Unofficial Portkey Archive

A Rather Indecent Proposal

Chapter 2: Not Harry Potter

Author: Carla, aka cali-chan
Rating: PG, so far. Rating might go up, though, depending on my mood when writing later chapters.
Genre: Romance, humor, drama.
Pairings: Will probably end up R/LL, with H/Hr and D/G on the side.
Canon/timeline: Post-DH, though I haven't read any of the post-DH interviews so I might have a few facts off. I wouldn't say it disregards the epilogue (an open ending is always a possibility), but time-wise this story happens a year after chapter 36 of DH. So the epilogue hasn't happened yet.

Warnings: I was feeling snarky as I wrote this. And there's some R/Hr interaction...

Summary: 'I need you to be my boyfriend.' 'Luna, you... do know I'm with Hermione... don't you?' 'Yes, but don't worry, it's okay. I'm not a jealous person.' Ron's eyes almost bugged out. Every time he thought he'd seen her at her limit of craziness, she managed to surprise him yet again.

What had come to be known in their household as "HarryHermione time!" consisted, that particular afternoon, of Harry eating lunch in front of the telly while Hermione focused on a draft of a declaration she had been assigned to revise.

Now, an outsider might see this as a horribly boring way to spend time together. Harry himself was having an unbelievable amount of fun, though. Okay, so there was nothing terribly entertaining about eating Cottage Pie while watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? as quietly as possible because his best friend did not want any interruptions to her train of thought. Or it had started out that way, at least, but then he had found out by way of experience that said best friend couldn't help but blurt out the correct answers to the questions before the contestants on the telly could. Even if she kept muttering to herself that she needed to focus on the declaration and that she shouldn't get distracted. Then another question would come up and her murmurs would become: "...as mentioned on the previous article, due to the oppression of Wizardfolk it has come to light-- Oh, how can she not know? It's the Great Pyramid of Khufu. Honestl-- Ugh! I did it again!"

Harry found it all completely hilarious.

Hermione glared at him. Or at his shoulders, really; he was bent over, laughing, so she couldn't glare straight at his face. "You know, I wonder if the rest of the Wizarding World knows The Boy Who Lived can be so annoying in his spare time."

"I didn't say anything!" Harry managed to choke out in-between laughs.

"Of course," she turned back to her declaration with a roll of her eyes. Harry went back to his Cottage Pie and staring at the show. "You know, I can see why you and Ron are such good friends. You're more alike than you think," she added, when she looked up to see Harry sitting cross-legged on the couch, fork almost to his lips as he stared unblinkingly at the telly. "Hey, maybe you should be dating him instead of me."

"Not my type," he quipped, just before taking in a forkful of his food.

"I thought you liked redheads," she replied, her tone full of mirth.

"Not going to be rid of him so easily!" Harry sing-songed back.

Hermione chuckled. This was one of their little games that they loved playing. Most of the time they did it in front of Ronald himself, who had learned by now to just chuckle and let it pass; it was all in good fun. Sometimes, if he wasn't expecting the banter to pop up, he'd respond with a grunt. If he was feeling particularly rambunctious, he'd reply with a mock-affronted "hey!" and then try to poke fun back at one of his two best friends. Today, however, it was just the two of them, so the amusement soon died out.

And so they remained quietly doing their thing for a long while. Their only interactions were Hermione's answering of the trivia questions (and Harry's subsequent guffaws) and Harry's random wonderings about Chris Tarrant's hair being real or not.

Soon enough the show was over (Hermione would've won that million pounds, he was sure), and Harry finally stood up and stretched his legs. He turned off the television and magically floated his now empty plate to the kitchen, setting it to wash by itself with one simple spell. He looked around to see if there was anything else he needed to put away; there wasn't. He turned around, taking a look at the living room to see if anything jumped out at him; nothing did. He turned back to where the telly was, contemplating if he should just turn it back on and see if anything else was on... then he realized he'd just turned 360 degrees for no reason at all. With a sigh, he put his hands in his pockets and decided to go and sit by the only other person in the room.

"So... where is Ron, anyway?"

"...By the definition of the word 'citizen'... Hmmm... Diagon Alley?" she muttered without even lifting her eyes off the parchment. Now that he was closer, he could clearly hear the continuous scratching of her quill against it. "He... said one of his robes got torn... taking it to Madam Malkin's... said he'd get lunch there..."

Harry squinted, thinking about it. "Oh. Yeah, I think he mentioned the robe thing..." He shuffled his feet. "So, how's the proposal going?"

"It's going well." She looked up at him for half a second, and then went back to writing. "You're hovering."

He sighed, and then finally dropped his weight on the chair across from her. "Sorry. I'm just bored." He started drumming his fingers on the table, as if to prove his point.

"So get Ginny and go out, do something," she suggested, still not looking at him. She shook her head as she finished a sentence, feeling something was off about it. She quickly grabbed her wand and changed what she had written, more satisfied with it this time around.

"I can't, she's making up for the practice she missed Wednesday," he explained, trying to peek over the edge of the parchment to see just how much she'd already corrected. He'd had essays edited by her before (it was practically because of her help that he and Ron managed not to flunk every single class they had, after all), and he knew she could be brutal about it. At least it would seem brutal to you if you didn't know she was doing it for your own good. "If I try to pull her out of it again, the coach will kill me."

Her only response to that was to stomp his hand with her own; the drumming was driving her to distraction. She didn't separate her eyes from the parchment for longer than strictly necessary, though. Harry crossed his arms to keep himself from bothering her. "And I was thinking of going somewhere, anyway. But not for a little while." She nodded, but he couldn't be sure if she was nodding at him or at something she'd just read. Then he had an idea. "Hey, why don't you come with me to visit Teddy? Maybe around three. You need a break, don't you?"

