Author’s Note: This fic takes place during Ron’s fifth year, during the course of Order of the Phoenix. It is not alternate universe, more of a I wonder if... sort of thing. Please review when you are finished with it.

Opening his trunk, Ron took a breath. He looked down at his new broom, and wondered how it would be. Surely it would be no Firebolt, but...it was still a good broom. A good new broom. And that was what mattered.

Taking his broom carefully from within the trunk, he closed the lid as quietly as he could. He didn’t know why he was being so silent. He was the only one in the dorm. Sure, he didn’t want anybody to know that he planned to try out for Keeper, but still — it did seem a bit silly to be sneaking about in an empty room.

Ron walked down to the common-room, the broom behind his back, to keep it from view. He needn’t have worried. Harry had just left for detention with Umbridge, and the only person in the common-room who would have taken notice of him, Hermione, was absorbed in her homework.

He and his Cleansweep Eleven made their way out the portrait hole, and then down towards the end of the corridor. He spotted no one (nor did the broom, obviously), and trotted quickly down the stairs.

He saw no one on his way down, as with every evening since the last Tuesday. It seemed the castle was deserted, or at least everybody was away in their House’s quarters. He met no one, even when he crossed the entrance hall on his way to the great double doors.

As soon as he was out of the doors, Ron jumped on the broom, thinking that surely it would be harder to see him if he was going faster, yes? Not that he was actually breaking any rules. He just didn’t want anybody to know. He flew to the pitch, soaring over the castle on his way.

Why, though? asked a part of him. Why do you care if people know you’re doing what you’ve always wanted? It shouldn’t bother you. It’s silly, really.

I just don’t, Ron told that part of him. Truth be told, he just didn’t know.

And so it was that Ron reached the Quidditch pitch; he landed just by the entrance and turned round—no, no one had noticed him. He went in.

Flying felt good, Ron reckoned. But something was nagging him, as he threw the makeshift Quaffle as far as he could, then raced to catch it. He couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong, but something was, and as a result he missed the ball more often than not.

Disgruntled, Ron landed. He trudged his way back out of the Quidditch pitch and hopped back onto his broom. The short trip to the castle doors made him feel a bit better, and when he departed his broom he was no longer trudging, but walking at a normal pace.

In the entrance hall, Ron heard a sudden, unexpected noise. Was that...humming? Yes, it was, and he did not see where it was coming from. There was no one else in the entrance hall, after all, so who could it be?

Just when Ron thought he must surely be going insane, barmy, mad, losing his mind, and all sorts of other terms that meant the exact same thing, he noticed that the doors into the Great Hall were opened slightly, just enough for a small person (or hummer, as Ron thought of whoever it was) to fit through.

Ron walked over to the doors, broom in hand, and peeked his head through the opening, looking into the Great hall. He didn’t see anyone at first, but then spotted a figure, spread out atop the Gryffindor table, staring heavenward. It was a very familiar figure spread out atop the Gryffindor table. He took a step into the room, and the humming stopped instantly.

“Hello, Ronald,” said Luna Lovegood, sensing his presence. She did not look at him, but continued to stare at the ceiling.

“Hey,” said Ronald by-way-of-greeting. He walked nearer to her. “Were you humming?” he asked.

“No,” she said, “I was imitating a Blibbering Humdinger.”

“Oh, of course,” said Ron, nodding blankly. He screwed up his eyes. “So you were blibbering?”

She smiled, still looking upward. “No, Ronald. I was joking, that’s what I was doing.”

“Oh,” said Ron. He didn’t get the joke. “So what are you doing here?”

“Watching the stars, of course,” said Luna, nodding towards where she was looking. Her arms were folded behind her head, and her dirty-blonde hair spread across the Gryffindor table.

“Oh,” said Ron, looking up. The ceiling showed the night sky, as it always did, and he found himself wondering how often Luna did this.

“They’re alive, you know,” said Luna.

“Who?” said Ron.

“The stars, of course,” she informed him. “You can tell, if you know them well enough. They’re full of emotion. Like that one—” she took an arm from behind her head and pointed at some faraway star, “—is quite unhappy tonight. Her best friend just shot away from her, leaving her all alone. It’s sad, isn’t it?”

“Sure,” said Ron, head tilted back. “Which one exactly?”

“The one I‘m looking at,” said Luna.

“Oh, of course,” said Ron, and somehow he felt he knew which one she meant. But how? And then, for some reason, Ron put down his broom and he himself climbed onto the table, laying opposite Luna so that his head was just behind hers. “So they’re alive? All of them?”

“Of course,” said Luna. She craned her neck to look at him for a moment. “Haven’t you ever looked at the sky at night?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ron found himself saying, though he never had once really paid the night sky an ounce of attention. At least not in a long time, out of Astronomy. “Loads of times.”

“I bet Hermione Granger never does,” muttered Luna.

“What?” said Ron, not sure he’d heard correctly.

“Nothing,” said Luna innocently. And they were silent for a long time. Ron couldn’t seem to figure out why he was laying there, or why he didn’t leave, but he was, and he didn’t.

“You know, they’ve never told us that the stars were alive in Astronomy,” he said after a while..

“Professor Sinistra doesn’t know anything about the stars,” said Luna. “Anything that matters, anyway. Sure, she knows where they all are. But she doesn’t know them.”

“And you do?”

“Sure,” said Luna, nodding. “So are you going to try out for Keeper?” she asked, out-of-the-blue. Ron was taken aback.

“What—how did you know that?” he asked incredulously.

Luna shrugged. “You always used to Keep for you brothers,” she said, “and you’ve been flying a lot lately.”

“You do you know I’ve been flying a lot lately?”

Luna made an arching motion with an arm. “You’ve flown over the castle every night since Tuesday. I’ve seen you.”

“Oh,” said Ron. That made sense. “Yeah, I am going to try out.”

Ron blinked. Had he just told her that? He hadn’t wanted to tell anybody, and now he’d gone and spilt his secret to Luna of all people, and...he felt oddly relieved.

“Good for you,” said Luna. “I hope you get it.”

They sat in silence for another few minutes.

“But I don’t think you should keep it a secret,” said Luna finally. “It’s silly.”

“Excuse me?”

“That you’re trying out,” said Luna. “I don’t think you should keep it a secret. You’re doing what you want to do. What you’ve always wanted to do. If people care, if they take the mickey out of you for that, well...they shouldn’t. It’s just silly.”

“How did you know that I was keeping it a secret?”

“You were,” said Luna simply. “You still are.”

“And how do you know that I’ve always wanted to be a Keeper?”

Luna chuckled. “I reckon you’ve always had a dream of being Quidditch captain, haven’t you? Deep down inside?”

“Well...” Ron didn’t have a clue what to say to that. “You’re right.”

“I know,” said Luna.

They were silent again for another long while. Ron sat up finally, and said: “I’d better get back. To the common-room.”

“Right,” said Luna, not looking away from the stars. “Goodbye, Ronald.”

“Yeah,” said Ron. But before he could go, he had to ask one more question.

“Why are you on the Gryffindor table?”

“You know why I’m on the Gryffindor table,” said Luna.

“I do?”

Luna smirked at his words. “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then neither do I.” And she did not say another word.

“Goodbye, Luna,” said Ron, and she sort of half-waved as he turned his back, picking up his broom. He shook himself.

That was odd, he thought, and he walked out of the Great Hall, broom in hand. His time spent with Luna had left him with an undeniably weird feeling inside himself. He reckoned she did that to people often. But it had helped him, he felt. Somehow, Luna had helped him. And that was what mattered.