Luna's year

"Here it is!" exclaimed Hermione, staring intently at a large leather-bound tome opened across her lap, Crookshanks curled up contentedly on the left arm of her plush chair. "According to this, it's known as a Claustrum Sphere. Listen to this...originally created by the Dark Wizard Grindelwald around the turn of the century, they were designed to hold captive members of the Hapsburg Dynasty...Professor Dumbledore was right, then..."

"How's that?" said Ron from his place on the hearthrug near the fireplace, his gaze focused on the chessboard between him and Harry.

"I thought there wasn't any doubt what it was," echoed Harry. "After Dumbledore got Luna's dad out of there, I mean."

Hermione looked over at them. "Not about what it was, I meant where it came from," corrected Hermione. "He did say it was likely one of Grindelwald's artifacts, didn't he? Which means that Voldemort might have discovered the location of his old castle somehow."

"Oh," said Harry. He really wasn't interested in more theories at the moment. So much had changed over the last two days that his mind was still reeling. His thoughts kept drifting back to Luna, still laid up at St. Mungo's for at least another day, according to the Healer.

Harry had wanted to stay and keep Luna company, though the Healers had insisted on complete rest, and he'd very reluctantly agreed to return to Hogwarts. He consoled himself by the realization that she'd gotten to spend some time with her father, at least, who'd been brought up to speed by Dumbledore and Harry, having had no awareness of the events of the last several weeks.

It had been an awkward moment at the end, as Mr. Lovegood had been in shock after being made aware of everything Luna had gone through...the intense adoration he had for his daughter was very evident. Luna, on the other hand, had seemed less concerned about her adventure and more intent on getting Hermione and her father engaged in a discussion of Wizard cryptozoology, which the young Gryffindor managed to delicately and repeatedly sidestep by bringing up her own ideas for further articles about House-Elf rights.

"Checkmate," said Ron, moving his queen into position adjacent to Harry's king.

Harry blinked. He hadn't seen that coming at all. "Hold on," he said, scanning the board for a possible out.

"Nope, it's done," said Ron, leaning back against the foot of the chair behind him and stretching his arms. "That's twice in the last half hour...your concentration's slipping tonight, mate. Well, not that I can blame you there - " he added quickly following a reproachful glance from Hermione.

Hermione closed her book. "That's all it says," she said, looking disappointed. She glanced at her unfinished schoolwork on the table before her. "Oh...well, this can wait till tomorrow."

Harry and Ron both turned to look at her, bemused expressions on their faces.

"What?" asked Hermione.

Ron leaned close to Harry and adopted a secretive air. "I think someone's abducted Hermione and left a Metamorphmagus in her place," he whispered. "Not doing a very good job impersonating her, is it?"

"You okay, Hermione?" asked Harry.

She stared at him in surprise. "Yes, I - oh look," she said, "I just don't feel up to it tonight, that's all. There's so much to think about right now..."

"Well, don't forget that assignment," cautioned Ron. "We're counting on you to, er, verify our essays too."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "Don't worry," she said tiredly, "You can copy off mine just this one last time."

She got up from her chair and gathered her books. "Honestly, you'll never stand up on your own two feet scholastically...I won't be able to help you when it comes time for the N.E.W.T exams next year, you know. I don't know why I let you two keep getting away with this - "

" 'Cause we'd fail miserably without you," said Ron plainly, getting up from the floor.

Hermione looked slightly mollified at his frank admission. "No you wouldn't," she said. "You'd just have to apply yourself a little more - "

Ron stretched his arms out over his head and didn't bother stifling a yawn. "Well, I'm going to hit the sack," he said. "We don't need to go patrolling tonight, do we?"

"What? Oh, no..." answered Hermione distractedly. "No, I'm not really...we can skip tonight, Ron, sure..."