She gave him a look, one that he understood as her 'I'm Hermione Granger and I don't need breaks, thankyouverymuch' look. She did smile, however; she had a soft spot for the (sometimes) blue-haired baby. They all did. That, coupled with Harry's bright 'you know you want to' grin, was her undoing. "Three, you said?"

"So you're coming?"

She put her quill down and looked at him. "On two conditions. First, you give me whatever ridiculously expensive gift you bought for Teddy this time. I will decide if you can give it to him." She put her weight on her forearms on the table, as if she were a negotiator looking to close a really important deal.

Harry gaped at her. "Hermione! What... I can't believe you'd...! I won't...!" He sputtered, trying to say something in his own defence, but nothing sounded right in his head. Finally he narrowed his eyes at her and whined, pouting like a five-year-old: "It's not ridiculously expensive..."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, crossing her arms. "Honestly, Harry. I know you want to give him all the things you never had, but at this rate you'll turn him into a regular Draco Malfoy."

There was a bit of a staring contest right there, both in similar positions, neither willing to give in. Harry ruminated on Hermione's words about Malfoy for a bit. He had to admit she had a point there; it wasn't good to spoil the little one. Reluctantly, he conceded defeat. "Very well. I'll give it to you. Although," he added, with as much dignity as possible, "I'm sure you won't think it's too much. It has nothing to do with flying this time around."

She shook her head at him, but smiled anyway. Teddy could barely walk and here Harry was, buying him broomsticks and snitches and quidditch team uniforms. Kept saying he had to be ready for Hogwarts-- the Gryffindor team had been deflated since they graduated and someone had to bring back the glory days. Now, if they could only agree on which position the boy would play, they could start training (Harry insisted Teddy was Seeker material, while Ron rooted for Keeper and Ginny pulled towards Chaser). Hermione was only glad that Andromeda had put her foot down on each request for a flying lesson.

"So what's the second condition? Should I look for a dagger to take my heart out?"

"Cute. No, actually, I just want us to return before dinnertime. Kreacher will be back soon with the groceries and you know how he gets when we don't eat his food."

Harry could see the logic in that, so he didn't argue. "Fine. I'll go take a shower and then we'll go, alright?" She agreed with that idea, and so Harry went inside to get ready, while she revised a couple more pages of the declaration.

--

Ron looked at the door with a certain amount of trepidation.

It wasn't that he was nervous, per se. He'd been through the "meet the parents" routine before, and Hermione's folks had loved him, so he had no problem with it. It was just that it was the Lovegoods. And as fond as he was of Luna, with them you never quite knew what you were going to get.

He took his wand out of his jacket to trigger the wards and announce his presence, and promptly jumped ten feet back when the wards shrieked back at him. Oh, yes; their old house might've been destroyed, but Luna and her dad had wasted no time making this one feel like home. In fact, now that he thought about it, if he squinted at it, he could say it almost looked like a bishop's mitre...

His musings were interrupted by an airy voice. "Are you looking for Creeping Borgols? They do live in roofs, but I think ours might be too curved for them; they tend to fall off curved roofs, you know. Their claws are not very strong."

He turned to look at Luna, a bit wide-eyed at first, but then he shook his head to clear it. He couldn't help but chuckle; he thought it was amazing how, with Luna, there always seemed to be a made-up creature for every situation. "Hello, Luna," he greeted, still smiling.

She waved at him. Funny, as he was standing right in front of her. "Hullo. Won't you come in? Lunch is almost ready."

Those were magic words if he'd ever heard them, and so he put aside his doubts and followed her inside. She took him by the hand and let him in, all the while reminding him to be careful because some of the artefacts they had in their home were invaluable-- vestiges of the existence of creatures that could only be found once in a lifetime, she explained, though Ron thought that some of the "artefacts" were strikingly similar to many of the Muggle things his father liked to tinker with on his spare time, but he didn't voice this thought aloud. Instead, he opted to just look around, taking in the little details that made the Lovegoods' place undoubtedly theirs. They didn't have as much crazy stuff as they had had in their old home, but there was certainly enough of it to leave no doubt in anyone's mind.

Luna called out to her father that Ron had arrived. Xenophilius then made his appearance, and Ron was so awestruck by what he was wearing that he didn't even notice Luna was still holding his hand.

The robes could've passed as normal, had they not been a blinding neon green colour. But that wasn't even the worst part of it, no. It was more that the feathers in his hat-- brilliant purple and orange feathers-- poked out of the brim and practically dwarfed the beige porkpie, making it seem a bit like there was a peacock resting on its flat top. All in all, the arrangement was tall enough to tower over Ron's height, and the redhead was a bit worried that the feathers might poke him in the eyes; the man needn't even stand close to him, those things could kill him even if Xeno was standing four feet away. "Um... G-good evening, Mr. Lovegood," he said, more to his hat than to him.

The older man's expression as he stared curiously at Ron was... well, not quite a smile, but not quite a frown either. "Well, you're not Harry Potter," he said, in lieu of a greeting.

If it had been anyone else, Ron might've felt offended. As it was, his eyebrows twitched a bit, but it was just too hard to feel attacked by a man dressed like Lovegood, Sr. was. Luna completely laced her arm with his, almost clinging as she beamed at her father. "He's not Dean Thomas either, Daddy."

Ron wondered if that was supposed to be a complement.

Xenophilius finally gave him a brilliant smile. "Well, of course he isn't! Step right in, young lad. I'm very pleased to finally meet you," he said, clapping Ron's shoulder and leading him in deeper into the house, towards the dining room. Luna let go of him and went off to serve lunch.

