"Hands"
Chapter Three: Follow
Although Luna had left weeks ago, Ron still had the inexplicable urge to follow her. He sometimes had the thought that she was tied to him and the farther she got, the tighter the string would become. The tightening around his chest was ever-insistent.
When he woke up in the morning, his first thought was of Luna, followed by the falling realization that she was miles away and probably hadn't thought of him since she had left England. And at night, he dreamt of her.
Hormones, he thought after the first dream. Luna wouldn't do . . . that.
He told Harry about the dreams and Harry, with a smug, all-knowing smirk on his face, immediately said, "You fancy her."
"I don't fancy Luna,"said Ron.
"Fine," said Harry.
"I don't!" insisted Ron. "Really."
"Okay."
"Honestly!"
Harry nodded.
"Maybe . . . just a little . . . ."
"Have you told Hermione?" asked Harry.
"Why would I tell Hermione?"
"I thought . . . ." Harry shook his head. "Never mind."
Ron's eyes narrowed in Harry's direction. He was tempted to pursue the subject further, when suddenly his mother's head popped out in the fireplace and said "Ron!"
"Yeah?" called Ron, walking from the kitchen to the living area, where the fireplace rested quite happily against the right wall.
"Oh, dear, could you do me a favor? You're right down the street from Diagon Alley and I just ran out of ink while writing Bill a letter. If you could just pop on down to Stationers and pick me up another bottle, I'd appreciate it."
"Sure," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
He sometimes had the feeling that his mother enjoyed him living so close to The Leaky Cauldron; she would often stick her head in the fireplace and casually ask him, if he's not too busy, to pick up some household necessities. What he never understood was why she still made a fuss about him living away from home, when she very clearly enjoyed it.
"Women . . ." he muttered under his breath, thinking that if Hermione had heard him, she would scowl. He was always good at making Hermione scowl.
But he could make Luna smile.
* * *
Diagon Alley was surprisingly busy. People were wandering about, chatting to friends and neighbors and commenting on the ridiculously high floo prices.
"Excuse me," he said, making his way through the crowd. Shoving his way past a particularly immovable wizard, he accidentally stepped on someone's foot.
"Ow," said the woman. "That was my foot!"
"I'm sorry," he said absentmindedly, peering over the heads of the people in crowd and looking for Stationers.
"That's all right, Ron."
He stopped and looked at the woman's face for the first time. "Lavender?" he asked. "I'm sorry," he said again, although he wasn't sure if he was apologizing for steeping on her foot or for breaking up with her in sixth year. He always felt a little guilty about that, because he had never really fancied her in the first place.
Hermione had told him a year ago that he had only gone out with Lavender because he was too embarrassed by his lack of experience to come to Hermione (who he obviously wanted at the time). He, however, honestly believed that all he wanted was a good snog or two and Lavender was the only around at the time.
"So, how have you been Ron?" she asked, smiling. She seemed happy to see him.
"Oh, I'm good. You?"
"Yeah, good."
"Yeah."
"So, this is awkward, uh?"
"Yeah, it is," he said with a laugh.
"Are you busy?" asked Lavender, cocking her head to the side. She looked like she was desperately trying to hide the fact that she was nervous.
"Not really . . . ."
"How about we go get something to eat then, catch up? It's been a while."
"Yeah, that sounds good."
"All right, come on," she said, flirtatiously grabbing his hand and leading him away.
She decided on a small pub down a quiet alleyway, away from the noise of Diagon Alley. He had never been there before, although he had heard people talking about it. The place was moderately busy. There was enough noise and people to stop any feeling of awkwardness Ron might have had, yet it was quiet enough to have a conversation.
Time passed surprisingly fast for Ron and Lavender. Words flowed comfortably between them, laughter joined their conversation frequently and alcohol was served liberally. Lavender was looking a bit tipsy by the time the sun lowered itself to the ground. The pub had become busier while they talked.
"I think . . ." said Lavender with a giggle, "we should go somewhere else. It's too loud!"
"Right. How `bout my place?"
She nodded happily and they left. Ron's hand was wrapped around Lavender's arm, holding her steady, and her smile widened.
Ron began to think that he might get lucky tonight. But then the word "Luna" echoed hauntingly across his consciousness, spurred by the moon shining above their heads, and he loosened his grip on Lavender's arm, not wanting to lead her on.
