"A Marvelous Thing"
Love in Four Parts
O
It was her hair he first noticed. Her hair that was tangled and knotty and probably dirty. The girl really did need a haircut. Her earrings were made with carrots, hanging from her ears with a lightness only a spell could achieve and bouncing against her neck as she looked up at him. Her eyes came next, all large and silvery, staring at him as if he was some great discovery. He supposed he was some great discovery. For the girl was Luna Lovegood and she hadn't seen him for months. Coincidentally, he hadn't seen her for months either.
"Hello Ronald," she said. "What are you doing?"
"Er." He felt like he should say "standing" because that was what he was doing, but he decided to be more general. "Looking for a book. For Hermione. It's her birthday."
"Oh," she said.
Ron uncomfortably eyed the books, searching for something to say. Nothing came to mind, so he read the book titles, thinking maybe some of them would spark a conversation topic. They didn't.
Her eyes were still staring at him, and he turned towards her. She was wearing a worn white dress that looked like it might have been something she had worn as a child, enlarged and let out to fit her curves. It reached just above her knees. Her shoes were striped, while her socks were dotted with dots, one pulled up while the other one had fallen down to her ankle. There was a scratch on her right knee.
"Well," he said, "I gotta, er, go. Now." She simply stared. "I'll, uh . . . see you later." He waved goodbye awkwardly and walked away.
He frowned as he paid for Hermione's present. She seemed even weirder than when they were at school. Normally she would have asked him some random question, but she had only asked him one question, and it hadn't been all that random. She seemed . . . older. Mature. She seemed like a woman. It was weird to think of Luna as an adult. It was like seeing your little sister living on her own or getting married.
When he arrived back at the Burrow, he found the kitchen to be in a flutter of noise and movement. His mother was preparing a meal for Hermione's birthday celebration later that evening, while Hermione, herself, was sitting on a barstool reading a large book. She seemed quite untouched by the noise of Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, who Mrs. Weasley had decided wanted to help her a few hours ago. Ginny, naturally, would rather be out playing Quidditch with her older brothers and Harry, but she was stuck stirring a large cauldron full of something.
Ron peered over the edge of the cauldron. "What is it?" he asked her.
"It's supposed to be soup. I think."
"Oh, Ron, be a dear," said his mother, pushing him out of the kitchen and into the dining room, "and set the table. Dinner should be ready shortly."
With a wave of his wand, the table set itself, and he stalked off to his bedroom happily. He was getting used to this whole using-magic-outside-of-school-thing. He had already been out three years, and he was getting quite good at performing everyday spells, such as making his bed.
He plopped down on his made bed and, with another wave of his wand, Hermione's present was wrapped with a nice little bow on top.
Harry sauntered into the room, his pants dirty and his face sweaty. "Where've you been?" he asked, changing out of his dirty clothes.
"Buying that," he replied, pointing to Hermione's gift.
"Another book?" asked Ginny from the doorway. Ginny walked into the room and jumped onto the nearest bed, which happened to be the one Ron was sitting on. Her jump propelled him over the edge of the bed. "Don't you know she probably has enough books by now?" she asked, peering down at him, a smile on her face.
He stood up, grumbling about annoying little sisters under his breath. "Well, what did you get her?"
Ginny shrugged. "A book."
Harry laughed, pulling on a clean shirt. "I got her a book too."
"Oh, hey," said Ron suddenly. "Guess who I saw today? Luna. Haven't seen her for months, have we?"
"Well, no Ron. She's been in Sweden," said Ginny.
"Sweden? Why?"
"You don't listen to a thing I say, do you Ron?" she asked, with a sigh of exasperation. "She's been searching for crumpled-horned snorkacks. I got a letter the other day from her, saying that she'd be back in town in a few days. We invited her to dinner tonight."
"Oh," said Ron, "Well . . ."
Mrs. Weasley suddenly called them all down for dinner, and they ran down the stairs, making quite a commotion that was not even remotely heard over the sound of people settling down at the table, arguing over where they got to sit. Finally, the din settled and Ron found he was sitting next to Harry. Hermione was on his left, and Luna was on the other side of the table, two places down, squeezed between Bill and Remus Lupin.
He figured she had arrived while he was upstairs and he felt like it had been some insult to not welcome her. Her manners held no sign of the insult, but her eyes showed it remarkably. They never seemed to land on him.
They flickered to Bill, then to Remus, then around Remus to look at Tonks. They paused on Charlie, talking animatedly to Fleur, and moved to Fleur who was trying her hardest to politely ignore Charlie. They then turned to Arthur and Molly Weasley, glided over to Fred and George, snuck a glance at Hermione, and landed back on her plate.
Ron took a bite of the food on his plate, his eyes on Luna, wanting desperately for her to look up, look at him. She was averting her eyes, avoiding him, and he didn't like it; it wasn't normal for her.
But what was normal for Luna? Was anything normal for Luna? Or would she always be a mystery? A paradigm of looniness and unpredictability. She was a surprise. There was always something new to discover.
Like her earrings, for instance. She had changed them. They appeared to be Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. One red, one blue.
The red one could be strawberry. Or maybe it was radish? Cherry? Watermelon? The blue could possibly be blueberry. Or maybe something more exotic? Liver was kind of bluish-green sometimes. He squinted trying to see if the blue jellybean had a green tint to it. It didn't.