"Uh, we've, eh... we've met before, sir," Ron replied to Xeno's greeting, before they made it to the other room.

The man stopped in his tracks, his stringy white hair shifting as he inclined his head to look at his visitor. "We have?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably. He knew Xeno wouldn't remember the last time he'd seen him, along with Harry and Hermione, the day his old house was destroyed. He'd been obliviated, after all, and Ron didn't think that would make a very good introduction, anyway. He nodded, for his host's benefit. "I'm Arthur and Molly Weasley's youngest son. We, uh, live just a couple of miles from here?"

He was answered with a (slightly cross-eyed) blank stare.

Okay, so maybe he couldn't place his family among the rest of the Ottery St. Catchpole population. Hey, it could happen to the best out there. "You've been to our house. You attended my brother Bill's wedding a couple years ago." Still no spark of recognition in the man's eyes. By now, Ron was getting a bit irritated. "My face was on your daughter's room ceiling!" he exclaimed, in disbelief. Xenophilius' expression did not change at all. Finally, Ron gave up, with a sigh. "Never mind. I'm Ron Weasley. It's nice to meet you too, sir."

Luna's dad seemed to take that as a good answer and smiled at the young man, finally pointing him to the dining room table and telling him to make himself comfortable. Ron let him sit at the head of the table, taking a seat to one side.

Xeno had taken off his ridiculous hat and was carefully examining some of the feathers. Ron took chance of this time to quietly examine him. He didn't appear much different than how he was the last time they'd met, except perhaps for the bags under his eyes; but his excitement over everything strange wasn't anymore subdued, and his quirky ways weren't any less quirky, so it was a bit hard for him to believe that the man was actually dying. He was about to comment on his health-- probably not the most sensitive course of action, yes-- but was thankfully interrupted by Xenophilius practically shoving the hat at him. "So, what do you think of this little beauty, eh?"

Ron stared at the contraption with what he hoped looked like an interested expression. "It's... nice," he feebly said, trying in vain to flatten some of the feathers down.

"It is, isn't it?" Xeno nodded with a small smile. "There's a very interesting story behind it, as well. It's a replica of a special magical headdress that was a covenant between natives from the Amazon and the wizards that tried to colonize their land. It brings peace and prosperity to whomever wears it. Of course, it's not exact," he added, lightly fingering the brim of the porkpie hat that was the base of the ensemble, "but I believe I reconstructed it close enough that its magic might still be strong. It's why I decided to wear it today." He gently pulled the hat from Ron's hands and almost cradled it lovingly. "I wouldn't want anything to... mar our wonderful lunch, right?"

He said this and his eyes were strangely focused on the hat, his tone light and his expression almost... sad. Ron, surprised by the sudden change in attitude, couldn't really do anything but nod. When he did, Xenophilius seemed to come out of his slump and shook his head, as if to clear it. "Not that anything would, of course," he assured Ron with a smile. "I've just been feeling a bit under the weather lately. Perhaps I've caught the flu. Nothing this headdress can't handle, I'm sure," he nodded at the redhead; however, this time Ron was aware that Xeno's smile wasn't really reaching his eyes. "Well, I'm going to put it away now. Wouldn't want to get any food on it by accident."

As he excused himself to stow away the hat, Ron wondered just what kind of accident would make lunch end up on his head.

Soon enough Luna set the table and they were all ready to start the meal. Ron lightly poked at his bowl with his utensils. Luna had declared it was beef stew; however, Ron didn't think it looked like beef stew at all. In fact, Ron didn't think it looked edible at all. And that was saying a lot because he had eaten a lot of strange things over the course of their horcrux hunt. At least it didn't dissolve his spoon on contact, unlike some of the stuff the twins had tried to get him to eat over the years...

Luna asked dreamily if there was anything wrong, and Xenophilius fixed his eyes on them, so he had no choice but to pluck up his courage and have a taste. To his obvious surprise (he tried to disguise his reaction but couldn't help himself-- if either of the Lovegoods noticed his gasp, at least they didn't say anything), it did taste like beef stew; in fact, it tasted like really good beef stew. Conscious of Xeno's eyes on them, Ron was quick to let Luna know that the stew was wonderful and that he was glad she was such a great cook (12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Witches, Chapter 1: Getting Started. Hmmm, perhaps he should add "and their relatives" to that title...). She smiled at him and patted the hand that was not holding his spoon; Xenophilius beamed.

After that, the affair was much more relaxed. Ron still flinched a bit whenever Luna's arm touched his or whenever she gazed at him for just a second too long; it was weird to keep reminding himself that he had to stay "in character." However, her father didn't appear to notice his twitching and Luna wasn't the kind of girl to poke him, or throw him pointed glares, or kick him under the table like Hermione or Ginny did when he couldn't follow their lead on something. Still, he was getting used to the situation and although half the time he couldn't really understand the stuff Xeno asked him, he didn't feel like running for the hills, not at all.

By the time they started dessert (chocolate pudding-- Luna's favourite), the conversation had turned to how Ron and Luna had met. They easily jumped into a retelling of Ron's fifth year at Hogwarts, Luna's version of it slightly more... imaginative than Ron's, but a good retelling nonetheless. They reminisced fondly about their DA meetings and the fun they'd had. Luna happened to mention Ron being Keeper for Gryffindor and winning the Quidditch Cup that year, and then the redhead took over, eagerly speaking of the time when he became the Hero of Gryffindor. Okay, so maybe he exaggerated a few of his moves; however, Luna didn't correct him and Xenophilius stayed none the wiser.

