A Rather Indecent Proposal by Carla

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Ron & Luna
Book: Ron & Luna, Books 1 - 7
Published: 15/08/2007
Last Updated: 15/07/2010
Status: In Progress

'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.




1. Chapter 1: Good Is Relative
------------------------------

**A Rather Indecent Proposal**

*Chapter 1: Good Is Relative*

**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.

**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.' His eyes almost bugged out. Every time he thought he'd seen her at her limit of
craziness, she managed to surprise him yet again.

19-year-old Ronald Weasley was having a *good* day. And it was only 2 in the afternoon, so
that was saying something!

It had been a good day since the sun came out, really, for the Auror department had given all of
its trainees the day off, as a reward for a rather well-planned operation they pulled off the
previous day, regarding an illegal artifacts bust in Knockturn Alley. With the senior Aurors being
too busy catching the Death Eaters that were still roaming the streets even after the fall of
You-Know-Who, it had fallen on the trainee's shoulders to handle less dangerous cases.
They'd prepared the bust all by themselves, and though the situation, "less
dangerous" as it was, was still a bit too much for regular trainees in other circumstances,
they'd done a damn good job and had gotten their strategy through. Allowing himself to be a bit
arrogant, Ron smirked. They'd been amazing, if he did say so himself. Of course, a day off was
the least they could be given after being so efficient. He was so proud, he almost gave himself a
pat in the back.

But anyway, back to today. So that's the story behind his day of freedom-- and what a
glorious day it was. He had slept like a baby last night, woken up late this morning, had all the
time in the world to make himself a wicked breakfast, took the most refreshing bath, and after that
he had all the peace and calm of an empty house all to himself for the rest of the morning. Ah,
this was the life...

At the moment, he was in the living room of the flat he shared with his two best friends,
sitting on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table, calmly watching a muggle footie match on
the telly-thing that Hermione had insisted they install. He had been talking to Hermione's
parents a while back, and felt a little left out as Harry and Mr. Granger embarked on a
conversation about the sport. That led to his interest, though he had to admit he didn't find
it as exciting as quidditch, and it was a bit complicated. Why have so many people on the team if
you were only chasing one ball, really? Muggles were funny that way. But his girlfriend had been
pushing him to try and understand muggles a bit better, since she was muggle-born and all, and so
he gave it his best try.

He couldn't help but rebel a bit, though. He took another slice of the family-sized
"Meat Eater Special" pizza he'd ordered, adjusting the box in his lap, and chuckled.
Hermione would kill him if she found out he was eating pizza on the couch, but after the operative
yesterday and him being such a good boyfriend, he felt he deserved a little leeway on this issue.
He didn't know where the rule came from, anyway; what could be so bad about him eating pizza on
the couch? It wasn't like he was two-years-old, he knew how to eat, he thought. So he'd let
a piece of pepperoni fall on the cushions ONCE; wasn't she ever going to forgive him for that?
Mental, that woman. But he still loved her.

All in all, it was a *good* day.

He narrowed his eyes at the image on the telly-thing.

And if the muggles could figure out how to make their sports easier to understand, the day would
be *perfect*.

As he washed down his pizza with butterbeer (he chuckled at the mental image he had of his two
best friends' expression if they knew of THAT particular combination), he tried to make sense
of what had just happened in his mind. Because something HAD happened in the match, the referee had
blown his whistle and everybody had stopped. What was it that Harry had said happened after the
referee took out a red card? Was one of the players expelled? Or was that after a yellow card? Or
was it two green cards? No, wait, green had nothing to do with footie, it was the third color in
the traffic lights, wasn't it... yeah, it was. Great, now he'd gotten even more
confused...

His eyes strayed from the tellyvision to his last slice of pizza. Well, at least the muggles had
gotten ONE thing right. Their "fast food" was *excellent*.

He was still pondering these... *deep* thoughts... in his head, when he heard the distinct
*ping* of the wards, detecting a presence around the flat. A *ping* meant the person was
someone they knew, and was on their "friends" list. Anyone else would get a harsher
sound, or at least that was the way Hermione had set them up, so that if a stranger with possible
bad intentions decided to try and get in, they would know, even if they were asleep at the time.
Ron had been quick to tell her that it was rather ingenious, and Harry had agreed.

So since it was someone he knew, Ron took his time to finish the pizza slice, clean up with some
napkins, and leave the empty pizza box by the trash can, before actually going to get the door.
When he finally got to opening the door, he found that his visitor was a very familiar
dirty-blond-haired woman. He grinned at the sight. "Luna! Hey, come on in!"

She smiled at him-- in her usual "not quite focused on him" way-- and stepped into the
flat. "Hello, Ron. How have you been?" she asked him, her voice every bit as dreamy as it
had been when they first met. Her hair was pulled back for a change, only a few long tendrils
hanging by the sides of her face. He thought it made her look older than her 18 years. However, it
also let him see that her earrings were shaped like bats, which made him chuckle. That was one girl
who wouldn't ever change, or so he hoped, at least.

"Good, good," he replied, closing the door behind him. Her long, floral-print skirt
waved behind her as she walked in, looking around the living room, probably seeing if anything had
changed in the place since the last time she'd been there. Or, knowing Luna, looking for some
imaginary creature that might have decided to make a home under their rug. The thought made his
grin widen. "It's been good. Listen, if you're looking for Harry, he's not here.
It's our day off, so he took Ginny out, they should be at Diagon Alley or something. And
Hermione's working, so..."

"That's okay, it was actually you I was looking for," she told him, still walking
slowly into the living room. She was now staring intently at the telly, coming to a stop near the
sofa where Ron had been sitting previously. "Is that West Ham?" she asked, pointing at
the moving images.

Ron blinked, rather owlishly. "Oh, you like footie!" he exclaimed, finally walking
back to his previous spot in little more than three strides. "Yeah, that's West Ham... I
think... they're the purple and blue, right?" He looked down to the telly as well,
noticing that the opposing team had actually scored a goal, probably while he was in the kitchen.
Luna nodded to his last question. He put his hands in his pockets, looking down at her. "So...
you're a fan?"

"Not really," she admitted, smiling as one of the players went up to the referee to
complain. Ron signaled for her to sit on the couch and so she did, him finally taking a seat beside
her, both still staring at the luminous screen. "Dean has been trying to teach me, but I
don't think I quite get it. He gets a little frustrated about it, sometimes," she
continued. Ron nodded, knowing the feeling. She continued speaking, her head inclined slightly to
one side as she observed the proceedings. "But I do find it entertaining when everybody starts
yelling and people in the stands start throwing things. It's certainly different..."

Ron almost giggled. Almost. "Luna, that's not part of the game," he told her in a
way that made him seem overly-knowledgeable about the topic. Never mind that Harry had to explain
the same thing to him the first time they caught a match on the telly.

"Oh, well, that's no good," she blinked a few times, faster than she usually did,
but otherwise her expression did not change. Ron wondered if this was Luna's version of a pout.
"I just don't understand why they need so many people to catch one small ball..."

He gaped at her, immediately noticing that she was mirroring his thoughts from earlier.
"Exactly!" he exclaimed, amused.

Luna, however, continued on like he hadn't said anything at all. "...I mean, maybe if
each of them used a net of some sort, instead of just kicking the ball towards the big net;
it's what Daddy and I used when hunting Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Of course, those had to be
rather bigger nets, because Snorkacks are much bigger than footballs, but they wouldn't need
nets that big, so they could carry them around the field..."

Ron just stared at her. Really, there was nothing else he could do.

After a while, her babbling died down-- not before she moved from the ever-popular Snorkacks to
some other creature whose name Ron was sure he wouldn't be able to pronounce anyway-- and he
felt he could finally get a word in. "So, um, you want anything to drink? I've got
butterbeer." He offered, snorting to himself straight after. That was something he
wouldn't have asked a couple of years ago; he wasn't much of a host, really. Hermione
certainly had him housebroken. Or "he had matured a lot," as she often told other people.
He knew "matured" meant "housebroken" anyway. He just found it funny by
now.

"That would be great," Luna nodded at him. So he went and got them butterbeers,
promptly coming back. He turned to her as she picked up hers. "So, what did you need to see me
for?"

"Oh, yes," she finally said, after taking a sip of her drink. "Well, I have a
rather... indecent proposal for you, Ronald."

One of Ron's eyebrows rose until it was hidden by his fringe. He could clearly hear his
thoughts in his head-- it was Harry's voice, how interesting-- say: "*...and at the top
of the list of things I never thought I would hear come out of even Loony Lovegood's mouth
is...*", but he verbalized nothing. What was there to say after such affirmation? He
wasn't even sure he wanted her to continue, but he had a feeling whatever this "indecent
proposal" was, it would be hilarious. He was torn. Luna stared right back at him, unaffected
by his baffled expression. She seemed expectant. Was she waiting for him to say something? He just
took a drink of his butterbeer and otherwise kept quiet.

After a while of silence, she continued, like awkwardness itself hadn't just flown by
between them. He should've known her long pause was just her being weird.

"I need you to be my boyfriend."

He almost spat out his butterbeer.

Good thing he didn't, though, or Luna would've ended up in a very sticky situation.
Literally. She was sitting right in front of him, after all.

When he finally managed to tone his almost-choking down to a moderate cough, he took a look at
her. She had bent towards him as he started turning purple, slightly patting him in the back in an
attempt to clear his airway, a worried expression on her face. "Ron, are you okay? Was it a
Winged Crinklewhack? I didn't see one when I came in, but it could still be, because
they're very sneaky like that..."

He took a couple of deep breaths before finally feeling alright. He kept staring at her, trying
to gouge if she had really said that-- the boyfriend thing, not the crinkle-whatever thing; THAT he
could believe she had said-- or if he had hallucinated for a second there. Luna's expression,
apart from her worry about his well-being after the butterbeer threatened to flood his lungs, that
is, was perfectly normal. He stared at her some more. She stared back. This time, though, the pause
was completely on him.

Finally, he started laughing. Luna stopped her attentions, a bit relieved that he wasn't
dying anymore. She didn't, however, join him in his mirth. "Ohoho, that was a good one,
Luna! Your boyfriend... haha, you almost had me with that one..." His amusement disappeared,
though, when he noticed she wasn't laughing as well. She was only staring at him. She
wasn't mad, she didn't seem disappointed; in fact, she looked her normal, airy self.
However, just the fact that she wasn't staring *quite* at him, more like *through*
him, made him feel uncomfortable all over again. He tried to avoid her vacant gaze, deciding to
wait for a while, to see if she burst out laughing later on, after the joke had passed, as she
often did. The silence stretched on, however, and Ron couldn't keep laughing nervously.
"You... are you serious?" He finally asked, cringing.

"Well, yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

Ron sighed, wishing he didn't have to do this. His friends had told him once that Luna might
have a bit of a crush on him, but he hadn't really believed them. Maybe he should have; he
would've been prepared for this, then. He had to let her down gently, he liked her a lot and he
didn't want to hurt her. "Luna, you... do know I'm with Hermione... don't
you?"

Well, of course she had to know. She had been present for much of their courtship, after all.
His attempts at flirting during the DA meetings, the whole debacle with Lavender Brown... she had
heard him scream his head off as Hermione was being tortured at Malfoy Manor. Not to mention that
they hadn't exactly been hiding their relationship the few times they had gotten together in
the past year-- she'd seen them hold hands, hug, even kiss. All their friends had seen it.
Surely she had to know.

"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. He gasped comically, jaw almost falling to the
floor in his shock. "You're bloody nutters!" he exclaimed in a strangled tone. He
almost wanted to pinch himself. Was he dreaming? These things just didn't happen in real
life...

Finally she did burst out laughing. "Oh, you're so funny, Ron!" She had to hold
her stomach, she was laughing that hard. For a second Ron thought she would finally put him out of
his misery and concede that everything had been a (cruel) joke, but she didn't. "I
guess... I guess I should explain where I'm coming from," she said, still giggling, as she
wiped the tears off the corner of her eyes. It took her a moment to finally compose herself.
"You see, now that I've graduated from Hogwarts, Daddy has been very worried about what
I'm going to do next." She turned away from him, staring at the telly once again.
"Since our house was destroyed last year, he's been talking about the two of us moving to
Switzerland, maybe him joining the G.R.O.W.L...."

"The what?" He asked, much against his will. He had asked, and now she was going to go
off on a tangent, and end up explaining nothing. Although, maybe that was a good thing...

"The G.R.O.W.L. Guild of Reconnoiterers of Organisms of Wizarding Loci. It's an
organization that researches Magical creatures." Ron nodded, knowing it would have something
to do with that. It was the Lovegoods, after all. "Daddy's really excited about that,
he's always wanted to be a member. But... I don't want to leave."

Ron frowned slightly, not quite understanding, or at least not understanding what this all had
to do with her asking him to be her boyfriend. "Luna?" he prodded, intending it to mean
that she should explain this a bit more.

She smiled, a little sadly. "See, you, and Harry, and the others... you're the only
friends I've ever had. Here... is the only place where I felt happy. Where I felt like I
belonged. And I don't want to leave that. So I told Daddy I had a boyfriend. One I couldn't
leave behind."

It was finally starting to dawn on Ron, what had prompted all of this. "Well... I'm
glad to hear that, Luna. I mean, you're a really good friend of mine, too, but... couldn't
you just have told him the truth? That you didn't want to leave your friends?"

She nodded, but then appeared to think better of it, and shook her head. "After the war, my
dad's been having a lot of problems because... well, because he aligned himself with the Death
Eaters. It hasn't been easy for him. People don't trust him much around here,
anymore." Ron silently agreed with those people, though. His last encounter with Xenophilius
hadn't been all that great. He understood why he had done what he had done, of course, but it
didn't make it any easier to trust the guy. "He saw Switzerland as some sort of Promised
Land. I thought, if I had to make him stay here and give up a happy life, it better be for
something that could make him even happier."

He frowned. "What, he was forcing you to find a boyfriend?"

Luna sighed, and looked down. Ron thought that was as close to sad as he'd ever seen her,
and it made him feel weird inside. It was just not right to see her that way. Unnatural, even.
"There's... one more thing," she continued speaking. She seemed hesitant. "Since
he came out of Azkaban, Daddy... he hasn't been the same," she admitted. Ron frowned
again. "He's weak, and he gets sick very often. The healers told us there's not much
they can do about it; the damage is in his soul. We... don't think he'll make it for much
longer." To her credit, she stayed together. Her voice didn't crack, her eyes didn't
water. She only moved to cross her arms, not quite hugging herself.

He felt a pang in his heart. He knew what it felt to lose a member of his family. He
couldn't even imagine what it would be to lose the only member of his family he had left.
"Luna..."

She smiled, though. "That's why he was in such a hurry for us to move. He wants to
finally be part of the G.R.O.W.L., before... well, you know." The smile then almost froze in
her face. "He's worried about leaving me alone. He keeps saying he wants me to be happy,
with someone who will take care of me. He was hoping I would find someone who shared my interests
in Switzerland, but I just... can't bring myself to leave. So when it came to thinking of an
excuse, it was the only thing I could tell him." She sighed again. "He was so happy to
hear that..."

Ron really felt for the girl. First she saw her mother die when she was nine; then, she was left
alone in the world when she was barely eighteen. That wasn't fair, not at all. "I'm so
sorry to hear that, Luna..." And he was, but other than awkwardly touching her shoulder, he
had no idea what else to say or do. He really wished Hermione or Ginny were here at the moment.
"You know, we'll always be here if you need us."

She smiled again, her eyes coming back to their usual dreamy state. "Thanks, Ron.
That's why I need your help, though! You see, it's been a while since I told him, and the
boyfriend hasn't made an appearance. Daddy's been asking to meet him... he's asking
questions. I don't really know what to tell him anymore. So I need someone to pretend to be my
boyfriend for a while, at least so I can convince Daddy that I'll be fine when he...
goes."

He looked around, thinking. He scratched his head a bit, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze.
"I understand that, now. And I would help you if I could, really. But why me? I mean, I have a
girlfriend. Surely someone else..."

"Well, I thought of asking Dean," she interrupted him in a rather matter-of-fact tone.
He let her continue. "But he's so deeply in love with me, I would prefer not to lead him
on. I don't want to hurt him, and I don't want to damage our friendship, really." Ron
shut his mouth with an audible click, and he stared at her with wide eyes once more. Dean, as in
Dean Thomas? Dean, who had been his roommate at Hogwarts for six years? In love with Luna Lovegood?
No way. Was that true, or was she pulling his leg? She had said all of this like she would say they
were having nice weather these days. It was hard to tell with Luna.

