Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter characters you will find in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, blah, blah, blah. I also do not own the poem, which are actually the song lyrics from Evanescence's song, Imaginary.
Author's Note: Who says music doesn't inspire? A plot bunny came along and bit me while listening to Evanescence's Imaginary (hence the title) while doing my homework. This is my first Ron/Luna fic, so I hope it's okay. If not, well, I'll just go back to Harry/Hermione. I haven't seemed to screw them up yet.
Imaginary
Luna Lovegood was not an ordinary girl, hence the nickname "Loony." Everyone thought she was odd-no, insane. No one understood why she acted the way she did, so serene, so out of touch with the world around her. She was the girl who believed in Crumpled Horned Snorkacks and that everything was not as it appeared to be. Her interests were various and random, and she pursued them all every chance she got. One of those interests was a certain Gryffindor redhead by the name of Ronald Weasley.
Ron, however, greatly disliked everything that was considered "abnormal." Luna Lovegood was one of those "abnormal" people. He always felt uncomfortable whenever her protuberant eyes stared at him in the Great Hall morning, noon, and night. She was seriously interrupting his mealtimes, which were his favorite parts of the day.
One day, Luna finally decided the time had come to pursue her interest in Ronald Weasley. That evening, she walked over to the Gryffindor table. Ron's best friends, Harry and Hermione, were chatting idly, planning out their date for the next Hogsmeade weekend. Luna disagreed with planning dates. She liked spontaneity. Secretly she thought Harry enjoyed the same thing, but his love for his overly organized girlfriend led him to discussing exactly when they would go to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. It was all entirely too silly.
Harry glanced up when she arrived at the table. "Oh, hello Luna," he said with a slight smile. He had been rather nice to her all year long, which was refreshing.
"Hello," she said vaguely. "I was wondering if I could speak to Ronald."
Ron's head popped up, a frown creasing his features. "What about?" he asked. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to "Loony" Lovegood.
"I wanted to know if you would like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" she asked.
He blinked. His jaw dropped slightly. Had she just asked him out on a date? "Er-OUCH!" he shouted when Harry kicked him under the table.
"Are you going to answer her?" he asked, giving a knowing glace to Hermione.
"I was just about to," Ron muttered and turned back to Luna. "Well, I…I can't."
Harry and Hermione frowned. "Why not, Ron?" Hermione asked him.
He shot her a furious look. "I just can't."
"You were planning on staying here," Harry reminded him. "You should go."
Ron was turning red. "I can't," he repeated.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to!" he snapped and then caught himself. "Er-no offense, Luna."
It hurt to hear it, and she sighed. "No, it's alright," she said sadly. "You could have just said 'no thanks' though." With that, she spun on her heel and walked out of the Hall.
"Now what did you do that for?" Harry demanded.
"Yes, you're always whining that no girl holds any interest in you and that you never on any dates," Hermione said. "That was mean."
"But-but-but she's Loony Lovegood!" Ron exclaimed.
"So?"
"So I can't go out with her! She's insane!"
"Ron, none of us are really sane," Harry said with a slight grin. "I can't believe that you would become best friends with me, a person who's crazy enough to be willing to take on Lord Voldemort, and not like her."
"But you're normal otherwise!" Ron said.
"And me," Hermione added, "the know-it-all bookworm."
"A cute bookworm," Harry corrected before pecking her on the cheek.
"Ack! Can you two please not do that around me?" Ron muttered.
Hermione grinned, but then sobered. "You need to apologize, Ron."
He gave her an exasperated growl. "Fine."
"Now," Hermione said.
Ron gaped. "Now? But what about diner?"
"Now, Ron," she said forcefully.
Ron shoved back his plate. "You're the mean one," he said and got up.
"Maybe so, but you better be nice to Luna," Hermione said.
Harry nodded. "I consider her a friend, so get going."
Ron walked out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. As a prefect, he had a vague idea of where the Ravenclaw common room was, and he figured that's where Luna had gone. He walked along the corridors, pondering what he could possibly say to the strange girl. Mumbling an "I'm sorry" didn't seem like it would be enough. He had seriously hurt her feelings, and he knew it. Even though she was weird, he had acted like a great prat. Hermione was right, he had been mean-no cruel.