Ron looked at her strangely for a moment before bidding his goodnights and marching up to the boys' dormitory. Hermione seemed ready to call it a night too but was standing in front of her chair and staring into the fire, seemingly lost in thought. Harry rose and joined her.

"Hey, are you all right?" he asked with concern. She didn't seem her usual self, he noted.

She looked over at him. "I...I'm just so mad at myself, Harry..."

He blinked. "What? Why?" As far as he was concerned, Hermione had nothing to be upset about, least of all against herself.

She sighed. "Well...I came up with this supposedly great plan to get Luna's father back, and it ended up almost getting the two of you killed!"

"Hey listen," said Harry consolingly, "That was Malfoy's fault. You couldn't have known he would have gone blabbing like that. Besides, we did get Luna's dad back, didn't we?"

"Yes, but Harry," she said earnestly, "It was just by chance, really. I didn't think things through, I was careless, I should've taken all the possibilities into account, if I'd listened to Ron we would have noticed you were missing a lot sooner and you wouldn't have gone off on your own to confront Voldemort and Luna wouldn't have nearly died and you wouldn't - " the words came spilling out faster and faster until they became an overwhelming torrent of intense self-recrimination.

"Whoa, Hermione, Hold it!" said Harry, seeing the anguish spilling out of his friend. "If it wasn't for Malfoy I'm sure everything would have worked out, especially with Dumbledore and the Order being in on it. You can't blame yourself for what that git did!"

Hermione shook her head, tears welling up in her brown eyes. "I should have...it's not..." she said hoarsely. "So much for Hermione Granger and her brilliant plan!"

She threw her books violently up against the wall, narrowly missing hurling them into the fireplace. She dropped down heavily into the chair, buried her face in her hands and proceeded to weep uncontrollably, shoulders shaking.

Harry stood, hesitating, mouth agape. He couldn't understand why she was reacting this way...

He took a tentative step forward. "Uh...Hermione?"

"It's my fault," she said in a muffled, squeaky voice, head still buried in her arms, "If...if I hadn't tried to get you two..."

Harry knelt down before her and hesitantly took her hand in his. "Hey, c'mon, this isn't the Hermione I know..."

She raised her head and looked at him through tearful, watery eyes. "Harry...you...you don't know..."

"What don't I know?" he asked, slightly apprehensive at the sound of those words.

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Ron would have gotten you if it wasn't for me," she said painfully. "I wanted to leave you two alone in the Three Broomsticks because...well, because...I thought...oh, I'll never stick my nose in someone else's business again!"

"Huh?" said Harry, "Hermione, what are you talking about?"

Hermione swallowed and wiped her eyes again. "Oh...I just...I thought that if I could get you and Luna to spend some time together...it might...well..."

She looked down at the empty space between her feet. "I shouldn't have meddled," she whispered gravely. "I very nearly lost you both because I stuck my nose where it didn't belong..."

Harry felt his heart go out to his friend. He couldn't let her wallow in despair like this.

"Well, I wouldn't call that meddling," he said. "And anyway, I'm glad you did. It...made me realize something..."

Hermione raised her head and met his gaze, an uncertain look on her tear-stained face. "Harry?" she whispered.

He took a deep breath. "You were right," he said solemnly, "About Luna...I guess I just didn't...I mean, I was just..."

"Oh Harry," said Hermione, her face brightening a little, "I know you don't like to talk about things like that - "

"No, it's okay," insisted Harry. "I...I thought I'd lost her in that house...it made me realize how much I...well..."

Hermione grabbed hold of his hand. "Harry...how are you going to tell her?"

"Er...I already did."

Hermione's eyes widened and she leaned closer. "You did? How...how'd she react?"

An idea flashed in Harry's mind. He sighed deeply. "She was really upset," he said. "She said she never wanted to speak to me again."

Hermione drew back, a horrified look on her face, both hands covering her mouth in shock. "Dear lord, no! Oh, no...Harry!!"

"Whoa, relax!" said Harry. "I was just kidding! She's fine!"

