There's No Music

Goldy

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Ron & Luna
Book: Ron & Luna, Books 1 - 5
Published: 13/07/2005
Last Updated: 13/07/2005
Status: completed

There's a ball. Ron remembers something Hermione told him in his fourth-year. Also contains Harry/Hermione.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

Title: There's No Music

Author: Goldy

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Jo and her publishers. I don't own these characters, I'm not making any money off them, blah, blah, blah.

Pairing: Ron/Luna

Other Pairings: Harry/Hermione, vague mentions of Draco/Pansy

Rating: PG-13

Category: Romance/Humor. Good gods, it's even fluffy.

Summary: Ron remembers something Hermione told him in his fourth year. Written for the R/LL ficathon on LJ.

Challenge: There's a ball. Luna asks Ron.

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, horror in his voice. “I completely forgot about the fucking ball.”

Dumbledore sat down at the staff table, his eyes still twinkling from his cheerful announcement. In celebration of their final year at Hogwarts, all seventh-years would be rounding out the year with a formal ball.

The boys gave Ron looks of sympathy, the girls looks of disgust.

“Honestly, Ron,” Hermione said, newspaper rustling as she turned a page. “It can't be that great a shock—we've been aware of it for seven years.”

Ron gaped at her for a moment, having just realized something.

“Hermione, has anyone asked you yet?”

Hermione looked up from her newspaper, startled. “No, but—”

“Will you go with me to the Leaving Ball?” Ron said in a rush.

Hermione stared at him. “You can't be serious.”

“Of course I'm serious,” Ron said cheerfully. “That's what you told me last time, wasn't it? `Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does?'”

“Yes, but—but,” Hermione sputtered. “I'm dating Harry! I assumed I was going to the ball with him.”

Ron waved a hand. “Well, he hasn't asked yet, has he? C'mon, it'll be fun.”

Hermione glared. “He's your best friend.”

“So?” Ron said, shoveling food into his mouth. “He won't mind.”

“Oh, he'll mind,” Hermione snapped. “I rather think he'll mind a lot.”

“Mind about what?”

Ron started choking on his eggs. Hermione turned an interesting shade of pink.

Harry looked back and forth between them.

“What?”

Hermione recovered first. “Nothing!” she chirped. “Good-morning. Sit down, will you?”

She tugged on Harry's arm and he plunked down next to her, looking suspicious. Hermione started piling eggs on his plate, glaring at Ron every once in a while.

Ron studiously avoided Harry's eyes, refusing to feel guilty. Hermione would feel honor-bound to go to the ball with him, Ron knew. He had asked her first and there was nothing Harry could do about it. And, besides, it was awfully stupid of Harry to just assume Hermione would go with him.

It wasn't that Ron still had feelings for Hermione—quite the contrary. Hermione was safe, comfortable, his best friend. She wouldn't read into things or expect him to dance. It would make all the worry and uncertainty a non-issue.

Harry would be angry for a little while. But he'd get over it eventually. It wasn't like Hermione was being unfaithful or anything—it was just a stupid ball.

Hermione was babbling next to Harry and she kept spooning food on his plate while nagging him to eat it. Harry was looking more and more irritated and Ron was beginning to get a very bad feeling.

“Er… Hermione… I think he has enough food…”

Hermione glared at him.

Pleasant date to the ball she was going to be.

“Yeah, Hermione, really,” Harry said weakly. “I can't eat all that.”

“Well, it's for you own good, you know, Harry, you have Quidditch practice tonight and Occlumency training with Dumbledore and dark arts training with Snape andIhavetogototheballwithRon.”

Ron spat pumpkin juice all over the table.

Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth, looking horrified. Red was colouring her cheeks and she looked on the verge of tears.

Harry's fork cluttered to his plate. “You're whatting with what?”

“Oh, I'm sorry!” Hermione said, eyes shining. “You know I wanted to go with you, Harry, you must! But after Dumbledore made the announcement this morning—well, you weren't here and—and Ron asked! He asked first and it's awful, but I can't say no! But it doesn't mean anything, Harry, really it doesn't!” Hermione was becoming more hysterical, chest hitching with every word. She grabbed his arm. “Honest, Harry—I'd much rather go with you—Ron's going to be a lousy date!”

