"Hands"
Chapter Seven: Forgetful
"Why are we here?" whined Ron.
"You proposed to Luna, in case you've forgotten, Ron. You need to get her a ring," said Hermione, opening the door to the jewelers.
"She doesn't want a ring."
"Did she say that?"
"Well, no, but . . . ." He sighed. "Fine, okay. I'll look."
Hermione smiled, satisfied, and led him towards one of the glass display cases.
He squinted.
Everything looked the same.
"Can I help you find something?" asked an employee, sauntering over to them. "Let me guess, you're looking for an engagement ring, right?"
"Yes," said Hermione. "Actually, we are."
"Right this way. We have a lovely selection . . ." She walked behind a counter and pulled out a delicate diamond ring. "This one would be simply beautiful on you-it would certainly make your friends jealous!"
"Oh it's not for me," said Hermione with a short, amused laugh (that Ron felt he should probably be offended by).
"Oh," said the salesperson. She replaced the ring and pulled out another one. "How about something like this?"
It was a nice silver band, a diamond in the middle. It looked very elegant and slightly expensive, and Ron shook his head.
It looked too . . . not-Luna.
And so the salesperson replaced it and pulled out another one, and then another one, and then another one . . . .
Ten rings later, the woman's smile was beginning to fall, and she would give a light sigh of annoyance every few minutes. In a fit of desperation, she grabbed the ugliest ring they had: a small blue stone set upon a silver band, which would have looked exceptionally pretty if the jeweler had not tried a new cutting spell that resulted in an uneven polygonal shape with awkward jutting sides-a shape that would most certainly look terribly bulky on the slender finger of a bride-to-be.
But for Luna, it would be spectacular.
"Perfect," he said.
The salesperson looked suspiciously like she wanted to Avada Kedavra him.
Hermione gazed thoughtfully at it. "It would match her eyes."
"We'll take it," said Ron with a satisfied smile. "How much do I owe you?"
* * *
Luna was standing in the bedroom when he arrived at the Lovegood house later that afternoon. She had been living in the large, three-story house by herself since her father's funeral, and Ron knew his mother worried about her getting lonely. After Ron proposed, someone, at some point, had suggested that he move in with her. He seemed to remember his mother saying, "The Lovegood house is closer to the Burrow, you know!"
Besides, he thought as he walked into the bedroom and plopped down onto the bed, Luna looks prettier in the morning than Harry does.
Luna turned around from the mirror, holding up a necklace made of tiny Chocolate Frogs and a pair of earrings made of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "Do you like them?"
"Delicious," he said.
She smiled contentedly and returned her attention back to the mirror. There was a minute or two of silence, where Luna put on her jewelry and Ron watched. He could see the curve of her waist and hips, her shoulder blades coming together as she reached behind her to close the clasp on the necklace. She was wearing a long white dress; it was sleeveless and her smooth skin seemed to glow in the gentle light pulsing from the lamp next to the her. Her wand was behind her ear for safekeeping.
"We should be leaving soon," she said suddenly, standing up and whirling around to face him.
"Oh, right. Dinner at the Burrow . . ." He slid off of the bed and followed her as she walked down the stairs.
"I know you don't like walking . . ." she started to say, taking the steps two at a time.
"I don't mind walking," he replied, even though he really did mind walking; Apparating was just easier, really.
". . . but I kind of like walking. The trees always look much happier at dusk . . . ."
"We can walk . . . ."
"I know you'd rather just Apparate, and you can do that if you want to."
"I'll walk. It's not that far."
There were standing in front of the door, Luna's hand on the handle, about to turn it, when he felt an awkward weight in his left pocket, and, almost as if the thought had poked him, he said, "Oh! I got you something."