Her eyes widened even further, just as Harry felt a painful, jarring impact on his cheek, sending him tumbling onto his backside.

"OW!" he cried, rubbing the side of his face, "Cripes, Ron wasn't exaggerating!! Maybe you should become a beater!"

Hermione was standing now, arms held stiffly at her sides and shaking with fury. "How dare you trifle with my feelings like that, Harry??" she said hoarsely.

Harry scrambled to his feet. "Sorry," he said quickly, "I just wanted to get you off track there, you were coming down pretty hard on yourself..."

Hermione gaped at him, standing speechless for several seconds before launching forward and enveloping him in her arms.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried.

* * *

"Are you sure, Snookums?" Luna's father asked, shaking the snow from his boots in the entrance hall. "You shouldn't be wandering the halls alone at this time of night; I'm sure there's still that curfew going - "

Luna gazed up at him. "Oh don't worry, Daddy," she said dreamily, "I think I'll run down to the kitchen and have a cup of hot chocolate before I go to bed. The coco they had in St. Mungo's wasn't very good, was it?"

"Well, not very, now that you mention it," said Mr. Lovegood, producing such an exaggeratedly pained grimace that it elicited a loud giggle from his daughter. "But then, hospital food isn't supposed to be good. It's a tradition of sorts, you know."

"Why not?" she asked curiously.

He looked at her, a bemused smile on his face. "Well, I'd imagine they don't want people deliberately getting themselves injured to get some free food, so they purposely give everything a deplorable taste."

"Well that hardly seems very reasonable," said Luna reprovingly. "People go to St. Mungo's to get better, after all. Couldn't they just offer better food and charge for it instead? I for one would be quite willing to give over a sickle for a good hot chocolate..."

Mr. Lovegood's smile widened as a look of deep affection crossed his features. He reached out and wrapped an arm around Luna's shoulders and pulled her next to him in a warm hug.

"Oh, how I missed listening to all your questions, Snookums," he said almost sadly, kissing her on her forehead. "For a time there I thought I was going to leave you all alone in this world..."

"Daddy?" asked Luna with concern, seeing her father's eyes getting a bit misty. She squeezed him hard, ignoring the soreness in her side.

"And you," he said, his voice taking a rather emotional tone, "Don't you ever go and put yourself in that kind of danger, not even for me. I won't lose you like I did your mother, I won't - "

His voice broke and he gave Luna a monumental hug, crouching slightly and burying his face in her long, dirty blonde hair. Luna could feel his shaking shoulders through the pain in her side, remembering vividly his very similar reaction when the shock of her mother's death had finally hit him full force six years before.

"I'm not going anywhere Daddy," she whispered, hugging back as tightly as she could. "But I have to help my friends, you know, I really do...I can't falter now..."

"I know...you're so like your mother," he blubbered into her sand-colored locks.

They held the embrace for a long while, until finally her father drew back and squeezed her hand.

"I suppose you will..." he said sadly, "But Luna, please promise me you won't take any unnecessary risks!"

"I only take the necessary ones," she replied, smiling serenely.

He choked in surprise. "Snookums! You've never been one to play it safe, as I recall you broke thirty-two bones once!"

"Oh but Daddy, I was six!" she said seriously. "And anyway, the Nightingale caused that...it looked so happy soaring about, I just had to try - "

Mr. Lovegood put up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, all right, I'm not going to get into this again, I know when I'm licked. Well at least promise me you won't go trying to mimic a Nightingale, at least!"

Luna smiled and put one hand over her heart and raised the other. "I solemnly swear that I will at no time in the future attempt to duplicate the flight of a Nightingale."

Her father looked pensive. "Or any other bird," he added.

Her smile brightened. "Or any other bird," she repeated serenely.