"I thought of Seamus, too, but since he's Dean's best friend, I figured that would
not go too well, either. It couldn't be Harry-- he has Ginny, after all, and his life is so
exposed, I wouldn't want to draw Daddy into that. Although for a while there he thought I had a
crush on Harry, you know. I think it was because the first portrait I painted on my ceiling was
his. But that was only because it matched my color scheme so well, you see. And his eyes make him
look rather dashing." Ron didn't know if he should chuckle there. Harry had told him about
Luna's ceiling, and he'd thought it was nice. Weird, a bit freaky, but nice. "I
haven't spoken to George much, and I wouldn't want to upset him anymore; I know he's
still grieving Fred. Then Neville is interning with Professor Sprout, so he can't be here, not
really. And I don't know any of my fellow housemates or classmates all that well. So you're
the only option I have. And I've seen how you are with Hermione; there's no way my dad will
think you're not good enough for me."

His mind was a bit dizzy after that big explanation. The one thought that stood out, was that he
didn't know if he should be flattered that she thought him to be a good boyfriend, or offended
that she came to him as a last resort. He kicked that little stray to the side, though, and focused
on the girl in front of him. "Won't he know about me and Hermione, though? We've been
in the papers and everything..."

"Daddy doesn't read other publications, not anymore. And we don't own a wireless.
You don't have to worry about him finding out that way."

He closed his eyes and rubbed them hard, trying to organize his thoughts. He couldn't let
her rope him into this. "I understand, Luna, but I just... I just don't think I can do
this. I'm not good at pretending. I know I'm gonna say something wrong and then the shite
will really hit the fan. It's just... not a good idea."

She moved forward and took one of his hands in both of his. "Please, Ron. You're my
only hope. It won't be anything big, I swear. Maybe a couple of dinners at my place, visiting
from time to time... Hermione won't even notice. And I promise I'll do everything I can so
you don't feel uncomfortable. It'll be alright. And... it'll be over soon, anyway...
I'm sure of it."

Her tone during that last phrase was so dejected, that Ron couldn't help but squirm. His
conscience was pulling and pushing him in two opposite directions: against, because he had a
girlfriend and it was... it was just *wrong*; and pro, because Luna was his friend, and her
father was dying, and he should do anything in his power to help her through her loss. He
didn't know which side to go with, it was too much at one time. With the girl holding his hand
so desperately, though, he couldn't help but start giving in to pressure. "This is...
really crazy, you know that?"

She started to smile again. "You'll do it, then?"

Ron sighed. "Yes. But if it starts getting weird, I'm out," he added. He
wouldn't go down without a fight. There were some conditions he had to add to the contract.

She nodded, assuring him that the whole thing was up to him. "Thank you, Ron! You won't
regret this, I promise." She stood up and made sure the glass of butterbeer, which she had
left on the coffee table when the conversation started getting deep, was stable. "I'll
call you to let you know when you can come visit, is that alright?"

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't quite believe he had actually agreed
to this madness. As he let the blonde girl out of his flat, though, a sense of impending doom crept
over him. He didn't like it one bit. He couldn't believe how a day that had started out so
good had ended up being so... strange. Oh, well, strange was relative, he figured. Just as good was
relative. All that he knew, was that his head hurt and all he wanted was to lay down and do
nothing, at least until his roommates came back home. Just rest and get all thoughts of this...
crazy arrangement out of his mind.

He really had no idea what he was getting into.

**Author's notes:** Wow, that came out way longer than I expected it to be O.o

Before I say anything else, I want to make a point clear: I'm aware that this puts me in a
minority within my ship (all my ships, really), but I LOVED Deathly Hallows. LOVED it. It's
right there on the top of my list, along with PoA. Yes, the epilogue was a little... *ick*,
but most of everything else I thought was just perfect. Read my review if you don't believe me. So
you see, I'm not writing this as a way of making myself feel better after being
"cheated" by Mrs. Jo. I'm not using this fic as some sort of Novocaine for my broken
heart. I just had an idea, and ran with it. For that reason, I'm not in any real hurry to
finish this fic. Add to that the fact that I'm just a naturally slow writer, and... well, I
wouldn't expect updates to come very quickly. Sorry.

In fact, I wasn't even going to type this up, much less post it, for a while. Why did I do
it, then? Three reasons: One, so I don't forget. And I quite like this idea, so I really
don't want to forget about it. Two, because, technically, I haven't really written anything
Ron/Luna and DH just left me itching to write them. Those couple of little R/LL moments, they were
some of my favorite parts of the book. And three, because if published, it would be the 111th R/LL
fanfic on Portkey. I like that number, so sue me xD

Please do review if you read! Your comments can only help me get inspired, it will never do any
damage. And if you still want to prod me to update faster, go right ahead, I could never get mad
about that, really.



2. Chapter 2: Not Harry Potter
------------------------------

**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.



3. Chapter 3: Mooveing Pictures
-------------------------------

**A Rather Indecent Proposal**

*Chapter 3:* Mooveing *Pictures*

**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:** There's some H/G interaction... *shudder*

**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.

Harry closed the door behind him and looked around his flat, sighing deeply. It was a bit of a
routine he had for Friday evenings, actually. They didn't live in a mansion or anything, but
the cozy living room was a sight for sore eyes; it never failed to remind him of how life had
started anew, after Voldemort. He was sure coming home when he was done with a week of hard work
wouldn't feel as good if he were still living at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

He chuckled at the thought. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that after working all
day, having to deal with the worst part of the Wizarding World, the last thing he needed was to go
back to such a dark, dreary place-- and of course, after the location was compromised during the
war, the Death Eaters had made sure to leave it even more dark and dreary than it even used to be;
Harry and Kreacher's combined efforts could not make a dent in the insane pile of work that
place needed. True to his personality he tried to deal with it himself, but after a while he had
started looking unrested and haggard, and snapping at everyone, and finally his friends had
confronted him and he'd come out with it. At some point of the conversation someone came up
with the idea of him moving (Hermione, probably), and soon enough both of his best friends were
jumping on board, and plans were made, and money was pooled, and when Ron was finally able to shake
his mother off, they moved in to their new flat. It was that easy; it almost seemed like they'd
all been thinking it and just waiting until someone else spoke out, they all agreed so quickly.

Well, except one. Kreacher had been behaving rather well up to that point, getting accustomed to
the three of them and their lifestyle... he almost didn't stutter anymore when saying
Hermione's name. However, when he heard the news that they were moving, he practically had a
stroke. He started ranting and raving, and muttering and whining, and just being overall annoying,
all because he couldn't believe they were leaving the ancestral home of the Black family to rot
just like that. Said he was tied to the structure of the place, and at one point he DID try to tie
himself up to a railing so they couldn't move him-- not that it did him any good, of course. By
then Harry didn't know how else to explain his motivations for the move. Hermione kept
reminding them that although he was setting them back, they couldn't deny what an incredible
display of loyalty and commitment it was, that he still cared so much for a family that hadn't
even treated him well. Ron couldn't quite use the same nouns to describe the situation. Harry
agreed with him. They kept quiet around Hermione, but Harry was sure that if Kreacher couldn't
cook, Ron wouldn't have minded leaving him tied up to that railing for a long while.

In the end, and only because Kreacher's magical pull to his actual master was stronger than
any emotional tie to his former mistress, they managed to get him to move. Months had passed since
then and he was doing much better, although he still got depressed once in a while. Hermione always
went out of her way to make sure the disgruntled Elf was doing okay.

And speaking of Hermione... that reminded Harry of something he had to do. He looked around for
her but didn't see her; he figured she must be in her room working, so he decided to go back to
his room and change before going to talk to her.

All of this started because, as soon as 6 o'clock rolled around, Ron had gotten up from his
cubicle and, already tugging off his itchy uniform robes, made his way to Harry's.
*"Hey, mate, you going home?"*

*"For a little bit, yeah. Why? You're not?"* Harry had answered, looking up
from the file he was reading.

*"I've got, uh, there's something I gotta do. Listen, could you tell Hermione
that something came up? Tell her that... that thing I told her a few days ago that maybe could come
up but I wasn't sure it would, so it was better if we didn't make any plans just in case it
DID come up, it came up. Tell her not to wait for me, okay?"*

Harry had replied that he wasn't sure he could manage to get that... whatever Ron had
said... to ever come out of his mouth. Ron let him know that he could paraphrase if he wanted to,
so long as the main idea was relayed to Hermione in the end. Then he promptly ran out of the Auror
Department, leaving Harry behind to ponder if he had even understood what the main idea was, and
wonder just where Ron was going in such a hurry.

He walked back out to the living room, now wearing fresh clothes. He was saved of having to look
for Hermione when she walked out of the kitchen with some silverware in her hands. "Oh, Harry!
You're home already, good. Dinner is almost ready."

He followed her to the dining room. "You cooked dinner?" he asked, curious. Hermione
didn't usually cook; she said that, even if she *could* cook-- she was perfectly able to
follow a recipe, honestly-- the role shouldn't fall on her by default just because she was the
only girl. The boys didn't much care; after all, that's what Kreacher was there for.

She nodded with a smile. "Yeah, we made dinner. Kreacher wasn't feeling too good, so I
asked him if we could work on it together." She left the forks and knives on the table and
promptly pointed her wand at them, so that they set themselves up in their respective positions,
beside the plates and glasses that were already there. "I think we did a good job of it,"
she said with a half-shrug, but Harry wasn't fooled; she had the same expression she often had
back at Hogwarts when you asked her what grade she had gotten on the last Charms test and she said
it wasn't important, but you found out later she had gotten 112 percent on it. No, she was
excited about this dinner, probably because of the House Elf's cooperation. Kreacher had never
allowed anybody to cook with him, much less Hermione. That was surely a milestone, even beyond the
household. "So... where's Ron?" she asked, before she went back to the kitchen to get
more stuff.

Her question brought Harry back to the task at hand. He didn't follow her into the kitchen,
but turned in her direction so that she would hear him. "Yeah, I was going to tell you about
that. He said something came up. Supposedly he'd already told you something about it? He said
not to wait for him," he explained, putting his hands in his pockets as he waited for her to
come back out.

"Oh, yeah, the Seamus thing... Well, I guess I can store up the food..." She was
walking out of the kitchen, carrying a pile of napkins, but she slowly stopped as she thought to
herself.

"Wait, what Seamus thing? Where's Ron going?" Harry asked, now confused. For all
he knew, Seamus was still out of the country doing some sort of recruiting job for the Ministry.
What was this all about now?

Hermione threw him a surprised look. "What do you mean? Seamus is back in town and he, Ron
and some other guys are going out for a drink. You didn't know? I assumed you were going with
them."

He crossed his arms, thinking of how strange it all was. "No, I had no idea. Seamus is
back? Huh, I wonder why they didn't invite me..." he asked, feeling a bit torn. He was too
curious to be angry, but he did feel a bit miffed that he wasn't in the loop for this one.
Especially since Seamus was so rarely in London. He'd have to have a talk with Ron about
this.

"I'm sure there's a good reason, Harry," she reassured him, moving on to take
the napkins to the table, as well. She smiled at him when she was done. "Take a seat, then!
The food is just about ready, I just have to go and tell Kreacher. I'll save Ron's portion,
he can eat it tomorrow..."

"Erm, actually, I'm going on a date with Ginny," he interrupted her before she
could continue making plans. "I just came home to change. Sorry."

"Oh." She looked so dejected, he might as well have just told her he didn't want
to knit hats for the Hogwarts House Elves with her. "That's okay. I understand. I can-- I
can save the food for tomorrow, I guess."

At her expression, Harry started feeling something funny in the pit of his stomach. "Uh,
but you know what? Maybe I can come back early... we can have a late dinner. You and Kreacher
worked hard on this," he rushed to offer, hoping this made her feel better, so he could stop
feeling guilty for leaving. Damn Ron for not being here; he could've used some back-up.

"No, no, that's okay, Harry, don't worry. You don't have to do that for me,
it's not like this is important, it's just a silly dinner... Just go with Ginny, have some
fun," she told him, with a small smile. Harry noticed that it didn't quite reach her eyes,
and the twinge in his gut intensified.

"No, it's not a problem. I mean, we have to go to the gallery, because today's the
last day of the exhibition... And I was planning on eating out and then going to see a movie
afterward, but now that I think about it, we can just skip the movie, come back and have dinner
here. You made food for Ron, right? Then I'm sure there'll be more than enough for
Gin." He put on his most convincing face, while mentally calculating if he'd even have
time to do such a thing.

Hermione looked like she was going to argue, but stayed quiet for a while, looking back at him.
He threw in a smile and she finally relented. "Okay, if you really want to, I guess I can wait
a while. But if it bothers Ginny, don't even try, you hear? If you're not here by ten,
I'll just go ahead and eat without you. Got it?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he grinned, and quickly went back to his room so he could finish
getting ready for his date. Hermione, for her part, went back to the kitchen to check on Kreacher
and the food, and let him know of their dinner plans.

--

As soon as the squeezing sensation in his gut disappeared, Ron let go of Luna's arm and
turned to check himself. He'd gotten better at apparition and disapparition than when he first
learned, of course, but he'd gotten splinched enough times that he knew you could never be too
careful. Especially since Luna had side-alonged him, so he wanted to be absolutely sure he was in
one piece.

After concluding that he was, indeed, whole, he looked around, to see where Luna had brought
him. Curiously enough, they were now standing on a sidewalk in what seemed to be Muggle London. Had
anybody seen them appear out of thin air? He hoped not, or they would be in big trouble. The street
was pretty much empty, though, and all the small, quaint shops that were around were closed by now.
He could see it clearly because the night was clear and bright, a very nice late-summer night. He
wasn't exactly sure where they were or why they were there, but the place seemed very
secluded.

He went to ask Luna about their location, and saw her similarly looking around at the buildings,
down the street, up at the starry sky. For one frantic second he was scared that even Luna herself
didn't know where she'd apparated them; however, the fright passed quickly as he remembered
that her seemingly-curious exploration of their surroundings was just the way she usually behaved.
So he just put his hands in his pockets and decided to ask anyway. However, she spoke before he
could open his mouth.

"Well, this place looks nice enough. You can go home, now."

That caught him off-guard. "Go h-- What? I thought we were going to... go
somewhere...?" he asked, confused. "We can't just go back, we just left. Your dad
will think..." He trailed off, noticing that Luna didn't look at all affected by anything
he was saying. "What d'you mean?"

Luna continued gazing up and about. "Daddy was only required to see us *walk out*
together," she said in her usual dreamy tone, as if that simple phrase explained all.

He scrunched up his face in even greater confusion. She didn't offer any more comments, but
instead quieted down and started shifting her weight from leg to leg as she looked straight up at
the sky, hands lightly extended at her sides. *This girl is completely barmy*, he thought.
"So... we're not going anywhere," he stated, more than asked.

He almost thought she wasn't going to reply, until she spun on her heel and stopped abruptly
towards him, her skirt and straggly hair half-wrapping around her torso as she did. She regarded
him with an amused smile, leaning slightly toward him. "Silly Ronald, it's not like
we're *really* dating," she said, lightly chuckling. Ron immediately felt a warm
blush start to rise up his neck, though he wasn't exactly sure why he felt embarrassed.
"Daddy can't see what we do after we leave the house. You don't have to be here;
can't keep disappearing on them like this, right?"

Now he could see what she was doing, and he admittedly felt a little stupid for not having
understood from the get-go. He had just assumed that they'd be doing something else, not just
*leaving* together. But this worked, too. "Yeah, that... makes sense, I guess," he
finally said, sheepishly taking his hand to the back of his head. Luna took this as an adequate
reply and quickly went back to twirling and looking up at the stars. Ron kind of wished she would
just stay *still* for a second; at times talking to Luna was like talking to-- air, or
something like it. You couldn't be sure she was actually there, or somewhere else
altogether.

Something crossed his mind then: "Wait. But you can't just go back to your place. What
are you going to do until the date's supposedly done?"

She let out a noncommittal hum, which Ron took to mean she had heard his question, but other
than that, her position didn't change at all. He leaned against the light post that was beside
him, waiting for her to reply. It wasn't until a while later that she did. "Maybe I'll
take a walk. It is a nice night for a walk, don't you think?"

"By yourself? Here?" he questioned immediately, a little concerned. The night was
clear, and the streets were deserted, but it was late and it wasn't right for a girl to be out
there alone. "Do you even know where we are?"

Luna nodded to his last question, but said nothing else. Ron wondered to himself what she would
say was the most accurate description of their location-- A muggle neighbourhood? London? *Planet
Earth*? It wasn't like she was standing in some place she knew; there was *nothing*
here. They were just standing at some corner. "I don't think that's a good idea, Luna.
It could be dangerous. I'll stay with you."

"I am a witch, you know," she said, pointing to the wand that she carried behind her
ear.

Ron knew she had a point. She wasn't likely to be approached by any wizards on this street
that seemed so removed from the Wizarding World, and she probably could take care of any muggle
that came near her; he remembered that she had been the only one to come out mostly unscathed from
the Department of Mysteries battle, although how much that had to do with her just not engaging in
confrontation, he wasn't sure. He was pretty sure she could defend herself if it came down to
it... but no, it was just wrong. He couldn't just leave her like this. There were all kinds of
crazies out there; and of course, his mother would kill him if he left her alone and something
happened to her. If his mother ever found out, that was. But still, he couldn't bring himself
to just go. "It's not that," he tried to convince her. "It's alright for me
to stay. I thought we were going to hang out, so I already told Harry and Hermione not to wait up
for me. Really, it's not a problem."

