatic, was it? I thought it was the right thing to do, after that ridiculous advice that moron Seamus gave me! I think he meant to steer me wrongly, just to get back at me for that time I wrote him a fake valentine from Pansy Parkinson,” Ron said, glaring daggers at Finnigan from across the library. Seamus only smiled brightly and waved, then winked at Hermione in a roguish way. Hermione blushed.

“He’s not all that bad, Ron,” Hermione said, looking down at her book shyly. Ron rolled his eyes in disgust.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me!”

“I wasn’t!”

“You were!”

“Not!”

“What are you two arguing about now?” Harry asked, sitting down next to Ron. Hermione smirked at Ron in that infuriating way she had and beat him to the punch.

“Ron received a love note from Luna Lovegood. I suppose a person’s last name can really say something about their personality,” she said, eyes gleaming.

“Stop that! I’m sure she doesn’t want to—to do those things. Well, I’m sure she does, but not with me. Not that I’m under-confident, but—oh shut up, Hermione!” Ron exclaimed when Hermione started to laugh so hard that she snorted. The other students heard and whipped their heads around to stare at them. Harry seemed very confused by the whole display, but was able to glean a few facts.

“So Luna wants to kiss and make up, then? It’s as if you two are dating,” Harry said matter-of-factly, opening up his Potions book and setting to work. Ron turned red and spluttered, searching in vain for the correct response.

“You seem to be at a terrible loss for words today, Ron,” Hermione said teasingly. Ron saw Harry smirk before he thought to cover his face with his Potions book.

“Ron seems to be at a loss for words a lot lately. Why, I’d venture to say it all started three days ago in Hogsmeade,” Harry said. Ron had had enough and slammed his fist on the table. Dean Thomas’ toothpick model of the London Bridge collapsed and the fellow Gryffindor stared in shock at the remnants.

“All of you stop your gossip and hen-pecking! There’s nothing between that silly nit and I!” Ron exclaimed as he picked up his book bag and stomped away in a huff. He stopped at the door and turned back to say one last thing.

“Sorry, Dean,” he said apologetically as he hurried out. Dean looked from the disaster that had been his Muggle Studies project to the library exit and back again.

Then he promptly fainted.

…

At exactly three forty-five Luna arrived at the lake. She still wore her usual school clothes but had decided to fancy things up a bit by putting on her earrings shaped like heads of cabbage. She had decided not to wear her hair in the usual braids and had opted instead to wear it loose and draping the sides of her face. Gretchen had said it was very flattering, albeit reluctantly. Gretchen had tried to talk Luna out of it up until she walked out of the dormitory. Luna didn’t see why, she thought her plan was bloody brilliant. Why not exact revenge on that stupid Gryffindor git by messing with his head a bit, like he had done hers? When he trusted her enough, she could humiliate him a bit and give him a taste of what it was like to be her.

Then a new thought entered her head. What if he didn’t show? What if he simply stood her up and she was left to stand out here alone, looking ridiculous? He would laugh in her face the next day and she’d go back to being silly old Luna again, invisible and unnoticed by boy and man alike. Her fears (or at least one of them) were quickly cast aside when she heard the sound of leaves crunching underfoot behind her.

“What’s this all about, Looney?” he greeted none too pleasantly. He had a scowl on his face and his coppery red hair was rumpled and sticking up in the air. Not exactly a pleasant sight to kick off the start of Luna’s plans, but she’d have to be brave. With a deep breath, she conjured up the most charming smile she could imagine. Ronald’s scowl was replaced with a wide-eyed look of surprise. He blushed (Luna had never seen a boy blush as much as he did) and fidgeted.

“Well?” he prompted. Luna tucked her hair behind her ears, feeling self-conscious now and wanting to stall.

“I wanted to apologize for my awful behavior last night. Won’t you forgive me?” she asked in a way she could only hope was convincing.

“You brought me all the way out here just to say that? Couldn’t you have just tucked another note into my schoolbooks, you crazy nit?” he practically shouted. It was just as Luna had feared. In the face of his overwhelming anger, Luna dropped her façade and let her emotions get the better of her.

