Chapter Text
*Harry’s Monday morning POV*
It was 9:00 on a Monday morning, and Harry found himself standing before the chipping blue gate of the Lovegood’s odd garden. There were flowers that looked like bulbs and bulbs that looked like fangs, and Luna’s house rose up past them with its wild angles, every cricket and breeze ringing unusually loud to his ears.
Harry liked early mornings at the Lovegood house. Something about the way the mist sat on the hedges made the world feel wide open, waiting. He exhaled as Luna poured him a mug of tea, pale yellow and fragrant. The map spread between them was a madhouse of ink and hopeful arrows: Luna had scribbled everything from “Peruvian cloud serpent habitat?” to “possible nargle breeding ground—investigate.”
They talked about everywhere—Scotland’s cold lochs, the Atlas Mountains, and the beaches Hermione had raved about in Greece. Harry could barely imagine it: a year with no expectations, no causes, and no running. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or just relieved not to be anybody’s hero for a while.
It was the quiet that got to him every now and then. The way their plans faded into silence. The way Luna’s hands twitched around the edges of the map.
He tried to fill it: “Was there ever anything… you know, between you and Neville?” It was the sort of question he’d never managed to ask before. Not of Luna, not of most people, frankly.
Luna gave him that sidelong, floaty smile. “Neville? He’s a lovely friend. That was all. Not everyone’s meant for romance, Harry. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that way. I think it’s safer not to, sometimes. After my mum... I see what love can do to people left behind.”
She looked suddenly distant, which rarely happened with Luna. Harry’s chest tightened, the old ache rumbling just beneath his ribs. Out of place and unsure, he settled for what he knew: he gave Luna’s shoulder a gentle, awkward squeeze.
Instead of shying away, Luna brightened at the gesture. “You have far too many wrackspurts around your head,” she declared. Then, abruptly, she leaned over and kissed him swiftly on the cheek, almost ceremonially.
He grinned. The strangeness between them broke into laughter—at least, until the sharp rap of fists at the door made them both jump.
Before Harry could react, Ginny burst in, eyes burning with something he couldn’t quite place—anger, maybe, or embarrassment, or the sort of pride that made her cheeks flush red in the cold. She stood in the entry, hair wild from the spring wind, gaze flicking between Harry, Luna, and the map sprawled on the rug.
“Well,” Ginny started, her voice landing hard and bright, dragging Harry instantly back into old patterns, “what a charming picture! Who knew adventuring started with breakfast and cuddling?” She tossed the words out so casually Harry almost missed the sharpness underneath.
He could tell something was off—her smile was wrong, her posture rigid. But he swallowed and tried to answer her lightly. “Morning, Gin. Want some tea?”
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Ginny said, that too-sweet note as sharp as ever. Then, turning to Luna: “Looks like you’ve got everything you need already. Planning your big escape?”
Luna, less flustered than Harry felt, said simply, “We’re picking the first stops for our trip. Harry’s never seen a real mooncalf migration. Would you like to look with us?”
Ginny’s lips curled in something Harry half-thought was a smirk. “Oh, you’re leaving? Fascinating. Such a shock. Wish someone had told me.”
He shrugged, suddenly feeling fourteen again, groping for words. “It’s only just sorted, really. We were going to—”
Ginny cut in, every syllable rehearsed. “Well, I hope you’re not too busy to drop by for Sunday dinner first. Family tradition, after all. Everyone’s coming. Luna too, obviously, Harry. Wouldn’t want to travel abroad without saying goodbye and all that.”
She was looking at Luna when she said it, but Harry felt trapped. Over Luna’s shoulder, Ginny’s eyes glittered, daring him to argue.
Luna gently interrupted—just as he was about to try and say no. “Harry, you don’t have to come if it’s uncomfortable,” she said, her tone oddly deliberate. “Only if you really want to.”
But Ginny held the floor. “Oh, he’ll come,” she said, all pretense now gone. “Right, Harry?”
There didn’t seem to be much choice. “Yeah. We’ll be there.”
Ginny’s mask slipped for half a second—something raw flickering through—before she flashed another cheerful smile and disappeared out the door without another word.
He sat in the silence that followed, the echoes of her footsteps still loud in the hall. Luna watched him carefully. “She’s hurting, you know.”
“I know.” But Harry was tired—tired of playing peacekeeper, tired of leaving and returning and never knowing if home meant what it used to.
~
Sunday came around too fast. Harry walked up the Burrow’s walk beside Luna, every bit as nervous as he’d been before his first Hogwarts feast. The garden was packed: George and Angelina were already cracking wise at the drinks table, Ron and Hermione were sniping at each other over pie, and Percy was explaining some obscure Ministry regulation to Audrey, who only rolled her eyes and cracked a small smile.
Ginny made sure to greet them loudly, Dean hanging just behind her, his jaw set, his smile brittle. “Harry! Luna! We saved the last seats for you, up here by me,” Ginny trilled—too bright, too pointed, and Harry found himself stuck between Luna and Ron, facing Ginny across the table.
It all felt slightly surreal. George started up immediately—"So! Harry and Luna are running off for a year but will be back in time for Christmas, right? We’ll save you a room!” —and Angelina added, “I expect postcards from anywhere with dragons.”
Ginny fielded every question like she was onstage. Every once in a while, she’d drop a comment—about “unexpected travels,” about “new couples and old friends”—making everyone laugh but Dean, who kept giving her pained, searching looks.
Finally, after Ginny made some off-handed jab about “how easy it must be to run away when you don’t have a job or family to worry about,” Dean turned, unable to hold it back: “Ginny. Can you not?” The table went quiet, George and Angelina’s jokes stuttering to a halt. Ginny flushed but set her jaw.
It passed, somehow. George rescued the mood with a loud story about Percy’s failed experiment with enchanted office chairs, and it all turned warm and raucous, like every Weasley gathering before it, if only on the surface.
Harry found a moment with Percy and Audrey in the orchard. “Take care of yourself,” Percy murmured, unexpectedly sincere, Audrey adding, “And don’t let her get to you. She’s tougher than she pretends.”
~
After dark, Andromeda found Harry out by the garden hedge.
She looked tired but determined. “Molly’s convinced me to take a week away. I need it, just once, you know. Will you watch Teddy while I’m gone?”
Harry didn’t hesitate. “Of course. He’ll be fine with me—and Luna, if she’ll have us both.”
Andromeda hugged him, relief and gratitude in every line of her face. “Thank you. I think Ted will like that. He’s missed you.”
~
Back at Grimmauld Place, Harry found Luna in the attic sorting through old books. He told her what Andromeda had asked, uncertain—hoping.
Luna smiled, bright-eyed and calm. “That’s wonderful, Harry. I’d love to help. It’ll be an adventure here before the adventure out there. Teddy reminds me a bit of you, you know. Always looking for something new.”
Standing there, Harry realized leaving could wait. Right now, this—family, comfort, the quiet miracle of putting someone else first—was enough.
And Luna, as always, made it easy to believe the best days weren’t only behind him.