Chapter 2 – Dinner (Or, Hey Baby, Wanna Purloin My Sirloin?)

Saturday brought no rest for the weary denizens of the Burrow. Harry and Ron both woke up feeling better, though they were still pale and runny-nosed. Molly pressed them into service anyway. "Your wedding's only two weeks away," she reminded her youngest son, who bitched hard about his assigned task of de-gnoming the garden.

Ron grumbled and sniffled at the same time and trudged out to the garden. "Bloody things'll be back by then, anyhow. No mercy on a dying man."

Harry grinned. He abruptly stopped grinning, however, when Mrs. Weasley thrust one hundred tulle bags and a massive vat of sugared almonds into his hands. He sat down at the kitchen table, where a large pair of scissors, a stack of small gift tags printed with Hermione and Ron's names and the wedding date, and a spool of gold ribbon awaited him.

"Harry, dear, can you assemble the wedding favours? Just put about five almonds in a bag and attach the card with a piece of ribbon. Yes, that's the way."

Despite the ignominy of his task, Harry found the piecework oddly soothing: fill the bag, cut the ribbon, attach the card, repeat. The sound of Ron cursing fluidly floated in through the open kitchen window. Harry shook his head and laughed when his friend came barging back through the garden door, sucking his bloodied thumb.

"What happened?" Mrs. Weasley switched her gaze from the bubbling pot of stew on the stove to her youngest son.

"Little fucker bit me," he snarled, running the digit under a cold tap.

"Ronald Weasley, language!" Molly rapped him sharply on the head with a spoon.

"Ow!"

"Violence is rarely the answer," called a sparkling, feminine voice from the window. A frisson of pleasure ran up Harry's spine, and he turned in his seat (with a bag of almonds in one hand and a curlicue of golden ribbon in the other) to see Luna poking her head in.

"Oh, hello there, Luna," Molly said warmly, pocketing her spoon. "What brings you by?"

"Harry mentioned Ron was ill, so I brought a few phials of my latest batch of Pepper-Up," she explained, holding up her purple handbag in illustration. "Hello, Harry. I didn't know you would be here."

"Oh, erm, hey!" He stood up, seized with the urge to hide his hands behind his back. "How's it going?"

"It goes," Luna replied lightly. Her eyes travelled up and down his frame. "Nice pyjamas." Harry spluttered and sat back down.

"You might as well come in, dear," Molly called to Luna through the window. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

"Yes, thanks," Luna replied, entering through the garden door. She dropped her handbag on the table and removed six large phials of bubbly red liquid from its cavernous interior, handing them to Molly. "This batch is extra strong."

"Won't go amiss, that's for sure," Ron said, swiping a phial from his mum's hands when she passed him on her way to the medicine chest. He poured it down his throat. In addition to the usual outpouring of steam, a few glowing sparks leaped from his ears. "Whoooeeeeee," he wheezed. "You weren't kidding about extra strong!"

"How do you feel?" Luna asked. A delighted smile spread over Ron's face as he shrugged and rolled his head on his shoulders, testing for body aches.

"Wow. Better. A lot better. Thanks, Luna!"

"You're welcome." She was speaking to Ron, but her quicksilver eyes were focused unblinkingly on Harry.

"Do you need one of these, dear?" Molly waved a phial in Harry's direction.

"Yes, please," he said, accepting it. When he swallowed the cinnamon-scented potion, he noticed that in addition to the usual steam pouring from his ears and lessening of cold symptoms, a cheerful, energized feeling spread from his chest to his fingers and toes. "Wow," he commented, echoing Ron. "Wow. What did you do to it, Luna?"

"I added a Cheering Charm to the brewing process," she explained. "If you suffer from excessive giggling as a side effect, let me know." She sat down at the table and swept her silver gaze over the mess.

"Want to help? Between the two of us, we'll be done in no time," Harry coaxed. Luna just smiled and pointed her wand wordlessly at the spool. As he watched, the ribbon trimmed itself into identical lengths, one after the other, creating a pile in the middle of the table. Merlin, he thought. How'd she get so good with a wordless spell? As the spell did its work, she began putting five almonds in each bag without needing to be told what to do. "Here," he said, handing her half the stack of tags. Their fingers brushed briefly, sending a tingling rush up his arm. He thought he saw something flash in her eyes, but when he blinked, her expression was as impassive as ever.

"Thanks," she chirped, and went back to assembling favours. Harry did not reply, as his throat had gone very dry. He coughed slightly.

