Stockholm Syndrome

The First Prologue: Luna and Ron

By: Jondy Macmillan (who doesn't own a thing)

A/N: This is the first of four prologues that begin the story. Each of them is about how a couple dissolved. They are between Luna and Ron, Harry and Hermione, Pansy and Draco, and Padma and Seamus. And, I should mention that they're kind of trippy. The prologues are to explain the feelings that each character felt towards the other during their split. The narrative following won't be quite so out there. I can't guarantee that these are the couples that the story will contain however, and I can't guarantee that some of the main couples won't be slash. In fact I can guarantee that Harry or Draco or both may have a tendency towards boys. Mm, anything else that's important before you read? I dunno. shrugs Go read. And review, naturally.

3

Scared of feeling, you looked at me, head cocked slightly, trace of a grin on your lips. I watched the way your tiny fingers toyed with the soft ends of your hair, glossy and brilliant in the dying sunlight, twisting it this way and that. With your legs spread, stance steady as any guy, a guy with milk white thighs and slender calves, you looked like you were posing for a filthy magazine, and damned proud. If only we could do something about those clothes. The school girl gig had always turned me on. I still wanted you, true, the way I wanted any other living organism that stood on two legs and had breasts larger than an A cup. Merlin, that description fit some of my male best friends.

Smug and confident, broad shouldered and ready. I hated the way you gazed at me, as though you had experienced me through your eyes alone. Your lips were plush, and appalling though it was, I was sickened when kissing anyone but you, with their needy tongues and eager hands. Funny how yours had always been the most frenetic, but I never minded. Fashionably lacking, adorable but in no way visually appealing, and yet aesthetically attractive in some subtly hidden way, your magnetism was only one thing I liked about you. I tried my damndest to convince myself it was the only thing. I cheated on you many times, but surely not as many times as you had betrayed me.

I hated that look in your bright, wide eyes, not trusting, but accepting, always guarded but so very open. Did I understand it at the time? I knew that you knew I wouldn't stick around, that I wasn't to be believed when it came to love, which in itself was a concept you only half assumed existed anyway. At the time, I don't think it bothered me much. Silly little girl, you knew what you were getting into, but then again, it wasn't like you could stop yourself. Sitting complacently there, all high and haughty, cheekbones flushed in expectation. How were you to know that it really was the fabled 'love'?

I've never been so enchanted with a single person before, never wanted to have them beside me, never wanted to hear their voice so desperately. Emotion wasn't my forte, and you were a master of playing my novice heart against me. Still, I doubt you were anything more than a fling.

All you did know was that when you fell in love, it couldn't be with me. I saw the accusation there, beneath the want, beneath the shield of your pretty long lashes. Already you thought me a bastard, when I hadn't yet crossed you that you knew of. But the stories were enough. I had the extremely dubious honor of becoming the idealized man-wolf that old mammies warned their daughters of, in your mind.

The knock at the door drew your attention from me, the way it always did, and I heard the whispered conversation, barely. 'I miss you too. Tonight, I promise'. I remembered the words, the things people told me about you. I would barely open my mouth before they told me of the dates and adventures you'd been on with various girls, when we barely ever kissed. I'd been told of the great treks you took, North and South to see some beautiful girl, and I wondered why you couldn't venture out just once to see me.

Weren't you shrewd?

And even though I struggled, I still couldn't stop myself from seeing you. I couldn't stop the happiness welling up in my chest every time you smiled at me.

Insightful though you were, I still liked the way you crumbled into my arms, the way you malleably maneuvered yourself into subordination, no matter how much I fought to give you control. So I'm lazy, what of it? Dominance has never plagued me.

My inexperience didn't seem to bother you. So often, I was forced to take charge. But…was that what you wanted, or were you just too bored to bother continuing.

Every once in a while, I wanted to lead you, to harness you. But only every once in a while.

I wanted to know your every angle, the very slope of your nose and the arch of your eyebrows and the pitch of your voice.

Every touch you bestowed upon me was fleeting, but your kisses lingered.

I wanted to feel you, and I was disgusted with myself.

I could taste sea salt and sugar on my lips long after you left.

Songs and stars haunt me now, and perhaps the crashing of the waves and the chilled taste of lattes only partly finished.

There were other girls, of course. I could hear your voice chide me, accuse me, and that only made me want them more. Their lips their curves their soft, fresh skin. No matter how you tried to guilt me, I wouldn't be deterred. Yet I jumped at the chance to see you again, and perhaps that was my first clue.

I wanted to talk to you, but you only gave me the answers I wanted when I used the same scolds and threats female kind has been using for years. And I've always hated acting like a girl.

Falling doesn't necessarily involve one party.

Still, you have me under your influence.

Landing hurts more when it involves two. Maybe I'm the one who's afraid.

I hope you're unhappy just like me. I hope you're euphoric just like me. I hate that you're my first love, even while I revel in it.

Luna. I need you.

Ron, do you really belong to me? Just say yes once. Please. I'll believe anything you tell me. I don't care if it's true.

No.

EndR+R