"You don't have to do that," she said, her tone now a little matter-of-fact. She
had stopped spinning, although she was still looking up. He wondered if that made her neck hurt--
she'd been looking up for a long time. "You already did what you said you'd do, and
that's enough. I don't want to waste more of your time. You don't need to stay now, if
you'd rather be somewhere else." She sounded rather detached, but not in her usual way;
she was putting emphasis on her words, really trying to get her point across. It was... unusual to
hear her like this.

"But I wouldn't," he told her, and he actually meant it. He would be feeling
concerned all night if he couldn't make sure she got home safe. "Honestly, I don't
mind staying. Just humour me here, okay? I had fun the last time. And I'll feel better knowing
you're not roaming the streets by yourself. Not to mention that Hermione would probably be even
more suspicious if I got home early after saying I wouldn't. If she yells at me, I'm
putting the blame on you," he chortled, just thinking of what Hermione's expression would
be if he came out with *"Luna forced me to come back home!"* as an excuse. Last
words that would ever come out of his mouth, for sure.

Luna laughed as well, heartily, almost too heartily (as she often did), finally looking down and
at him again. "You're funny, Ron."

She still hadn't accepted his company, though. "Unless... you don't want me to be
here? If you don't want to be around me, you can say it," he threw out, wondering if it
could be true. She was being a little distant tonight, but he had no idea if he'd done anything
to make her mad at him. *Could* Luna even get mad at anyone? He doubted it. Which would make
him feel even worse if he had screwed up somehow.

She shook her head as her laughter subsided. "So you'll walk with me, then?" she
finally conceded, taking her wand out from behind her ear and twirling it between her fingers,
somewhat like a baton.

He grinned at her agreement. "Wicked. Actually, I was thinking that maybe, since we're
in the muggle world and all, we could go to a cinema. It's been a while since I've seen one
of those *moovey* things," he offered.

Luna's eyes widened in curiosity. "*Moovey*? I've never been to one," she
said, her tone half-amazed and half-excited.

"What, Dean never took you to a cinema?" She shook her head emphatically. "Wow.
We definitely need to go, then. You'll love this, I'm sure. You have to see the things
muggles come up with..." He started looking around in his pockets, muttering something about
Hermione exchanging some of his galleons into muggle currency in case of an emergency. When he
finally found what he was looking for, he led her by her wrist down the street, looking for a
better apparition point than just out there, on the sidewalk. She skipped beside him, eager.

--

"...And I really had no idea that still photography could be so evocative! They didn't
actually move, but they captured the *essence* of the movement so clearly. It was everything
there is to love about Quidditch really: the intensity, the ardour, the thrill... I don't know
how she did it, I tell you, but clearly Marlene is a wonderful artist. Every photo-- the whole
thing-- was just so beautiful! It's amazing."

Ginny blabbed excitedly about the exhibit they had just visited, her hand intertwined with
Harry's, swinging back and forth in wide arcs, showing just how delighted she felt at the
moment. She wasn't usually into art or photography, but her team's official photographer,
who was a friend of hers, had embarked on a project based on describing Quidditch through muggle
photography, and it had just this week reached the exhibition stage, so Ginny couldn't miss it.
And she was glad she didn't, for she had loved it. She had even made it into a few of the
pictures! Much like any little girl in the world, at one point in her life it had been Ginny's
dream to become a model. She had outgrown that particular fantasy fairly quickly, but now at least
she could say one of her childhood dreams had come true, albeit in an offhanded kind of way.

She turned to her boyfriend to ask his opinion, only to notice with a twinge of annoyance that
he wasn't really paying attention to her. Oh, he was nodding at all the right moments, yes, but
she caught him right in the middle of looking down at his watch... for maybe the hundredth time
that evening. She let go of his hand and asked, half curious and half irritated: "Alright,
what is it?"

Harry caught himself in mid-step, surprised at her actions, like he hadn't quite noticed
that she wasn't talking anymore. "Uh, what is what?"

"You've been fidgety all night." She examined his profile. He wasn't looking
straight at her; instead, his gaze was sketchy at best, sometimes on her, then shifting away, like
he was nervous about something. "You know, if you have more important matters to attend
to..."

Harry cringed. She could see he was trying to come up with an explanation, or at least one last
attempt to pretend he hadn't been busted. "Not more important. *Not--* more
important..." was what he eventually used as a reply, rather weakly, but shaking his head
emphatically as he spoke.

Ginny's hands went to her hips. Not a sign of good things to come, if her mother's
behavioural pattern was used for comparison. "That's good to know. Now, really, what's
going on?"

"Promise me you won't get mad." They both knew it was a really stupid thing to ask
for; she wouldn't go for it, and people always got mad anyway. It was Murphy's Law or
something. Still, he felt compelled to make the request, and she humoured him.

"Okay."

"Really?" He sounded so surprised, it was almost funny.

"No. Out with it, Harry. Please, before I turn eighty?"

He sighed, and ran a hand through his messy hair, resignedly. Having no other way out, he
proceeded to tell her everything that had led up to that moment, from Ron's strange escape from
the Ministry to Hermione convincing Kreacher to let her help him cook dinner, and her
disappointment that nobody would be there to eat their food. He finished by explaining his promise
to come back and have dinner with Hermione. When he came to an end, he stepped back and looked
expectantly at his girlfriend, hands in his pockets.

Ginny listened to him attentively, wondering why it took so much prodding just to get him to
tell. Now he was looking like he was dreading her reply, and it was starting to amuse her. She knew
he sometimes panicked when it came to understanding girls, but to be this scared? The more she
delayed her reply, the more frightened he looked, and she found it a bit hilarious. Finally she
decided to put him out of his misery. "That's all? I don't know why you'd think
I'd be mad about going back to your place and having dinner with Hermione," she replied,
with a small smile. Harry let out the breath he'd been holding at her words. The tension in his
shoulders was released and Ginny couldn't help but chuckle out loud at his expression.
"Harry, if it'll make her happy, then I have no problem with it! She's my friend too,
you know."

Harry sheepishly scratched his neck at her laughter. "Sorry. I know. It's just that the
last time I was roped into something like this, the girl I was with went bonkers on me, and...
Well. I, uh, didn't want you to feel bad, or that I prefer Hermione over you or anything. I
know girls don't like to hear about other girls while they're on a date with a bloke. I
guess I didn't want a repeat-- you know, I've learned since Cho," he finished, his
chest puffing out a bit.

It promptly deflated as she mock-frowned at him, crossing her arms. "Oh, please! Geez,
Harry, I'm not *Cho*. Really, I should feel offended."

He smiled at her, pulling one of her hands into his and tugging her closer to him. "I know
you're not. *She* would've been bawling her eyes out by now." As she twined her
hands behind his neck, holding him lightly, he was hit with inspiration. "And I'll
definitely make it up to you. You really wanted to watch a movie, right?"

"Yes?" she answered, wondering where this was going. She'd already agreed to go
back to Harry's flat and join him and Hermione for dinner, after all.

"Well, then we'll just swing by a video store and rent one, and all three of us can
watch it after dinner. How's that sound?" he said, untangling her arms from his form and
starting to lead her in the direction of the nearest Blockbuster.

"Wait, but how can that be? You don't have a *moovey* theatre at home." Ginny
pulled him back, confused. She'd never heard of such a thing. She thought *mooveys* were
only shown in theatres; that's what they're built for, right? If you could watch
*mooveys* at home, then why build theatres at all?

Harry stopped, understanding that she'd never heard of videos before, and tried to explain
as simply as possible. "It's like this: movies aren't on theatres forever. After a few
weeks of showing, theatres take them down. But then a few months after they're taken down, the
movie companies release them as videotapes-- just a little black rectangular thing that has the
movie stored on it. You can rent these tapes, or buy them, and take them home; then, if you have a
video player, you can watch them on the telly whenever you want. Get it?"

Ginny's eyes opened so wide, it was almost comical. She wasn't usually much too
interested in muggle stuff (Harry was always far more interested in her explaining *to* him
some aspects of magic he hadn't yet been introduced to) but this particular tidbit apparently
fascinated her. Never had she seemed more Arthur Weasley's daughter than at that moment.
"On the *tellyvision*? You can *do* that?"

Harry laughed at her expression. "Yes, we can do that. Now come on, or Hermione will think
we're not coming." She nodded at him, and they continued to stroll down the street,
chattering pleasantly.

--

They left the theatre in a flurry of excitement, all big eyes and wild gesturing (well, mostly
on Ron's part) as they commented how much fun that movie was and discussed just how was it that
muggles managed to make things fly in their *mooveys*. Ron was struggling to retell
Hermione's lecture about muggle *kormpyooters* to Luna, but his effort to remember his
girlfriend's words was lost on the blond girl anyway, as she was quite convinced that the
people in the movie were able to hover above the ground because they had some... floating
zoo-whatsits (he couldn't be bothered remembering the name)... stuck to the soles of their
shoes. "They're flat, like hotcakes. So it doesn't bother them, you know."

It was about ten-ish, and they thought it'd be okay to call it a night and go home-- or they
were planning to, until they were interrupted by Ron's growling stomach. He knew Luna
didn't want to leave her father alone at their house for too long, so he sheepishly asked if
they could instead grab a quick bite somewhere before going back. She agreed to this request, and
promptly suggested a restaurant where she'd used to go with her parents when she was younger.
He'd never heard of the place, but he was really hungry so he quickly agreed. Which led him to
his current position...

...which was sitting in an octagonal table with Mars poking at his ear every once in a while.
Literally.

*I should've known*, was the mantra that was currently running through his head, and
had been, really, since this whole fake-boyfriend business with Luna had started. At times he
forgot who he was with, and so the eccentricity of the situations he found himself in caught him by
surprise.

The restaurant was, as it often happened with wizarding locales, far bigger on the inside than
it seemed on the outside. It was astronomy-themed, but it was more than your usual rotating star
chart on the ceiling; it was more of an actual sidereal experience than just a simple d�cor. The
whole place was dark, the only light coming from the stars that scintillated in their surroundings.
Even the floor was, as far as his eye could see, not there at all; he was standing, yes, but to
anyone looking it would seem as if he was floating in the dark void of space. It wasn't cold,
though, and for that he was thankful. Deathly silent, though; he couldn't even hear a murmur of
what other people were saying, although he could see the patrons conversing among themselves in
each table. There were random bursts of shimmering dust clouds as galaxies extended their arms from
the furthest reaches of the establishment. And of course, a glowing, transparent, almost
Patronus-like small-scale model of the Solar System-- complete with a tiny Sun sitting comfortably
at one of the foci-- orbited around each octagonal table.

Normally Ron wouldn't have made a big deal out of this, as weird as the place was, but it
seemed the little planets each had a personality of its own. Not only did some of them attempt to
race each other down their orbits, which effectively distracted even the most focused of patrons,
but some of them even cozied up to people and decided to gravitate around them instead, as
evidenced by ickle Marsie right there, with the incessant poking. The orbs weren't substantial
enough for it to hurt, but it made his ear itch a little and after a while it started to get
annoying.

The place was so off-the-charts that he could do nothing but stare in bewilderment at his
companion, who sat closer to the Sun and seemed completely unconcerned with the celestial bodies
hovering around them, even as Uranus remained stagnant near her left shoulder, its rings lightly
tangling through her hair. "I think I'm too dizzy to eat," he said, a bit
overwhelmed.

Luna blinked her large grey eyes a couple of times, head slightly tilted as she regarded him.
"Are you, really?"

Ron could imagine that, had any of his mates asked the same question-- Harry, Seamus, even his
brothers-- a mocking tone would be present. *Ronald Weasley has lost his appetite? Alert the
media! The world must be ending!* But when the question came from Luna, he only got the feeling
that she was genuinely curious. That, or just asking something for the sake of asking. Either way,
it didn't make him feel defensive so he had no qualms about answering truthfully. "Uh,
no," he admitted, with a chuckle. With a flick of his wrist, he lightly shooed Mars away from
him, and then looked down at the table, eagerly reading the menu that was on display there. As
crazy as the place was, if the food was good, he had no problem with it.

"So, you used to come here with your folks?" Ron asked a while later, as he licked his
fingers clean of cheese sauce. He had cringed a little at the price, but now he decided that the
Milky Way chicken on rocket leaves was worth every penny. He'd have to come here more often...
*if* he could convince any of his friends to ignore the d�cor of the place, that is.

Luna nodded as she picked up some of her own food on her fork. "I've always liked
astronomy. When I was little, Daddy and I would sit back and look at the stars, wondering what
kinds of creatures could be living in each of them." She paused to take the food to her mouth,
her dreamy gaze lingering around the place until it settled on the little blue planet that
flittered by her shoulder. "Many nights, I'd stay up until very late, waiting for each
planet to tell me its story. There's so much to learn from them..." she added, finally
putting her fork down. Her plate, along with Ron's, disappeared a second later.

"That one seems to've taken a liking to you," he quipped, laughing as Luna petted
the phosphorescent orb. Dimly he wondered if they'd be getting a menu of desserts soon; he was
craving something sweet, like pie or maybe some ice cream... or pie with ice cream...

She nodded as Uranus started rapidly rotating under her hand, almost like it was happy. "It
is the domicile of my sun sign, that must be the reason," she tried to explain. Ron, however,
had no idea what that meant, and so it kind of went over his head. Her next move, however, did call
his attention. "But I always had a soft spot for... this one," she said, stretching her
hand until the smallest of the globes nearly flew into it. The little planet seemed content to
remain orbiting around one of her fingers.

"What's so great about it?" he asked. He wasn't even sure which planet that
was-- it was either Mercury or Pluto, but he always got those two confused because they were so
small. Either way he didn't see the appeal, they were both pretty plain, grey, no rings, they
didn't even shine...

Luna didn't seem to share his opinion, though. "Oh, Pluto is very special," she
affirmed, nodding with wide eyes at the overexcited vaporous sphere. As if understanding her, the
thing started circling her hand even faster. "Many people don't really see Pluto, because
it's the smallest planet and it's so far away. They never get close enough to see that it
can also be very beautiful."

Something about the certainty in her voice drew him in. "What do you mean?"

"Well, do you know the history of Pluto?" Ron shook his head. He figured he should
know this stuff, having taken Astronomy classes for quite a few years at Hogwarts (he could hear
Hermione's voice reprimanding him in his head-- *"Honestly, Ronald!"*) but the
little details escaped him. Luna then started her explanation, which he would usually have found
dull, as he was never into history, but somehow the way she put it made it seem more of a tale than
a lecture, so he listened attentively, entertained. "Many centuries ago, people didn't
even know Pluto existed. Everybody was interested in knowing more about our system, but since they
couldn't see that far away, nobody knew there was anything beyond Uranus. These wonderful,
gigantic new worlds were so amazing, all the attention was focused on them. Then mathematicians and
arithmancers began to describe the movements of each planet with numbers and formulas. One day they
realized that the formulas for Uranus didn't fit well enough. There had to be something
beyond," she concluded.

He had to laugh at her dramatic tone at the end. It was like she was reciting epic poetry
instead of spouting off facts. Still, he remembered enough of his astronomy classes to remember
that Neptune come right after Uranus. She continued, explaining that Neptune wasn't big enough
to explain the disturbance; people still thought there was a bigger planet back there. "When
they found it, many, many years later, they realized that it was actually much smaller than they
expected. Suddenly the discovery wasn't as exciting as they had hoped."

It was ironic: The girl was usually so weird that you wouldn't expect her to know these
things, but now that he thought about it, he realized there must've been a reason for the
Sorting Hat to put her in Ravenclaw. In fact, it almost seemed like a topic Hermione would bring
on, but Luna delivered in a way completely unlike Hermione's. But one thing was for sure: this
tale had driven all thoughts of sorbets and pastry out of his head. Something tugged at Ron's
heart at her words. He felt a bit ridiculous for it, but he was starting to feel for the little
guy. If there was one thing he understood, it was being overshadowed by your bigger, more talented
brothers. He didn't voice such personal thoughts aloud, though, except for a neutral (or so he
hoped) "That's... a bit pathetic, really."

Luna looked at him, almost with a frown. "Oh, but I don't think so! In fact, at first
glance it seems very common and ordinary, but Pluto has many of the characteristics that make the
other planets interesting." She grabbed the model of the planet and started bouncing it
between her hands like a ball. "It's mostly solid, like the inner planets." Soon
enough she stopped her movements, holding the sphere in the palm of her hand as it started shining
intermittently. "It can reflect the Sun's rays, like Venus, so it's amazingly bright
for its size." After one more, brighter burst of light, the little ball started spinning on
itself quite rapidly. "And its axis is tilted by more than ninety degrees, so it's almost
laying horizontally, like Uranus."