Harry looked dazed. “You're… you're going to the ball with Ron?”

Hermione squeaked and threw herself into his arms.

Harry held her, somewhat bewildered. Ron gulped. People were starting to stare. He sunk down in his seat.

“Ron.” Harry's voice was cool and he fixed Ron with a glare he usually reserved for Death Eaters and You-Know-Who. “Why did you ask Hermione to the Leaving Ball?”

Ron knew this was one of those no-win situations. No matter what he said, Harry would have every reason to curse him.

“Hello!”

Harry and Ron looked up. Hermione continued to sob in Harry's arms.

It was Luna Lovegood. She was smiling brightly and seemed oblivious to the tension surrounding the trio. Her hair was pulled back in a clip, a few strands falling along her face. She was wearing her Ravenclaw uniform, her tie left undone around her neck.

Ron never would have admitted it to anyone, but he'd always thought that Luna was very pretty. She was completely bonkers, of course. But pretty. Very pretty.

And Ron suspected she'd just saved his life.

“Luna,” he said brightly. “What a great surprise. How are you?”

Harry gave him a warning look. “We're not finished with this, Weasley.”

Luna was beaming. “Well, hello,” she chirped. “You look lovely today, Ronald.”

“Er… thanks…”

Luna's smile was blinding. Ron couldn't help but grin back, especially since Harry was still glaring daggers at him.

“Ronald…” she trailed off, almost shy. “I was wondering if you'd fancy going to the ball with me.”

Ron's mouth bobbed open and Luna stared at him expectantly.

“The ball?”

Luna's smile faltered. “Well… it would be a good time, don't you think?”

“Er…” Ron felt his face heat up. “I'm going with Hermione, actually.”

Luna's eyes remained unblinking. “But Hermione's going with Harry.”

Hermione lifted her head, tear stains on her cheeks. She shook her head. “No,” she said, voice wavering. “I'm going with Ron.”

“It's all right,” Harry said consolingly. “I don't blame you.”

Harry looked at Ron, making it clear who he did blame.

Hermione looked slightly mollified, though she did continue holding Harry as though she was frightened he was going to disappear.

“Luna,” Harry said, giving a strained sort of smile. “Perhaps you'd like to go with me?”

Ron spat pumpkin juice on the table again.

Hermione gasped. “What?”

Harry shrugged, still looking at Luna. “So how about it? You and me?”

“Hold on,” Ron said. “She wanted to go with m—”

“Why, yes, Harry, that sounds nice. I'd love to go with you.”

Ron and Hermione gaped at Harry as Luna made her way back to the Ravenclaw table.

“You're going to the ball with Luna?” Hermione said tearfully.

“Hmph,” Harry said, pushing his eggs around on his plate.

“Oh, Harry… don't you think that, perhaps…she's not all there?”

“No, I don't think that at all,” Harry said sharply. “I think she's brilliant, actually. I think she sees loads of things most of us don't.”

“Of course you would,” Hermione said coolly.

Harry stood up, and Ron was unsettled to see that he'd gone back to glaring.

“I didn't want this, Hermione. I wanted to go with you. But I will go with Luna—my friend Luna and I won't tolerate you making fun of her.”

Ron felt a flash of irritation. “Bloody hell, Harry. Calm down. It's not a big deal.”

Ron sighed. Harry had stalked off, hands jammed into his pockets. Hermione stared mournfully after him.

“Awful sensitive bloke, isn't he?” Ron said, going back to his breakfast. “He'll be all right in a few hours.”

Hermione scowled. “Do grow up one of these days, Ron, will you?”

Ron choked on his pancakes. “`Scuse me?”

“Oh… you're so… so…” she stood up, face flushed in anger. “This is all your fault!”

She stomped off—probably to the library—and Ron stared after her.

“Is not,” he mumbled.

***

The last month of school passed in a flurry of final exams (“These determine our entire futures, you know, Ron. You should take them more seriously.” “That's what you said about our O.W.L.'s!”), long study sessions in the library, Quidditch practice, and homework. There was hardly any time to reflect on the coming ball and Ron, Harry, and Hermione pushed it out of the way in favour of studying for N.E.W.T.'s.

