Wit Beyond Measure

JonClift

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Ron & Luna
Book: Ron & Luna, Books 1 - 5
Published: 16/07/2004
Last Updated: 16/07/2004
Status: completed

AU after HBP: A series of monologue-type entries from Loony Luna Lovegood’s journal (she doesn’t have a diary), in which she likens her red-haired obsession to her Father, Professor Trelawney, imaginary creatures, and of course to butterbeer and raindrops… what more could a girl ask for?

Chapters

1. Wit Beyond Measure

1. Wit Beyond Measure

Title: Wit Beyond Measure

Author: Jon Clift

Rating: PG

Summary: A series of monologue-type entries from Loony Luna Lovegood’s journal (she doesn’t have a diary), in which she likens her red-haired obsession to her Father, Professor Trelawney, imaginary creatures, and of course to butterbeer and raindrops… what more could a girl ask for?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, names, etc. are property of J.K. Rowling, all publishers concerned and Warner Brothers. The only things owned by the author are the plot and any names not featured in the official Harry Potter books or movies. No money is being made from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Word Count: ~1224

Author’s Notes: I hate the characters of Ron and Luna, and so have never written a Ron/Luna romance/love story before.

What You Can Expect: a high level of spelling, grammar, and vocabulary.

What You Can’t Expect: sheer brilliance ^__~

I wrote this literally over a period of twelve hours… not sleeping, however, may mean this is weirder than usual, or not quite up to my normal standard… so, here’s an apology in advance…

-Jon

— — —

On a bright summer’s day in the middle of the night, a girl got up to put out the light. That didn’t happen of course, but the girl oftentimes felt like it did.

“Na na na na-na, na na na na-na.”

Her singsong voice swept out across the lake by which she sat, and she played with the thin blonde wisps that framed her pale face and saucer eyes.

In her pale hands she held two things; one, an eagle-feathered quill that she twirled aimlessly in her fingers, and two, a leather-bound book of sorts. Her name was inscribed in silver gilt along the spine.

Kissing the cover for no particular reason, she opened the journal and skimmed through the creamy pages, stopping every now and then on certain more memorable moments. A smile grew upon her lips and by the time she was ready to write her newest entry, it had reached her eyes and she could scarcely keep the quill from quivering in her grasp.

— — —

September 12th, Fifth Year

Father, as I call my only living parent, always has been a little strange. Not that it matters, of course, because we all are, really. I remember when I was twelve and he sat me on his knee and gave me that blue sweet. It tasted of butterbeer and raindrops.

I met someone last year that reminds me of Father. He’s tall and freckly and his hair’s all fiery and messed-up but I like him. He has peculiar ideas and when he jokes about something it has an odd way of happening later on. His friend, Harry Potter, told me that.

I think he’s a Seer. Father thinks so, too. But don’t let anyone hear I told you that—I wouldn’t want people thinking he’s like Professor Trelawney, all talons and tealeaves. He is a bit like her, in some ways. I may not be the brightest witch of all, but I can see that he preoccupies himself with certain things. Professor Trelawney likes stability and predicting things for new students with untainted minds—Ronald likes Quidditch. It’s funny how the things they both like are what they’re worst at.

I don’t know what I like, mostly. Well, that’s not true. I know I like Ronald and Harry Potter and Hermione Granger and Ginny and Neville Longbottom. They’re my friends now. I’ve never had friends before.

Your keeper,

Luna

October 31st, Fifth Year

It’s All Hallows Eve tonight. Hogwarts has been dressed up rather nicely, with the carved candles and the floating pumpkins. I’m going to see if I can join Ronald, Harry Potter and the rest of my friends at their table. I’m sure Ginny would approve of my seeking out friends. Hopefully. Not too sure about Ginny, really. Well, it looks like she’ll be too fixated by Dean Thomas—they’re still with each other. Can’t make out what she sees in him. It’s not as if he’s tall and handsomely freckly at all.

I wonder if Ronald will talk to me again. I shall remind him how funny he is. That will make him happy.

Harry Potter might try talking to me about my Mother again, and his Godfather. He probably thinks I know how to get through that Veil. No, only Father knows how to do that—he’s told me all about how there are people behind it, and that Harry Potter’s Godfather is probably having tea and crumpets this afternoon.

I’d rather he didn’t talk to me, since Hermione Granger keeps looking at me in an odd way whenever he does.

My watch is roaring now, so I must be off to first lesson.

Your owner,

Luna

November 5th, Fifth Year

I think Ronald might be enjoying my company, now. He said hello to me this morning, and asked if I’d like to join him (with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger of course) to watch Hagrid’s bonfire tonight. I told him that it would be a pleasure, and he grinned at me.

Your protector,

Luna

P.S. Some of my socks have gone missing. I believe there is a nest of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks hiding in Hogwarts. Father did say that woolly socks were their favourite food.

Christmas Day, Fifth Year

Ronald appeared pleased at the present I gave him earlier today at breakfast. I knew that he would like a book about spiders. He was so kind to me, insisting that I look after it for him, until we left Hogwarts and had a home together. I think I’ll put his book in my trunk for safekeeping. It’s obviously a treasured gift in Ronald’s eyes and a symbol of our blossoming love. I wonder what he’ll say when I ask him to Hogsmeade for Valentine’s Day.

Your carer,

Luna

February 14th, Fifth Year

Ronald and I went to Hogsmeade today. We talked about many things—his love of Quidditch and Honeydukes, and of course my Father’s newspaper. He was interested in it, I could tell. I enjoyed our day together. Not certain Ronald did. He seemed to like changing his skin colour an awful lot whenever I complimented him. He honestly is so funny. It’s obvious that he is a Heliopath in disguise. I’ve always wanted to kiss a Heliopath. I often dream of what it will feel like.

Your lover,

Luna

June 8th, Fifth Year

Ronald and I shared our first kiss last night. It was a teeny bit sloppy, but oh-so-sweet and so very long overdue. I had hoped it might go on and on, but Ronald promptly fell asleep on the bench before I could suggest anything to him.

Harry Potter had allowed us to borrow his Invisibility Cloak last night, and told us to “have fun.” I didn’t know Ronald’s idea of fun was sneaking into the Three Broomsticks and stealing other people’s drinks. I liked it. I think Ronald and I had a little too much drink, actually. He seemed more gangly and googly than usual. It’s hard to tell with Ronald these days.

He must have been drunk. He kept telling me how much he liked me. That he really liked me. Then he looked at me, said, “I loff you, Lunanana…” and then he leaned towards me and put his lips against mine. It was the moment that has lived in the back of my mind for over twelve hours… I thought I knew exactly what it would be like, but I was wrong. Ron's lips were soft and damp against mine, we wobbled and our teeth bumped, but I don't think Ron noticed or cared. It was tender and funny and smelled of rainwater and butterbeer and how Ron smells, which isn't all that bad anymore.

Your mother,

Luna

P.S. The Crumple-Horned Snorkack has been eating my socks again.

— — —

The girl signed off her latest entry with a flourish and swiftly tucked the quill behind her left ear. Carefully wrapping the journal in a steel-blue ribbon, she placed it in her bag and spread herself out on the rich-smelling grass to watch the Sun set across the lake. As she gained a nose full of the greenery, she was reminded of two things. One was that the grass smelled exactly like the nest of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack just after it had left. The other was that Ronald smelled exactly the same.

— Finis —