She blew on the planet and it zoomed away from her, until it started orbiting again, this time
around both of their heads. She smiled as she saw it move, leaning on the table so she could see it
better. Ron was equally mystified by the small object, eyes solely on it as it flew by him.
"And then there are the things that make it different from all the others," Luna
continued, and it was only then that he realized she had moved closer. She wasn't looking at
him, but, as unrelated as the words were, he felt like she was trying to drive a point. He
didn't know why it felt like that, though. "Like, for example, its orbit is very
irregular. The formulas can describe it most of the time, but in the long run, nobody really knows
how it'll act. It could change its mind and go down roads nobody ever expected."

"Really?" he prodded, deciding not to comment on the fact that planets don't have
minds. He was starting to get the feeling that they weren't talking exclusively about Pluto
anymore.

She nodded energetically. "Yes! And there's Charon, its moon. It's almost the same
size as Pluto, so in reality they both spin around one axis, like a carrousel. It's an unusual
find, but the force between them is so strong, that it keeps Pluto's orbit a little more
stable. Without Charon, Pluto might have been expelled to outer space at some point." That
didn't sound all that great to Ron, and as she swept her gaze by him, Luna noticed he was
frowning. "It's a good thing, really. Mutual help. There's nothing else like it in the
Solar System," she assured him. He coughed weakly, trying to diffuse his expression, knowing
that it would be foolish of him to be affected at all by Pluto's co-dependant situation-- it
was just a story, after all, it had nothing to do with him personally... For some reason he was
getting way too involved in this tale...

"...And then there's the best part." Ron almost jumped. He'd gotten so caught
up on his own musings that he'd forgotten to keep listening. Her voice had surprised him a
little. "Did you know that sometimes Pluto isn't the last planet of the System?" His
eyes were fixated on her as she spoke. She wasn't looking at him, although she was facing him;
her gaze was instead fixated somewhere behind him, but her eyes held a special shine that, much
like the high tone of her voice, betrayed just how excited she was to be sharing this story with
someone. Not wanting to bring down her elation, he didn't comment, although he was mostly sure
such a thing wasn't possible: Pluto was the last planet, and that was it. He'd never heard
anything about it crossing over Neptune's orbit, as Neptune was bigger and more powerful.

She must've seen his disbelief. She rolled her eyes amusedly, and smiled. "It's the
truth, really. It has something to do with the angles of the orbits, and their gravities fixing the
disturbances that exist between them. At some point, the two orbits cross, and for a little while,
Pluto is the eight planet, and Neptune is the last. Perfect collaboration."

She sounded so certain that he couldn't help but feel convinced. In his head he let out a
cheer for the little planet-- not always last, that was good. Then he felt that tug at his heart
again; through Luna's narrative, she'd somehow made him feel as if the planets were really
characters in a story. Which shouldn't happen, not at his age at least, when he should be over
children's tales. Yet he felt for these "characters," little Pluto especially,
perhaps because he identified with them somewhat... being overshadowed and wanting to be
acknowledged... perhaps even more than that... He was entranced. "You... said this happens...
for a little while?" he asked, his throat feeling somewhat parched all of a sudden.

She nodded. "Their orbits are erratic. For a few years, they may cross and be stable, but
after some time, they will each go back to their respective trajectory and position. They help each
other, and influence each other, and accommodate for each other in their way, but in the end,
they're individual entities, even if somewhere in time, they worked as one complex."

Ron didn't understand why this last piece of information made him feel... bad. Like it had
hit a nerve he didn't know existed. He started feeling very uncomfortable with this topic. It
made him want to just ask her to stop talking and go back to whatever it is they were doing before
this Pluto thing started.

And he would have, but she spoke before he could. "It's rather sad, though..." At
that moment she stopped looking at the vast space behind him, and her eyes fixed on his, no longer
excited but... empathetic, somehow, even if he couldn't say what it was she was understanding
about him, and he wasn't sure he wanted her to understand whatever it was... yet he
couldn't look away.

"Sad?"

She nodded, not once looking away. "Yes, it's sad... because their orbits may cross,
but they're both still revolving around the Sun..."

He didn't know how long they sat there, gazing at each other in silence, her expression
contemplative, while he seemed bothered. After a while her last words finally started to sink in,
and he found himself straightening up in his seat (he hadn't even noticed he'd been sitting
at the edge of it) and clearing his throat nervously. "That's, uh, interesting, Luna. So,
do you think you'll want dessert? I think I can go for something sweet right now..."

At the word "dessert," the after-dinner menu popped up in front of each of them, and
Ron dove right in, thankful for a distraction. That conversation had, unexpectedly, left him
thinking about... things... and he really didn't want to go into that at this moment. He
didn't want to admit that her seemingly irrelevant story had hit so close to home. All this
information made his head feel heavy. At this time he really just wanted to go home, and get some
sleep, and maybe, just maybe, he'd go back to this in the morning. Or some other day. Or not at
all.

After they were done with dessert (a bread and butter pudding with custard and caramel that was
every bit as delicious as their entr�es were, he had to give them that) he accompanied Luna home,
both noticing with relief that all the lights were off, which meant that her father was probably
sleeping and well.

He waited until he was sure Luna got in alright, and then apparated back to his flat. He was
received by the television still on, showing some preview of a *moovey*, while Harry and
Hermione slept comfortably in front of it. Hermione was sitting on the couch, legs up to one side,
with her head resting against the armrest. Harry, on the other hand, sat on the floor, just a
couple of inches removed from where Hermione's legs were. He'd probably sat there with
Ginny, they usually curled up down there while watching the telly. Harry's head, in his sleep,
had rolled back and now rested against Hermione's calves.

It gave him pause for a moment, what with all that he'd been trying not to think about, and
in his head there were flashes of orbits crossing and Merlin knows what else, but after a second
Ron simply walked in, shook Harry's shoulder lightly so he'd wake up and figure out what to
do with Hermione, and then turned off the television. With no words spoken, he marched on to his
room and fell asleep as soon as his body touched the bedspread. He fell asleep so quickly that he
didn't even hear when his two best friends went back to their respective rooms.

**Loooong and pointless author's notes!--**

Told ya it would take longer. Forewarned is forearmed.

I set out to make this chapter different than the last one, and I don't think I got it.
Firstly, I ended up with the exact same PoVs that I had in last chapter, which really bothered me.
As for the rest, most of it I really like, but at parts it seems to go up and down, and there's
bipolar Ginny and sissy Harry and it kinda irks me a bit, but since you've all been waiting so
patiently I'll just leave it as is for the moment. And why, yes, I *had* watched *Goblet
Of Fire* right before I wrote that first scene. How did you *know*? ;3

Now, if there's one thing I love almost as much as I do writing, it's astronomy. I'm
sure you noticed. That restaurant Ron and Luna went to might just be my natural habitat ;) So I
might've gone a little overboard here-- I hope it doesn't discourage anybody, I promise it
won't be this heavy for the rest of the fic. I just needed Luna to use analogies to make
certain points and get Ron *thinking* about stuff. Let me know if you understood the
analogies, or if you didn't, feel free to ask me questions, whether through a review or via my
fic-LJ. Preferrably the latter, since there I
can make my answers longer if needed. BTW, pretty much every fact stated about space in this
chapter is true, although some were over-simplified for Ron's benefit (and of course, that of
my readers). Yes, I compare inanimate celestial objects to fictional characters and use the
comparisons as plot devices. Feel free to call me the biggest nerd on Earth.

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

--Weekly DVD-video rentals only first outnumbered VHS cassette rentals in June 2003. (Remember,
in this fic the calendar currently marks some day in late August, 1999).

--In September 2006, the International Astronomical Union (IAU) redefined the term
"planet" and as a consequence, Pluto was classified, not as a planet, but as a
"dwarf planet." Before that, Pluto was always considered a planet, since its discovery.
(Again, remember that we're in 1999 in this fic).

--Totally random but fun bit of information: The verb "to pluto" exists. It's been
approved by the American Dialect Society and it means "to demote or devalue something."
So be sure to speak up if you're being plutoed. Also, March 13 is Pluto Planet day in New
Mexico (the state where the discoverer of Pluto, Clyde Tombaugh, lived in for over fifty
years).

If you ask me, while I understand and respect the IAU's decision regarding Pluto, and think
it correct and a long time coming, Pluto will always have a special place in my heart, as a planet.
*whips out pompoms* I LOVE YOU, LITTLE GUY! My mnemonics can't work without you :)

As for Luna mentioning something about her sun sign: I'm so anal about my canon, that I
often need to know even the smallest detail, like a birthday, to feel comfortable. Luna doesn't
have an official birthday, so I just mentally assigned her one. I always thought a February 29
birthday would be absolutely perfect for her, but alas, it's impossible, for 1981 wasn't a
leap year. So I continued my search. You know, as much as I think astrology is just a bunch of
bull, I have to admit it's the easiest way to assign a birthday to someone. And Luna, IMHO, is
like the *perfect* Pisces person. (I would know, I've had to go through almost 23 years of
my life being the *worst* Pisces in existance-- well, me and Ron, I guess, since we're
both pretty similar). However, Aquarius also fit her pretty well, so I selected a random day in
February (the 7th, because I like that number) and decided, hey, that'll be Luna's birthday
for me, from now on! It was only later that I found out that, for a person born at any hour on
February 7th, 1981, his or her Sun sign is Aquarius, while his or her Moon sign is Pisces.
Don't ask me what the heck a Moon sign is, because I haven't the foggiest idea... I just
thought it was way cool! xD

Thank you all so much for your kind and helpful reviews! I've tried my best to reply to each
and every one of them, and answer your questions if it was in my power. Your comments definitely
make me feel like writing more of this :) I'm very glad you're all liking it so far. I got
17 reviews after posting chapter 2, and I kinda lost count of the hits so the number of reviews
seems pretty good anyway :3 Please continue to let me know what you like or don't like in my
fic! Any comment, no matter how small, is appreciated.

As for next chapter... I'm afraid I can't give you an ETA or even promise it'll come
soon. I don't have it as well-thought out as I did this one, or the ones after. In truth,
it's more of a filler chapter. I can tell you one thing, though, and maybe it'll keep you
interested: Chapter 4 takes place during September 19th. Does that give you any ideas? ;) See you
when I see you! -Carla.



4. Chapter 4: Twenty Candles
----------------------------

**A Rather Indecent Proposal**

*Chapter 4: Twenty candles*

**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.

**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.



"Ron, I really think we should come back after lunch."

"Don't tell me that now! We're already here; might as well just go in,
eh?"

"I just don't want us to miss our reservation. We're cutting it close as it
is..."

"Not like you'll be sitting for a thirty-minute speech! Mum just wants to congratulate
you. It'll take half a second."

"But won't it seem rude--"

"Oh, just go on!"

"Alright, alright, I will! But you've told her, right? That we're going out for
lunch."

"Yeah, I've told her already. Will you just go on?"

"Yes, no need to push me, Ronald! ...Hey, where is everybody? I don't think I've
ever seen your house so empt--"

"SURPRISE!"

Hermione would fervently deny it later on, but she jumped back a good eight feet when dozens of
people suddenly appeared into the Weasleys' living room. It took her half a second to catch her
breath after the scare, and she found herself stunned still and wide-eyed as every person in the
room stared at her and grinned for what seemed like ages. No words could come out of her mouth,
even as it was rather ungracefully opening and closing to the rhythm of her agitated heart's
beating. Finally, she gave up on asking for an explanation, realizing that the surprise had
effectively rattled her enough to render her speechless (that's a tip they had to save for the
future, Harry would quip later on, when teasing her about it); instead, she turned around towards
her boyfriend, who stood a few feet behind her, laughing so hard that you'd think her
expression was the funniest joke ever told since the one about the horse that went into a bar.

She pointed to him, accusingly. "You... but... then lunch..."

That was as far as she got before she was caught in a giant bear hug by Ginny, not to mention
Parvati Patil, Terry Boot and what seemed to be half of the Wizarding World.

Ron's mirth finally calmed down as Hermione was dragged away towards the crowd of
well-wishers. "Oh, I am so good," he told Harry, who had come to stand beside him, hands
in his pockets, also chuckling at his bushy-haired friend's reaction. "She didn't even
have a clue."

The bespectacled young man snorted lightly. "Yes, Ron, you absolutely deserve an
Oscar." He continued speaking before his best friend had the opportunity to ask what an Oscar
was and why he'd want anything to do with some strange fellow: "You're late, by the
way."

Ron shrugged. "Yeah. She insisted on going back to Hogwarts to see how Madam Pince was
doing with the Library restoration. She wanted to add some books to the requisition list-- said
expanding the students' information base was important or something like that. Wanted to
include new editions. You know how she gets around books."

"Could've let us know, though," Harry insisted. "Your Mum was just about
having kittens here."

The redhead's hands laced comfortably behind his head. "Sorry, I guess. Didn't want
her to suspect. You know she notices the smallest things."

Harry's eyebrows rose so high, they were partially hidden by his messy fringe. "Of
course. My bad. Glad to see you were able to accomplish your mission so efficiently, I mean,
it's not like bringing Hermione here was the *only* thing you had to do..."

His sarcasm was not lost on the youngest Weasley boy. "Oh, quit whinging, Harry; it's
unbecoming of the Chosen One." He jokingly shoved Harry on his shoulder. "Alright,
I'll help more next time, I promise. I've just been busy."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I know now not to even try. Don't want to distract you from your
secret life." Ron's head whipped very quickly towards his at that phrase, his eyes
slightly widened and his appearance a bit alarmed, like something wrong had been said. This made
Harry a bit curious. "What *have* you been doing, anyway?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but instead took in a big gulp of air, making a pause before
responding. "Oh, nothing. Just... you know... uh, studying." He shrugged, making it seem
like this was nothing out of the ordinary, even though the rest of his body language said he was
still slightly on edge. "That quiz on confession rights was a killer and I really wanted to
cram as much as I could." If it had been any other person, he might have called Ron in on his
shaky response or his skittish mannerisms. Harry, though, was more interested in what Ron had just
said. He threw the redhead a surprised look. "What?" Ron said back, feeling distinctly
uncomfortable under Harry's gaze.

"Studying? For this whole week? I've never known you to study a week ahead." His
tone was distinctly disbelieving.

At any other time Ron might've been offended that Harry was taking the mickey out of him
about his study habits (and he sounded honestly astounded too, the git!), but at the moment he was
more concerned with ending this train of topic right there. "Yeah, I just... er, I thought
Hermione would appreciate that... more than any simple gift, you know. Don't ya
think?"

Harry at least looked like he bought it, even though it was out of character for Ron.
"Yeah, I guess that makes sense."

"Thanks for thinking so highly of me, by the way."

"Always here to support you, mate." Harry grinned at Ron's sardonic tone. Ron
mock-glared at him. "Next time just warn us, though. We were waiting for a long time and Luna
was quite happy to tell everyone about some buzzing creature that, according to her, likes to hide
inside inflated balloons. Soon she had half the guests with their ears stuck to the bundles
outside, trying to hear some sort of noise. I think your Mother was contemplating locking her up in
the attic until you two arrived," he finished, laughing openly but warmly about the
eccentricities of their mutual friends.

Normally Ron would've laughed, but instead Harry's words have driven him to stillness
again. *Out of the pan and into the fire*, he thought. "Oh, um... Luna's
here?"

Harry threw Ron a look that indicated just how redundant that question was. "Of course
she's here. She's friends with Hermione, isn't she?" Ignoring Ron's weak nod,
he pulled his hands out of his pockets and lightly scratched one with the other. "Well, I
guess it's time to mingle now," he said, not entirely sure how he felt about the fact. A
surprising amount of people had shown up to celebrate Hermione's birthday... Hermione herself
had gotten lost in the mob of people somewhere in the past few minutes. He knew all of the guests,
and it would be great to catch up with many of them, but Harry wasn't really a party
person.

Ron knew how he felt about this particular crowd, though-- he had no desire to go in and come
across certain people; he wouldn't really know how to act around them, and he didn't want
any awkwardness. So he decided to make himself scarce, at least for a while. "Uh, I think
I'm going to go up to my old room to look for something. I'll come down in a few."

Harry nodded at him and was out of his range of view quickly enough. With a sigh, Ron headed
upstairs.

--

Molly Weasley looked around at all the guests, a smile on her face, basking in the satisfaction
of a job well done. The party was in full swing and everybody was having fun. Many people had
commented on her excellent pumpkin pasties (she was very proud of those, she'd given an old
family recipe a hip new twist), and the decorations had managed to stay up despite the Lovegood
girl's insistence that there was something wrong with them.

Her smile grew delighted as her eyes moved to Hermione, who was near the door to the backyard,
chatting with Hannah Abbott, Mandy Brucklehurst and a few other girls. She looked happy, if a
little winded (she'd been pulled into just about every group of people in the house today-- for
finding herself an unknowing hostess, she had picked up the pace of the party quite easily). Molly
was happy to see her glowing, she had been working very hard lately and she was such a good girl,
she deserved to know people cared about her and wanted to wish her a happy birthday.