“Why do you h-h-hate me?” she wailed, her voice shaking from the effort of holding in her sobs. She heard him heave an exasperated sigh.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed. Luna couldn’t help herself and continued to simper and sob. She saw Ronald grit his teeth with frustration or annoyance, she couldn’t tell which. When she thought more about how badly she had messed up her plan after only ten minutes, she wailed harder.

“There, there. Uh—turn that frown upside down,” he managed, patting her shoulder once very awkwardly. Luna’s sobs quieted after a few moments and she rubbed her eyes so she could see through the blur of them. Ronald produced a very wrinkled and dingy looking handkerchief from his threadbare pockets. Luna took it and wiped her cheeks and leaky nose dry. Ronald took the sopping mess back without a word of complaint and shoved it into his book bag.

“Now what’s this rubbish about my hating you?” he said, after he was sure her well of tears was exhausted. He looked quite traumatized by her display, which surprised Luna very much. He had a little sister, after all. Luna had already sabotaged all of her plans so she decided honesty was the best policy.

“You always whisper about me and call me crazy and then you were so nice to me and everything and I started to trust you and think you might not be like the other boys and that you might actually be nice to me but then you made fun of me again and started whispering about me to all of your friends!” she shot off all in one breath. Ronald shook his head, overwhelmed by her emotions and the wealth of information.

“What? I’ve been minding my own business this whole time. I only ever made fun of you because that’s what everybody else does!” Ronald defended, but seemed to catch his skewed logic mid-sentence, for he faltered toward the end. Looking embarrassed, he fiddled with the strap of his book bag. Luna felt her anger grow deep in her chest.

“Ronald Weasley, you are the most immature, insensitive prick I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting and I’ve met quite a few! You only care about being Harry Potter’s right-hand man and making up for all of your insecurities by being boastful and trying to be popular. If you took a moment away from kissing everyone’s arse you may realize that you’re a big joke around here. Everyone sees how pathetic you can be except you!” she attacked him with every ounce of bitterness and anger she had built up the past week and over the years of being abused by other students. She invested all of her negative energy in him and laid out everything she had heard whispered in classrooms and corners for him to see. His eyes were wide with shock but Luna didn’t stick around for his response.

She left him by the lake, staring into the water and looking thoughtful.

…

“She said what?” Hermione asked again, disbelieving. Ron sighed, having told her the story thrice now. For such a smart girl, she was unusually slow today. Ron had wanted to hide under his covers when he finally made it back to the Gryffindor tower and never emerge again. Painfully humiliated, he was a wreck. Nothing he had said that day had been the right thing. He seemed to mess everything up and wanted to curl up somewhere safe and never speak to anyone again.

In other words, he wanted his mum.

And now, every belief he had had about his popularity and his magnetism was proved false. Very few people liked him and many even resented him. This was news to him and now he had to come to terms with the fact that he was just a big idiot that everyone laughed at.

“She said I was an arse-kisser and that I’m a joke around here. How many times must I repeat myself?” he asked, sick and tired of it all. Hermione looked at him with pity and that dealt a huge blow to his pride.. again. He imagined his pride was sitting somewhere inside him, taking its last gasping breaths before death. He could tell by the look on her face that everything Luna had told him had had much truth to it, for Hermione denied none of it.

“Why didn’t any of you tell me?” he asked her, sounding defeated. Hermione looked away.

“Oh, Ron. We didn’t think it would do any good to tell you the awful things they were saying. Harry and I both knew they weren’t true,” she explained, placing a warm hand on his own for comfort. Ron pulled his hand away and tucked it underneath his arm. He retreated back into his thoughts and ignored everything else Hermione said after that.

Luna had looked very lovely, even when she had been yelling at him. Her face had been flushed with anger, her eyes wide but no longer vacant-looking. They had had the look in them that he remembered from his first dream of her. He had never been the object of a woman’s scorn before (except perhaps Ginny’s, but that didn’t count in his mind’s eye) and the feeling was entirely new to him. And so was the fact that he had just referred to Looney Lovegood as a woman in his thoughts. He had always thought of her as a girl, a crazy one at that.