"Oh, didn't the potion work?" She looked disappointed.

Dammit dammit dammit, Harry thought. She doesn't miss a trick, does she? "Oh, yes," he choked. "I just – erm – had a frog in my throat." She did her curious watching-the-air-around-him-thing again, but said nothing. He stole a sugared almond from the vat and popped it into his mouth.

"I saw that, young man," Molly scolded, swatting the back of his head with a tea towel. He grinned impishly at her and stole a few more.

"Couldn't resist," he said, cracking the candy-coated confection between his molars. Ron stole a handful of almonds as well, dodging the expert towel-snap his mother aimed at his arse, and headed back out to complete the de-gnoming.

They worked in silence until all one hundred bags were assembled. Molly transfigured an old, single mitten into a box, into which the favours were deposited for safekeeping. "Best hide these," she muttered, carrying the box upstairs and leaving Luna and Harry alone in the kitchen. They smiled awkwardly at each other across the table.

"I should go," she said, getting up from the table and pushing in her chair. "Best get home before the rain starts." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the sky exploded in a fury of lightning and fat droplets. "Or, I could just Apparate."

"If you can just Apparate, what's the hurry?" Harry heard himself say. "Stay awhile." He was hoping to get the chance to accidentally-on-purpose touch her again.

"Oh, I'm sure you have things to do." Luna waved a dismissive hand. "Besides, you're sick."

"I feel better," he insisted.

She regarded him for a long moment. "The potion should hold you for about twelve hours," she said, as though he'd asked.

Molly came bustling back into the kitchen. "Off again, Luna?"

"I'm afraid so." Luna smiled at the Weasley matriarch. "It was lovely to see you again."

"And you, dear." Molly gave the quiet blonde a quick, motherly squeeze. "Pop by anytime."

At that moment, Ron burst through the garden door, swearing and soaking wet. "I'm going to die of bloody pneumonia," he gasped.

XoXoXoXoXoX

The next two weeks flew by in a flurry of activity, but Harry was never too busy to spare a thought for Luna, or a glance at her house if he was looking out his favourite window. He hadn't seen her in the cafeteria at work, but the light still burned in her window at night, so he knew she wasn't out of town. Although he mentioned it to no one, he was dying to see her again.

The cold, rainy English May had given way to a surprisingly warm, paradisiacal June, perfect for wedding season. And so, on the first Saturday of the month, Ronald Weasley married Hermione Granger in a tent in his parents' backyard. Harry stood up as best man, and Ginny was maid of honour. They managed to swallow the animosity between them and be civil, so as not to spoil the special day of two people they both loved. At least she's adult enough to do that, he thought.

Harry was so busy preparing for the ceremony that he did not see Luna until he was standing at the altar by Ron's side. All of a sudden, he noticed her sitting near the back, and the sight of her took Harry's breath away. This was not the bedraggled flower child he remembered from school, the awkward girl with the untamed waves of hair and eccentric, if cheerful, fashion choices. This Luna had styled her hair into a sleek updo and ditched her dirigible plums. Her dress robes were distinctive, but elegant; the colour was not quite silver and not quite gold, and the fabric looked like a liquid metal alloy purling over her tiny frame. She made Harry think of a statue of a Greek or Roman goddess, come to life to watch him with expectant, shimmering eyes. She was what most people called a "cute girl", with rounded, sweet features, but she wasn't just "cute" today. Today, Harry decided, she was approaching beauty. He rather missed the plums, though. His gaze locked with hers, and she gave him a shy half-smile, which he returned. Then the music started, and Ginny proceeded up the aisle. Hermione followed on her father's arm, and as Harry watched, his two best friends were joined together for life. It was a beautiful moment.

After the ceremony came the receiving line, which took forever because there were one hundred guests. It was an amazing number, Harry thought, considering that Hermione was Muggle-born and an only child of only children; her parents were the only guests from her side of the family. He was growing tired of standing, but Harry got his second wind when it was Luna's turn to shake his hand. "Pleasure to meet you," he joked. He was only half-kidding; it really was like meeting her for the first time. Her fingertips were cold, but her hand was soft, and Harry felt a rush of adrenaline when their palms met. An ironic smile lit up her prominent grey eyes.

"Suffering any excessive giggling, Harry?"

"No, just excessive work," he complained playfully. "Come and find me after dinner, I'll tell you all about it."

