Disclaimer: Don't own.
Previous Chapter:
"I better be on my way. It's been nice seeing you again. Ron. Hermione." Luna nodded to each in turn before she turned and walked away, throwing a small wave over her shoulder. Ron returned the gesture even as Hermione whisked him away in the other direction.
The Loveseat
Chapter Four
Hermione smiled as she re-straightened the last throw pillow on their new couch before calling over her shoulder, "Ron? Can you come in here?" She couldn't wait to see the look on his face!
From their bedroom, Hermione heard Ron groan. "No."
Hermione gave a small, exasperated sigh. "I've got a surprise for you!" she said brightly.
From his bed, Ron grinned. A surprise, eh? As Ron jumped out of bed, he cast aside the edition of Quidditch Quarterly he'd been reading and all but ran out the door. He took the stairs two at a time, and nearly ran over Hermione, who had come out to meet him in the hall.
Hermione almost laughed at Ron's eagerness. "Close your eyes," she commanded with a playful grin. Ron did as he was told, and allowed himself to be lead by the hand to the den, smile growing by the second.
Hermione led him through the threshold and told him he could open his eyes.
Ron's face fell like a newborn giraffe.
He looked left. Then right. He even looked up and down for good measure, but he didn't see anything that even remotely resembled a "surprise."
He turned to Hermione and told her so. She gazed back at him incredulously as if wondering how anyone could be so dense. "Nothing?" she asked. Ron shook his head. "Nothing at all out of the ordinary?" Hermione looked at her husband as if he'd gone insane, and Ron gave her the exact same look. "No." Ron replied, slowly, as if speaking to a temperamental toddler.
Hermione rolled her eyes as she crossed the room and flopped on to their brand-new couch. "How about now?"
Hermione smiled as she watched realization finally cross Ron's face. He smiled like a student who just solved a difficult math problem and said, "You got a hair cut!"
Hermione threw up her hands in frustration. "The couch!" she growled, "I bought a new couch!" Ron re-examined the couch with narrow eyes. For the life of him, he couldn't tell the difference between the couch Hermione now lay on, and the one that had sat there a few hours ago. "But it looks exactly like the old couch." Ron said, trying to make Hermione see reason.
As if the statement had personally offended her, Hermione launched into a monologue about the differences of the furniture that Ron only half-heard. He tuned in in time to hear, "So you don't like it?"
In monotone, Ron replied, "Of course I like it dear."
"You hate it don't you?" Hermione asked.
Ron grimaced, "A little bit."
Ron easily caught the pillow his wife hurled at his head. He smiled, "I know they're called throw-pillows, but I don't think that's what they had in mind."
Hermione laughed, despite herself. Ron was always making her grin when she wanted more than anything to glare. Then Ron asked the question. "So how much was it anyway? A hundred galleons?" Hermione bit her lip and slowly shook her head.
"Two hundred?" Ron asked, anxiously. Hermione shook her head again. "Four hundred." Ron said, as though numbers couldn't possibly go any higher. Hermione shook her head a third time. "How much?" Ron asked hysterically.
Hermione closed her eyes, and braced herself for the explosion. "A thousand."
"WHAT?!" Ron exclaimed. One of Hermione's decorative vases shot off of its table and crashed into the opposite wall. Ron's knees buckled, and he fell, unceremoniously onto the couch. Hermione crossed her arms defiantly. "You heard me." She understood that Ron had money troubles as a child, but honestly, with both of them holding steady jobs at the ministry, she didn't see anything wrong with a little…indulgence every once in a while. Ron on the other hand, did.
"A thou-...thousand…" Ron sputtered, hand clutching his heart. "But, why?"
"Why not?"
Hermione harrumphed and strode from the room with her head held high. Ron shook his head disbelievingly and followed her retreating back. In his head, he was already composing an apology. In the back of his mind, some rebellious part of him wondered, Why is it that whenever we disagree, I'm always wrong?
Because, Ron answered himself as he always did, she's her and I'm me, and that's just the way it works. This voice sounded suspiciously like Hermione, and Ron tucked the thought away to examine at leisure.
His internal battle was interrupted at that point by a light owl with wide, blue eyes rapping sharply at the kitchen window. In three strides, Ron was across the hall, letting the owl in. It looked very like…Luna, his mind supplied. Uncannily like her…
When Ron opened the window, the owl (not quite white and not quite cream-colored) gracefully swooped down and landed on the dining table. Ron relieved it of its letter, but it still sat there, staring up at him with its bright blue eyes that so reminded him of Luna.
"You want a reply, yea?"
The owl hooted its approval, and Ron quickly slit open the letter and read:
Ron,
It was so nice running in to you today! It's been too long. I missed you, and I'm curious to know what you've been up to. If you want to catch up, meet me at the Three Broomsticks on Friday at around 12 o'clock. Send a reply back with Selyna.
Hope to see you there,
Luna
P.S. You can bring Hermione if you want.
Ron looked over both shoulders before hastily flipping the note over and summoning a quill. On the back he wrote:
I'll be there.
Ron bound the letter to the owl's leg, took Selyna to the window, and let her take off. As Ron watched the owl vanish into the horizon, he contemplated how he was going to tell Hermione, even though in his heart of hearts, he knew he wouldn't.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Author's Note: So there it is. I was suddenly struck by inspiration and here's the result. Please, Please, Please tell me what you think!
Review! The lil' blue button is calling you!
Peace, Love, and Pickles,
La Nanita