Process – Ron/Luna
For the Christmas Character Challenge by The Kawaii Neko
3 – Fairy Lights – write about Luna Lovegood
And the Pairing Scenario Challenge by obscurialdefenseclub – week 1: School, Hogwarts Ron/Luna
She reads the scorn in his blue eyes when she peers over the Quibbler. She follows his gaze, flickering over the psychedelic spectacles, down to the newspaper, then still further to her necklace. His lips curl up, an ungraceful arc of too-red skin and darkening hair, exposing teeth at the corners.
She knows what he sees: Butterbeer corks. He does not know what she sees: Wrackspurts landing on his nose.
The bossy girl says something insulting. There are Wrackspurts buzzing around her head. She cannot help snapping back, voice sharpening, and sees the respect rise like floodwater in his eyes.
.
.
He is rude and blunt, all knobby knees and blunderbuss and splutters and terrible red hair and bad manners, but she has seen enough sharp, biting malice and sheer underhandedness and simple, plain cruelty to be fazed by this. The lack of a veneer is refreshing – there are no filters, he simply says what he thinks.
Despite his often irritating habits, she treasures the gift of his honesty. In that way, he and his sister are much alike. Their kindness is not the gentle sugary syrup of convention, but fiery, burning brilliantly.
Hogwarts could do with more of their ilk.
.
.
She wakes three days after the fight at the Ministry. For a month afterwards, she feels like half a person, early memories mangled so badly she cannot even recall her mother's face in her dreams. She answers questions about her health with automatic smiles and meaningless pleasantries, but he never asks her anything.
He simply sits, first by her bedside in the Hospital Wing, and later by the fire next to her at the Ravenclaw table.
They play chess. He wins, and tells her she shouldn't let the Wrackspurts get to her, and it does not sound like an insult.
.
.
"Nice commentary."
He stands in the courtyard, collar turned up against the rain, resplendent in knobbly maroon jumper.
She shakes her head. "You're the only one who liked it."
He shrugs, then smiles. "Can't disagree with your opinions on Loser's Lurgy."
She frowns in spite of herself, distant words echoing in her mind. "You're much nicer to me now than you were. Harry said you'd told him that I'd grown on you. Is that why?"
The tips of his ears turn red, but he meets her eyes steadily. "I'm the same as I ever was. Maybe I've grown on you."
.
.
"Congratulations."
She stares lovingly down at the box that contains the Kerfuffling Hunklewort. "You didn't think it existed really, did you?"
"I've learned better than to doubt anything you say." His smile is as awkward as ever, but his eyes have changed – their blue sparks with something stronger than she has ever seen. "I'm sure it'll have a good home with Hagrid." He holds her gaze for just a second, then something flickers deep inside, and his ears turn a familiar red. "Shall I – er – come down with you to his hut?"
"Yes," she says, and reaches for his hand.