He sighed. "Well, that'll have to do, I suppose," he said. He looked down the long hallway. "I may as well go see Dumbledore now, he'll be waiting, I imagine - "

Luna squeezed his finger. "Please don't be sad, Daddy," she said serenely. "A lot of good things came from this, you know. I got Hermione Granger to believe in Heliopaths, after all."

He stared at her for a moment. "It's important to you, what she thinks, isn't it?"

Luna nodded sagely. "She has the brains for Ravenclaw, Daddy, and then some...she's a really good person, truly she is. I think I just might get her to believe in the Snorkack one day! And perhaps the Blibbering Humdinger too!" Her eyes were widening excitedly.

Her father grinned and leaned close. "Well, it was all for the good then, wasn't it?"

He ran a hand roughly through her hair and mussed it up vigorously, sending Luna into a fit of giggles.

"I'll see you in the morning, Snookums. Sleep tight," he said as he planted one last kiss on her forehead and left in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

She watched him go as he turned the corner out of sight, a dawning awareness that everything was right in her world slowly crept into her consciousness. She sighed softly and smiled at nothing in particular, running one hand back through her hair to undo the worst of the tangles her father had playfully created. Her fingers drifted down to the end of her pale locks, noting their length with satisfaction. Despite the constant teasing and incessant tangles, she liked her hair as it was, as did her father; it reminded Luna of her mother's glorious flaxen tresses, although hers were imbued with a rather more sandy hue.

Or the hue of dirt, if her dormitory roommates were to be believed. She quickly pushed the inference back into her psychological drawer of verboten thoughts and slammed it shut. How it had managed to let itself out, she couldn't fathom. She wished for a secret key that would allow her to lock it forever, to never peer into its murky depths ever again.

She supposed that she managed well enough, though, without such a key. Though that didn't stop her from wishing...

No, not dirt, she thought as she held a long stray lock up to her eyes for closer inspection. Sandy-hued is a much nicer term for it, she decided.

She sighed again, looking about the deserted hall. The inhabitant of her favorite portrait, Wendelin the Weird, was currently absent, presumably off on one her midnight romps with that Felix Summerby fellow. Well, no matter. She'd just have to recount her adventure some other time.

My adventure, she thought, how odd. She'd gotten her father back, of course, but not only had she recovered what she'd lost, she'd also gained something she'd never had...

Of course, her Mum and Dad loved her dearly, that much she knew. But outside of her dearly beloved mother and father, no one had ever expressed such affection for her.

She wondered why Harry would say such a thing. He certainly wasn't one taken to lying, that she knew. He was a sincere boy, despite his occasional recklessness...

Her thoughts drifted back to the end of the previous term, when he'd appeared out of nowhere and offered to help her look for her belongings. He'd seemed so lost that day...

She'd felt sad for him, even going so far as to try and reassure him that his Godfather wasn't truly gone. She'd taken a risk, revealing what she felt about her mother's fate, not to mention telling him about her missing belongings. She generally avoided discussing such things, but with Harry...

He'd made the connection between the Veil and his Godfather, despite his initial bemusement; he'd heard the voices too. Once she'd seen the gears turning inside his head she knew she'd had a positive effect, taking satisfaction in lifting him from his doldrums, even if ever so slightly.

Still, she thought, absent-mindedly running a finger along the ridge of one of the butterbeer caps hanging from her neck, so much has happened since then...

She'd had felt an odd, though nevertheless growing affection for Harry through the year. Of course, she'd attributed it, sensibly enough, to their friendship, despite Ginny's hinting to the contrary. And yet, she'd felt a strong sense of alleviation upon Harry's revelation of his feelings for her...had she been trying to blind herself to it?

Why was she trying to analyze it in the first place? She shook her head. What was there to analyze? One of the most mysterious and powerful of all forces in the universe...that strange room in the Department of Mysteries was reason enough not to try...if the best wizards and witches in the Wizarding World hadn't made any headway in understanding that power over all those years, she could hardly be expected to do much better standing in the middle of a deserted corridor in the middle of the night with nothing to help her but a bunch of overflowing drawers of ether.