That's why, when Ron and Harry had come up to her with the idea of throwing a surprise party
for Hermione, she hadn't even thought about it for a second before letting them know that they
needn't worry because she'd take care of everything. Sure, Hermione was a little *too*
forward-thinking sometimes, and they may not see eye-to-eye all the time, but she was a wonderful
girl, and Molly loved her like she was her own daughter.

Perhaps one day soon, she'd become Molly's daughter for real.

But she shouldn't be thinking of such things today, there were still many details to
oversee. Besides, Ron kept getting twitchy and Arthur kept throwing her those
*"Molly..."* looks whenever she brought the topic up. So today she would keep mum
about it, in hopes that her actions may speak louder than her words, and give her oblivious
youngest son a push in the right direction.

At that moment, Mundungus Fletcher passed next to her, little Teddy Lupin hanging from his ankle
in the older man's grip, the baby squealing in delight through the whole ride. As she lectured
Dung on the correct handling of infants (and wondered for the nth time just who had invited him to
the party in the first place... wasn't he supposed to be in jail?), she remembered why
she'd come out back in the first place.

She moved towards the group of girls in front of her. "Excuse me, girls... Hermione,
dear?" she asked as she stepped discretely in between Mandy and a sandy-haired girl whose name
she didn't really remember.

The bushy-haired girl's eyes widened as Molly approached. "Mrs. Weasley! Merlin, I
haven't even had the opportunity to talk to you at all-- thank you so much for all of this, it
was such a wonderful surprise." She moved forward to hug the older woman.

Molly embraced her back warmly. "Oh, no need to thank me, dear. It was all Harry and
Ron's idea anyway, I just helped with a few details here and there." Alright, so maybe she
was being a little modest about it considering she had actually spent the last two weeks thinking
of nothing but party plans, but that was only proper.

After the required thank-yous and compliments to the decorations were exchanged, and the rest of
the girls had moved on with their conversation behind them, Molly hurried to let her know what had
brought her there: Charlie had bought a wonderful new camera and she had thought it would be a good
idea to take some group photos, preferably before lunch was served so they wouldn't have to
wait for people to finish eating. Hermione thought this was a great idea and agreed to round people
up for the photos if Molly would help Charlie set everything up.

"I think I saw George chatting with Katie Bell by the main entrance, I'll be sure to
let him know," Hermione assured Molly, starting her own mental list of people she had to look
for.

"Very well, dear. Oh, and I think Harry was standing to the back of the yard, with Ernie
McMillan and Oliver Wood. Let him know as well, he can't be left out of the Weasley family
photo." Hermione nodded her assent. "Now, where is Ronald? I thought he was with you, he
should help."

"Ron? No, he's not with me," Hermione looked around, as if noticing for the first
time the absence of the tall redhead. "Actually, I haven't seen him since the
surprise..." she added, pondering if indeed she hadn't seen at least a glimpse of him in
the last while.

Molly frowned. "Ooh, that boy, I swear... He's your boyfriend, he ought to be here with
you as you greet the guests. Why, I'll be sure to give him a talking-to when I find him,"
she affirmed. Then, she turned her frown to Hermione. "You two haven't been arguing again,
have you? Not on your birthday, I hope. Oh, I swear that boy wouldn't know tact if it walked in
front of him carrying a big sign."

"Oh, no, everything's alright between Ron and I, Mrs. Weasley. And it's quite fine
by me that he's not around, I'm sure it wouldn't be much fun for him to have to be with
me through all the girl-talk I've been doing," she was quick to brush Ron's absence
off. There were so many people here, they'd probably just drifted into different groups. She
didn't mind.

Molly wasn't wholly convinced by her reply, but didn't push anymore. Saying goodbye to
Hermione for the moment, she proceeded to go ahead and look for Charlie. She'd just go and tug
on Ronald's ear later. "He'd better not be trying to sneak into the kitchen to try the
food, though..." she muttered as she left, and Hermione laughed at that.

--

When Arthur Weasley poked his head into what used to his youngest son's room, he found Ron
slumped on his old bed, legs hanging off the end of it, glaring at the low ceiling like it had
committed some sort of travesty against Wizardkind. Relieved that he wouldn't have to keep
looking for him in every other room in the house, Arthur let himself in, leaving the door only
half-open after him. "So here's where you've been hiding," he quipped, startling
Ron away from his staring match with the ceiling to look at him. "Your mother's been
looking for you. She's insisting we get some family pictures taken."

The younger man frowned at that. "She's fretting about that now? We haven't even
eaten yet."

"I think that was probably the point," he explained, not being able to help an amused
smile at his wife's antics. He took a few more steps into the room, giving a curious glance
around. "So, why are you holed up here? There's a party downstairs."

Ron didn't move any more than needed to reply. "Just thinking. Don't feel like
being around so many people, I guess."

Arthur was surprised by this. "That doesn't sound like you," he moved closer, to
sit on the bed beside his son's denim-clad legs. "Besides, it's Hermione's
birthday. Shouldn't you be by her side?"

Ron shrugged as best as he could with his shoulders being hindered by a pillow. "She's
a big girl. I'm sure she's having fun on her own."

The young man's words did not have any particular inflection other than being slightly
hesitant, so Arthur was sure Ronald wasn't actually angry. Whenever he was, he could not keep
it out of his tone. This time, though, he sounded more avoidant than angry. "Is something
wrong?" A thought occurred to him and he frowned. "Did you and Hermione have a fight?
Because, Ron, whatever you did, I'm sure she would still want you around..."

Ron gave a sigh that bordered on a groan, and threw an unamused glance at his father. "No,
Hermione and I are fine. And thanks for assuming it's always me who messes up, by the
way," it was his familiar tone of sarcasm, more than anything that let Arthur know that
whatever it was that was bothering Ron, it wasn't something terrible. It was a relief; the
everyday woes of young men, that was easier to deal with.

The older man let out a chagrined chuckle. "I'm sorry, son. I'm just curious about
why you're up here. Must be quite some thoughts to keep you from fun and good food..."

Arthur left the last phrase hanging, letting his son know that he could open up to him about
whatever it was that bothered him. Ron seemed to be considering this choice, and was silent for a
while. Then he pushed himself off the bed and sat beside Arthur, looking down at the floor.
"Dad, have you ever done anything that's not... correct, but you know it's the right
thing to do, because you're helping someone?"

The older Weasley grew pensive. "I'm sure I must have, at least once," he said,
his voice completely honest, if not absolutely certain.

"So, how do I deal with it?" Expectant and hopeful to hear something that could help
him, he looked up to catch his father's advice.

Arthur responded with a nonchalant movement of his head. "I guess that depends. Is it
illegal?" Ron immediately responded in the negative. He didn't sound surprised that his
father would ask such a thing; given Fred and George's antics and Arthur's own shed full of
Muggle trinkets, they were not the poster family for upholding the law, as good as they were. The
question was bound to come out at some point. Arthur nodded at that. "Then... are you hurting
someone?"

That gave him pause, Arthur noticed. The older man watched his son, the expression on the young
one's freckled face changing as he thought. Finally, he answered. "I'm not. Well, I
don't think I am. I don't think it would..."

"All right," Arthur acknowledged that assertion, "then you have nothing to feel
guilty about." He tried his best to be reassuring.

But Ron didn't seem to understand that conclusion. "But that's just it, Dad: I
don't feel guilty. I mean, should I?" He sighed, obviously still confused. "But I
don't. I just feel... awkward. Like, I don't know how to act around... certain people
anymore."

Arthur sympathized. "The Erumpent in the middle of the room, eh?"

Ron nodded dejectedly. "Yeah." Looking up at Arthur again, he shrugged, not as
expectant. "So, what do I do?"

The father thought about it for a few seconds, but then turned to his son, shaking his head.
"I'm afraid I can't tell you, son. All I can say is, if you're really helping this
person, well... that's what matters, really. Everything else will fall together around
that." Ron contemplated this, and after a while nodded, accepting that his father's words
held promise. Then Arthur stood up and gave him a pointed stare. "In the meantime, you
can't keep avoiding everybody just because you feel awkward."

Ron chuckled as he sat up as well. "Sure I can. For a little while longer, at
least."

Arthur shook his head at Ron's cheek, but laughed. "Perhaps find a different hiding
place, then? You need to come down now, or your mother will have a fit. You can go back to avoiding
everybody after she's had the photographs taken." He clapped his son's shoulder in a
supportive gesture. "All the food is hidden in the kitchen, if that's an incentive."
Ron laughed heartily. "Yeah, the kitchen sounds good." Together they walked out of the
room with a slight hurry in their step, understandably hesitant to incur in Molly's wrath if
they were late for the picture session.

--

Harry had to laugh at the pandemonium that was the Weasley's living room at the moment.
George and Lee had taken command and had set up the entire room, where most of the younger crowd
had been stationed previously, as a dance floor with a wave of their wands. Furniture had been
shoved aside and people had been pulled up and into the centre of the room while the terrible two
found all kinds of out-of-place music for the group to dance, that had everyone in stitches. Not
even the birthday girl was safe from it, as he'd clearly seen Hermione being (very reluctantly)
led around by Lee to the beat of that annoying "One More Time" muggle song that had
become so unfathomably popular that had even invaded the Wizarding Wireless.

Having lost his girlfriend and all current conversation partners to the swaying crowd, and
having never been one for dancing, he discreetly made his way outside (read: he ran for it), lest
he be dragged into the craziness as well. He went on to the dinner table, picked up some pumpkin
juice and a small second helping of Molly's delicious lunch menu, and continued on to go sit on
the picket fence that was the limit of the back yard.

From that point he could see the Weasleys' house in its entirety. This new, Ministry-issued
house didn't have the same feel the old one had, hence why no one could bring his or herself to
call it The Burrow anymore. It was simply a different place. For one, Bill, Charlie and George no
longer lived there, and Fred, well... he, uh, wasn't around anymore (he cringed as he thought
this), so neither of them had rooms there anymore. Ron had one, though he had moved out to share a
flat with Harry and Hermione, and Ginny had one as well. Both their rooms and the master bedroom
were not as large as they were at The Burrow, so there was no need for the structure to be as
lopsided as it had been back there (though, if he cocked his head just the right way...
perhaps...). There was no orchard, no chicken coop, the broom shed was considerably smaller, and
the pond was now located outside the property limits. Still, it was home for the Weasleys, and that
made it a home for him, as well. It may not be The Burrow, but it was a good place to be in.

He was so wrapped up in his musings that he didn't notice Hermione coming up to stand beside
him. She greeted him, then moved to sit on the fence as well. She was panting lightly; all the
excitement had left her out of breath. "So, having fun?" he asked her, offering her a sip
of his pumpkin juice.

She politely declined. "I am, actually," she said with a big smile. Harry was very
glad to hear that. "It was certainly a big surprise."

Harry had to laugh at that. Imagine Hermione Granger having no clue about something! It was a
nearly impossible feat, keeping it secret. For the past two weeks, he had lived entirely paranoid
that someone would say something and spoil the surprise. He was happy that it had worked, and that
she was enjoying it. "Well, that's what we were going for, so... happy birthday."

"Thanks," she gave him a light hug. She accepted his offer of a forkful of mashed
potatoes, once she had caught her breath. The delicious morsel was the topic of conversation for a
few minutes, as they observed the rest of the guests mulling around the yard. As her eyes settled
on one person in particular, she mentioned, amused: "I can't believe you invited
Viktor."

Harry's answer came entirely too fast, he knew. "Well, whether we like it or not,
he's your friend, and he should be here."

"No, I mean that literally. I *don't* believe you invited Viktor. Molly
did."

He mock groaned. Obviously she had figured out that Harry and Ron had been all too happy to let
Mrs. Weasley handle things. "Alright, you caught us. But we did help, though! We gave
ideas," he tried to sound as dignified as possible, but his chuckles made it hard to sound
serious. So much for being 'the organizers' if the subject of the surprise party saw right
through them so easily.

She laughed as well. "I'm sure you did, Harry," she said, not really sounding like
she believed him at all. "It's okay, though. I rather prefer that she did most of this--
she's better at it than you are. And you guys are busy, I understand. You know I wouldn't
want you to slack on your training and use *me* as an excuse, anyway. It's the intention
that matters. I was half expecting one of you to forget, to be honest. But you guys at least tried,
and I'm thankful for that."

Harry made absolutely sure that no word of Ron's absenteeism in the past week left his lips.
So he was a little resentful that Ron had happily dumped all of the work on him and skipped off to
study (ok, all of what little work Molly hadn't taken over, that is). Still, no need to put
Hermione on his case for such a silly issue, and no need to bring Hermione down on her birthday
either. If it made her happy to think that they'd both worked equally on making her surprise
party a success, then he had no problem covering for Ron. He was all about avoiding confrontation.
"Always nice to hear how highly you think of us," he commented, dryly.

"I find it's better to keep the bar low and be pleasantly surprised," she quipped,
teasing.

"Speaking of surprises, did you like our present?" Thinking that they could never go
wrong with Hermione and books, Harry and Ron had decided to give her a very rare book on
international legislations. They had arranged for one of his mainland contacts to get it for them--
that one copy wasn't even in English. He doubted a copy in English even existed (the original
manuscript was apparently charmed to resist translation spells. Cheers to paranoid authors).

"Like it? I read through half of it during breakfast!" The excitement made
Hermione's eyes glint like only the prospect of a good book could do. Her gaze quickly went
wide-eyed, though. She took a hand to her mouth in dismay. "Oh, Merlin, how horrible am I?
With all this insanity I forgot to thank you both. I'm sorry, Harry. I really loved it, thank
you."

Harry waved the apology off. "Don't mention it. You've been busy, obviously,"
he grinned at her, pointing towards the house. Most of their young friends were starting to come
out to the backyard, much as they had. That was a sure sign that a) the dance mania was starting to
wind down, or b) the Wireless had gotten stuck. It was known to happen. It must've gotten stuck
on a really hideous song, though, given this mass exodus.

"Still, it completely slipped my mind. I guess I should go mention it to Ron, as
well," she said, hopping down from the fence and discreetly making sure to check if there was
any paint residue on her pants. She looked at her wristwatch and mentioned that it was nearly time
for her birthday cake, according to Molly. They should start heading back inside.

"He hasn't asked you about it?" asked Harry, carefully taking one last bite of
that delicious buttery dish (he'd have to ask Molly for the recipe, it was absolutely
mouth-watering). It didn't seem like Ron not to brag about how well-received his gift was. Even
if technically Harry had been the one to get it.

"No, he didn't mention it on the way here and I haven't talked to him since the big
surprise," Hermione replied absentmindedly. She was staring in Hannah Abbott's direction--
the blonde seemed to be hurriedly waving at the two of them, trying to get their attention. She was
grinning brightly. "Do you think cake is all ready?" Hermione asked him, curious about
Hannah's obvious excitement.

"I don't think that's about cake," Harry replied, wearing a similarly curious
expression.

"Hermione! Harry!" Hannah exclaimed from the opposite side of the yard. "George
fixed the Wireless! One last piece! Come on!" She gave them one last "hurry!" wave.
Hermione replied back that they'd be right there, and then Hannah all but bounced back towards
the house. They both couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm.

Harry, however, had not missed that "we" in her reply, and was now trying to skilfully
divert the conversation towards a topic that could hopefully make her forget about Hannah's
announcement and keep away the possibility of him embarrassing himself on the Weasleys'
improvised dance floor. "You really haven't Ron since the surprise?" he asked,
getting off from the fence as well. He was doubtful at her negative. "That's odd. Did you
have a fight on the way here?"

She rolled her eyes in an all-too-familiar gesture, and pulled his plate right out of his hands
as he took the last of the pumpkin juice to his lips. "No, we did not," she replied
matter-of-factly. "And also, there is no 'way here.' Apparition is
instantaneous." She playfully hit his arm when he muttered something about Professor Flitwick
having grown taller and prettier since the last time they met ("Oi, it was a compliment, I
swear!"). Then she proceeded to demonstrate her knowledge of charms that he had supposedly
"complimented" her on by vanishing the plate and his glass towards the kitchen sink.
"I don't see why everybody keeps asking that," she added, pensive. It seemed the
status of her and Ron's relationship was the focus of every conversation that day.

"It *is* sort of your modus operandi," Harry quipped in response. Hermione shoved
him playfully for his cheek. "No, seriously, though," he shrugged at her. "It
*is* your birthday. If he disappears on you *today* of all days, well, you've got to
admit it's strange." He frowned as he finished speaking. Come to think of it, *he*
hadn't seen Ron since the big surprise either... and lunch had already come and
gone...

She shook her head firmly. "Honestly, the fact that he's my boyfriend doesn't mean
we have to spend every waking minute together," she asserted, arching her eyebrows as if to
emphasize her point. "The fact that he's not hanging off me does not mean we're on the
outs." She turned towards the house again. "Besides, just like you said, I've been
busy," she finished the thought with a bright smile, pointing towards the guests much like
Harry himself had just a few minutes ago.

