Harry Potter Untitled

Author's Notes: This is a story I started a very, very long while ago. I planned to have five chapters to it, and it would span from this chapter to the end of the war. I never posted it here because I didn't want to think of a title until the story was finished, but I haven't touched it in a long time so I figured I might as well post it.

**Untitled**

Fred and George Weasley snicker loudly into their cereal, spilling milk all over the wooden table. Molly Weasley frowns, and flicks her wand at a washcloth. Ron is trying his hardest to keep his little sister from seeing the smirk on his face, and Percy is too involved in his Arithmancy homework to realise anything has happened.

Ginny sulks in her seat and glares at her brothers. "What are _you_ three laughing at?"

Fred raises his eyebrows. "You _do_ remember who Luna is, don't you? The weird little girl from down the road?"

"She is not weird, Fred," Mrs Weasley argues, "and her mother is a lovely woman."

"Do I _have_ to go over there, Mum?" Ginny has barely touched her scrambled eggs and Mrs Weasley shuffles more onto her plate. Ginny would rather degnome the entire garden all by herself, than spend an entire afternoon at the Lovegood house.

"What, don't you like Luna? She's a very nice girl, I'm sure you would like her if you spent more time with her."

"It's not that I don't _like_ her," sighs Ginny. It's hard to explain the situation, without Mum going off the handle and ranting about being polite neighbours or finding friends of her own.

Mrs Weasley puts the frying pan back on the stove and puts her hands on her hips. "Well, what is it then?"

"I don't know, she's just --"

"Batty," George finishes.

"Bizarre," says Fred.

"_Loony_," Ron offers, almost in disgust.

Ginny looks up at her frowning mother. "She's a little strange."

-----

The house is small, much smaller than Ginny's, but she supposes people don't need large, towering houses, when they have only three people in the family. The door is barely visible from the road; the entire front of the house is buried in gardens. Flowers, shrubs, and ferns of all colours and sizes. Moss and bits of grass have started to grow in between the flagstones on the path.

She knocks on the front door, wondering who will answer. Mr Lovegood was usually at work in his office, and would come to the door with sheets of information and magazine headlines accidentally glued to his elbows. Mrs Lovegood was rarely ever seen, but was always very lovely to Ginny when she was around. As for Luna, she was nothing short of unpredictable. She never seemed to express any emotion besides excitement (which was always kind of subdued). Otherwise, she just ... _was_.

No one answers the door, so Ginny knocks once more until she hears someone call her inside. She turns the handle and steps into a tiny hall with a mirror and a cloak rack. She hates walking into people's houses when no one is with her. She hears a faint clicking sound, and follows it through the kitchen and a second hallway.

"I'm in here! Please, just come in!" Mr Lovegood. The clicking becomes louder, and Ginny finally finds the man inside what looks to be a small office. Clippings and papers (the same kinds that always find themselves stuck to Mr Lovegood) are pinned to all four walls. The headlines are nothing that Ginny understands. _Fluggermuffins Help Glasgow Girl_. _Green-Eyed Tootleguffs Spotted in Woman's Garden_. _Crumple-Horned Snorkacks -- Nearly Found!_ A large black typewriter is clicking away on Mr Lovegood's desk, all by itself. Ginny remembers when her father spent hours in the kitchen, with the typewriter on the table, trying to charm it for him. Mrs Weasley scolded him for it all day, and had brought their lunch out into the garden in frustration.

"Ahh, Ginny! Nice to see you again. Oh, _watch out_!" Mr Lovegood points to the doorway Ginny is standing in -- a huge, brown owl swoops into the room just over Ginny's head. It startles the both of them, and Mr Lovegood nearly falls over a stack of newspapers. The owl drops a parcel on Mr Lovegood's desk and flies back out. Ginny ducks this time.

Mr Lovegood apologises. "Uhh ... are you looking for Luna?" He smiles. "She's in the back, I think she's having a tea party. She doesn't have many guests, usually." He rips a piece of paper from his notebook and sits down at his desk, clearly in thought.

-----

Ginny takes a few steps forward. Luna is speaking in a small voice, as if she were having a private conversation with someone. Either she hasn't noticed Ginny enter the garden, or she just hasn't acknowledged her.

"Luna?"

Her blonde head turns slowly. It's impossible to surprise a girl like Luna Lovegood. "Hello, Ginny. Tea?" She picks up the teapot, speaking as if Ginny were expected all along.

"Um ... okay." Ginny shifts in her trainers. It always feels so strange, at Luna's house.

"You can take Charlotte's seat. She doesn't like tea, anyway." Luna rises from her chair and gathers up a large doll with porcelain skin and golden curls. She starts toward the flagstone path, and stops. "Sit. Pour yourself some tea." Ginny's positive that it's the most direct that Luna has ever been. "There's a pitcher of milk beside the flowers and Emily will show you where the sugar is," Luna says, nodding towards a tattered doll with black hair and a blue dress. "I'll be right back."

---

The flowers are plastic, as is the vase they've been wildly thrown into. The teacups are all empty, as well as the milk pitcher, and the dolls make Ginny feel uneasy. She sits in the empty chair, first removing a handful of magazines that must have been placed so that Charlotte could ... well, see over the table.

Luna returns from the house with two saucers, one for each of them. They have faded pink doilies on them. "For the biscuits," she explains. Ginny nods. "You haven't had any tea, yet." Luna pours a pink liquid into Ginny's teacup. She stares until Ginny tastes sour lemon pulp. Luna giggles quietly as Ginny's mouth scrunches and her eyes shut tight.

Luna sits down across from Ginny, smiling and keeping her eyes on the redhead. She doesn't blink, and even when she sips from her own floral-printed teacup, her eyes are grinning. Luna has a secret. Eight years with six brothers have taught Ginny to recognise falsehoods and secrets.

Enormous eyes lean forward and bore into Ginny's.

"I'm not telling you."

---

Ginny stays longer than she told her mother she would. Luna insists that Ginny introduce herself to Emily and Kate and Alice and Marie. While the dolls take their turns, Luna pauses for long periods of time, then nods her head and says, "That was lovely, Kate, thank you. What about you, Emily?" and Ginny stares at the grass beneath her feet.

Silence has always made her feel uncomfortable, especially when someone else has chosen to acknowledge the fact that there is, indeed, noise.

After the biscuits have been eaten and the teapot has been emptied, they go inside. The house is quiet, except for a mumble or two from Mr Lovegood's office every now and then. They walk (or float, in Luna's case) to her bedroom, which is up a small flight of stairs and in the far corner of the house. A drawing of a rainbow has been Spellotaped to Luna's door. She doesn't colour inside the lines, which is just as well; the entire drawing has been coloured orange.

As soon as Luna pushes the door open, Ginny's eyes widen slightly. Her bedroom contains the normal bed, nightstand, dresser, and desk, but also a looming piece of half-painted cardboard with a square hole in the middle of it, stuffed into the corner by the window.

"Mummy said it's a surprise. I think it might be my tower. When it's finished, maybe we can take turns being the princess."

---

It's been a very long time since afternoons were filled with dolls and tea parties and rainbows, rather than broomsticks and dirt under her fingernails and Bludgers. Luna lets Ginny bring Kate, her favourite doll, back to the Burrow with her. Luna has tired herself of tea, so tomorrow will be a picnic by the river.

As Ginny shuts the wooden gate and starts along the dusty roads of Ottery St. Catchpole, her mouth and the air and the dirt in her hair taste just like pink lemonade.


End file.

Harry Potter