Now she was starting to make sense.

Ron knew he had to give up his hard-headedness and fix things. His mother would send him a Howler everyday if she heard about the mess he’d gotten himself into. He could hear her now. Just apologize to the poor dear.

Bah.

6. The Amazing Draco

A/N: This is an angsty chapter. I’ve held back up until now, trying to keep this story light-hearted. But there are many emotional issues to address, and that will begin here.

There is also sexual content in this one. Not much (I know, I’m disappointed too) but enough for me to ask any readers to proceed with a bit of caution. This chapter took me a long time to write and I’m so embarrassed by how short it is. It was difficult to do because of (as I mentioned above) all of the emotions and events surrounding them that I had to capture. Writer’s block doesn’t help either, but I was able to scrounge this up and I think it’s a good bit of writing. Disagree? Tell me so in a review. I appreciate the feedback.

Again, these characters (except Gretchen) are not mine. They belong to rich people.

…

“Oh, Gretchen! I’ve made a mess of everything!” Luna whined later on, after telling Gretchen of the encounter she had had with Ronald. Gretchen was surprisingly unsympathetic.

“I told you it would be a bad idea. Didn’t I tell you?” Gretchen demanded. Luna cursed Gretchen for her insensitivity, but soon remembered that Gretchen did, after all, have a crush on Ronald Weasley.

“You were right, Gretchen. I’ll never associate myself with another boy again until I’m well away from Hogwarts!” Luna exclaimed. In fact, the idea of joining that cult of witches in Edinburgh who swore off relations with males for life was starting to sound pretty good.

“Now don’t be so dramatic, Luna. Perhaps if you just apologized to him, you two could coexist again just as before,” Gretchen tried to comfort.

“But I don’t want things to be as they were before! I was bloody miserable before and I’m bloody miserable now. I just can’t win.”

“I’m finding it more and more difficult to put up with your constant whining lately, so I say this out of love, dear. Shut it!” Gretchen said. The students walking behind and ahead of them in the hall turned to look at them. Cheeks crimson, Luna hid her face behind her still-loose hair while Gretchen patted her shoulder gently.

“I’ve never seen you react this way to unwanted attention, Luna. You’ve always been so—unconcerned with everything and anyone around you. What’s wrong?” Gretchen asked softly. Luna avoided eye contact with her friend so she couldn’t see how much that question affected her. She forced her tone to become light when she answered.

“Nothing is wrong! I suppose it’s just that time of the month for me, you know? Over-emotional and all that. I’ve no interest whatsoever in Ronald Weasley,” Luna explained, making a note to herself in her mind not to ever show so much emotion to her friend again. She had known Gretchen for a while, but did not know how well she could be trusted with such feelings.

“Yes, of course. That time of the month,” Gretchen said quietly, not quite believing her.

…

Ron had skipped his first class of the day, complaining to Harry of a sore stomach and burying his head underneath his pillow. Accepting this, Harry had left him alone that morning. Ron wasn’t sick physically but felt rather head sick and had needed some time to himself to think things through. He needed to come up with the perfect approach but alas, kept coming up short. How could he possibly make things right without risking the last inch of his pride in the process? Who could he talk to that knew more about apologizing to women than anyone else?

Seamus Finnigan, begin again.

Certainly Ron wouldn’t take his advice again verbatim but he could modify it to suit his needs. Common sense, my friends. Common sense.

Feeling much better about everything, Ron nearly hopped out of his bed and into his pants. He put on the sweater that his mum had knitted for him two years back. It had been too big for him then so now it fit him a bit tightly. Unconcerned, he jogged out of the dormitory and into the hallways knowing exactly where his fellow Gryffindor might be.

There was a shadowy corner in a forbidden hallway that Seamus liked to frequent with his many conquests. He had bragged about his exploits there many a time while they changed clothes for bed. Ten girls a day, mate. When I bring them to that one spot they can’t keep their skirts straight.