By the time they arrived at Ron's flat, Lavender was leaning her head on Ron's shoulder. He began to think that maybe he was excited about getting a good shag tonight. Merlin knew he needed it. It might even get his mind off of Luna.
When the door was open and they entered the flat, she stood up straight and let her eyes wander around the room. "Nice," she said, walking into his living room and spinning around. "Roommate?"
"Harry," he said, walking over to her, his hands in his pockets.
"Ah, should have known. How is he these days?"
Ron shrugged, taking a step closer to her. "He's all right."
"Yeah?" she questioned, her finger trailing down Ron's arm. She pressed closer to him, looking up at him through half-closed eyes.
He vaguely remembered that look.
She was on the tips of her toes, her lips just barely touching his, her warm breath against his chin, and . . . someone knocked on the door.
"Oh bloody hell," he said. "Who could that be?"
Lavender's eyes looked up at him pleadingly. "Ignore them."
"It could be Harry. Maybe he forgot his key or something." It was a flimsy excuse, he knew, but he walked towards the door anyway and threw in an annoyed sigh as he opened it.
"Hello Ronald," said Luna breathily.
He blinked, wondering if this was one of those dreams again. Maybe he subconsciously wanted to have a threesome . . . ?
"Luna!" he exclaimed. "I thought . . . . When did you get back?"
"Today."
"Ron?" called Lavender. Walking over to him, she put her arm around his waist and eyed Luna jealously.
"You're Lavender Brown. You were in Gryffindor," said Luna.
"Yeah . . ." said Lavender. "Loony Lovegood, right?"
"Luna . . ." said Ron, a bit louder than necessary. "She's Luna Lovegood. She was in Ravenclaw . . . the year below us." As he spoke, his voice had slowly gotten softer, responding, no doubt, to the annoyed look Lavender was shooting his way. "Do you want to come in?" he asked Luna.
Lavender sighed disappointedly. "I better be going, then," she said curtly. "It was nice seeing you Ron." She gave him a small kiss on his cheek and left, the door making a sharp clicking sound as she closed it.
"You were going to shag her," said Luna, after Lavender had left.
"What? No, I . . . ." Ron suddenly felt like the cheating boyfriend. His ears turned pink, and he sputtered for a few more seconds, before choking out, "Would you like some tea?"
She smiled at that and said, "Yes, I would."
"Right. You can, uh . . . ." He motioned towards the couch and Luna happily sat down.
He whispered the charm that his mother taught him and tea sprouted forth from the tip of his wand and into two teacups. He handed a cup to Luna and she took a sip, licking her lips as she sat the cup down.
"So, how was Sweden?" he asked, his eyes involuntarily moving downward, pulled by the movement of her tongue over her lips.
"This is wonderful tea," she said. "Sweden was nice. Daddy caught a bit of a wobblyding, so we had to come home early."
"Is he all right?" he asked, even though he had no idea what a wobblyding was.
"He'll be okay. He's resting now. I missed you, Ronald."
"Oh, really?" he said, sitting up straighter and turning his body towards her. "I, er, missed you too, Luna."
She turned to him, her shoulder rubbing against his chest. Her smile was an inch from his mouth and he thought, if he just leaned in . . . her lips would taste of honey, because of the tea . . . .
The door suddenly opened and Harry took a step inside before noticing Ron and Luna and how close they were. He stopped, spotting Ron's expert glare, and said, pointing to the clock, "Is that the time? I've got to go. I'm meeting someone. Don't want to be late . . . ."
Harry shut the door, leaving only the increased distance between Ron and Luna as a indication he had ever been there.
"I should be getting home. Daddy will be wondering where I am."
"Yeah," said Ron, reluctantly, standing up with her.
"I have pictures, though, from Sweden."
"Yeah?" he said, his voice decidedly more hopeful than it was a few seconds ago. "Maybe we could, uh, have dinner tomorrow night and look at them . . . ."
"Yes," she said. She gave him one last, little smile, leaned up on her toes, kissed him softly on his cheek and left, leaving the smell of flowers in her wake.
He touched his cheek-her lips were burned into his skin. With a satisfied sigh, as if he really had been shagged that night, he sat back down on his sofa and waited for tomorrow night.
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