All in all, they were far too busy to concentrate on much else. Hermione had written up a schedule for herself and followed it with a manic determination that Harry and Ron found unsettling. She appeared to be actually living in the library and her eyes had gained a wild, bloodshot look in them.

Harry—who was relatively calm, considering (he'd started yelling at first years to release anger)—had shared that he found Hermione's single-minded determination somewhat of a turn on. Ron had quickly filed that away in the “Too Much Information” corner of his brain.

Neither Harry nor Hermione paid him much mind in the weeks leading up to the exams. Ron found this suited him just fine.

Hermione would do brilliantly. Harry would do well enough, especially since Hermione was currently holding him hostage in the library. Ron figured that he either knew the stuff or he didn't, and figured that studying wouldn't do him much good in the long run.

Unfortunately, while his friends had their heads buried in books, Ron found that he was rather lonely.

That was how he began spending afternoons with Luna Lovegood.

She was the only one of his “friends” who wasn't spending every waking minute studying. Since it became a question of spending more time with Luna or more time with his sister, Ron eagerly chose the former.

Besides, Ron liked to think that he'd grown up some over the years. He'd generously remained friends with Harry after Harry started snogging Hermione, hadn't he? Ron supposed that he hadn't thought much of Luna when they'd first met, but he'd been fifteen. He was older now—loads more mature—and he found Luna to be fascinating, in her own way.

“Honestly, Ron,” Hermione said, when he'd shared this revelation with her. “You asked your best mate's girlfriend to the Leaving Ball because you were too frightened to ask another girl.”

“What's your point?”

“Well, if you ask me—” Her voice got all high and mighty and Ron resisted his urge to point out that he hadn't asked and, anyway, he was certain he didn't want to be told.

“—if you ask me, you still have loads more growing up left to do!”

She finished that with a smug look that clearly told Ron she didn't have any growing up left to do.

“Yeah?” Ron snapped. “Well… well, I don't care what you think…”

Aware that it had not been his greatest comeback, Ron stalked away to find Luna.

***

It was Wizard's Chess that surprised him the most.

Ron had long resigned himself to the fact that no one quite matched him. He'd beaten nearly everyone in Gryffindor, including Harry on a regular basis.

The first time they played, Ron went easy on her. His lack of concentration cost him the game.

Luna was a good player.

A very good player.

She didn't play like anyone Ron had ever seen before. She stared off into space, giving the impression that she wasn't paying attention at all. For the first time, Ron found he was losing almost as much as he was winning.

They spent hours that way the Great Hall, playing chess.

“Who taught you?” Ron asked.

Luna smiled dreamily. “Father,” she said. “We used to play all the time.”

Ron shifted. He knew about Luna's past, of course. Harry had told him what he knew. Point was, Ron had never been much good at comforting people. He'd always avoided bringing up Harry's parents as a general rule. He always felt inadequate—how could he say the right thing when he had no idea what it was like to lose a parent?

“Oh,” Ron said. “You and your father are close, then?”

“Of course,” Luna said, smiling. “Aren't you close with your parents?”

“Well, yeah,” Ron said. “But it's different.”

Luna didn't say anything, just continued staring at him calmly. And then, suddenly, Ron felt it pour out of him. He told her what it was like growing up with so many siblings. There were the Head Boys—Bill and Percy, the Pranksters—Fred and George, and the Baby Girl—Ginny. Then there was him, Ron, whose accomplishments always seemed to pale in comparison.

Ron had never talked about this with anyone. Harry carried around too much already. Hermione was too focused on Harry to pay him much mind.

So he talked to Luna.

When he finished, he looked at her expectantly—not sure what he wanted to say, if he even wanted her to say anything at all.

There was a moment of silence as they looked at each other. Finally, Luna gave him a wide smile and dropped her eyes to the chess game.

“Checkmate,” she said.

Surprised, Ron looked down.

He laughed.

***

N.E.W.T.'s were the single most grueling experience of Ron's life.