Well, he had to give her that. He was still wondering about Ron, though. "I guess so... but
I haven't seen him around all afternoon, either. It isn't like him to avoid a party."
He looked up at the upper floor of the house, where he knew Ron's bedroom was, and tried to
discern the tall redhead's presence somewhere. However, he knew it was only Ginny's window
that he could actually see through from this angle; Ron's room was on the opposite side of the
house. Had this been The Burrow, he might have been able to catch something through the topmost
window right under the attic, but not in this house.

He turned to Hermione, still frowning. The only time he could remember Ron ever missing a party
this big was the one in the Gryffindor Common Room after Harry finished the First Task of the
Triwizard Tournament back in their fourth year-- and that was because he was mad at Harry himself.
"Are you *sure* nothing happened between you two that could've upset him?" he
asked, genuinely baffled.

Hermione gave it some deep thought, but then shook her head again. "No, not from my side at
least," she concluded after going through the day in her mind. She crossed her arms and leaned
back against the fence, looking at her dark-haired best friend. "I'm sure he's
alright, Harry. He'll be around here somewhere, having fun," she added with a shrug and a
wave towards the top windows of the house that Harry had just been glimpsing at.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he admitted it was probably just Ron being moody.
It wouldn't be the first time. But, him being the good best mate that he was... "Still, I
think I'm going to go look for him," he said, starting to walk across the yard so that he
could walk around the house and go through the main entrance.

"Oh, no no no no," Hermione quickly moved to stop him, getting hold of the back of his
shirt. "No you're not, Potter. If I'm going to be subjected to yet another frivolous
pop beat, guess who's going to be my dance partner?" She gave him a pointed stare that
could not be avoided.

Harry groaned. Crap, she'd figured out his ploy, he thought-- but of course she would.
It's Hermione, figuring things out is what she does. "Oh, come on, Hermione..." he
whined. So much for subtly moving the conversation away from dancing. She held onto his arm and,
tsk-ing at him, proceeded to pull him in the opposite direction: towards the back entrance of the
house. He couldn't exactly make a run for it now. "I'll step on your toes," he
warned her. They both knew it was pretty much a fact (he was a *really* bad dancer, it was not
an exaggeration), but his desperate tone also kind of made it sound like a threat.

"I'll brave through," she assured him with a smirk, her grip on his arm not
slacking for even a second. Harry groaned yet again. Public humiliation, here we come.

--

It was a while after lunchtime, and Ron could be found at the kitchen table, contemplating if he
should eat something. He'd spent the last hour or so trying to avoid his mother's family
photograph session (among other things-- or rather people), and he'd been successful at it, but
now his stomach had had enough of being ignored and demanded, quite loudly, to be fed.

Finally he decided to heed nature's call. After concluding that the food was not charmed to
grow boils on the hands of anyone who tried to eat it (his mother's paranoia knew no bounds
when it came to food), he helped himself to some roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, among some of
his mother's best delicacies.

He never would've imagined it before, but a wizarding kitchen was actually quite a good place
to think. Of course, it wasn't exactly peaceful and quiet, what with all the cling and clatter
of the dishes as they washed themselves in the sink. Still, he wasn't exactly the sort that
relished absolute silence. What mattered was that it was devoid of people-- nobody bothered coming
in when they could just magic their plates in and out. It was actually quite the ideal setting for
him to try and puzzle out his confusing thoughts.

He was doing the right thing. He was.

No, not ditching the party to hide from his girlfriend and his pretend girlfriend; that was
probably not the bravest reaction in his repertoire. But helping Luna, well, he couldn't bring
himself to think of that as something wrong. He'd told his father that he wasn't feeling
guilty, and he really wasn't. In fact, he was sure Hermione wouldn't have a problem with it
if he told her-- she'd probably even be proud of him for it.

He couldn't bring himself to tell Hermione, though... not because he was afraid she would be
angry, but just because it would be awkward. And Ron Weasley was not a fan of awkwardness. He'd
manage to say the wrong thing, of course, and everything would go to hell, all because he
couldn't get rid of that nagging voice in his head that kept repeating that having two
girlfriends (even if one was just *pretend*) was just WRONG.

He wanted to talk to someone, perhaps get some advice from a fellow bloke. His conversation with
his dad, while it *did* ease his doubts a little, was not entirely helpful in the solution
department. He would normally go to one of his friends, but they were all friends of both girls as
well, so they may be a little too involved. And his brothers were likewise occupied-- George and
Lee were caught up being the life of the party, Charlie was helping his mother with logistics, Bill
was too busy catering to his very pregnant wife's every need, and there was *no way* he
was going to talk to Percy about this. So he had clearly run out of options.

In the meantime, whenever he saw Hermione he was torn between treating her better than ever or
running for the hills. Not to mention he was starting to get a funny lurch in his stomach whenever
he was around Luna.

Blasted females! Even when things were going great with them (both of them), it all ended up a
mess.

He was very tempted to repeatedly bang his head against the wooden table. His plate was directly in
front of him, though, and it would be a crime to waste such good mashed potatoes. His mother had
really outdone herself this time. No, he had to find a more productive solution...

Alright. He was going to tell Hermione. He was going to do it.

"You're going to do what, Ronald?"

He immediately tensed, thinking that he may bang his head against the table after all. Of course,
this was just his luck: he'd seemingly made his decision and at that very moment, the
*one* person who could make him change his mind had all but waltzed into the kitchen.
"Oh, uh, h-hullo, Luna," he stammered in his surprise, the tips of his ears going red in
embarrassment at being caught talking to himself. "Eh, 'twas nothing, really. Just...
thinking out loud," he admitted.

"Yes, I find that is usually very helpful," she said in her typical airy tone, pausing
for two seconds in front of him before turning towards the sink. Of course she would agree with
talking to oneself, Ron thought. *Hence why people insist on calling her
"Loony."*

She then proceeded to open the cabinets under the sink and peer in there, like she was looking for
something. Probably some sort of funny little critter that, knowing her, likely didn't really
exist. He almost opened his mouth to inquire about it-- *almost.* By now, he knew better than
to ask. "So, um, how are you liking the party?" he tried to make normal small talk, like
she didn't have her head stuck under his mother's sink.

"Oh, it's been lovely," she replied, her light voice echoing inside the cabinet she
was presently searching through. "I haven't been able to catch a Buzzing Wishwasp. They
live in the balloons, you know," she said, then paused for a second. Something rattled, down
where she was searching. "But the dancing has been rather fun," she continued speaking
after the rattling calmed down. Ron nodded absently at her words... and then he noticed he was
actually nodding to her backside. He reflexively looked away, clearing his throat even though he
hadn't actually said anything. Carefully avoiding looking at her, he finished up the last of
his lunch and picking up his plate and cutlery, intended to leave them in the sink so they could
get cleaned-- only he couldn't, of course, because she was right there.

He stood there for a while, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. Luna, of course, was not bothered
from her quest at all. It was only a couple minutes later that she finally drew back from the
cabinet and stood up. Without really looking at Ron (or anything else in particular) she stepped to
the side to let him pass. "I remember Ginny telling me that you don't much like to
dance," she commented vaguely as he deposited his eating utensils in the "in" pile,
making sure that the enchanted sponge wouldn't get him wet.

He had to remind himself that she had brought up the topic of dancing before. "Huh? Oh, yeah,
that's right," he mumbled as he stepped away to get some pumpkin juice.

Her nebulous gaze followed him across the kitchen. "Is that why you've been hiding all
day?"

He coughed, caught off-guard by her question. He'd hoped his parents had been the only ones to
notice him missing. "Hiding? I haven't been..." he started denying it, but then
realized the words sounded rather stupid anyway. *And* she'd given him a perfect out,
so... "Actually, yeah. Yeah, that's it. The dancing," he nodded at her, throwing in
what he hoped was a sheepish smile. "I'm just really bad at it," he added, with a
slightly nervous chuckle. Thankfully, his companion did not seem to notice the nervous bit.

"I wonder if it's a friends thing?" she spoke the thought out loud. Ron had no idea
what she meant, of course, until she elaborated. "Harry, too, avoided the dance floor for a
while. Of course, in the end Hermione pulled him in for the last dance."

Ron grinned, amused at the prospect of his two best friends dancing. Hermione obviously browbeat
Harry into it, there was no way he would voluntarily participate in such an activity. After the
Yule Ball in their fourth year, he was pretty much traumatized for life. He wondered how many times
Hermione had uttered "Honestly, Harry!" under her breath and how many times Harry had
apologized throughout that one song. "Really? I would've paid good money to see
that," he said, laughing. "She's having fun then? Hermione, I mean," he
clarified as he sat back down on his seat at the table. All they wanted was for Hermione to have a
nice time on her birthday. He cringed a little at the thought that he hadn't been around to
share it with her, but it was for the best... hopefully.

Luna nodded as she walked around the room, pausing to stare at the different spells acting here and
there like she'd never seen something like them before. "I think she is," she said,
looking up at the junction between the wall and the ceiling like she could see something immensely
interesting there. "She's very lucky to have you do this for her," she added, almost
like an afterthought.

It was that afterthought that hit Ron more than anything else, though. He swallowed hard. Yep,
there it was, that funny vertigo-like feeling in his stomach that he was getting often these past
few weeks. He would later attribute it to his mother's gravy, of course. "Uh, I guess
that's--"

"Luna?" came a voice from outside the kitchen. A male voice. "Luna, where-- oh,
there you are!" It was then that Dean Thomas popped his head into the room. He smiled at her
as she turned to greet him. "Hey. Hagrid just arrived with the cake. Come on, you don't
want to miss it..." His voice had gone a lot softer as he spoke to her.

Dean grabbed her hand and was about to pull her out of the kitchen when he finally noticed they
weren't alone. "Oh, hi, Ron," he nodded his head at his friend and former roommate.
Ron nodded back and replied in kind. The dark-skinned man had intertwined his fingers with
Luna's. "Hey, where have you been, mate?" Dean wondered, curious. "Did you have
a fight with Hermione or something? You've been missing in action all day." Luna also
looked at Ron, mildly expectant of his answer.

"Hermione and I are fine," Ron almost cut him off. Dean was a little taken aback by the
sudden harshness in Ron's voice, but the redhead felt he was entitled-- by now he was just sick
of everybody assuming things about his relationship. It had been okay when his dad asked, because
it was out of concern, but Dean? He had no business in any of it. "I just wanted to have lunch
by myself. That's not a crime now, is it?"

Dean shook his head, not sure where the confrontational tone came from, but wanting to avoid it.
"No, of course not, man. Whatever you like," he said, conciliatory, then turned to Luna.
"We really should get going, though," Dean continued, nodding towards the kitchen
door.

"Go. Dance. Be merry," said Ron, still in that clipped tone. He even waved a hand toward
the door.

Dean leaned close to Luna's ear. "Weird," he muttered to her, clearly insinuating
that Ron had just lost a few marbles. Luna remained as aerial as usual. Ron couldn't actually
hear him, but he just *knew* what was said, and he could feel himself going red (whether in
anger or embarrassment, he didn't know). "See you later," Dean said. Luna in turn
waved lightly at Ron and let herself be led outside by her friend.

Ron was acutely aware of Dean's hand softly pressing on the small of Luna's back. And that
funny twist in his stomach was starting to feel more like a sharp, forceful tug now.

He found himself glaring at their backs as they walked out. He remained in that position until they
were lost from his field of vision. And it was only then that he noticed what he was doing; he
shook his head as if to clear it. Okay, that was odd. He had no idea what had just come over him.
Surely since he'd eaten out of hours, that had left him off-balance. Probably just indigestion
or something.

He didn't know why, but banging his head against the table was sounding like a spectacularly
swell idea right about then.

Cake. He had to make an appearance at the party.

--

"...For she's a jolly good fellow... and so say all of us!"

Hermione blushed a little at the cheering and then leaned in to blow out the candles. She was
stopped by a light tug on her hair, and she looked up to see Teddy squirming in Harry's arms.
She laughed and took hold of the boy, then they excitedly leaned in so Teddy could blow out her
twenty candles. Of course, they wouldn't ever go out-- George and Lee had made sure of that--
but nobody could be mad about it since it proved to be such a pure source of entertainment for the
currently orange-haired little guy.

After Molly tugged on George's one ear so much that he'd given up on the classic birthday
prank, the (rather large) cake was spirited back to the kitchen so it could be served. Ron was
almost trampled by it as he walked out of the room at that very moment. "Hi," he said,
coming up to stand beside Hermione as the crowd dissipated.

She nodded to Susan Bones, who had just asked her something, then turned to Ron. "Oh! There
you are," she exclaimed, a bit surprised at his presence. "Where were you?
Everybody's been asking about you," she added, feeling it was worth mentioning that his
mother was bound to be murderous as he hadn't been there for the family pictures.

Ron was well aware of what he had coming, and didn't want to dwell on it until his mother
finally caught him. "Uh, yeah, sorry. I wasn't feeling very well-- bit of a
headache," he made up an excuse on the spot.

She frowned at him, a bit worried. "Sorry to hear that. I'm sure your mother has some
pepper-up potion around here, in case you want some." She had been sure he was somewhere in
the party and they just hadn't coincided in the right place. She hadn't actually thought
that he could be feeling ill. She ought to be feeling sheepish about that.

He brushed off her concern. "Nah, it's alright. 'M all better now. Cake makes
everything better," he quipped with a grin.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Of course it would." She paused, her smile disappearing
to give way to a slightly uncertain expression. "Um, Ron..." she started. "You
aren't... I didn't say something that made you... upset, did I?" she finally managed
to ask. She didn't think there was a problem, but so many people had asked her that today, that
she almost felt she had to ask, just to be on the safe side.

Ron was honestly surprised by the question. "What? No, you didn't..." he started to
answer, but it was now *his* time to pause as a thought crossed his mind. "Wait,
you're not... mad at *me,* are you?" he asked in turn, starting to feel a little
apprehensive.

Hermione replied quickly, before alarms started going off on the young man's mind. "No!
No, I'm not mad."

He almost let out a relieved sigh. "Okay... so we're alright, then?" he asked,
hopeful.

"Yeah, we're alright," Hermione assured him. Yes, there was no problem. Okay, glad
that was over.

Seamus Finnigan strutted up to them. "He-hey! If it isn't the lovebirds!" His grin
was way too wide-- sure sign that he'd hit the Fire Whiskey a little too hard. "Where ye
been, Weasley, my man? Thought you'd be stuck to your girl's side all day..." he
added, putting an arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"He wasn't feeling well," Hermione explained, her tone letting Seamus know that she
didn't mind Ron's absence.

The Irish lad "psh"-ed at that. "But it's her birthday! You couldn't make an
effort, you cad?"

Ron snorted. "Alcohol makes you an ass, Finnigan."

"Yes, it does," Seamus nodded theatrically at Ron's comment, making Hermione sway
into the motion as well. "But at least I accept it," he continued as Hermione laughed.
"You two, on the other hand... there's something fishy here. You haven't been seen
together once in the whole day. Did you children have a fight?" he asked, with that "so,
tell me your problems" fake-shrink voice he thought made him sound so smooth.

"There's nothing fishy here. We're *fine,*" Ron declared, emphasizing the
last word for the benefit of Seamus' sloshed brain.

"Ron was just feeling a bit under the weather," Hermione repeated.

"'lright, if you say so," their friend conceded. "But yer feeling better right
now, aye? So you two should be cuddlin' and snoggin' and doing all that mushy stuff couples
do!" He clumsily tried to push the two together as he said these words. Ron managed to dodge
his grasp but Hermione, who was already trapped, kept trying to swat him away like a
mosquito.

"Gosh, Seamus! Quit it!" she exclaimed when she finally got him to let go. Great, her
hair was a mess now. "Merlin, how much did you drink?" She shook her head at him. "I
mean, it's not like we do those things all the time anyway!"

"But you love each other, right?" was Seamus' obvious retort. "You're not
fighting?"

"We're not, but those things are private!" She was adamant to quiet down
everybody's mutterings about her and Ron's relationship. She normally wouldn't give
them a second thought, but it had happened so frequently today, she felt it was getting a little
ridiculous.

Ron was conveniently quiet, except to agree with her. "She's right, we're very
private," he added, in a practical tone. An unnecessary thing to add, but he said it
anyway.

"If you haven't noticed, we're in a room full of people," Hermione continued her
rant, like her boyfriend had never spoken. "And I'd rather not have our relationship
become a spectacle for people to coo at, thank you very much. We're just not comfortable with
it," she concluded, crossing her arms. She was sounding very much like Professor McGonagall,
for some reason.

Ron nodded emphatically. "Yeah. I mean, we don't even do that at home!" he added,
seemingly amused.