Ron also knew from the same source that Seamus frequented that spot pretty routinely. If he wasn’t in class, he was there. So Ron opted to look there first, instead of bringing unwanted attention to himself by poking his head into a classroom. He quietly and cautiously made his way there, staying close to the walls so as to blend with the shadows in the empty corridors. The cold stone against his cheek made him shiver. Finally he arrived at the spot that Seamus had claimed as his own, assuming this was it simply by the descriptions he had been given and the low moans that reached his ears from the darkness.

Very embarrassed by the obvious moans of pleasure, Ron kept silent and averted his eyes until they died down. Seamus’ cries reached his ears and Ron’s stomach wrenched. He thought of leaving it for another time, but knew that if he didn’t do this now he never would. Plus, he feared his retreat would gather the couple’s attention. Ron loathed ruining an obviously ecstatic moment for Seamus, and it wasn’t as if he had never heard the sounds of lovemaking before. His parents hadn’t let middle age stop them and they lived in rather cramped living quarters.

Finally, blessedly, the grunting stopped. When he heard the zippers and quiet whispers of two people awkwardly dressing themselves again, he pushed away from the secrecy of the wall and made his presence known.

“Oh. Is that you Seamus? I didn’t know you would be here..” Ron started, but his sentence trailed off into oblivion when the couple stepped into the scarce light. It was Seamus, for sure. But his partner was not who Ron expected it to be. She wasn’t a fellow Gryffindor girl or even a Slytherin girl with a bad reputation.

He was a—he.

Seamus stared at Ron with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights of his father’s muggle car. He looked as pale as if he were looking at a ghost. If Ron weren’t so disturbed by the entire scene, he would have laughed at the sight of Seamus standing there as white as a sheet, with his pants gaping open and his school sweater put on backwards.

“Uh—I have to go,” Seamus’ partner said before taking off out of the corner and running past Ron. He bumped Ron’s shoulder in his hasty retreat and Ron recognized him as a seventh year Huffelpuff named Terrence Red. Seamus was left alone with Ron now, babbling nonsense.

“It’s not what you think it looks like. I—we—“

“Save it, Finnigan,” Ron interrupted, feeling a little sorry for his peer and not having the heart to let him continue. Seamus exhaled slowly and cast his eyes down to look at his feet in shame.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Ron,” he said softly, putting his clothing to rights then leaning against the wall.

“Why did you brag about all those girls? Why did you have to lie?” Ron asked, keeping his tone softer and non-accusing. Seamus cringed visibly and raked his hand through his dark hair. He slid down until he was sitting on the cold floor, his back supported by the wall and his hands covering his face.

“I don’t know why I lied. I guess I just wanted to convince myself more than anyone. When my father found out, he beat me until I couldn’t move. He read my journals, you see. He was waiting for me when I got home and he threw me against the wall and broke the lamp. He put his hands around my neck and told me I wasn’t his son anymore. My mum had to stop him from killing me. Do you know what that feels like, Weasley? Do you know what it feels like to have your mum’s body shielding your own so your father can’t damage your face permanently?” He demanded, his eyes now boring into Ron’s. Ron looked away, not knowing how to answer that yet imagining the terrible scene.

“No. No, I don’t know what that feels like. Although I imagine my da’ has wanted to do the honors a few times before,” Ron answered matter-of-factly. When he looked back at Seamus he was smiling slightly. Ron held his hand out to Seamus.

“Nobody else needs to know, Finnigan. Get up. You’ll be late for your next class,” Ron said. When Seamus looked up Ron took a hold of his hand and shook it firmly. As if they were sealing a deal. Seamus sprang up into a standing position again, still hanging onto Ron. Finnigan pulled his hand away and slapped Ron on the back without a word. Ron stayed behind in the shadows for a few long moments, deciding he couldn’t really go to class that day and he’d have to do without friendly advice.

…

Minutes later, Ron stepped out of the forbidden corridor (the smell of sex pervaded his senses and he couldn’t think any longer) and continued on toward his dormitory. He needed to lie down before the events of that day started to sink in.

No such luck.