He pulled out the ring, and watched her as she turned around-her eyes lit up, and her eyebrows rose; her lips turned up at the corners in a delicate smile, her hand fluttered upwards to her chest to cover her heart, and, finally, she gave a small gasp of delight.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, taking the ring from his hand. She held it gingerly between her thumb and forefinger for a second, and then suddenly her arms were around his neck and his nose was being tickled by her hair, her wand pressed into the side of his head. "I love it. Thank you, Ronald."
He smiled and rubbed her back, because he wasn't sure he could speak, even say a simple "You're welcome," when she was crushed against him like that, and he could feel her smile against his neck. She gave him a quick squeeze before pulling back.
He had made her happy, and that made him feel quite pleased with himself.
* * *
The walk to the Burrow took seventeen minutes. The late-August heat was beginning to dissipate, replaced with a cool breeze. The smell of grass surrounded them and the bugs were chatting to each other in loud, boisterous squeaks and buzzes. The sunlight faltered through the tree branches, landing on Luna's face and shoulders. Every minute or so she would stop and hold up her hand, so her new ring caught the failing light of the sun. "I like to see it sparkle," she told him.
By the time they arrived at the Burrow, dinner was just beginning and they sat down immediately. As they were eating, Luna took the time to show off her ring.
"It looks good on you," said Harry.
"Yeah, it's wicked," said Fred.
"It really fits you," commented Hermione.
"Oh, and it matches your eyes!" said Ginny, leaning across Harry to get a proper look at the ring.
"It's lovely . . ." said Mrs. Weasley, in a motherly tone that suggested it really wasn't all lovely.
If Luna had noticed Mrs. Weasley's tone, she didn't show it and instead said, "Yes, isn't it? Although I don't think Ronald bought it by himself."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he questioned indignantly.
"I'd image that someone made you buy one, probably Hermione."
"No . . . maybe . . . ." He looked at her nervously, worried that she would be upset that he hadn't thought to by the ring himself, and that he had needed Hermione to help him do it.
"It's all right, Ronald. I don't mind. You picked it out in the end, and that's all that really matters." She took a second to admire the ring again, and then continued eating.
Mrs. Weasley seemed to take the announcement of the engagement ring as a cue to start the discussion of the wedding plans, and she promptly asked Luna if she wanted the wedding at the Burrow or at the Lovegood house.
"I don't really know . . . My father did always say that Mum wanted me to get married in our house, which is where she got married, but I'm not the only one getting married, and I'd imagine you always thought Ronald would get married here . . . ." She turned to Ron. "Would you like to get married here?"
Ron shrugged.
"How about we have it at your house, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley. "I think that would work out best." She let a few seconds of silence pass, before continuing. "Have you set a date yet?"
"I always kind of liked December twelfth. It has a nice ring to it."
"December twelfth, then. We should get started on the invitations soon . . . ."
* * *
By the time Ron and Luna returned home, Ron felt that the wedding had already been planned and could, for all intents and purposes, take place tomorrow. His ears hurt from the repeated mention of the word "wedding" and he yawned widely as he followed Luna up the stairs and into their bedroom.
He stood in the doorway for a second, watching her as she walked about the room, throwing off articles of clothing and letting them lay where they fell-an earring here, a sock there, and then her dress, which was deposited on the chair in the corner . . . .
She snuggled into a large shirt (one of his by the looks of it) and then turned to him. Her long hair was fanned around her shoulders and he felt that she was some ethereal goddess glowing in the moonlight, with eyes of silver stars and pink lips of roses. She was everything in the world, everything living and good; she was the trees, the ocean, the skies. She was winning that Quidditch game against Slytherin, or the Chudley Cannons making it to the World Cup. She was that feeling he got when he told a funny joke that made everyone laugh, or when he beat Harry at chess, or when he did something right.
Not that those particular words actually entered into his mind; his only coherent thought, at that moment, was: Merlin, she's gorgeous.
She tilted her head. He could see the feminine curve of her shoulder against the night sky and he licked his lips.
"Are you coming to bed now?" she asked hazily.
"Yeah," he said, walking into the room.
He closed the door behind him.
(tbc)
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