There was a note of sarcasm to his words that Seamus, in his tipsy state, might have missed, but
Hermione certainly didn't. She turned to Ron, one questioning eyebrow raised. "Only
because we're not alone there," she sentenced, a blatant warning in her tone.

Ron turned to her, his smile now clearly sardonic. "Oh, yes, Merlin forbid Harry ever see us
kiss! I mean, it's not like he wasn't two feet away when we first did!" he shot back,
his volume rising.

Hermione glared at him. "What are you trying to say?"

"What do you *think* I'm trying to say?"

"I *think* this isn't the right time *or* place to have this--"

A not-so-discreet cough interrupted their escalating argument. They both turned to Seamus;
they'd almost forgotten he was still standing there. He in turn gave them a cynical look,
complete with raised eyebrows. "Yeah, I can see you two love each other now more than
ever!" His tone let them know he meant the complete opposite of what he'd just said. He
shook his head at the twosome and decided to go hang out somewhere else-- preferably near where
they kept the liquor.

Ron and Hermione glared at each other as he left. "Excuse me, I'm going to get some
cake," she almost spat the words in a self-righteous tone, pushing him unceremoniously to the
side as she started to make her way toward the kitchen.

"Fine!" Ron threw back at her, not willing to let her have the last word. Great, now he
couldn't have cake himself! He turned his eyes upward, begging for patience. "I knew I
should've stayed in my room today," he muttered to himself, and decided to go upstairs and
look for a new hiding place.



**Not-as-long and yet still pointless author notes--**

About the year-long absence... ummm... I warned you? *eeps and hides*

In my defense, this chapter was supposed to be very much a filler chapter. I didn't have it
planned as far as I had the rest of them. Of course, this particular line of defense then goes to
hell because the chapter somehow ended up being longer than all the previous ones... *rolls eyes*
Whatever. It's written now. Not my best work (I happen to love every scene Ron is in. The rest,
not so much), but it's something. It took a year, but here it is! Hopefully you've enjoyed
it.

Bad thing about writing about parties is you start losing track of who's been mentioned and who
hasn't. I practically lived in and breathed the Lexicon as I was writing this-- I could not for
the life of me remember who had died and who was still alive after DH... at least the minor
characters, that is. *sigh* I definitely need to re-read that book. Was it ever stated that the
Burrow was destroyed? If not, my apologies and let us assume it was, if only for this chapter. I
don't think we'll be visiting the Weasley's place again in the future.

*Little nerdy facts that only a geek like me would include in a fanfic* (*gasp* only one this
time around!)*:
* --Britney Spears' song "...Baby one more time" was released in October
1998 in the United States but it didn't hit Europe until early 1999. It was the second
biggest-selling single of the year, and it peaked at number one in the charts for every country it
was released to, except Mexico (Teehee! Hurts, don't it?). Considering that the goddamn song
was practically following me EVERYWHERE for a very annoying period that year, I don't think
it's inconceivable that it would've even taken over the Wizarding Wireless by
September.

Thank you so very much for your insightful reviews, you guys! I'm very happy with your nice
comments as well as the constructive criticism, you have no idea how much that helps me. As
it's been a year I didn't even bother counting reviews or hits, but I tried my best to
reply to all of you. If I somehow missed you, I'm very sorry! Feel free to bonk me over the
head for it. Also, feel free to ask questions, either through a review or at my
fic LJ
; I'll answer as best as I can, with as much as my plot allows me to say without giving away
too much.

Some tidbits about the next chapter: Ron's cover starts slipping, and *someone's*
going to figure things out. I'll be glad to read your speculations as to who that is. Also, we
go back to the Draco and Ginny situation. And Neville makes his first big appearance! I have most
of the chapter planned since a long time ago. Hopefully with the upcoming premiere of the HBP movie
(which I'm so excited for!), my muse will decide to stick with this fic and it'll get done
relatively soon. :) See you then! -Carla.



5. Chapter 5: It's the small things, part 1
-------------------------------------------

**A Rather Indecent Proposal**

*Chapter 5: It's the small things*

Part 1

**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.

**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.




After taking a shower and getting dressed, Harry walked out of his room, absentmindedly cleaning
his glasses with the lower part of his polo shirt. His hair was, of course, all over the place and
it was as he was looking for a comb that he heard a thump coming from the room adjacent to his own.
He had thought he was alone in the flat, because Hermione had told him her and Ron were going out
before he'd gotten in the shower. So he decided to go check to see who it was.

He snuck a peek at Hermione's room through the half open door, and caught a glimpse of the girl
sitting on the floor among piles and piles of books.

Okay, something was wrong. Hermione only rearranged her books the muggle way when she was upset.
Claimed it helped her relax; but the boys knew the real reason behind the compulsion was simply
that in her annoyance, she no longer found the alphabetical order, or the topic grouping, or the
colour code (or whatever the order criterion *du jour* was) practical, let alone useful at
all. Call it OCD, but both boys agreed that it was better than her taking out her frustrations on
them (Ron still had nightmares about the canaries).

In fact, Harry was half-tempted to just tiptoe back to his room and let her work out whatever it
was on her own... but his curiosity got the best of him. He opened the door a little more and,
leaning with his shoulder against the doorframe, decided to announce his presence. "Are you
okay?"

Hermione would've jumped back in alarm, had she not been sitting. As it was, her sudden jerk
managed to knock down a couple of books from the pile she had to her right. "Jesus Chr--
don't *do* that, Harry!" she snapped at him, with a glare. She took slow breaths,
surely trying to calm down a racing heart. "I thought you were still getting
ready."

"And I thought you'd be long gone by now," Harry replied, with a hint of an amused
smile. He stepped into the room-- carefully avoiding the stacks of books, no need to mess things up
and earn himself a lecture-- and sat down on her bed, diagonal to her position. "Didn't
you and Ron have something to do?"

"Yes, well, the outing has been cancelled," she grumbled, shaking her head as she picked
up a book from the tower she had to her left, turning it around to read the author's name in
the spine. "George called with some sort of emergency at the joke shop, so Ron had to go and
help."

"And that upset you?" he asked, watching as she handled books, in part trying to figure
out just what order she was going to use this time around. She wasn't opening them to check
inside, so it was either the author or the topic... perhaps date of publication...

"I'm not upset," she was quick to point out, nose high in the air. Harry threw her an
incredulous look before letting himself fall backwards on her bed, hands comfortably resting behind
his head. A few seconds of hearing the shuffle of the books, he heard her continue in a grumble:
"Just a little miffed, really." She sighed before continuing. "We were supposed to
go get a present for Molly. Her birthday's in a week, what am I supposed to get her
now?"

There was a bit more shuffling, accompanied by an indignant huff. "I asked him, and you know
what he said?" There was a thump as she obviously dropped whatever book she had been holding
into one of the high piles. "He said to get her 'a dress, or a pot or something.' Can
you believe that?" Harry could almost *hear* her rolling her eyes. "The woman
planned a huge birthday party for me, and he wants me to get her a *pot!*
Honestly!"

Now Harry, being a bloke, didn't see what was so horrible about getting Molly a pot as a gift.
He reckoned she'd probably put it to good use. However, given the set of Hermione's jaw
when he walked in, he was probably better off not voicing that thought. "Why didn't you
just go without Ron, anyway? It's not like you've ever needed help in getting presents.
You're way better at it than either Ron or me."

She scoffed. "Well, that's not saying much. Remember when we were at Hogwarts and you used
to send me bags of sweets for Christmas?" she questioned, in an amused tone.

He frowned, lifting himself up on his elbows to look at her-- or more specifically at the top of
her bushy-haired head, from the awkward angle. "What? What's wrong about giving you candy?
Thought you'd liked them." He had never, not once, heard her complain about his presents
before this. It was odd to have the topic suddenly spring up on him.

She laughed. "Harry, my parents are dentists. I never really got to have any of those
sweets," she let him know in her usual practical tone.

Now Harry was the indignant one. "Well, that blows. You couldn't have sneaked them into
your room?"

"Are you insinuating I should have lied to my parents?"

Ah, there was that inherent part of Hermione that was still a stickler for rules. You'd think
being friends with Harry and Ron would have extinguished that part of her by now, but apparently
not. Harry knew when it was time to give up his side of the argument. "Fine. I still don't
get why you want Ron to go with you so badly," he said, once again lying down. He took his
glasses off and closed his eyes, resting comfortably. Hermione's bed was a lot softer than his.
It also felt warmer. He wondered why that was.

"I just wanted to give Molly something that would really make her happy," she admitted,
and by the sound that followed Harry guessed she'd gone back to re-arranging her books. "I
figured actually getting her son to help buy her present for a change would be a good
start."

That did make sense. "Alright, you have a point there," he admitted. He wouldn't tell
her this out of fear of getting a reprimand, but fortunately for him, Ginny had gotten her mother a
present from the both of them a while ago. "Still, cut him a break. He just wants to help his
brother."

He heard her sigh. "Yes, you're right. I'm being silly. It's not like I want poor
George to drown in stinksap..." There was a pause, and he figured she was shaking her head, or
perhaps she was staring intently at something, deep in thought. "I'll just get her
something during the week, then." Another pause, then she groaned. "Oh, why did I ever
think changing the order was a good idea? The old one worked fine! I should've left it like
that." Her voice came out muffled, like she had her hands over her face. "This is going
to take *days*..."

Harry chuckled. He heard her shuffling and then there were a couple steps. Two seconds later she
walked up until she was by the bed, looking down at him. "Sure you don't want to help
me?" she asked, with a hopeful expression, as she leaned against one of the bedposts.

Harry laughed outright at that. "Not. A. Chance," he said, emphasizing each word, lips
drawn in a teasing smirk. "In fact, I think I'm just going to stay here and rest for a bit
until I have to leave for Ginny's match," he added, letting his glasses rest on his chest
as he got himself in a comfortable position again and closed his eyes.

He couldn't see her glare at him, but he was sure that's what she was doing. "Why,
thanks, Harry. You're always so helpful." There was some more huffing and puffing and
picking up books as she shuffled around the room avoiding the piles. "Remind me again why I
own so many books?" came the resigned question.

"Careful, Hermione. You might just be bordering on sacrilege there," he replied with a
grin. Then he yelped as she hit his foot, which was set on the floor as his legs dangled from the
edge of her bed, with a decidedly *hard* hardcover.

--

His nose itched.

Ron turned his head to the side only to come in contact with a handful of grass-- and whatever had
been bugging him previously was still lingering on his cheek. Probably a taller blade of grass or
some sort of bug, he figured, since they were by the river and all.

It was only when he bothered opening one eye that he noticed it was actually a strand of Luna's
long, blonde hair that was hanging right above his face. "Mm. Luna, can you move? Your hair is
in my face."

She nodded and shifted to the side so he could sit up. He idly noticed that she was in the exact
same position she had been in before he laid down to take a nap-- except she had taken her shoes
off. Her purple stockings had twirling daisies printed on them. "Catch anything yet?" he
asked, pointing to the awkwardly-made fishing rod she was holding towards the water.

The girl let out a disappointed sigh. "Nothing. I should've known better than to try
catching plimpies downstream during their mating season," she explained, airy voice almost
getting lost among the light rumble of the river's flow. "I guess I was hoping one or two
strays might have remained."

He nodded wisely-- although, of course, he did not really care about the mating habits of plimpies,
but it seemed like that was his cue to commiserate.

He had initially come by because Luna's father insisted on having a picnic with the both of
them. However, Xenophilius had woken up with a bit of a chest cold that morning (or so he explained
to Ron) and as it was getting colder nowadays, he preferred to stay inside instead. However, not
wanting to spoil the young ones' fun, he quickly shoved the fishing rod into Luna's hands
and told them to keep themselves busy by catching some plimpies by the stream. He also told Luna to
remember to walk back and forth through the doorway three times while holding the rod upright,
which she did. Ron had no idea what that was about, and he thought it was probably a good idea not
to ask.

And so they'd spent the next couple hours like this, Luna trying in vain to catch something and
Ron lying down to take a nap as soon as the cool breeze hit his face.

She wiggled her toes against the fabric of her daisy stockings. "I'm sorry. This must be
dreadfully boring for you, I imagine," she let out, lowering the fishing rod to the ground on
her side.

He shrugged. "It's not so bad. I've always rather liked these hills, actually,"
he grinned, rather mischievously. "When I was little, Mum wouldn't let us play outside the
Burrow limits because she was afraid we'd be seen by muggles, but sometimes Fred and George
would sneak out and take me and Ginny along, and we used to play with some other kids a bit further
down that way," he said, pointing further northeast.

When he turned back towards her, he found her staring at him, head lightly inclined to the side.
"That sounds nice. I never really played much outside my house. Nobody to play with," she
admitted, nodding a little. "So I mostly stayed in and read books. When I wasn't on a trip
with my parents, that is."

Ron cringed; of course she didn't. It was common knowledge among the scant wizarding population
of Ottery St. Catchpole and nearby villages that the Lovegoods were strange and that it was best
not to associate with them. Among his little group of friends, they all agreed (himself included)
that "Luna germs" were even worse than "girl germs," which, to a 7-year-old
boy, meant they were something pretty damn scary. Kids were just mean like that, sometimes.

Before he could make some (probably half-assed) comment, though, she jumped. "Oh, there's
one!" she exclaimed, and when Ron reacted to move his gaze from her stocking-clad feet to the
stream, he barely managed to catch the silhouette of scaly, webbed hind-quarters before they
disappeared into the water. "It seems they're just being sneaky and avoiding my bait,
then," Luna continued, her tone almost like she was proud of the little creature. She had
already lowered the fishing rod, though, so she couldn't really test that theory now. She
turned her big gray eyes towards him. "You know, the last time we went fishing, Dean managed
to catch one by the legs. It was very impressive."

At the mention of his fellow Gryffindor, Ron snorted, but quickly covered it with a cough.
"Yeah. Impressive." He moved to get up from his spot on the grass. "Of course it had
to be impressive, he's trying to score points, the slimy git," he muttered under his
breath as he stood upright.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing," he was quick to reply. He moved towards the water and stood by the edge,
crouching slightly and squinting to try and see anything in the stream. "Maybe they're
just not hungry," he wondered out loud. He had no idea why he suddenly felt the urge to locate
the stupid fish, to be honest. Just curiosity, probably. "I mean, they're not supposed to
be *that* smart, are they?"

He hadn't even finished the sentence when he found himself getting splashed with water all over
his face; the splish-splash of little legs paddling on the surface of the water once again was a
clear, signature sound. He had barely had enough time to close his eyes.

Luna's vaporous tone came to his ears from a closer position than before, and he could feel her
long skirt swish against his shoulder; she had moved to stand beside him. "On the
contrary," she said, "it seems they're smarter than you thought." Ron's ears
burned red as he wiped the water from his face: Her voice gave no indication that she was making
fun of him but that didn't stop him from being embarrassed.

He cleared his throat awkwardly as he stood up from his crouching position. "You know what, I
think we should let this one go. It's mating season, after all. Wouldn't want for it to
miss all the fun," he stated, in what he hoped was a solemn tone. "What say we take a
walk down the hills instead?"

She nodded, looking up at him. "I like that idea. Very considerate of you to be the bigger
person in this conflict, Ron," she replied, her tone every bit as solemn (or as solemn as Luna
could sound, that is), like she thought of this brief interlude as some legendary ancient struggle
between man and nature. Hmm. Perhaps she *was* making fun of him after all... nah.

Luna put her footwear back on and made sure she left the fishing rod standing perfectly upright
against the trunk of a tree before they set out on their leisurely walk. What was it with the
Lovegoods and fishing rods, anyway? Once again, he refrained from bringing the topic up.

"Ronald, can I ask you a personal question?" she asked, once again staring at him with
unblinking grey eyes. Obviously she didn't share his reservations when it came to asking people
things.

He let her, wondering what the harm could be. Even her gaze on him was not as unnerving as it had
once been; by now he had simply categorized it as a Luna thing. And of course, her being Luna, he
should've known her question would be something he never expected any other person to ask; and
this one was pretty out there, even for her, or so he thought as his brain processed the fact that
the words "if you were a vegetable, which one would you be?" really *had* come out
of her mouth. "...Huh?"

At his completely random reply, she cocked her head like she was pondering it, a hand on her chin,
then nodded. "Yes, yes, I can definitely see why."

He gaped at her. He'd only picked the tomato because his hair was red and he thought carrots
were overused. After a few seconds of just blinking at her (and her not blinking back at him),
laughter finally began to bubble up his throat, thinking of how inane this must sound to an
outsider, them taking a stroll while talking about produce. "That's rich, Luna. What's
with the question, though?"

She gave him a vacant smile and a shrug. "I've just always been curious about
it."

He guffawed out loud at that.

They continued walking around the green terrain, the conversation going back and forth. He would
point out places where he used to play with his siblings when he was a kid, and would add some
funny anecdotes where he could. She seemed to find it all very entertaining. On the other hand
whenever it was her turn to fill the silence, she would ask questions-- completely insane
questions, of course, but each one more than useful for a good laugh. He wasn't exactly sure
how she had decided this game of twenty questions would be interesting to play, but he'd humour
her, because it was hilarious.