The also spoke about the battle at the Department of Mysteries. Luna, being the ever-dutiful (pretend) girlfriend that she was, excitedly told her father of how brave Ron had been when fighting that awful Minister Fudge's "Aquavirius Maggots." Ron felt his ears turning red. To this day, he still felt somewhat like an idiot when he thought about his encounter with the brains. Luna had a much more extensive grasp on the topic of the Ministry battle than he did; apparently, the Death Eaters hadn't taken much of an interest in her, preferring to go for their other friends, and so she had time to watch a lot of the action take place.

Xenophilius had slowly grown more and more quiet as the conversation progressed, Ron noticed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luna's shoulders sag a little; she had noticed as well.

Later on he started coughing. Oh, he covered it up with laughter when Ron confessed he'd found Luna a bit odd the first few times they met ("Odd? My little Luna? Good thing you changed your mind about that one, lad!"), and Ron didn't quite catch it because he was too busy wondering if Luna had ever told her father about some of her daily happenings at Hogwarts, such as people nicking her things and hiding them from her, or her nickname, "Loony." But Luna was quickly on her feet and asking him if perhaps it would be a good idea for him to rest for a while. Xeno stubbornly refused, saying that he wasn't tired. Ron was about excuse himself, saying it was about time to go home, when he spied something out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, do you play chess?" He asked, curious.

Both Lovegoods turned in the direction of Ron's stare. On top a side table in the living room, there was a delicate temperate-glass-and-quartz chess set; all the pieces were in position, and the light coming in from the windows made them shine lightly. "Not very well, I'm afraid," Xenophilius replied in a melancholy tone. "My dear wife, Lilandra, loved the sport. She brought that from one of our expeditions to Africa, before Luna was born. It's a muggle set," he explained, standing up from the table and walking up to the chess set. He fingered the pieces lightly as he spoke. "It was luck that I had sent it to be cleaned when our old house was destroyed," he added, with a dry chuckle. "Do you play, young man?"

Ron nodded and Xeno smiled at him, picking up the board. "Well, what say you and I have a little friendly match, eh?"

Luna insisted to her father that he should probably go and have a nap, but Xenophilius wouldn't hear of it. They started to play, and Ron had to say Xeno had been right in saying he wasn't very good; he took too little time to assess his next move and Ron quickly checked him more than once. The older man was good at getting out of his checks, but Ron got the feeling that it was more coincidence than anything else. Xeno's moves became sloppier and sloppier as the minutes passed; he seemed tired, his eyes half-lidded and his reflexes a little muted. He was also coughing a lot more, so much that he couldn't hide it. Oftentimes he would take his hand to his head, as if it ached.

When Ron checked him once more, he moved to get out of it, but he faltered, hand shaking, knocking down his rook in the process. Ron and Luna immediately jumped up to hold him up. He threw Ron a pained grimace. "Well, my wife was always better at this than I was," he said, from his position in Luna's arms. She helped him stand up and he nodded at seemingly nothing. "Sorry to leave the match unfinished, but I guess it is about time I rest some," he conceded, allowing Luna to push the chair away so they could walk around the table towards his room. Xeno assured her that he could walk on his own, and so she let go of him, standing beside Ron as her father took a few steps away from the table. Before he went, though, he patted Ron on the shoulder and flashed him a brilliant smile. "You're a fine fellow. You know, I'm glad you're not Harry Potter."

Ron thought of saying he was glad he wasn't Harry, too (maybe a little quip about not wanting to be that short, or half-blind, or messy-haired?), but instead he just chuckled. Luna shook her head. "It was a silly guess, Daddy," she said, her tone slightly amused yet still as ethereal as ever. "Of course it was Ronald." She laced her arm through Ron's, and he wasn't expecting the contact, so in a reflex he took his hand out of his pocket. She took it and intertwined her fingers through his, very lightly. "It's always been Ronald."

Something about her assertion made Ron turn look at her. She wasn't staring at him; her gaze familiarly unfocused and wandering about the room.

Xenophilius nodded at him as a goodbye, and kept on walking. Luna quickly excused herself and followed her father, in case he needed any help.

Ron stayed in the living room, feeling a bit lighter himself. The smile had placated his worry over the man's health; he was sure after some rest he would be back to his initial disposition, chattering about hats and feathers and strange imaginary creatures. He might be dying, but he wasn't going to go down easily. And that gave Ron a certain degree of comfort. Regardless of his first impression of the man, he could see now that Xenophilius was a good person, who loved his daughter above anything else. It was hard not to like him, even if he was a bit of a freak.

While Luna was away putting her father to bed, Ron picked up the discarded chess board and the pieces, setting to the task of putting them in their places. He thought back to the events of the evening. He was a little surprised to conclude that it hadn't been a bad day at all. He still felt a bit weird about this strange arrangement, but it wasn't as awkward as he thought it would be. He was glad to be able to help a friend, and he could even say he'd had fun. Who would've thought? He still wasn't sure how he'd ended up doing this, but it wasn't a bad deal.

Luna came back a few minutes later, letting him know that her father had fallen deeply asleep almost immediately. Ron walked up to her as she started to clear the dining table up. "Need help with anything?"

She shook her head. "Oh no, it's okay," she assured him in her usual dreamy tone. "I'll just set these to wash." She pointed her wand at the dishes so that they floated towards the kitchen. "It's late. You should go, Hermione must be wondering what's keeping you," she said when she finally lowered her wand.

He snuck a glance at the clock near the main entrance to the house and saw that she was right; however, he didn't feel right leaving just like that. He wasn't sure if Luna was okay, if she was feeling down about her father's condition...? She didn't seem affected, but then again, it was normal for her to look disconnected from the world, like she wasn't quite there. "Nah, I have a bit more time," he shrugged, scratching his head a bit. "Say, why don't you play one match with me? Your dad left me itching for a win," he grinned at her.

