a/n: Chapter two! Wheehoo.
The library was awfully dusty, Ron noticed, as he pulled out a book on dreams and sneezed.
Interpreting Your Dreams and Visions by Hildegarde Doitchman was a thick, heavy tome that apparently had not been used for quite a long time, and had acquired an unseemly layer of dust.
By merely opening the book, Ron created a mushroom cloud that he coughed through and finally waved out of the way.
He idly flipped through the pages, looking for anything of interest.
He was waking up later, and was in a large bed. Much larger than his fourposter at Hogwart's and larger than his mum and dad's at the Burrow.
The sheets were silk and slid across his legs like wine, he thought groggily. He froze, his eyes still closed and heavy with sleep. His leg had touched another one, that wasn't one of his. It was long and smooth and curved delicately - a girl's leg. He flopped over, eyes still screwed shut and inhaled her hair, long, he noticed, and strange smelling.
He gave in to the urge and opened his eyes to take a peek at her hair color. Everything was black and white. Now he wasn't himself, he was a third person watching himself as he snuggled up to the woman.
"Maybe, eh?" Ron said, his words slurring lightly as his hand snaked around her waist. Even though Ron was not himself, he could still feel her smooth skin under fingertips...
"Maybe can mean yes, Ronald."
He pulled the woman into an embrace, and kissed her harshly, emptying his desire into an expression of love.
"Do you love me, Ronald?" She asked, her voice quiet.
"Maybe," he teased.
She wasn't happy with the teasing and flopped over so she wasn't facing him and he looked at her bare back in dismay.
There was a ringing in Ron's ears as he woke up, his dream fading away into a little puff of dust as he looked up to see Hermione flop a pile of her books on the table, smiling brightly.
"Hullo, Ron," she said cheerfully, "decided to finally put in some extra time for study?"
"Actually, I was looking up things on dreams," he said, pointing at the large book spread before him.
"Oh," she said dully, "Divination."
"Well, I guess so," Ron said, looking at her and trying to tell if her skin would be as smooth as skin he had felt in the dream… that was all he remembered, smooth skin.
Hermione propped up a large tome about Transfiguration and started taking notes, biting her lip in concentration.
She's pretty, Ron thought dully, but she didn't say maybe.
Hermione looked up at him with a frown. "Would you mind telling me what you're staring at?" She asked.
"Nothing," Ron said hurriedly, "and I'm sorry for asking that shag question. It was just… had to do with my dream."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Not - not like that, Hermione!" He exclaimed, his nose turning red. "It was… I was complaining about… a woman and she had… nevermind."
Hermione gave a little sigh and went back to taking notes.
Ron couldn't concentrate on the dreams book after ten minutes, it was all rubbish and Hermione was always sighing every few moments.
"What the ruddy hell are you sighing about?" He finally asked, closing his book.
She turned pink. Ron had never seen her turn pink.
"Nothing," she snapped, her eyes transfixed on her book. "Nothing at all."
"Bull," he said, "you're thinking about someone."
She gasped and looked at him in shock. "How'd you - no I'm not."
"Yes you are," Ron said calmly, "I can tell."
"No I am not, Ron Weasley."
"Sure you are. Is it Vicky?"
"Viktor and I broke up," she said carefully, folding her Transfiguration notes and pocketing them in her bookbag. "You remember that."
"You could miss him," he pointed out.
"But I don't." She snapped. "I'm not thinking about Viktor Krum."
"Then it could only be one person," he said, biting his lip before continuing.
She looked at him warily, as if daring him.
"Harry," they both said, Hermione confessing and Ron guessing.
"You called?" Harry said, popping up, his DADA books in hand.
"Harry!" They both exclaimed, surprised.
"What're you doing here?" Ron asked, as his friend sat down.
"Figured I'd do some homework with you guys," Harry said, "just got here a second ago when you said my name." He smiled at Hermione cheerily, his green eyes turning a shade warmer.
Hermione turned a becoming shade of red and opened her Potions manual and stared at the page with rapt attention. Ron wondered why he had never noticed how she got all gooey like that when Harry smiled at her. Like in third year, he recalled, just melting when he grinned and asked if she would report him.
Simply soppy. That's what they were, just dripping with warmth and gushiness. Hermione looked up from her Potions manual, and Harry looked up from his DADA notes. In slow motion, they moved towards each other, lines blurring together and an orange haze falling over the room. Their lips touched, and little sparkles erupted from their fingertips, white stars. Hermione's eyelashes dropped glitter on her cheeks as she pulled away and looked at Harry, whose eyes were greener than ever.