Overflowing they might be, still, she'd rather do her own interior housekeeping than rely on that bizarre pensieve Professor Dumbledore used.

Take life as it comes, her Mum had told her countless times. So she carefully pushed her curious thoughts into her packed drawer of unsolved mysteries for later perusal.

Oops, wrong drawer, sorry. That one, in you go.

She glanced around. What was it she'd wanted to do again?

Oh yes, she thought. Hot chocolate. How could I forget?

She chastised herself silently; it was one of hers and her Mum's favorite treats, after all. Many-a-time they'd bundled themselves together before the fireplace at home under a warm blanket, contentedly drinking their hot cocos and recounting stories. It was one of Luna's fondest memories; needless to say, that drawer was quite worn from being opened so often.

She proceeded serenely off to the kitchen, offering whispered greetings to those few portraits whose inhabitants were still awake.

She'd gotten her hot chocolate and just bade a goodnight to Winky when she met Dobby the House Elf on the way out, returning from his late night rounds cleaning the Gryffindor Tower. He seemed intensely relieved to see her, his eyes bulging excitedly.

"Dobby, what's wrong?" she asked.

"It's Harry Potter, Miss Luna," answered the House Elf worriedly in his squeaky voice. "Dobby has just returned from cleaning, and Harry Potter is still in the Common Room. Very distraught, he is!"

Luna held her breath for a moment. Harry, distraught? But why? He couldn't be regretting his decision to tell her his feelings, could he? Sweet muffins, no...

Luna crouched down to look at the House Elf face-to-face. "Dobby," she asked, "I'd really like to go to him, could you please let me into the tower? I promise I won't tell - "

Dobby's face lit up like a coastal beacon as he scurried out of the kitchen, Luna in tow. She had to practically run to keep up with him, despite his much shorter legs.

When he'd opened the entrance behind the Fat Lady's portrait (who'd complained, incidentally, thinking her work had been done for the night), he wished Luna luck and quietly slipped off.

Luna quietly slipped into the Gryffindor Common Room, seeing Harry sprawled out on one of the large chairs near the fireplace, a crumpled parchment clenched tightly in one hand. He was staring into the flames, and evidently hadn't detected her entrance.

She drifted closer, noting the dried tears on his cheeks and his generally miserable appearance. Something was definitely wrong, she could tell.

"Harry?"

He jumped in his chair and spun around. "L-Luna?" he said, a look of total surprise on his face. "I...I thought...aren't you supposed to be at St. Mungo's?"

"Oh...well..." said Luna, smiling serenely, "Daddy had a meeting here with Professor Dumbledore and the Order, and I really wasn't very keen on staying over there, actually. Their hot chocolate is rather terrible, you know."

She gingerly sat down on the table Harry had been using to perch his feet on, mindful of her sore ribs.

Harry straightened up and looked at her worriedly. "I didn't know...how are you feeling? Are you sure it's safe for you to be out so soon?"

Her smile brightened. That was Harry, always thinking of others. At least he didn't seem to be upset at her, she noted, as she gratefully stuffed that disturbing theory away in her drawer of discarded thoughts and disproven hypotheses. "Oh, I'm rather well," she said. "Just a bit sore and suffering from a mild case of cocoa withdrawal, actually. Anyway...how are you feeling, Harry?"

"Me?" replied Harry, "I'm...uh...I couldn't sleep..."

"I rather gathered," said Luna softly. She titled her head unconsciously and stared at him for several moments, trying to read his eyes...

He was hurting, that much she could tell. But why? Things had turned out so well...

Her eyes drifted down to the parchment he still clenched in one hand. A realization dawned within her as she recalled where she'd seen that document before -

"That's your Godfather's letter, isn't it?" she asked softly.

Harry seemed to hesitate. He looked up from the letter and caught her eyes, staring at him with care.