She only cocked her head to one side, regarding him quietly. Without any other answer, she moved to the table and occupied the chair her father had previously sat on. She was humming a song under her breath, but Ron hadn't heard it before. He sat in front of her; she was whites, so she was to begin. Similarly to her old man, she didn't put much thought into her moves. She started off with her queen-side knight, and Ron knew just how to play that game. "My brother Charlie also likes to open with his knights," he said as he made his move, if only to start some sort of conversation. "He was the one who taught me to play, you know. Well, not really; I used to watch over his shoulder as he played with Dad when he came back from Hogwarts."

He thought his comment might prompt her to say something about her mother, or at the very least about her father, but it didn't; she just kept humming and quickly moving her chess pieces. Ron was a little taken aback, but kept trying to fill the silence. He continued speaking as he analyzed the board, thinking of his next move. "This always reminds me of my first year," he commented, finally settling on a suitable strategy. "Then again, I guess playing against giant chess pieces should be hard to forget."

That did the trick. Her eyes got very wide-- wider than normal, that is-- and she leaned in, apparently curious. "Giant chess pieces? Were they hit by an enlargement charm by mistake? I don't suppose it'd be very easy to carry the set around, if the pieces are much bigger than you are..."

Ron's eyebrows rose in surprise. "You've never heard about McGonagall's Enchanted Chess Board? Oh, wow."

"It was Professor McGonagall's board? Well, I always thought she was a bit eccentric..."

Eccentric wasn't a word he would use to describe his former Head of House, no. But Ron chose not to follow that train of thought; he couldn't, in good conscience, let Luna go through life without knowing about the best-played game of chess Hogwarts had seen in more than 50 years. "Sit tight," he warned her, wiggling his finger at her a bit before taking his hand down to move his bishop out of danger. "This is a hell of a story."

He ended up telling her all about his, Hermione's and Harry's adventures on their very first year at Hogwarts. Even after they were done with the match (Ron won, of course; Luna was heaps better than her father at chess, but she was definitely no expert), he kept telling her about trolls, and unicorns, and charmed mirrors. When he paused for breath, she would make comments about how the three-headed dog must've been a cross between a Hibrillious Hydra of New Zealand and a house dog, or such things. But she was clearly enthralled by his stories, no matter what tangent she suddenly decided to get on.

About an hour and a half since they had started playing, Ron finally realized that he'd been at the Lovegoods' for far too long, really, and that it was better to go home or Hermione would have his head. Luna still commented as she walked him to the door on how much like an epic poem it sounded, the way the three of them (Harry, Hermione and Ron) had become friends. It was no wonder they were so close, she added as she stood to the side so he could put his jacket on. Ron knew she was feeling a lot lighter than she did when she'd left her father in his room. He was feeling more relaxed as well.

He shrugged at her comment. "That's life, I guess." Then he thought better about it, and rolled his eyes. "Or at least our life, that is." He chuckled, measuring in his head all the adventures he and his two best friends had gone through. "Well, thanks for everything. Lunch was really good."

She fixed her gaze on him, unblinkingly, as she often did. "Oh, no, thank you. You really didn't have to do this, you know. I just can't thank you enough."

"Oh, it's no problem, really. It was fun." He crossed the threshold. He was about to apparate, but then he remembered something. "Hey, you'll let me know if I need to come over again, right?" He replied to her nod with one of his own. "Good, then I'll see you soon." He flashed her a friendly smile over his shoulder and, wand at the ready, he disapparated.

Luna stood there, looking around at the lights of Ottery St. Catchpole, that had come alive a while ago, for a few more minutes, and then she went back in, closing the door behind her.

--

Ginny Weasley was looking at lights, too.

More specifically, at the lights of the Holyhead Harpies' training pitch; which she had come across while on her way to look up to the sky and beg Merlin for a sudden tornado, thunderstorm or similar natural disaster. Because that seemed like the only way their practice would be cut short.

She groaned as she flexed and deflexed her arms. She loved playing quidditch but this was seriously stretching it; they were overworking her! They'd been practicing since 1 pm, only stopping for a light snack, and it was now night time! She didn't know what her coach's problem was, but she suspected it had something to do with the meeting of the Board of Directors that night. She had a feeling the coach had been asked to present the newest additions to the team (herself included). Now, she had no problem with proving herself to the Directors, it was just that she wasn't sure she could prove anything effectively if she was as exhausted as she was now.

For goodness' sake, it felt like her throwing arm was going to come out of its socket.

Soon enough, their coach was calling them all back with a nasal "ladies!" that irritated Ginny to no end. She wasn't the only one who was irate-- the groan her team mates let out in unison at the interjection was enough to reassure her that they were all in the same boat. She laughed at the name-calling game that started immediately after; she didn't bring herself to join in, but she found it hilarious that "slave driver" was the least offensive of the insults she heard her team mates throwing at their coach under their breath.

The man was waiting for them by the home team bench, just a few meters away from the bleachers; they quickly gathered around him. "As you can see, the meeting is now over. It's time for you all to do your thing," he explained, pointing behind him, where about a dozen people were filing into the Presidential box and taking seats. Well, Ginny's theory about the Directors had just been confirmed. "As you know, we are, statistically, one of the strongest teams in the league this year, and there are high expectations..."

She tuned out the coach's voice as she let her gaze linger on the people coming into the box. She saw some familiar faces; she'd interacted with a few of the Directors when she was first recruited by the team, and she'd been on good terms with them. Most of them knew nothing about quidditch, anyway-- their interest in the Harpies was of an economic nature only. She didn't think the team would have any problem showing them they were good.