Of course, his experience wasn't nearly as bad as Hermione's. Right before her Transfiguration exam, she could be seen sitting in a corner mumbling to herself and rifling pages in her textbook. Her “these exams will determine the rest of your future” lectures lost much of their effect when she began flipping through her notes in the middle of them.

Ron panicked the night before his first exam, realizing for the first time how little he'd studied. He frantically read through Hermione's intensive notes, hoping some of it might sink in. Hermione worked herself into such a state over it, Ron worried she was going to have a stroke.

She started yelling and spitting about how could he leave this for the last minute and it was just like him, you know, putting such an important thing off and it would really serve him right if he received a “T” on all his exams.

Thankfully, Harry was the only one of them that retained some kind of sanity. According to Harry, his lack of fear in regards to N.E.W.T.'s had something to do with You-Know-Who and attempts on his life once a year and a war and blah, blah, blah oh, woe is me, I'm Harry Potter nonsense.

In the middle of Hermione's shrill lecture, Harry grabbed her arm and dragged her shrieking from the common room. They returned an hour and a half later, Hermione looking much calmer than before and slightly flushed. Harry looked rather proud of himself. Ron made a point of keeping his attention on his notes.

***

“Well, I think that went rather well, don't you?” Hermione said brightly, as they filed out of their final exam. “I knew most of the practical and I do hope I wrote enough on question eleven.”

“Oh, shut it,” Ron snapped. “It wasn't that easy.”

Hermione drew herself up to her full height, giving him a superior look. “Well, maybe not for you, it wasn't. But for those of us who managed their time responsibly—” Here, her eyes narrowed. “For those of us who studied, for those of us who cared about our futures…”

Ron tuned her out. By the dazed look Harry was wearing, Ron assumed he wasn't listening either. Harry placed a hand on the small of Hermione's back and she gave him a quick smile before continuing her lecture. Ron felt a twinge of envy. It looked so natural for them—the slight touches, the things that told the world they belonged to each other.

“Ball's tomorrow,” Harry said abruptly.

Ron winced. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, voice turning colder and nailing him with a glare. “You haven't forgotten, have you?”

Hermione seemed to deflate. She shot Harry a miserable look.

“Hey!” Ron said, irritated. “I won't be that lousy a date!”

Hermione sniffed and appeared to tear up. “Oh, Ron… you—you… you're so… insensitive!”

Pushing away from Harry, she bowed her head and ran away, books clutched to her chest.

“Dunno why she's so upset about this,” Ron said. “It's not like you two never see each other.”

Harry sighed. “You don't understand.”

He didn't sound angry, merely disappointed.

Ron found he preferred the anger.

***

By an unspoken agreement, the trio attempted to put their hostility behind them for the ball. Like or not, Hermione was going with Ron. Harry cheerfully told him that morning that if he put one hand where it shouldn't be, he'd cut Ron up into pieces and use him as bait for You-Know-Who.

Harry's threats did not lack in creativity.

They stood at the bottom of the stairs to the girl's dormitory, waiting for Hermione. When Ron pointed out Harry had Luna to pick up, he replied stiffly that he wanted to see Hermione first. Ron felt uneasy, wondering if Luna would be hurt when Harry didn't show up. He couldn't blame Harry for it, however. Neither of them had forgotten what Hermione looked like last ball.

Harry himself looked very striking in his dress robes. Not that Ron would ever have admitted such a thing to him. Harry shifted uncomfortably, his face betraying that he still felt like the awkward boy swimming in Dudley's old hand-me-downs. It didn't matter that he no longer looked the part—Ron suspected Harry's confidence would never amount to much.

Harry's eyes widened imperceptibly and Ron glanced at the staircase. Hermione stood at the top, a small smile curving on her mouth. She'd chosen blue robes again and looked radiant. She'd somehow managed to tame her hair to fall in perfect ringlets that brushed her shoulders. She looked beautiful, but it wasn't just that. It was the way she carried herself. Full of confidence, a bit of smugness on her face. Her eyes were wide and bright and there was just enough makeup on her face to accentuate the redness of her lips.

And her eyes were on Harry.

She didn't even glanced at Ron. The two of them stared at each other, unaware of what was happening in the rest of the common room.