“Ronald? Ronald Weasley!” He heard someone call from behind him. He didn’t recognize the voice, but it was distinctly female. Interested in the development, he turned around. It was the girl who hung about Luna everyday. What was her name? Gastrich? Gorpa? She ran toward him, holding her long robes so she wouldn’t trip over the edges. Her long brown hair was in her face and she self-consciously swept it out of her eyes. She was rather pretty, much more so by herself than when she was standing next to Luna. When she reached him, out of breath, she held out her hand for him to shake and introduced herself.

“I’m Gretchen! But you already knew that. I wanted to—talk to you,” she said, all smiles. Ron, quite curious, let her lead him away into an empty classroom nearby. She babbled on incessantly, obviously nervous. Ron found this quite funny, as he saw no reason for anyone to be nervous around someone like him.

“I’m sorry I kicked you a couple days ago. I was just looking out for Luna, you know? She rarely defends herself, so I sometimes need to take the initiative. I just moved here not too long ago. Everybody here talks strangely, but they all think I have a strange accent. Nobody really associates with me, except Luna. I had a lot of friends in America, but here I just have her. She’s a good friend though. You have great friends too. What’s it like to hang around Harry Potter?” she continued on and on, stopping for breath only once. Ron tried to answer her but she interrupted him.

“He’s as cute in real life as in the papers. Is he interested in someone? Not that I care, really. Just curious. Are you—interested in Luna?” she finally asked, pausing to let him answer for once. And therein lay the motivation of their conversation. Or rather, her conversation.

Ron genuinely did not know how to answer her. For the second time that day he was at a loss for words and very embarrassed.

Was he interested in Luna? He had to admit that he found the girl rather fascinating, and she had been plaguing his thoughts (and dreams) for some time now. Perhaps if she had asked “does your stomach do flip-flops when you notice her walking out of a classroom?” or “does your brain freeze up like you’ve just eaten a gallon of ice cream in three seconds flat when she talks to you?” he would have been able to answer affirmatively. But the word “interested” or Gretchen’s definition of it was not in his dictionary and he needed to save as much face as possible in light of recent events.

He opened his mouth to tell her so but was rudely interrupted by her lips suddenly seizing his own.

She was kissing him. Rather well. She obviously had experience and he did not. Her hand grasped his arm to hold him in place and her hair tickled his neck when she tilted her head to slant her lips across his. Her small breasts pressed against his chest and he imagined her curves beneath her loose robes. He hadn’t been expecting to receive his first kiss today. He had thoroughly assumed that her intention was to gather information to bring back to her friend but Luna was obviously the furthest thing from her mind.

Ron almost passed out when he felt her tongue snake between his lips and sweep the inside corner. He tried to push her away from him but her technique was—persuasive.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me back? Shall I just stand here and hold my breath until you find the knack?” she asked, pressed so close to him that her thighs touched his and the heat of that contact made his blood rush to a certain part of his anatomy. Strangely enough, even in his blind arousal, the image of Luna and the dreams he had had of her flashed in his mind. And that went quickly out the window when he felt the warmth and slight pressure of Gretchen’s hand on his arse.

“I’ve liked you for a while now, Weasley. You and I could be good together,” she whispered, her hand moving in circles along his body until it eventually rested on his hip. Rather close to the part of him that ached for even the slightest touch

“W-what about Luna?” he managed to say around her lips.

“Yeah. What about Luna?” a voice from the doorway sounded and Ron pulled away from Gretchen to see the source.

Luna stood in the entryway of the classroom, her face red with embarrassment or maybe anger. Ron was a dead man. His mum would have one less mouth to feed at Christmas dinner. He didn’t know why the sight of her induced a fluttery panic in the pit of his stomach. What did she care if he was being kissed by her one and only friend? They weren’t dating and it was safe to say that Luna despised him, yet the sight of her standing there staring at them made him feel so ashamed of himself. He guiltily stepped away from Gretchen, putting a safe and modest distance between them.

Gretchen smoothed her robes down and primped her disheveled hair. She didn’t seem concerned in the least, only vaguely annoyed by the interruption. Gretchen looked up at Luna and crossed her arms over her breasts, obviously waiting defiantly for Luna’s reaction. Ron fidgeted awkwardly, not wanting to get between two young women, yet at the same time he did. He and Gretchen both waited anxiously for Luna to speak again but after a long moment she simply turned around and walked calmly away. Ron looked over at Gretchen and noticed that her cool exterior had cracked a bit. Her face was pale and her breath shook a little. She didn’t seem to notice that he was still in the room.