The last person to walk into the box caught her attention: it was a young man, about her age, with platinum blond hair, and wearing black robes trimmed with silver.

She hadn't seen hair nor hide of Draco Malfoy in more than a year. Not that she ever wanted to, of course.

Oh, she'd heard enough about him and his family over the course of the past year. Whatever Wizarding publication wasn't busy printing out stories about Harry, Hermione and Ron, was talking about the Malfoys. Except The Quibbler, of course; that one was more focused on Blubbering Humdingers, Ginny thought with a smile. But still, the issue of the fate of the Malfoys had been a hot topic for a long time. Lucius had traded information about the Death Eaters that still roamed the streets for house arrest, in lieu of a lifetime in Azkaban. Although more than half of his assets had been confiscated due to the fact that they came from dirty money and were related to Dark Arts, as a Malfoy his Gringotts account still held a lot of gold, and he was still allowed to invest. He was allowed to go out of his house for one day a week, 1 to 4 pm, to check on his business; he was always accompanied by an Auror, of course. He had no restrictions as to contact with his family-- Narcissa still lived with him, although Malfoy Manor was no more, and though Draco had moved out, he still visited his father frequently, or so it was reported.

Narcissa had been given a full pardon, thanks to Harry's declaration on how she had saved his life, the day of the final battle. Ginny hadn't seen her either, not since that day, but she had heard enough about her, seeing as she'd taken it upon herself to give "exclusive" interviews to every newspaper out there, most of them dealing with how proud she was that her and her son had been able to help Harry Potter, and how they realized the error of their ways now, and were willing to pay for their mistakes, if that was what it took to make the Wizarding World a better place. Nobody believed her, of course, but she still kept trying. Even now, every other week there would be mention of her in the papers.

Nobody knew how Draco had avoided serving time in Azkaban-- Harry had never mentioned anything about it to her, at least. Then again, most of the information about the trials was kept confidential by Ministry Rule, so he, and likewise Ron or Hermione, couldn't say anything even if they wanted to. The point was, in the end, he was given a mostly full pardon as well, save for several hefty fines he was sentenced to pay. Whispers here and there said that he had put money on several large companies and institutions, and was living off his inversions' profit. This checked out with the little tidbits Narcissa unknowingly let out in some of her interviews; but other than that, Draco had remained unusually quiet during the past year.

Well, that's one mystery solved, Ginny thought as she saw him take his seat.

The sound of her coach's whistle yanked her out of her reverie, and she looked back at her team mates just in time to see them start to head back to the pitch. She had to discretely ask one of them to let her in on which play they'd decided on for the demonstration, since she had missed the coach's entire speech.

The presentation went well. She didn't spare Draco Malfoy one more thought as she focused on nothing else but her broom, the quaffle, the goal hoops, and the shadows of her team mates as they flew around her, some playing with her, and some playing against her. This was one thing she loved doing, and was good at. There was no time to let post-war gossip into her stable world of quidditch.

As the team came down, to stand again by the home team bench, the members of the Board had come down to the pitch, as well. Some of them were clapping softly, as if impressed by their game play. Ginny knew, though, that most of them hadn't even really paid attention to it. This presentation was only a formality. She could count on one hand the number of Directors that were actually in it for the sport, and not for the money.

Those who were quidditch enthusiasts quickly moved forward to congratulate the team, shaking their hands excitedly, reassuring them of their excellent work and their high expectations for this season. She received quite a few compliments on her flying and eagerly discussed with them their strategy in regards to the other teams; which ones they were going to look out for, and such things. It was all very quick; most of these people were expected somewhere else after this and the players deserved their rest after such a hard practice, so the socialization part of the evening didn't take terribly long.

The Directors left the pitch as swiftly as they'd come in. She was just turning to take a shower when his usual aristocratic voice stopped her. "Weasley." She turned to look at him. Out of the corner of her eye she could see most of her team mates turning around as well, to look at them, curious.

She put on her most receptive expression. "Yes?" She had no idea what he'd want to tell her, but she had promised Harry to be civil to him in the case a situation such as this arose. And of course, she was an adult now; she wasn't one to hold a grudge or keep up with some silly family feud.

"That was dreadful. Stop hogging the quaffle to yourself; you refused to pass it, even when it was obvious that you didn't have a clear shot. You were throwing it directly at the Keeper, it was pathetic. And you should practice your catching. Flying and dodging was fine, but you missed three passes from McAvoy. That shouldn't happen in professional quidditch, and you'd do well to remember that."

His lazy drawl was still ringing in her ears as he turned around and left the pitch. Ginny was left standing there, mouth open in disbelief and completely speechless, staring at his retreating form. She could see her team mates throwing her worried and pitying glances as they retreated to the lockers, no doubt afraid of her reaction, from the way her fisted hands were shaking.

Why, she'd never been humiliated in such a way. Who did he think he was, to insult her like this? It wasn't even like he was the coach! He was just one of the Directors, he had no business telling her how she should and shouldn't play. And singling her out like this, in front of the whole team? The nerve! She hadn't done anything to him, said anything to him-- in fact, she'd done her best not to even look at him the whole time. It was obvious he was just looking to rile her up, and she wasn't going to take that.

Sure, she wasn't one to keep up with some silly family feud... unless provoked.

