"A Marvelous Thing"
Love in Four Parts
E
Ron was having a dream. It was a very nice dream. Luna was leaning over him, her hair tickling her cheeks and she was whispering something to him; her words spoke of love, of flowers, of warm summer days underneath a tree, of cold winter nights under the moon. It made him feel extremely happy.
"Ron?"
His eyes flew open and landed on Hermione sitting next to him, her hip pressing against his thigh. Her warmth hit him a like a knife, savagely ripping him in half with the remembrance that Luna was not there. The dull ache that had bee asleep with him awoke powerfully and he put a hand to his chest, like his father did when he had heartburn.
"Ron?" she asked again. "How are you feeling? Are you sick? I haven't heard from you in days, and I was worried. What's wrong?"
Her questions came to him in a jumble and he had to sit up and rub his eyes before he could concentrate on them. He concentrated.. Hard. And then he said, "What?"
She took a deep breath. "Are you okay? You haven't been to work. I stopped by and asked your boss." she added, when he opened his mouth in protest. "You look terrible. When was the last time you got out of bed?"
"Er . . ." He turned to the clock. "Five hours ago. I got up to eat something." He ran a hand through his dirty hair and swung his legs around to the floor.
Hermione stood up and put her hands on her hips. "What happened? Where's Luna? Did you have a fight?"
He shrugged. "Not really."
She stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to explain.
He sighed. "I . . . er. Well, I told her the moon was just a rock. It wasn't really a fight. She just . . . she left."
Hermione's gaze was oozing with pity, but there was a definite scowl on her face. She didn't quite understand the circumstances (for the moon really was just a rock), but knowing Luna, that truth probably hurt. Ron was an insensitive git.
"Ron, you're an insensitive git, you know that?"
"So? She didn't have to get so upset! They were just words!"
"Contrary to popular belief, Ronald, words can hurt."
"I love her," he said quietly, stupidly, for she wasn't there to hear him.
"Then why haven't you apologized?"
"Apologize?" He looked out the window, thinking maybe the moon would still be hanging around in the early morning sky. If he could apologize to the moon, maybe the moon would tell Luna he was sorry? Because the moon was Luna and Luna was the moon. It may have been just a rock, but it had been her rock, and that made it the most precious thing in the world.
The moon wasn't there.
"Yes, apologize. It's what mature adults do when they make a mistake."
He didn't feel like a mature adult. "I'll . . . ."
"You'll talk to her tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Yes, on Saturday. At the Burrow."
"The Burrow?"
"Ron!" she said, "September nineteenth?"
"Nineteenth . . . ? Oh, you're birthday," he said, after a few seconds of searching his brain. It was all crowded with thoughts of Luna: how her smile snaked its way up her face, as if reluctant to show itself; how her hair was nearly passed her waist and always needed to be brushed; how her eyes always held a secret understanding of the world, of life, of love. "Sorry. I-I forgot."
Luna had cute toes. The little kid kind that wiggled every time she stretched. And her skin was always soft. Her mouth always tasted sweet, like chocolate and there was a spot on her neck that made her sigh every time he kissed it.
"Yes, I realize that," she said, a smile on her face. The smile turned serious. "You are coming, right? Because I've already invited Luna, and I expect both of you two to be there."
"Yeah, I'll . . ." He yawned. "Be there."
***
Luna read the invitation again. It was addressed to Ron and her, and somehow the owl had found only her. She wondered why Ron hadn't received it. Maybe Ron wouldn't let the owl in? Or maybe he hadn't been at home?
She would be going to the party, of course. Hermione was, after all, her friend. She wouldn't be there because Ron would be there, though. Ron didn't love her. She thought he might have, at one point, but his words had hurt her and dashed any thoughts of tender emotion (on his part) away, like a hand splashing a calm pond of silver water. She realized that he only thought of her as a child, someone to be humored. He didn't see what she saw. He was blind.
She still loved him, though.
Luna pocketed the small letter and stood in front of the mirror. Her hair was still straggly and she thought she should probably get a haircut before the party.
***
Everyone around him was smiling. Ron stood in his own little space in the kitchen and looked forlorn, like a child who had lost his favorite stuffed animal.
"What's wrong with you, Ron?" asked his mother, walking passed him and placing a bowl down on the counter. "Where's Luna?"
"Er . . . She's running late."
Mrs. Weasley eyed her youngest son with apprehension. He was acting most peculiarly. He didn't even want to go out and play Quidditch. He just . . . stood. And stared, as if seeing something no one else could see.
It was when the party was getting ready to settle down at the table when Luna walked in, nearly unnoticed in the chaos of finding the right seat. He made his way towards her, and blurted out, "I'm sorry."
Everyone had sat down, leaving Ron and Luna the only ones standing.
She smiled, and sat down. "Sit down Ronald."
He sat down, his eyes never leaving her face. The room was quiet; no one was really sure how to proceed, for they felt like intruders.
Ron noticed Luna's hair was three inches shorter, and much more even. "You cut your hair," he said loudly, making the intruders feel even more like intruders. He fingered it curiously. It was much softer than usual, and it felt weird.
"You're very observant, aren't you?" she asked. Her tone was odd; it was dreamy, but held an hint of cold, hard truth, as if she had witnessed the horrors of the world and was, as a result, a sarcastic cynic.
The guests had started talking, trying to ignore Ron and Luna's presumably private conversation.
Luna spooned some food on her plate and passed the bowl to Ron. He passed it to Harry.
Luna began to eat, her eyes pinned on some invisible landmark in front of her. It's probably the moon, thought Ron, smiling at her or something. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, and he missed her straggly, tangled mess of blonde. Her earrings were made out of butterbeer corks, and they matched her necklace, which matched her dress, for they were precisely the same color. He thought that he noticed a hint of pink on her cheeks, and he wondered if it was from the warm air or if she had applied some blush to her face. He thought it was the warm air.
"I love you," he said, the words strangled, hoping to get out quickly so that they would reach her ears before any other noise in the room.
The words had nothing to fear, for there was no other noise in the room; it was quiet when Ron's words left his mouth and it stayed quiet while his words soaked into the silence. He fidgeted, hoping she would look at him. Her shoulders fell down, as if she had been holding her breath and the movement reminded Ron of an angel lowering her wings as she landed on the earth. But Luna hadn't left the clouds completely: she brought them with her, down to his level so that he may share them with her.
Luna looked up at him, as if he was the moon, and her eyes pierced his body right in the center: the part of him that had been aching since she left.
"And I love you," she said simply.
He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and looked down at his empty plate. He looked back at her, smiling widely, and then looked around the room. The guests began eating again.
Ron looked at Luna.
Luna looked at Ron.
And it was a marvelous thing.
fin.
***
A/N: Don't you just love happy endings? I do. I like them very much. I also like constructive and encouraging feedback, so feel free to leave some reviews with constructive and encouraging feedback.
Thank you to those who have already reviewed!