Hermione slowly descended the stairs, coming to a stop in front of Harry.

“Hey,” Harry said, eyes bright with pride as he looked at her.

“Hey yourself,” she whispered. She fingered his tie. “My, how you look dashing.”

Harry brushed her cheek, perusing her face with an intensity that made her blush. “You… you…” he cleared his throat. “You look very pretty—beautiful,” he blurted. “You're beautiful.”

Her smile faltered. “Luna's a lucky girl.”

Realization dawned in Harry's eyes and he took a step back from her.

Watching them, Ron suddenly felt like the biggest heal on the planet. This night was theirs. It could be the last time they could let go and just be before the war. There was no telling how long they had left. Unexpectedly, a lump rose in Ron's throat. For the first time, he had an inkling of just how much his best friends loved each other. He looked at them and knew he couldn't take it away.

He went over, smiling. “You look bloody amazing, Hermione.”

Hermione gave Harry another longing look before turning her attention to Ron. Ron felt his heart go out to her. It was clear she wanted nothing more than to throw herself at Harry, but she was willing to give him up because she'd made a promise to Ron.

“I… I reckon you two should go on,” Ron said, looking from one to the other. “I don't much want to go to the ball with Hermione any longer.”

They stared at him for a moment in bewilderment.

“Pardon?” Hermione whispered.

Ron smiled. “You two. Go on. You're… you're supposed to be together. Anyone can see that.”

“Oh, Ron,” Hermione said. She threw her arms around him. “You don't mind, do you?”

“Nah,” Ron said, embarrassed as she let go of him. “I want you to be happy. Honest.”

Harry looked dazed when Hermione turned a beaming smile on him. She took hold of his arm and kissed his cheek, glowing with excitement.

“Hang on,” Harry said, raising his head to meet Ron's eyes. “Luna. I can't just—”

“Don't worry about it,” Ron said, waving an arm. “I'll take her. It's how things should've been from the start.”

They didn't need anything else. Harry slipped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and they left the common room together.

***

Luna didn't seem the least bit surprised when Ron picked her up. She blinked once, but made no comment, almost as if she'd been expecting him.

She was wearing a lime green dress, cut modestly above her breasts. Spaghetti straps allowed for a generous view of her upper-arms and back. Corkscrews dangled from her ears. Her hair was piled on top of her head, fastened with a tie that matched the colour of her dress. What was truly memorable about her outfit, however, was that she seemed to be covered head to toe in shining sequins.

Ron said the first thing that popped into his head. “Bloody hell, Luna, you look like a human sparkle!”

Luna didn't appear at all offended. Her lips curled into a secretive smile.

“You look rather bland,” Luna said. “Hold on.”

She disappeared back into the Ravenclaw common room and came back a moment later.

Ron sputtered when she threw a handful of sparkles at him. They must have been charmed because nearly all of them clung to his skin in some fashion. With growing dread, Ron realized he looked just as glitzy as Luna.

“Er… thanks,” Ron managed.

Luna smiled sweetly and took his arms. “You look smashing with the sparkles.”

As they neared the Great Hall, Ron couldn't contain the dread growing in his stomach. He was certain that certain nameless Slytherin Shits would not let his outfit go unnoticed. From the way Luna was beaming, however, Ron couldn't bear to let her down.

A blast of music met their ears as they entered the Great Hall. Fortunately for Ron, most people seemed far too preoccupied with their significant others to pay them much mind. Harry and Hermione were dancing—badly, from what Ron could see. Harry looked painfully awkward. Hermione didn't seem to mind much. She kept laughing and demonstrating the right steps for him.

It was quite disgusting, really.

“Weasley, what are you wearing?”

Ron winced and turned around. Draco had an arm loosely thrown around Pansy Parkinson's shoulders. They both looked highly amused.

“Malfoy,” he said, unable to come up with an appropriate comeback.

“My god…” Draco made a face. “It appears that you're actually shining, Weasley. Did you notice that?”

“I think he looks perfect,” Luna said mildly, smiling at Ron.

Ron flushed.

“Perfect?” Draco repeated. “Well—I can certainly see why you would think so.”