She promptly turned on her heels and stomped her way to the lockers to get her things. After practice she would usually shower there, then apparate back to Harry's flat to say hi, and then go back to the Burrow. Tonight, though, she couldn't follow that plan. First, it was too late to go to Harry's-- her mother never asked about anything Ginny and Harry did in private, but she was pretty adamant that Ginny not spend the night at Harry's place; it wasn't the decent thing to do, seeing as they were unmarried, she often said. And as much of a help seeing Harry, Hermione and Ron would be after such a stressful day, right now she had her mind set on taking a nice, relaxing bubble bath at her own home. Maybe it would placate the rage boiling up inside her. Yes, that was a good plan. She'd make sure to give Harry a floo call later.

--

When Ron appeared by her office the next day to ask her if she wanted to have lunch with him, Hermione didn't think it was anything unusual. He often did this, if he wasn't assigned to an operation, or cramming for some test he was supposed to have studied for the previous night. Harry often tagged along, although when he did, they usually went somewhere more private instead of to the Ministry cafeteria, else it would become a paparazzi-fest; some newspapers were still a bit trio-crazy.

She liked these lunches. Though her boys complained that she should be sick and tired of seeing their faces day in and day out, she could never agree. It was nice to get away from her stuffy office (she swore lawyers seemed to single-handedly produce all the fog in London by themselves. Was she the only one who noticed that? At least Oscar Wilde agreed with her...) and have some time with the two people she loved the most in the whole world.

It also made the office environment a bit lighter. Enid, the office's fresh-out-of-Hogwarts secretary, had a bit of a crush on Ron, so whenever he came by, she would be a lot less annoying. Hermione noticed this, and found it funny; Enid was a bit too air headed for Hermione to take her seriously. Besides, it did wonders for Ron's ego-- not that he needed anymore ego-inflation after that successful operation on Wednesday. Oh no, anymore hot air and he'd float away.

She saw Ron wave at Enid, who immediately blushed and started giggling, and had to contain a snort. He didn't spare the young girl another glance, though, instead walking straight for Hermione's desk with a smile. "Hey! I didn't see you last night when I came in; you were locked in your room."

She nodded. "I was working on that declaration draft. You got in late, didn't you? What took you?"

He shrugged. "Oh, you know. This and that. I, uh... might've stayed at Quidditch Quality Supplies a bit too long. Luckily Kreacher saved me some dinner."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Figures. What about your robe? Will they fix it?"

"Robe?" He seemed to blank out, but only for a second. "Oh, yeah, the robe. Umm, yeah, they said it'd be no problem. So, you ready?"

He only had to wait a little while as Hermione closed some dossiers and organized her desk a little bit, so she'd find everything easily when she came back. Harry wasn't coming with them that day, so they'd go down to the cafeteria: apparently Ron was dying to have a Marmite sandwich, and the cafeteria elves (not yet paid, but working on it!) made the best out there.

After they had ordered and Ron had scarfed down his sandwich like a malnourished 7-year-old (Hermione was still eating), he turned to look at her with a resolute expression. "I got you something."

Hermione looked up from her pasta, curious. "You got me something?" she repeated. "What's... the occasion?" she asked right after. Ron usually didn't buy her stuff unless it was her birthday, their anniversary or Christmas... he was really cautious with his money most of the time (unless it came to quidditch stuff), which Hermione always encouraged. She wasn't the type of girlfriend who expected her boyfriend to buy her things to prove his love; often she told him to keep his money to himself and not spend it frivolously, much less on unnecessary gifts for her. Whenever he did give her anything outside of those special days, it was because he had messed up somehow.

"Nothing. I just saw something and it made me think of you," he said, presenting her with a small, cubical box, gift-wrapped in a very colourful paper adorned with flowers that moved as if blown by a light breeze. He smiled at her, like encouraging her to open it.

She eyed him suspiciously, but took the box anyway. She carefully unwrapped it and pulled out a small, black object, made of a marble-like material. It was shaped somewhat like a star (Kepler-Poinsot great dodecahedron, her always analytical mind supplied) and set upon a very heavy, circular base. There was a small orange feather also situated in the base, which gave it a little colour. "This made you... think about me?" she asked him as she looked at it from a different angle.

Ron frowned. "You don't like it."

"No, it's not that," she immediately replied, not wanting him to feel like she was rejecting his gift. "It's perfectly fine for a... paperweight... it is a paperweight, right?"

His first response was a glare. "You don't want it. I can take it back," he said, reaching for it.

She kept it away from his grasp. "No, you won't. I love it." Or at least the idea of it, she figured. Black marble and orange feathers? Must be a Chudley Cannons thing. Honestly! She carefully put it back into its box so it wouldn't break, and set it to a side while she finished eating her lunch. "Thank you, really. But are you sure you didn't..." she struggled with her words, thinking how to put it so it didn't come out completely wrong. "Did... something happen?"

Ron's mind captured her words and supplied the accurate translation into straight-forward, no-nonsense language. "Merlin, can't I do something nice for you without being accused of doing something wrong?"

"So this is not because you feel guilty about something?" she insisted, her tone slightly cynical.

He rolled his eyes at her. "No! Blimey, Hermione, I just saw it in a store. It reminded me that just last week you were complaining about how all your papers get messed up every time an owl comes in for you. Gee, forgive me for being thoughtful."

She stopped giving him the third-degree and settled on smiling sheepishly at him. "I'm sorry. But you know what they say: you made your bed..." She set her fork down after she ate the last of her fettuccini, and the plate and other utensils immediately disappeared into thin air.

"Wow, thanks a million, Hermione. You of all people should give me more credit than that," he grumbled as he stood up and dropped a few sickles on the table. It was his turn to pay for lunch.

"I said I'm sorry," she insisted, getting up as well. After straightening up her skirt, she picked up the box and cradled it gently. "It really will be useful, actually. I was going to buy one this weekend; guess you just beat me to it."