He stopped and slumped against a wall. What a mess you've gotten yourself into, Weasley, he thought. Suddenly, he heard somebody's footfalls coming towards him. He stood up straighter, not wanting to look stupid. Then, Luna Lovegood turned the corner, reading a piece of parchment she was carrying.
She glanced up. "Oh, it's you," she said.
"Er-yeah," Ron said, scratching the back of his head in an uncomfortable fashion. "I've-er-been looking for you."
"Oh? Why?"
"I-er-wanted to-er-"
"You don't have to apologize," Luna said, stopping him. "But it was nice of Harry and Hermione to put you up to it."
He gaped at her. "How did you-"
"I'm in Ravenclaw for a reason," she said with a slight smile. "And I'm fine that you don't want to go to Hogsmeade with me. I know how I'm considered 'loony' and how you don't like that." She looked down at the parchment in her hands. "So here," she said, thrusting the parchment at him, "read this. Maybe then you'll understand something." With that, she continued on walking, leaving Ron staring after her before turning and walking away himself, back to the Gryffindor common room.
Once there, he sat down in his favorite spot by the fire and looked at the parchment. It appeared to be a poem, written in a tidy scrawl. Why did Luna want him to read it, he wondered. She said he'd gain some understanding out of it. Really, he hated poems, but he figured after what he had done to her, he ought to at least read it and see if he could understand it. If Luna had wrote it, it was bound to be confusing. And so he read.
I linger in the doorway
Of alarm clock screaming
Monsters calling my name
Let me stay
Where the wind will whisper to me
Where the raindrops
As they're falling tell a story
---
In my field of paper flowers
And candy clouds of lullaby
I lie inside myself for hours
And watch my purple sky fly over me
---
Don't say I'm out of touch
With this rampant chaos-your reality
I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge
The nightmare I built my own world to escape
---
In my field of paper flowers
And candy clouds of lullaby
I lie inside myself for hours
And watch my purple sky fly over me
He read it again. What the hell? he thought. She was mad-writing about paper flowers, candy clouds, purple skies…she needed to come back to reality. And then it dawned on him. Something must have happened in her life-something so painful, that she had built up an imaginary world to live in so she wouldn't have to face it; a world a purple skies and whispering winds. A refuge.
He racked his brain. What was it? What had happened to her? And it hit him again-her mother. She had watched her mother die when she was younger. If he had watched his mother die, he certainly would not have been able to handle it. He very well might have developed an imaginary life too.
Luna was right, he understood now.
He groaned. He had been so horrible to her. He needed to talk to her and tell her he understood. He glanced down at the poem before jumping up out of his seat and leaving the common room, searching for her.
He didn't have to go far. She was waiting for him at the top of the staircase. "Hello," she said.
"Hello," he murmured quietly. "I read your poem."
"I figured as much."
"I'm really sorry about the way I treated you, and I don't think I've ever told you this, but I'm sorry about your Mum," he said. "I'm sure she was a fine lady."
"She was," Luna replied.
"Your poem though, it was weird at first, but then it all started to make sense," Ron said. "I get it now," he murmured. "I get you."
She smiled dreamily. "I'm pleased."
A small smile played over his features. "So, would you take me there sometime? To that place with purple skies and candy clouds, where the rain tells stories as it falls?"
She laughed, and for some reason Ron found he liked hearing it. "How about you take me to Hogsmeade first. Then we'll discuss going there."
He grinned. "It's a date. Hey Loony-er-I mean, Luna?"
She giggled. "Yes?"
"Anything else in that dreamland you didn't share in that poem?"
Her eyes twinkled. "Just that there's a handsome redhead who kisses me goodbye before I leave."
Ron felt himself go red. "Really? Is he good at it?"
Luna stepped forward. "Why don't we find out?" With that, she stood on her toes and kissed him deeply. When she pulled away she replied, "Better than I could have possibly imagined."
He blushed. "So your imagination doesn't do him justice?"
She shook her head. "No, not at all. Some aspects of my imagination are not as good as reality."
He laughed and, looking out a window, he could have sworn that the sky looked purple.