"So... you and Dean, huh?" he commented, sounding completely nonchalant about it. His
hands were in his pants' pockets as they walked side-by-side. The further they got from the top
of the hill, the less sun hit them and the shadows were a bit chilly. "Do you two... fish very
often?"

"Not really, no," she responded. Her hands were also comfortably nested inside the front
pockets of her grey wool jacket. "Just a couple of times. He mostly prefers that we stay
inside when he visits, because it's more comfortable for my father."

Ron nodded absently, not surprised in the least. Of *course* Dean would try and make
Xenophilius feel comfortable-- the little brown-noser. "Has he been doing better lately?"
he asked, after a few seconds of silence. "Your dad, I mean?"

Luna's expression fell, just a little. "Well, he's been getting headaches more
frequently than he used to," she explained quietly. "And we can't have pickles
anymore-- they make his stomach queasy." She lifted a hand out of her pocket just long enough
to move a strand of her long hair away from her face. "But he does have his good days, so I
can only be thankful for that," she added, finishing the phrase in an almost hopeful
way.

Ron stayed quiet, mostly because he had no idea what to say. He felt bad for her, she didn't
deserve this situation... but he didn't know just quite how to say that. Luckily for him, she
didn't seem to be expecting him to say anything. "Uh, perhaps we should start heading
back? Maybe he's already woken up from his nap," he suggested rather awkwardly, hoping it
didn't sound like he was doing so out of pity. He wasn't.

She nodded, agreeing with him. "Yes, let's. You're probably feeling hungry, I
imagine," she added, with a small smile that was not quite directed to him. As if on cue his
stomach grumbled loudly-- and he groaned in tandem. He'd been hoping the real reason behind his
suggestion of going back inside wasn't quite as obvious. But well, it was *now*... what
else could he do but admit it?

They made their way back to the stream to pick up Luna's fishing rod. As they walked back to
the Lovegoods' house, she turned to him, lightly skipping on the toes of her sandal-clad feet.
"One last question?" At his nod, she looked back toward their destination, tightening her
hands inside her pockets for warmth. She only spoke again after a few seconds of silence.
"Would you give up your socks for a friend?"

He frowned at her, not understanding. She elaborated. "Imagine you and a friend are in a
really cold place. Would you give him or her your socks so they can keep warm?"

"Wouldn't looking for a blanket or starting a fire be more effective?" he asked,
still confused.

"Let's say you're camping in the middle of the forest, so no blankets... and you
don't have a wand," she added pointedly.

"That's an awful lot of conditions," Ron grumbled to himself, slowing down his pace.
"I guess... I would do anything it takes to save my friend's life," he said, his tone
full of honesty. He didn't know why she was suddenly bringing up such a complex question, but
since he already said he was okay with it, he had no choice but to answer it.

She shook her head at him, which made him frown once more. They stopped walking altogether as she
explained. "Saving your friend's life is easy," she said, and he looked down at her,
wondering if she'd heard what she just said. Saving a person by putting your own life at risk
was *easy?* "I mean, you're a generally good person. The will to save those you care
about is... almost an instinct, really. Of course you'd do it. But what if it's not a
life-or-death situation? What if you're just... cold? Socks are a very personal thing, you
know," she added with a shrug.

It would've struck him as an odd thing to say, only it didn't. "Anybody can do the
grand gestures... it's the small things that really tell me what kind of person you are."
As she finished the phrase, She looked sideways at him for a handful of seconds. Then she started
walking again.

It didn't take him more than a few steps to catch up with her. He didn't speak; his brow
was furrowed in concentration. Her silly question had sparked so many scenarios in his mind that he
felt almost... stunned into silence by his own thoughts.

Finally the bishop-shaped structure came into their range of view, the bright blue blob of a
wizard's robe in the doorway telling them Xenophilius had indeed awakened from his nap and was
waiting for them. It was as they were getting close to the house that Ron spoke again. "I
think... I don't know if I would. Give up my socks, that is."

She shook her head emphatically. "I think you would," she said, sounding very
certain.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, curious. "How can you be so sure?"

She took a hand out of her pockets to lightly pat his shoulder. "I just know."

He gazed down at her, at the small smile that adorned her face, for a couple more seconds. Then he
nodded, enthusiastic, and smiled back. "Thanks, Luna." That was the last of their little
game for the day, as they were soon approached by Xeno, who excitedly let them know that he'd
warmed up their lunch, and the table was served. After Luna had correspondingly walked back and
forth through the doorway a few times holding her fishing rod (Ron *still* didn't want to
ask), they moved towards the dining table.

There were no pickles to accompany their cheese, but it was a good meal nonetheless.

--

Ginny's quidditch robes waved behind her as she walked back towards the stadium. It felt a
little odd, being the only person walking in that direction, instead of going out like the rest of
the crowd. It was her first season, so she wasn't that well-known, and many people were
throwing her odd glances as she passed.

She'd only stepped outside for a little while to call Harry and let him know there was no
reason for him to come to the match. Thankfully he had still been at home, because Ron had stood
Hermione up (would that boy ever learn?) and Harry had decided to stay a little longer to give her
some company. She told him not to bother: the match was already done with; it only lasted a few
minutes. That was the thing about quidditch-- you could have a really long, exciting,
adrenaline-packed match, but it could also be over as soon as it began. It all hinged on one tiny,
whimsical golden ball. Well, at least they'd been the ones to reach the snitch first this
time.

She'd had to walk a long distance away in order for her *mobiletone* to work properly
without any magic interfering, so it had taken a while. She'd been in such a rush, she
preferred to call him first and change later. So now she was going back to the lockers to get her
stuff and hit the showers.

As she ducked into the personnel-only walkways towards the back of the building, though, she came
face to face with the one person she wasn't ever in the mood to see. The feeling was mutual,
one could guess by his perpetual grimace in her presence.

His gray eyes narrowed as they zeroed in on the black device she held in her hand. "Merlin,
Weasley. Is it not enough to interact with muggles and muggle-lovers, but now you're also using
their... *technology*?" He pronounced that last word disdainfully, like he believed using
it was giving the apparatus too much credit. Of course, disdain might as well be Malfoy's
middle name.

"I happen to find these rather useful," she said, lifting the handheld into his line of
view, so he could see it in more detail. She smiled as she inspected it. "Very safe and
private. You'd be more used to communicating via owl... Guess you're stuck with the
birds," she added, one eyebrow raised pointedly as she lowered the phone to her side
again.

He sneered at her. "Funny. One would think you wouldn't be so chirpy after such a dismal
match."

She threw him a look, like he'd grown a second head. "What are you talking about? We
won," she said defensively, balancing a hand against her hip.

He rolled her eyes, somehow making her feel like she was just a stupid toddler who didn't
understand proper English. "Yes, but no thanks to you, of course. No goals were scored. You
never even touched the quaffle, if I'm not mistaken."

She hadn't, but she wasn't about to confirm that. "The match barely lasted three
minutes. It's not like we had plenty of time to implement our strategy."

"I'm not talking about the team, Weasley. I'm talking about *you*," he
clarified. He crossed his arms and stared her down, as if daring her to defend herself.
"You're not here to fly around and look pretty, you're here to play quidditch."
She opened her mouth to retort but he didn't give her a chance to. "This is a
*business*. This is how I make a living, and I won't be able to if you're flying like
a first year."

"Of course, I forgot you actually need to work now. Can't survive on selling illegal
artefacts and killing muggleborns like you used to, right?"

He had moved to walk past her, his steps pompous like his word was divine law, and she had tried to
contain herself. She really had tried. She really didn't want to waste any time arguing with
this man, not to mention how pointless getting angry would be, as it would only make him think he
was right. Also, she had promised Harry she'd try to be civil. But no... this was past
*trying.* There was no way she could just stay quiet.

What she said had been malicious, scathing, and unlike her, she knew; almost like an out-of-body
experience, like it wasn't quite her that was saying the words. But she could not deny she felt
almost vindicated when he stopped in his tracks. He was a snobbish jerk, and he deserved every
put-down he got.

However, when he turned to glare at her, she caught something in his expression that she hadn't
expected. He seemed almost... pained.

That caught her off-guard.

But he was gone just as quickly as he had paused, without another word, the only sound that of his
expensive shoes click-clocking against the polished floor of the hallway. Later on, as she finally
reached the lockers and took the warm shower she'd been longing for, she wondered if she had
just imagined it. Maybe she had. It didn't make her feel any less like a horrible person,
though.

--

It was a lazy afternoon. Hermione shuffled around on the floor, organizing books into piles, while
Harry laid in her bed drifting in and out of sleep by bouts. When there was conversation, it was
easy and light-hearted, no need to complicate the day with deeper topics.

It reminded Harry of similar moments back in the Gryffindor Common Room, when they would study late
into the night. Ron would go up to bed early-- or Hermione would send him there, noting that he was
asleep face-down on his textbook anyway-- but the other two would remain in an easy companionship,
Hermione studying diligently and Harry trying to, but more likely reading the same line over and
over again. It was the days when they still had the threat of Voldemort hanging over their heads,
but it was easier for all of them to focus on everything but... especially in the face of an
upcoming Transfiguration exam.

It was just very comfortable.

About an hour or so in, Harry lifted his head off her pillow and sat up, inching himself back so he
was leaning against the head of her bed. It took him a few seconds to find his glasses, but then he
found them and put them on, looking to the floor to check on the progress of the great book
reorganization of 1999 (the piles seemed noticeably smaller than when he'd dozed off, and there
were even some books back on the bookshelves, too). His best friend noticed the movement and looked
up at him over her shoulder, gave him a small smile and welcomed him back to the world of the
living. Harry blinked heavily at her and dimly wondered, with a scratchy throat, if he could summon
a glass of water up the stairs.

That was all it took for her to launch into a dissection of the physics behind the *Accio*
spell, and how likely it was that, according to the layout of their flat, he would end up with a
mostly-intact cup (especially if it was plastic) but no water in it. It quickly morphed into a
babble of how interesting she found it that even if they'd left Hogwarts they didn't
exactly know everything there was to know about magic, and her voice might have lulled Harry back
to sleep if he hadn't been so amused by it.

He stood up, stretching a little as he got off the bed. "Alright, alright, I get it. I'll
go get the water myself," he relented, giving his voice an extra resigned intonation just to
be funny. He could've asked Kreacher, of course, but Hermione would probably not like that; it
was technically Kreacher's day off (though they hadn't actually *told* Kreacher this,
didn't want the poor old thing having a stroke), so none of them were supposed to call on him
for anything. Harry liked being contrary because Hermione would roll her eyes in that Hermione way
whenever he dragged his feet about it-- and so she did this time. When she turned her torso to look
at him over the bed, he asked if she wanted something to drink as well.

"Oh, would you please, Harry? I'm parched."

Now he made a point of rolling *his* eyes at her. "Of course you would be. You just spent
the last fifteen minutes lecturing me about the mechanics of *Accio*."

He had already turned so he didn't see his reaction, but he heard her gasp clearly and he
barely got hit in the shin by a pillow as he was on his way out. He heard her yell "It was
*not* fifteen minutes!" as he started going down the stairs, and it made him laugh.

As he was making his way back from the kitchen with two glasses of iced tea in his hands, he
thought he heard a sound coming from the living room. "...llooo! Any of the dream team around?
Oh, I can't believe all of you big losers are actually out and about on a perfectly decent
Sunday afternoon! The travesty..."

"George?" Harry asked as he approached the fireplace. He put the glasses down on the
coffee table and crouched down to address the freckled head that was popping out of the green
fire.

"Harry, my man!" The redhead greeted him with a big smile. "How's life treating
you, mate? We haven't talked in a while. Feel free to catch me up on everything except yours
and my sister's sex life, please."

The bespectacled young man coughed. "She would Bat Bogey me from here to Australia if I ever
did that," Harry shook his head, laughing at George's unique ways. "But yeah,
life's good. Auror training is bloody hard, but what else is new?" he continued with a
shrug of his shoulders. "How are things on your end?"

"Ah, same old, same old. Jokes here, jokes there..." He smirked, a mischievous twinkle in
his eye. "Best job ever."

Harry was glad to hear that. Losing Fred was tough enough for all of them, but he couldn't even
begin to imagine how it was for George. The first few weeks, he had been but a shell of his old
self. There had been no jokes, no teasing, nothing that marked the presence of one of the twins
around. They were beginning to wonder if George could ever be George again without Fred. Molly
cried every time she saw him. In a way it made the loss even greater, not only because George was a
vivid reminder of Fred, who was gone; but because it felt like they had both died. For a while
Harry couldn't even bring himself to look at George without flinching.

A few months down the road, however, George got himself out of the funk. When they asked him about
it later, his reply was that Fred had never liked to see people sad, and so he wasn't going to
disservice his brother's memory that way. The legacy of the Weasley twins had to live on and if
he had to get it done by himself then he'd make sure he did the best damn job possible or his
name wasn't Gred. Or Forge. Or whichever it was.

Harry thought that was brilliant.

"Anyway, I was wondering if my big oaf of a little brother is around there anywhere?"
George asked, snapping Harry out of his reminiscing.

The dark-haired young man frowned, confused. "He's not here. I thought he was with
you?" he asked. He remembered Hermione mentioning that Ron had gotten a call from George and
had run to the joke shop-- he was sure he hadn't dreamed it.

At George's negative, he explained, and the redhead once again rejected the notion. "Well,
he's not here either. Unless he somehow nicked your Invisibility Cloak without your knowledge.
Nope, I haven't heard from him since last Wednesday. Maybe you just heard wrong? It's
either that or Hermione has been secretly dabbling in the Divinatory Arts, in which case I should
probably be very careful around stinksap in the next few hours..."

"Yeah, you're right, I probably just heard wrong," Harry said, although he didn't
sound very sure. George didn't explore the topic further, instead asking Harry to please tell
Ron to contact him whenever they saw each other again. He agreed, and with a last greeting
George's head promptly disappeared from their fireplace.

Harry remained where he stood. He'd ask Hermione again just to be sure, of course-- normally he
wouldn't care where Ron was, but this time it bugged him for some reason. Something was off. He
was almost completely certain she had told him Ron went to help George with some emergency at the
joke shop. That George had *called*. And the stinksap? Hermione wasn't the type of person
who "heard wrong," either, and there were too many details for it to be a simple
misunderstanding. So what was going on here? Had Ron made a mistake when he told her where he'd
be, had he changed his plans at the last minute?

Where *was* Ron?

**Author's notes!--**

Yes! You're not hallucinating! I have updated ARIP. Once again it's that time of year.
=P

See, thing is, I have my chapters more-or-less planned up to chapter 9. However, it seems I was
a little overeager on the planning for chapter five, because halfway through it I realized it was
turning out way too long. So instead of making you wait even *more* until I finished the whole
thing, I decided to split it in two. So, this is just the first part. The second one should pick up
right where this one left off.

*Some random notes that are random:*

--About Hermione going "Jesus Christ!", I don't think she's particularly
religious, of course, but those kinds of exclamations are pretty much a cultural thing. And to be
honest, it's always bugged me that muggle slang that was probably fully cemented in these kids
for the first eleven years of their lives (their *formative years*, mind you) can be so easily
substituted by the Wizarding World's equivalents. I understand that a lot of people adjust, and
there's incentive in adjusting to Wizarding slang in order to fit in, but I don't think
it's impossible that if they're caught *completely* off-guard (like Hermione was),
their unfiltered reaction would be to go back to "Oh my Gods," "Jesus!" and
"God damn its."

--Plimpies are a type of magical creatures that were mentioned by Rowling in canon mostly in
passing. Xeno mentions in DH that there are plimpies in the stream near their house, but
doesn't go into as much detail. I read about them in *Fantastic Beasts*, though, and
thought they were rather cute: they're basically round fish, but with long legs and webbed
feet. So I decided I would incorporate them into the fic somehow.

--By 2002, there were 84.49 mobile phones per 100 people in the UK. I don't have the exact
statistic for 1999, but considering phones in Japan already had full internet service at that
point, I would say cell phones were already a household staple in most developed countries by then.
So I figured it wouldn't be unbelievable for them to have made their way to
muggleborn/half-blood wizards, who would in turn relay them to some pureblood wizards, like Ginny.
I mean, they've *gotta* be more efficient than owls or Patronuses. (In case you're
wondering, by 2007 there were 118 mobile phones per 100 people in the UK. Sadly, I don't have
the most recent figures).

Thank you all so much for your reviews! I'm so glad that you've been liking this so far.
Please make sure to let me know what you like or don't like in my fic! Any and all comments are
appreciated.

I haven't written the second part yet so I can't give you an ETA (I'm sure
you're all used to that by now), but hopefully as the DH movies loom closer and closer, that
will give my muse the kick up the rear she deserves. So see you soon, hopefully! -Carla.