It's quiet.
Almost too quiet, like someone has cast an Aresto Momentum on the whole world. Harry shifts uncomfortably where he's seated, straining his ears for the slightest sign of a sound.
Luna notices, too.
"It's the Dillywigs" she murmurs matter-of-factly.
Harry raises an eyebrow.
"You know, Dillywigs? They make a buzzing the mutes out all other sounds. It's really quite remarkable" she explains, waving her hand through the air as if to catch something very small.
"There millions of them in my hand now" she says, offering an empty palm to Harry. He blinks, nodding apologetically.
There is silence again.
"My mom and I used to watch the stars" says Luna quietly. "She liked to draw their constellations. I liked to make up my own. It was more fun that way"
"Doesn't it make you sad?" Harry asks, without thinking.
"What do you mean?" asks Luna absently, running her hands through a section of her hair and beginning to braid it.
"Well, after your mom... you know..."
"Died?" Luna finishes, knotting the end of her braid and tucking it behind her ear. "I suppose a little bit. But I always like to think she's looking down at me from up there"
"Oh" is all Harry can say.
A light breeze picks up, blowing Luna's blond hair away from her face. Harry catches the scent of herbal tea and ink, and oddly pleasant combination. The wind pushes the clouds aside, and the blonde strands glow silver in the moonlight.
"They're up there, too, you know" she says finally, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Harry frown and tilts his head in question, but sees Luna has closed her eyes. He clears his throat.
"Who?"
"Your parents. They're watching over you, even now" says Luna. Harry freezes as she places one of her hands over his. It's warm and small compared to his, but he likes it there.
"How do you know?"
"I just do. Facts and proof aren't as important everyone says. We should all try a little harder to just know" Luna says.
Harry isn't sure how true this is, but as his gaze eventually returns to the stars, drinking in every tiny pinprick of light. It was rather strange, to think those little pinpricks were the eyes of people dead and gone. Was there one for every star? No wonder there were so many, he supposes.
Another thought pops into his mind.
"Are they happy?"
He can't avoid the cracking in his voice. He bites his tongue and turns away, blinking sudden tears away from his eyes. Luna's tiny fingers curl into his and she grips his hand a little tighter.
"What do you think?" she asks gently, turning to look up at him with round blue eyes, sparkling and shining with endless mysteries as they reflected the stars within their depths like tiny night skies themselves.
Harry swallows the lump in his throat and sniffs. "I hope so" he admits, casting another glance up at the night sky. "I really hope so"
Without warning, Luna adjusts herself, snuggling into Harry's robe and resting her head on his shoulder. His face flushes despite the cool breeze as she breathes softly, her fingers still laced through his.
"Luna?" he murmurs softly, pulling some loose blonde strands away from her face.
"Hm?"
He cannot speak for a moment. Instead, he puts and arm around the tiny girl and pulls her close. She responds in kind, the curves of her figure nestling into the folds in his robe like puzzle pieces.
"Thank you" he says at last. Her soft lips bloom into a warm smile, although her eyes remain closed.
"You're welcome, Harry" she murmurs back.
Minutes pass, although they feel like days. Harry closes his eyes, feeling the damp spring air against his skin. It smells fresh and clean and wild, the scents of flowers and earth mingling with rain and sun-baked bark. The woods rustle, their timbers creaking. Harry suspects many animals will be waking from their hibernation soon. The water will finally warm up. Maybe he could take a break by the lake, just to relax.
As he thought, he ran his hands through Luna's hair and rubbed her back gently. Her breathing was soft and even. She was asleep.
Harry smiled affectionately down at Luna. He wondered what she dreamt about. Wrackspurts, probably. Or her mother. Maybe both.
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her hair was scented of parchment and grass and a sweet substance he couldn't identify.
"I love you, Luna" he whispered, pulling away and closing his eyes. A mere moment later, she squeezed his hand, and his heart jumped.
"That's the Humdingers" she confessed. "But I love you too"