"Yeah," he said, relaxing his shoulders slightly, "I...I just can't bring myself to read it...stupid I know..."

"I don't think it is," said Luna. She wished she could somehow siphon off Harry's sadness and stuff it away in one of her ethereal drawers and lock it away forever.

Harry stared down at his trembling hand. "You know...I thought...it would get easier by now..."

"Buttered bread can only go so far," said Luna profoundly.

He looked up at her.

"Harry," she said, "Would you like me to read it to you? I really don't mind."

He swallowed deeply, slowly turning his anguished gaze down to the crumpled paper.

"That's...I think...I'd like that..."

She took the parchment from his trembling hand, smoothing it out on her lap so she could make out the rather coarse handwriting more easily.

She glanced over the top of the paper at Harry. All the color had drained from his face; he looked for all the world as someone waiting to be marched off to the guillotine. She felt a sharp pain in her heart at the sight of him -

"Harry, you know, if you'd rather not - "

He quickly shook his head. "Go ahead," he croaked.

She bit her lip and turned her luminous gaze to the parchment. She took a deep breath.

"Dear Harry,

I guess if you're reading this it means I'm not around anymore. You know from my letters over the past couple of years that I'm not much for the written word. But there's a few things I have to say, seeing as this is the last chance I'll have to say them.

A few days ago, you asked me about your father. You didn't seem convinced about what I had to say, and with things going the way they are, I don't know if I'll ever get a second chance to remedy that. So here goes.

I would never have befriended your father if he wasn't a good person, Harry, please know that. Don't judge James from one little incident when he was fifteen years old. Don't forget, your mother didn't think much of him at first, either, and yet they turned out to be the most happily married couple I've known. I knew your mother pretty well, I think, and she wouldn't have married a person of bad character.

Now I know what your Dad did that day wasn't very nile,"

Luna peered over the parchment at Harry. "I think he meant 'nice', there." Harry smiled weakly and she returned to her reading.

"But please understand, he was fifteen years old! Now I know you're fifteen right now (when I wrote this, anyway), and I'm not insinuating anything, but when we're fifteen, we all make mistakes, do stupid things, and generally don't subscribe to Merlin's Book of Wisdom. Trust me, James was a good man. The best.

Now, I don't know when you'll be reading this (personally, I'm hoping you're an old coot sitting in a rocking chair when you do) but if the worst should happen, I want you to know that you can always turn to Dumbledore for anything. Now I know I've criticized him a bit in the past, but really, I'm just frustrated at being cooped up in here. He has his reasons for that, and in the end, I can't argue with the man's logic.

I'll say the same about Remus, only even more so. He was like a brother to me, Harry, so he's like an uncle to you, really. You can take that to Gringotts. He's got a good head on his shoulders too, better than I ever had. Don't tell him I said that though, he'll never let me live it down.

Harry, always keep your friends close to your heart. If there's one thing that life has taught me, is that good friends are just like family. In my case, even better! Molly Weasley and I might disagree on some things, but I'm grateful to her; she considers you as one of her own, you know that?

Seriously though, Harry, never give up hope. I know you're going through a lot so early on in life, but your friends will always be there for you. Don't try to be a hero and do everything on your own; draw from their strength. They care for you a lot, even I could tell that, and I'm not exactly what you'd call a psychology major. I'd never have been able to get through school if it wasn't for your Dad and Remus.

Well, that's that...I'll cross my fingers and hope you don't read this anytime soon. Of course, saying that is useless really. If you don't, and I get to live to a ripe-old age, I'm obviously going to have to re-write some of this...

Take care, Harry. I'll say hi to your folks for you.

Sirius"

Luna lowered the parchment and looked to Harry, who was bent over with his head in his hands, shaking uncontrollably. In an instant Luna was with him, squeezing herself into the plush chair and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, drawing him into her and holding him close as he burst into tears.