Luna stared at Draco, not looking the least bit insulted. She stared at him as if he was an annoying mosquito, one that would go away if left alone.

Draco took a few steps backwards, appearing unnerved by Luna's beady stare.

“Everything alright over here?”

Ron suppressed a smirk when Malfoy gave a jump of surprise.

“Potter, Granger,” Draco said. “How nice.”

“Malfoy, picking on my friend again, I see,” Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. “How very important that must make you feel. Goodness, don't you have anything better to do?”

Pansy glared at Hermione in clear dislike.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “It's part of my plan, Granger.”

“Oh. Your plan. Heaven's, that clears it right up.”

A smirk touched Malfoy's features. “My plan to rid the school of filth like you.”

Harry and Ron both moved forward, but Hermione laughed.

“Yes, Malfoy, you're awful and evil. I rather think I have the point.”

Luna snickered. Ron craned his neck around to look at her.

“What? Malfoy! Awful and evil! That's funny.”

Luna wandered aimlessly away. Ron caught a glimpse of Malfoy's surly expression and his best friends' looks of confusion before following her.

“Luna, wait!” he yelled, catching up to her. He grabbed her elbow. “Where are you going?”

He had to yell to be heard over the din of the music and the mass of gyrating bodies.

“Outside,” she mouthed him, hurrying away.

“Outside?” Ron repeated blankly to himself. “But we just got here! Wait! Luna!”

He charged after her, shoving people out of the way in his haste. (“How rude!” “We're dancing here!”)

Breathing hard, he pushed outside, momentarily stunned by the night's silence.

“Luna…” she'd settled herself down on a bench and was gazing at the glowing white moon in the sky. Ron collapsed next to her, resting his elbows on his knees.

“What's wrong?”

“Oh,” Luna said. She blinked. “I didn't much feel like remaining indoors.”

“You don't say,” Ron mumbled. “Why… er, why the sudden change?”

“Draco isn't very friendly, is he?”

“Luna, if this is about what Malfoy said—it didn't mean anything. Hermione's right, he was just trying to get a rise out of us, that's all.”

“Yes, I know,” Luna said serenely, tapping her chin. “But I am rather different, you know, from everyone else.”

“Oh,” Ron said, feeling stupid. “That's not—”

“It's alright,” Luna said, holding up a hand. Ron was disturbed to see her eyes shining. “ I know you didn't want to come with me. You only did it to help Harry.”

Ron swallowed, a feeling of shame gathering in his stomach.

“Luna…”

“No,” she said. She brushed a hand at her tears. “It's not your fault.”

“Harry would've come with you if I hadn't, I swear. He didn't want to leave you behind.”

“Harry wanted to be with Hermione. That's understandable. He loves her.” Luna paused and folded her hands in her lap. “I didn't much fancy being with Harry, anyway.”

Ron glanced over at her. He could feel his heartbeat echoing in his ears.

Slowly, he reached for one of her hands. He folded it in both of his. It was tiny and cold against his skin.

“No on looks at me like you do,” he whispered.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide and glinting in the moonlight. “What way?”

“Like…” he licked his lips. “Like I'm important.”

“Oh, Ronald…”

“I never really appreciated that before this year. You see me… differently. I feel... more when I'm with you. Better, somehow. Like I can do anything.”

“You can,” she whispered.

She looks beautiful like this, he thought. Under the moon's light… beneath the stars…

He held her hand tighter.

“I really did want to be with you, Luna. I was a prat for not realizing it earlier. So don't think I'm just here `cause I have to be. I'm not.”

A tear slid down her cheek.

“Luna, please don't cry,” he said, almost begging.

Luna laughed. “Alright.”

Ron felt a sort of hysterical relief and he started when she pulled him to his feet.

A mysterious smile passed over her lips. “I knew you were worth waiting for, Ronald.”

“Waiting for?”

She placed her hand on his shoulder and moved closer to him. Ron could feel her breath on his neck.

“Will you dance with me?”

He slid his hand along to her backside. She seemed so soft and delicate in his arms. He was worried he would crush her.

“There's no music.”

“You still have a lot to learn,” she whispered, just under his ear. She steered him around. “There doesn't need to be.”

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