He realized then that she had used him to hurt Luna for some obscure reason.

“You’re a disgusting whore,” Ron said in a calm monotone, stating a fact. She did not look back at him but he noticed that her brown eyes were shining with the beginnings of tears. He didn’t wait for them to fall, however. By then he was well on the way to his bed.

…

Luna did not return to her classes or to her dormitory.

She left the heinous scene and headed straight for her spot by the lake. She was relieved to find that no one was in sight, and she sat alone at the edge.

Why? Why had Gretchen done that? That morning after their first class, she had asked Luna to meet her in that classroom for some last minute studying before the holiday break. It was as if she had planned the scene meticulously, as if she had wanted Luna to find them together. Gretchen couldn’t be stupid enough to make a mistake like that. It had to have been planned. But why?

Luna turned over every stone in her mind, trying to remember what exactly she had done to inspire such malice. When she came up empty, she tried to wrap her brain around why this concerned her so much. It was only Ronald Weasley, the boy she had professed to hate only yesterday.

So why was she now quietly sobbing by the lake, alone?

…

In a school where the only scandal that ever occurs revolves around one Harry Potter, the young students will clamp their teeth upon any tiny morsel of a rumor that involves someone else. And that’s just what they did.

That very evening Ron was slapped on the shoulder, congratulated and asked every detail of his love life by teenage boys from all four houses. He couldn’t catch a break and at one point he had inhaled a piece of corn when a burly Ravenclaw surprised him by giving him a hearty slap on the back. He didn’t know how they had found out and wondered briefly if Gretchen had spread the story all around just to humiliate him, but she was nowhere in the dining hall. Neither was Luna.

“I heard about your escapade into adulthood, Weasley. We can all breathe easier now,” Ron heard from behind him.

Draco.

Ron didn’t feel up to rising to his taunts, so concentrated on his bowl of soup instead. Harry and Hermione gaped at him from across the table. He had never been able to ignore Draco.

“Didn’t you hear me, muggle lover?” Draco asked, sounding a bit peeved that Ron wasn’t taking his bait. Ron only continued to stir his soup.

“Well, I know Hermione is relieved. We were all starting to think that you and Potter were more than just mates.”

Ron couldn’t help looking up and casting his eyes toward Seamus at the end of the table. Finnigan’s attention was on Draco and Ron could see the deep flush in his face. Ron looked away quickly and glanced at Hermione. If it were possible for one’s ears to steam, hers would have been.

“Did I strike a nerve, Princess? I’ll have to ask dear Gretchen what the American muggles call your kind. I believe it’s ‘fag-hag’,” Draco taunted Hermione. The comment was absolutely ridiculous, but the reaction was quite serious. Before anyone could move, Seamus Finnigan had Draco pinned and was pummeling him in the face. By the time Harry and Dean Thomas pulled the crazed Finnigan off of Draco, the blonde Slytherine had a bloodied nose and a fat lip.

“What the devil is going on here?” Dumbledore demanded from the edge of the fray. Seamus continued to struggle out of Harry and Dean’s grasps, while Draco picked himself up off the floor. Ginny stood near him, looking torn between giving him a black eye to match the rest of his face or kissing his injuries all better. Ron would have gagged, but the scene that Seamus made held everyone’s attention. Dumbledore whispered something and Seamus stood absolutely still, his limbs frozen in mid-struggle. Harry and Dean took their hands off of him and stood back, and who could blame them? Dumbledore looked angrier than any of the students had ever seen him.

“Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy, you will both report to my chambers immediately,” Dumbledore bellowed before hurrying out of the hall, a defenseless Seamus Finnigan floating in mid-air behind him. As Ron followed in their wake all eyes were on him and he heard their whispers behind secretive hands. But he didn’t care about them, because out of the corner of his eye he noticed Luna from across the room. When he blinked, she was gone.

7. You

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.