Breakfast at Tiffany's
There was something about a cold, muggle beer that Ron had come to crave in his adult life. Maybe it was the sense that he was doing something not quite normal - having never kicked those rebellious Hogwarts urges - or perhaps it was the cool, refreshing sensation that was so much more satisfying than firewhiskey.
Either way, he was now on his third and feeling the effects. There was some muggle sport that looked awfully boring on the TV; they were just kicking a ball towards a net for a point, had you ever heard of something like it? Boring, he decided. Nothing like Quidditch.
He let out another sigh, glancing down at his glass. Was it half-empty, or half-full? he heard a serene voice in his ear, giggling at his perplexed expression. Ron shook his head, it did him no good to think about her.
Where was Harry, anyway? When he said emergency pint, he meant emergency pint. Not whenever you're bloody free.
Ron had seen enough muggle movies to know this was the best way to drown his sorrows. He wished he could pull off the brooding, thoughtful look but he had never been the type, really. Ron much preferred loudly complaining and commiserating, maybe even throwing in some jokes at his own expense.
Women, he'd say to Harry, can't live with them.
They'd laugh as he'd linger purposely at the end, not ending the famous phrase. Yes, Ron had watched far too many muggle movies and TV shows if Hermione was to be believed. He secretly delighted that it annoyed her so much, as she was the very person who introduced him to it.
That'd make her think twice before forcing him try new things again, Ron thought smugly.
"Mate, how are you doing," Harry's voice appeared by him suddenly, and he ordered from the barman swiftly. Ron narrowed his eyes, not entirely convinced the man hadn't apparated.
"You bending the rules again, Potter?"
"Oh, no, I'm Potter now… must have been a bad one?" He thanked the barman for the pint and sipped at it, green eyes peering at Ron over the drink.
He rolled his eyes, "Luna and I don't have bad ones, we have devastatingly sorrowful conversations."
Harry winced, "Did you break up? Please tell me you didn't, Hermione and I just recovered from last time."
"So dramatic, it wasn't that bad."
"You blew your nose in our sheets!"
"And you haven't stop complaining about it since," Ron shot back, unwilling to apologise again since the initial occurrence.
Harry grumbled and shifted in his stool, turning to the TV a little, "Anyway, it's not like you and Luna fight much. What happened?"
Flashbacks assaulted Ron, playing out in front of his eyes to tease him about his shortcomings. He'd been with Luna Lovegood for three glorious years now, and had on several occasions considered how he'd ask her to spend many more with him.
The bickering began two short months ago when they moved in together. Harry had warned him, George had advised him, Hermione had reprimanded him - before he had even done anything, he might add - about how things would be different once they moved in together. Merlin, did they do him a disservice by not exaggerating more.
Ron had not anticipated it being this different. He had to be honest with himself - Luna was an easy person to be with. She was a gorgeous, beautifully serene, understanding, calm woman. She was easily the best part of his day - not that he'd admit that aloud, except maybe to her on the odd occasion.
He hadn't been overly concerned by the increasing bickering, they were just growing pains after all. Change took time to adjust to, that much Ron had come to learn over the last few years. However, when she looked at him this morning over the top of the Quibbler, serious and calm and said, "We have nothing in common." there wasn't much Ron could say to it.
Did they have anything in common? He realised he had never responded to Harry, but the other man didn't seem to mind too much. He was happily drinking his pint, looking at ease with the world. Ron begrudged him it for a half a second before he let himself feel relief and gratitude that Harry was getting the life he deserved.
"Do you think Luna and I have anything in common?" The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Harry spluttered for a minute, putting his drink down, "Er, I don't know… Shouldn't that be something you know?"
Emboldened by his question, Ron probed further, "I mean, sure, but you and Hermione are our best mates. Surely you know."
Harry paused, looking thoughtful, "I don't think couples are supposed to have the exact same interests. You have your own independent hobbies that the other should appreciate and listen to, even if they're not as invested."
"You can just admit you find books boring, you know," Ron said, grinning.