Her eyes looked up at Harry, then at Hermione, with a curious stare. They moved between Ginny and Hermione (who were sitting next to each other), and then landed on Harry again. Ron felt like she was figuring something out, her brain moving and processing what only she could see.
Why couldn't he see what she could see? He was reminded of that time, in his sixth year, when Luna had dragged him down to a secret room that she had found. She wanted him to see it. But Ron hadn't known what he was supposed to be seeing.
Maybe he was supposed to see her . . .?
He sure saw her now. He saw her lips move as she chewed her food, her saw her eyes roam over the other guests, and he saw her smile at some joke that someone had told. He wasn't really listening to the conversation anymore. In fact, he had never started listening to it in the first place.
He became aware of singing and realized that everyone was singing Hermione happy birthday. He joined in, the bright candles distracting his gaze from Luna and reminding him that he'd barely eaten any of his dinner. A great, big piece of cake would take care of that though.
After the cake had been devoured, the time to open presents came and Hermione sat down in the living room, surrounded by boxes of varying size.
Most of them contained books, but Luna had brought a large box with a small picture of a crumpled-horned snorkack, slinking out of the frame. However, it couldn't actually leave the whole picture, and the creature was forced try out various hiding positions to hide it bulk. None of them seemed to work, for there was always some part of the creature visible: a leg, or spiraled horn, or a beady black eye.
"Oh, Luna," said Hermione. "I'm . . . sorry I didn't believe you. I . . ."
Luna nodded solemnly. "It's alright. You didn't know."
"Thank you, Luna," she said, genuinely pleased with her gift. She may be used to always being right, but she wasn't above admitting she was wrong if proof of her misjudgment ever surfaced.
"Your welcome Hermione."
The present opening lasted a while longer, and soon most of the company were yawning and retiring to their bedrooms or flooing home.
Ronald laid in bed, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to will sleep upon him. Sleep rarely comes when called and it abandoned Ron, leaving him for some other, probably unworthy, prat. He heard his stomach growl and he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Pulling out the left-overs, he caught a glimpse out of the window and noticed that Luna was standing outside, staring up at the moon, wearing a large sweater and a bright orange skirt. Curious, he poked his head out of the door.
"Aren't you cold?" he asked.
She simply shook her head, still staring up at the sky.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking at the sky. Why?" She looked at him over her shoulder, and he swore he saw a faint smile on her pale face.
"It's cold."
"Yes, I know."
"Don't you think you should come inside?"
"Why?"
"Because it's cold."
"Yes, I know that."
"What if you get sick?" He stepped fully outside, probably intending to pull her back inside the warm house.
"Then I get sick." She shrugged and the world shifted. She looked at the moon again. "I don't suppose you can see it . . . can you?"
"See what?"
"It."
"The moon? I see it."
"But do you see it smiling?"
He squinted. "Maybe. I think so. Yeah. I guess. Why?"
"Because it's been smiling down at us for centuries and I thought the smile should be returned."
"Oh."
Silence wrapped itself around them and Ron realized that his shoulder was touching hers.
"Ronald?" She was looking at him now and outside suddenly seemed much warmer. "Can you . . . do me a favor?"
"Hm?"he said, waiting for her to kiss him like she had done last time. Only, he'd be ready this time; he would return her kiss.
However, history did not repeat itself.
"Would you return the moon's smile? For me?" Her voice was quiet and childlike, as if she was afraid he would find her request to be some great inconvenience.
Disappointed, but unwilling to admit it to himself, he smiled at the moon, feeling like he was crazy. He threw in a little wave, just for good measure and walked back inside, shivering.
Luna followed him, thanked him, telling him that the moon appreciated his kindness, and she floated her way upstairs, leaving Ron in the kitchen feeling rather empty and lonely.
He was confused, but, having felt this before, he knew what to do. He went back to his room, remaining ignorant of what had just happened (although he felt that it had been something marvelous).
Sleep found him soon after his head hit his pillow and wrapped him with black robes of unconsciousness.
*****
It was early morning when Ron awoke to find Luna staring at him. Her hair had fallen over her shoulders and rested on either side of his head.
"Your mother sent me to wake you. Are you awake?"
Her hip was pressed against his, spreading a warmth through his legs.
"Generally, when a person's eyes are open, they're awake."
"Oh," said Luna. "So does that mean you're awake?" She leaned closer to his face, as if making sure that his eyes were really open.
"Yeah . . ." He swallowed. Her nose had nearly touched his, and he felt her hair brush his cheek. "Er . . . Luna?"
"Yes, Ronald?"
Before whatever courage he possessed fled from his body, he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her.
She tasted strangely of chocolate, and he was torn between hungrily gobbling the chocolate up in one bite or taking things slowly and enjoying every last bit of flavor. Luna made the decision for him by keeping her lips closed and pulling back after a few seconds, making the kiss sweet and chaste.
"Does this mean you're awake?" she asked, her voice dreamier than usual, fogged with something that Ron hoped was desire.
"Yeah." His hand was still on the back of her head and he ran his fingers through her hair, his hand stopping on her lower back. "Would you . . . do me a favor?" he said, a small smile on his face; a smile that reminded Luna of the moon's.
"Anything, Ronald."
"Go out for dinner sometime with me."
"Of course. Tomorrow morning would be perfect."
"Er, right. Tomorrow morning then."
He knew that having dinner tomorrow morning would probably defeat the purpose of having dinner in the first place, but Ron didn't care much about purposes and such. He kissed Luna's cheek quickly and she left the room.
TBC