So this is a little bit of Harry/Luna fanfiction that I just kind of wrote to spite my friend who hates the pairing. It's a non-smutty one-shot that I may or may not continue later on.
God, they were all so drunk. Luna couldn't help but giggle as she tossed her sack of books from her shift at the library onto an old armchair near the door. She had known she would have to get used to this when she moved into a small town-house with Hermione Granger as a roommate, especially in Godric's Hollow, the town most of her Hogwarts class had settled into after graduation. It still shocked her, however, to walk into a scene blatantly resembling a drunken, drug-induced orgy after coming home from the quiet, sanctuary of intellect (and books!) where she worked. Rolling her eyes playfully at the whole sprawling, slurring lot of them, she carelessly pulled off her pretty, ornate sandals as she crossed to the kitchen to fix a cup of tea.
It had taken her presence an embarrassingly long time to reach the attention of her house guests, and then first Hermione then the rest of the group started asking her to join them. She declined - a Ravenclaw through and through, she preferred to keep her wits and brains about her at all times. The same could not be said, however, for her former housemate Cho Chang, who was currently slobbering shamelessly into Neville Longbottom's ear. The group lost interest in her relatively quickly and turned their attention back to their game, which Luna was now observing with mild interest from her perch on the staircase, holding onto a thick novel and her mug of mint tea.
They appeared to be playing some form of "Never Have I Ever", a muggle truth-telling game, with a drinking component. Each player had a charmed shot glass in front of them, which was magically refilled from a large bottle of vodka in the center of the circle whenever emptied. It was Lavender's turn, and she giggled around her words, hiccups mingling with every sound she made.
"Never have I ever... been in a three way!"
Ron and Hermione looked at each other knowingly before downing a shot each. Luna smiled to herself. She remembered that story. But that reminded her... where was Harry? He usually tagged along with Ron or Padma to Hermione's parties; he didn't drink, having the same distaste for alcohol as Luna, but rather insured his friends made it home safely. He and Luna often spent the time talking quietly, laughing whenever a guest did something outrageous, but mostly leaving the drunken comedy to the drunks. She frowned without meaning to - the prospect of sitting through the night was suddenly daunting. Dull.
A few hours later found Luna sprawled across her bright quilt bedspread, having confiscated the group's alcohol and replaced it with coffee. She wanted to get to bed, and it was getting loud downstairs. Groaning, she decided that Harry wasn't coming, and she would have to herd Hermione's house guests out the door herself. She peeled herself off the bed and down the stairs, only to realize the entire party was passed out on various pieces of her furniture. Taking on the damage with flaring panic, she realized just how much work this would be. And that's when she heard a low chuckle from the doorway.
She clenched her wand as she spun around, only to face a tall, raven haired figure leaning casually against the door frame. She relaxed fractionally as Harry continued to stare at her with sharp green eyes, thoroughly amused at her predicament.
"Are you going to offer to help me?" Luna asked, trying not to let her voice shake.
"I might. You know, for a Ravenclaw, it was a damn stupid move to let them fall asleep." He took one long, cocky step into her home. "After all, you didn't know I'd come to rescue you."
Luna rolled her eyes and let him lead her into the living room. With gentle, well practiced movements, he began brewing a potion to wake the guests in order to send them on their way as Luna struggled to get Hermione up the stairs.
She hummed softly to her passed out roommate as she pulled off her skinny jeans and bright red tank top, replacing them with her most modest pair of silk pajamas. She pulled the girl onto her bed, combing through her hair and doing her best to wipe off the makeup from her face. It was really the least she could do: the war had left it's mark on all if them, and Luna should know better than anyone just how hard it could be to deal with the most painful memories. As she tucked Hermione into bed and dimmed the lamp on her bedside table, she hesitated before pouring her a tall glass of wine and leaving it on the counter of the old-fashioned vanity for when Hermione woke up.
Halfway down the staircase, Luna stopped to watch Harry administer the potion to the last houseguest, Dean Thomas. The strong young man sputtered awake and was given a mug of coffee and a pat on the back by Harry before stumbling out into the night. Harry slowly knelt to place the empty beaker onto the cupboard before turning to face Luna. For the second time that night, she felt unwittingly captivated by his electric green stare. A prickle in her core that had nothing to do with the lateness of the hour started eating away at her stomach, and she clumsily descended the staircase to sit on her favorite, old and trusty couch.
Harry paused for a moment before running a hand through his unruly hair, chuckling and shaking his head in a gesture of bewildered and total defeat. He gave Luna a tentative, sidelong glance before plopping down next to her, laughing again briefly before groaning and burying his head in his hands. Luna sat still, mildly interested in the show through the haze of exhaustion. Following the end of the war, Harry very seldom showed his emotions, feeling the need to be an anchor and idol for all those who had lost family or friends in the fight against Voldemort, a fight he himself had led. It would be hard for Harry not to feel a bit responsible.
Luna was startled back into reality with the sound of a muffled but desperate sob, and the sight if Harry's shoulders quaking violently. All pretense of tiredness lost, she let out a little yelp before rushing to make him a hot mug of tea. By the time she had come back, Harry had collected himself somewhat, sitting up a little straighter and rubbing his red, swollen eyes. He chucked again when Luna thrust the cup into his hands and sat next to him, dealing her arms around his lean shoulders comfortingly.
"Sorry," he said in a surprisingly steady voice. "I haven't done that in a long time. I guess its not very gentleman like to rip the 'damsel in distress' role away from the lady in the room, is it?" He let out a little laugh and a slight sniff before going quiet again.
Luna sighed. "I had seven long months to play out that role, in the basement of Malfoy Manner. I'm done with it." She shuddered involuntarily, and Harry quickly reversed their embrace, letting her relax into his strong chest, holding her close. "I assure you its overrated."
"What's happened to us, Luna?" Harry didn't sound sad anymore. Just... tired. Luna stared straight ahead, trying to soak up all the warmth his body was willing to give. "Ron's spending his nights spooning with Draco Malfoy, Hermione's drunk more often than sober, and I broke it off with Padma last night when she mentioned kids just in passing." He sighed, holding her tighter. "Do you remember when we used to fight about wragspurts and gnome bites?"
Luna found Harry's hand on her shoulder and clutched it tightly. "I don't think I have to remind you what happened, Harry." she breathed, hearing his breath hitch behind her. "I got raped and tortured, Hermione and Ron and you were starved and beaten and almost killed of frustration. We all lost friends. Ron lost family, so did you." She turned out of his embrace to face her friend, whose tears were streaming silently down his face. "But we're the strong ones, Harry. The fighters. The survivors." He nodded and bit his lip, looking down. Luna grabbed his chin and stuck it out rather roughly. Her long, white blond hair was tangled and wild, her soft blue eyes steely with determination, her pale pink lops set in a hard line. She repeated herself in little more then a whisper.
"We're the strong ones."