Several of her most deeply buried drawers threatened to fly open and let loose the terrible memories trapped therein. They came perilously close to succeeding before Luna slammed them shut, closing her eyes tight and opening her heart to her friend's sorrow.

She continued to hold Harry protectively for a long while, her own emotions often rising precariously close to the surface. Each time she pushed them back down, burying them a little deeper. She had to be strong, for Harry's sake.

One solitary image managed to escape its confinement, drifting up through the ether into her consciousness...

Her father was crying uncontrollably in the kitchen, Luna hugging him desperately close, knowing she had to be strong, even though her own heart had just been wrenched horribly asunder...she still had her father, she kept telling herself over and over again, willing the thought over all the others that tried to dominate her being...

Luna opened her eyes and swallowed hard, clearing her thoughts lest they overwhelm her.

They held their embrace for a long while, until finally Harry drew back, his cheeks stained with tears. Though for all that his countenance had visibly improved.

"Luna," he said hoarsely before clearing his throat, "Do you remember what you told me that day by the lake? At the start of term? About my still having family here?"

She smiled serenely at him. "Yes, Harry, I rather do," she said. "And it's true, you know."

He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye, taking her hand in his. "Luna...you're as much family to me as anyone's ever been," he said earnestly. "I mean it."

Luna blinked. She became aware of her mouth slightly open, and a strange sensation overtook her, though it was not an unpleasant one.

"Harry," she said softly, "That's...so sweet of you to say..."

They stared at each other, a deafening quiet hanging in the air...

Propelled by some mysterious force, Luna pitched forward and pressed her lips against his, locking them for several moments before drawing back, wide-eyed, as surprised by her own actions as Harry obviously was.

Actually surprised was not really the word, if his reaction was any gauge. He was gaping openly at her and blinking repeatedly, a shocked expression on his face.

Oh fiddlesticks, thought Luna, I've stupefied him somehow...

"Whoa," said Harry in a voice that sounded rather awestruck, "What was that??"

"Oh...well...it was supposed to be a kiss, actually," answered Luna. "I've never really - "

"Kiss??" exclaimed Harry, "That wasn't just a kiss, that was...that was a...that was..."

"That's rather vague, Harry," said Luna.

"Huh?"

"You'll have to be more specific," she said, smiling.

Harry searched for words, though he seemingly couldn't find any to describe what he'd felt.

"That was...extraordinary," he finally whispered.

Luna stared at him. "Oh...was it...good?"

"Good?" he asked disbelievingly. "Are you kidding? Didn't you feel that?"

She blinked. Suddenly one drawer opened up and something her Mum had once told her came drifting up, filtering through her thoughts...

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "I think I know...something Mum told me about once..."

She suddenly noticed her mug of hot chocolate she'd left on the table had been joined by a twin. When had that happened?

"Hey," said Harry, following her gaze and apparently noticing the same thing, "Did you - "

"No," she said dreamily, "But I think I know who did..."

She reached over and grabbed the two mugs, handing one to Harry as she nestled close, staring into the fire.

They stayed like that for a long while, staring into the flickering embers and licking tendrils of flame. The silence that most would find unbearable only served to make them even more at ease with each other.

"I won't lose you," Harry whispered suddenly, squeezing her hand protectively. "I'm done with losing people..."

"You won't," said Luna serenely. "I'll be at your side forever, Harry Potter. Through the brightest days and the darkest nights, even when the Sun and the Moon no longer paint our skies...always...always..."

She felt his arm tighten around her.

"She was there, Harry," she whispered. "I could feel her...reaching out to me..."

She felt Harry turn his head in her direction. "At the Veil...that...was her?"

"Yes," she whispered, a smile formed of distant memories drawing upon her face.

"What was it your Mum told you?" asked Harry. "What is it about her, anyway?"

Luna sighed contentedly, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Well," she began dreamily, "Mum had what you might call a very interesting ancestry, you know. Her Gran was rather extraordinary..."

THE END