All furniture vanished and she crawled onto his lap and whispered love to him, and her hair, thick and yet beautiful, fluttered behind her in an invisible wind. Ron remained in his seat, watching listlessly.
It was sort of painful, but the warmth they exuded reached everyone in the library, and touched him down to his toes.
"So you just sort of make a jabbing motion when you do that spell," Hermione was saying softly, as Ron woke up from his dream.
"Oh?" Harry breathed, and Ron's eyes fluttered open but he didn't move, watching the two from behind his arm.
"Yes," she said, as he poked the air with his wand, "just like that."
They smiled at each other like they had a secret.
Ron made a big deal of 'waking up', coughing and ruffling his hair.
"Enjoy your cat nap?" Harry teased, and the warmth which Ron had soaked up during his dream sort of dwindled out of his ears and Ron realized that they were very good actors.
"Yes," Ron said, haughtily, "I actually did, thank you. Another dream."
"Another?" Hermione asked, incredulously. "That's amazing."
"What are they about?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow as Ron gave them a goofy look.
"Oh, this and that," he said in a singsong voice, standing up and stretching. "I'm off then," he announced, and left them alone.
Ron felt lighter now, as though the dream had suddenly freed him of all Hermione-related thoughts. No more of that nonsense, he thought to himself gladly.
He sat down on a bench and looked at a portrait of Helga Hufflepuff, who smiled down at him warmly.
"You know who it is," said the painting.
"Course I do," Ron said groggily, "it's whats-her-face."
Helga giggled. "She has a real name."
"Course she does," he said, "and it is whats-her-face."
The painting gave a sigh and the subject laid her head back against her velvet couch. "You're not getting any more dreams of your future, you know,"
"Oh?" He said, half interested, and half asleep.
"No," she confirmed, "what do you think of that?"
"S'nice," he murmured, and was asleep in his dream.
He woke up on the same bench and looked at the painting, who waved and walked out of the frame. He wrinkled his nose. Crazy dreams. He headed for the common room.
Ron was passing the entrance to the kitchens when he spotted Luna Lovegood tickling the pear.
She swung the door open, while reading the Quibbler in one hand.
He hurried to get to her side and join her in the kitchens before the door shut.
"Hello, Ronald," she said, not looking up from the tabloid.
"'Lo, Luna," he said cheerfully, "what are you doing?" He asked, curious.
She set the paper down on a counter and called for Dobby. Ron stood nearby and watched in interest.
"I was wondering," she said, her eyes wide, "if you recently served any Piabble fish?"
Dobby clapped his hands and smiled widely. "Oh yes, miss, Dumbledore's be wantings for Dobby to serve one with yesterday's trout. Like a wishbone, he's said,"
She looked at him in confusion. "Wishbone?"
"Dobby doesn't know," the house elf confessed, "but his master says it so."
Ron stared at the elf. "You actually served a… a Piabblawhatnot?"
"Piabble," Luna said calmly, looking at him. Her earrings today, he noticed, were shrunken garden gnomes that were wildly trying to escape their hooks.
"… shows you your future in funny dreams," she was saying, as he finished looking at her earrings.
"Yeah," he said, "I heard all that when you told Gin. But I thought Hermione said that they weren't real?"
"Hermione also said to me that she didn't fancy Harry, and that's rather silly too," Luna pointed out, and then let out a sporadic giggle.
She was humming Weasley is Our King very softly, a moment later, looking him up and down with pale eyes that chilled his spine and warmed his stomach.
Luna looked up at him, and he realized she was very close to him. She tilted her head back and looked at him beneath half closed lids and her lips were pouted apart, and he realized she wanted a kiss.
And he realized he wanted one too.
He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, a tentative searching of feelings and when Luna did not resist, he added pressure and deepened the kiss. His arms went about her waist, pulling her closer. She did step a bit closer, but she made no move to return his embrace, but kept kissing him.
He pulled away and looked down at her, and noticed she was looking at Dobby, who was still standing nearby, watching them in interest.
"Do you," Ron started, "want to go somewhere where there aren't nosy house elves?"
Luna looked at him and smiled.
"Maybe," she cooed.
a/n: Do review.
Hugs,
Vanilla