The other man only rolled his eyes, "In any case, you and Luna both enjoy Quidditch, right? There's something to start with."
Ron hesitated, "Yeah, but she only likes it if she can do commentary." He hated that he could feel his face heating up, "And she only likes doing commentary when I'm playing."
"Fairly rare nowadays." Harry commented lightly.
"Exactly. What else do we have? Maybe she's right. I mean, also, maybe I should have stayed and listened to her before bolting. It just sounded like a break-up conversation, you know? The 'we need to talk' was on her lips so I left before she could say it." He snorted, "Gryffindor, right?"
"Maybe you can have that in common instead," Harry quipped before he could stop himself. Ron glared. "Look, I don't have the answers you're looking for, but surely you know whether you have things in common… you've been together three years. You can't suddenly decide you've nothing in common. All I know is, even if I don't want to spend 6 hours reading a book about the history of some tribe in the outback of Kenya that uses magic in small doses, I'd listen to Hermione talk about it for 12 hours."
Ron's mouth dropped open in surprise. Harry and Hermione, while quietly, fiercely loving and protective of each other, rarely spoke openly about their affection. They were intensely private, and that came from Ron who knew them best.
Harry drained the rest of his pint, "I'm going to go home now, and I think you should do the same."
Ron felt more sober than when he arrived, if he was honest. There was something ringing true in his ears about what Harry said. Ron did listen to Luna drone on about shite quite a bit, and quite gladly. He loved the twinkle in her eye as she described things beyond his imagination, the way her normally tranquil voice would steep in excitement as she explored possibilities.
He recalled with great clarity the one time he enthusiastically saw what she saw. They were sitting in a Muggle theater she had apparated them to, staring blindly up at the large lights as if they weren't going to cause them to see wonky for days. She had been grasping his forearm from her seat next to him, talking about the wonders of rakkaus.
"They're supposed to be very powerful, you know, only those truly in love are blessed with the spots of colour," She stole a glance at him, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "You stare at the light, close your eyes and think of that special person," Ron was bold enough to peek one eye open to look at her, adoring the innocent trust she had in him to close his eyes. He quickly did as she asked and pictured her smiling face. "And then you turn your head to the side and open them. See those small circles bursting with colour?"
She turned to him, beaming, "That means you're in love."
He knew Rakkaus was a myth, Hermione had been quick to launch into the actual reasons for the spots quite quickly when he spoke about it. He knew that but Ron believed in that moment.
He believed in Luna, in them, in what they had together. They had that in common.
"Rakkaus," He blurted, despite the well rehearsed, moving speech he had constructed in his head before he apparated. Ron landed in the centre of their living room, interrupting Luna scribbling something on a notepad.
She tilted her head, "Rakkaus?"
"You know, the Rakkaus… I believe in them. We have that in common." He now felt uncomfortable. Ron was never easy breezy with emotions or words, but she knew that. His face burned with embarrassment anyway, shooting all the way to the tips of his ears.
Luna smiled, rising from the couch to stand in front of him. She held his face in her hands for a moment, her touch always gentle, always soothing, as she searched his eyes, "Are you okay?"
This wonderful woman. "Yes, yes, I just - you can't end this. You can't."
"You silly wizard, I have no intentions of ending this. I love you," She replied in earnest, and Ron reveled in how grounded she was in that moment. He was one of the only people who saw Luna like this. "I was just worried about our longevity if we have nothing in common."
"Luna, give your big brain a rest and just enjoy this. Maybe we won't last, or maybe we'll laugh about this when we're one hundred and thirty." He placed his hands over hers, ignoring how fast his heart was beating, "All I know for sure is that Rakkaus is absolutely, unequivocally real."
She beamed, her expression mirroring his own, and for a moment he reflected upon what a great pair of saps they were for each other - he guessed they could have that in common, too.
A/N: Something unashamedly fluffy! Rakkaus is love in Finnish, as far as I know. This was inspired by the song 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' from the 90s but the concept got away from me a bit, as happens.
Thanks for reading! I'd really appreciate if you could let me know what you thought.
Till next time,
CR.