"You know, if you really want to make it up to me, we could always... you know..."

He left the sentence hanging, but she got his meaning, and it made her laugh. She pinched him on the ribs for his impishness. "You're hopeless, Ronald Weasley. No, not tonight. I'm still not done with that declaration."

He shrugged, smiling mischievously. "Hey, can't blame a bloke for trying."

They walked silently toward the lifts. Ron moved to take her hand that wasn't occupied with his gift; he didn't want them to get separated among the crowd of people going back to their offices. She tried her best to stick close to him. Finally they got to the cramped lift, though they still had a few minutes until they made it to level four, which was where Hermione's office was located. Ron would drop her off at her floor, and then continue on until he got down at level two.

Ron was a bit... twitchy for most of the ride. Like he wanted to say something. She didn't push. "Hey, tell me something..." he finally started, not quite sure if he should ask. She motioned for him to continue. "Did wizards ever try to colonize the Amazon?"

"What?" Of all the questions he could've asked, that was probably the least expected one. She threw him such a look... almost like when they were in Hogwarts and he would say something that was completely off the mark, and she would have to correct him. When he saw her expression he immediately took the question back. "Never mind," he quickly muttered, looking everywhere but at her.

She was still looking at him like that, wondering where the hell that question had come from, when the lift reached her floor. Lunch had taken a bit too long so she couldn't stay and needle him about it for even one more minute. Squeezing his hand lightly and with a quick "I'll see you at home," she left the lift, along with some other workers she knew were also in her floor. She didn't see him purposely slap his head lightly as the lift doors closed.

Loooong and pointless author's notes!--

Hmmm... About a month, give or take a few days, huh? Don't get used to me writing this fast, I'm sure this must be some sort of record xD I'm sure it's only because I'm currently unemployed and have more free time than before. And it's 16 pages long. Not the longest thing I've ever written, but don't hold me up to this standard for every chapter. This one was long because I had to set a lot of situations up. In fact, that last scene almost wasn't included. I originally had Ginny confronting Draco about his words in this very chapter, but I felt I could stand not using it for another chapter. When I had to take that out, I thought it would be cute to add the R/Hr scene. *shrugs* About that, don't panic-- I know you don't want to read R/Hr or H/G, but I did promise it would end with the Portkey couples, didn't I? It's just going to take a little while. Be patient. I'll try to make the scenes with canon couples as easy to swallow as I can, because believe you me, I'm in no hurry to write mushy H/G either.

The one bit of R/LL from DH that got stuck in my head even until now, was the fact that Luna lived in a house shaped like a chess piece. I'm sure you noticed from this chapter, didn't you?

Cool thing about writing is that you always learn something new. I learned a bunch of stuff when writing this chapter. For example, I had no idea that Millionaire was originally British (BTW, yes, Chris Tarrant is the actual host and no, I have no idea if his hair is real or not). If you'd asked me what a Cottage Pie is, I would've replied it was some sort of dessert. And I had no idea Marmite even existed. Now I know better! :P

Little nerdy facts that only a geek like me would include in a fanfic:

--The Great Pyramid of Khufu (also known simply as "The Great Pyramid") is the biggest of the pyramids located in the Necropolis of Giza, in Egypt; the edifications in this complex are the only monuments that still stand and that are considered one of the seven wonders of the ancient world.

--A Hydra is a monster from Greek mythology that was said to have a bunch of heads. According to the Greeks there was only one, in Lerna, but I figure if Luna's going to mention it being an "unknown" (read: imaginary) creature, there would have to be more than one type, hence the "Hibrillious" kind. Hibrillious is... a word I made up. Um, yeah.

--I read somewhere a quote attributed to Oscar Wilde: "London is full of fog and serious people. I wouldn't be able to say if it's the fog that produces serious people, or if it's the serious people who produce the fog." I figured that Hermione, being the well-read gal that she is, might just know the quote and think somewhere along those lines.

--A Kepler-Poinsot great dodecahedron is a solid three-dimensional shape, a polyhedron, with 12 faces, kind of in the shape of a star. It's easier to understand if you see it. Again, this is one of those things I think Hermione would just know.

If it seemed like I knew my way around a chessboard, don't be fooled; the only things I know how to do in chess is how each piece is supposed to move, and how to lose in three moves. The name for Chapter 1 of 12 Fail-safe Ways... came from the fanfic of the same title by crystalline-blades. It's a very good fanfic (go read it!) and I hope she (he?) doesn't mind me shamelessly stealing the "Getting Started." The name for Luna's mother, Lilandra, comes from the X-Men comic/cartoon series: Lilandra Neramani was the Empress of the Shi'ar Empire in that series. She has nothing in common with Luna, but it was the first name that popped into my mind when I set out to think of one; sunk its claws into me and refused to leave.

Like I said in by ficlog, forgive me if "Creeping Borgols" sound like something come out of Star Trek. Next thing you know, Luna will be giving Ron a vulcan salute. And I know y'all hated my Xenophilius! No need to tell me, I know he was completely not like he should be. I definitely need to reread those chapters of DH before I go on with this.

If you want something to tide you over while you wait for the next chapter, be sure to check out my fic-LJ! I post snippets of my writing as I go along, you might like them. And for the love of all that is holy, please review! I got 14 reviews for chapter 1 (combining ff.net and Portkey), which is not bad at all, but when you take into account that those 14 represented about 1000 hits... not very impressive :( Really, though, there's nothing better to get me writing than knowing that you guys are reading this, liking it, or telling me what I'm doing wrong if you're not liking it. Seriously, everybody, please review! I swear I don't bite; only nibble a little ;3 -Carla.