As it happened, Harry was the one who found Luna. After dinner came the long, boring speeches, and then he and Ginny had to help Hermione and Ron open the dancing, which was awkward in the extreme. When his duties as best man were officially concluded, he ducked out for some desperately-needed air. He found Luna sitting on a nearby tree stump, leaning back on her hands and watching the sky.

"Hello again," he said conversationally. He kicked off his shoes and socks and sat next to her on the large stump, wriggling his long toes in the grass. The dew felt good on his feet. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Oh, no. I'm just woolgathering," she replied. "It's healthy to sit and be idle sometimes. One never knows what one might observe."

"Looking for anything in particular? A Crumple-Horned Snorckack, perhaps?"

She didn't seem amused by his little joke. "I've given up trying to find evidence to fit my theories, Harry," she reproved. "It's generally considered to be an abuse of the scientific method."

The scientific method? Harry thought. What the hell? Once again, he found himself wondering exactly what Luna had been up to over the past four years. He had never known her to make any sort of reference to the Muggle world, being a Pureblood. "So, what are you looking for, then?"

"Just watch." They sat side-by-side on the stump, faces upturned to the tableau of stars. To a passerby, they might have looked quite silly. Suddenly, a streak of white arced across the sky near the horizon.

"A meteor!" he exclaimed, delighted.

"Mmm-hmm. What else?"

Something dark flitted through his field of vision. Why had he not noticed the bats before? There were dozens of them, perhaps hundreds, all out collecting their midnight snacks. "Bats," he said unnecessarily.

"What do you hear? Close your eyes," Luna prompted. Harry did as she bade, and with visual stimulation cut off, he found he could hear much better: music and raucous laughter from the tent, a very faint squeaking noise, which he attributed to the bats, the light wind, and…

"My heartbeat," he whispered. He didn't know why he was whispering. "I can hear my heartbeat." He opened his eyes to find Luna staring at him with those expressive silver eyes, the ghost of a smile hanging about her lips.

"See? One never knows."

"Heeeeeeeeyyyyy, it's Harry and Luna!" George Weasley danced out of the tent to where they were sitting. "Let's have us a dance, Luna!'

"You're drunk," she responded, but there was a smile on her face.

"No, I'm festively inebriated. There's a difference." George gave a theatrical bow, extending a hand to her. "My lady?"

Harry replaced his socks and shoes, wandering back inside the tent with them. He plunked himself down at a table with a glass of champagne in his hand. It was a fast song, and Luna and George were dancing in a deliberately silly manner, but the sight of them together roused a familiar green-eyed monster in Harry's chest. Mine, it growled. When the music turned slow, George took Luna into his arms, swaying with her to the beat. Harry's eyes fixed on George's hands, wrapped securely around her waist, while her hands rested lightly on his shoulders. Much to his dismay, as Harry watched, George turned his head and whispered something into Luna's ear. She responded by hugging him fiercely. Oh, no, the beast insisted. No, no, no. We can't have this. Harry got up and made his way over to them.

"Out the way, Weasley," he mock-bellowed. "Let me show her how a real man does it."

"Where?" George pretended to search the room. "I don't see one." He took Harry's friendly hip-check in stride and stumbled off, grabbing Great-Auntie Muriel and insisting that the old bag have a dance with him instead.

Harry put his hands on Luna's waist, she placed hers on his shoulders, and they danced. "Are you having a good time?" he asked, stubbornly resisting the urge to stroke her skin through the satiny fabric that covered it.

"Oh, yes," Luna replied. "I love weddings." She inclined her head to indicate Ron and Hermione, who were all wrapped up in each other on the dance floor. Harry followed her line of sight and grinned.

"About bloody time. They look happy, don't they?"

Her smile turned wistful. "Yes," she said simply.

When the dance was over, he released her reluctantly. "Hey, Luna. Erm. I was wondering, do you want to grab some dinner tomorrow?" She looked about to say no, so he quickly added, "You know, as friends? Just to catch up, and stuff." He trailed off, embarrassed.

A faint look of surprise flickered in her eyes. "Sure, Harry. Where would you like to go?"

He thought hard for a minute. "Okay, I think I have an idea. But it's a surprise."

"As long as the surprise doesn't involve cilantro," Luna warned with a shudder. "I hate cilantro."

Harry couldn't help it; he laughed out loud. "No, no cilantro. I promise. But you will need to wear Muggle clothes."

XoXoXoXoXoX

Luna passed Harry's "Muggle clothes test" with flying colours. He knocked on the door to her house at 6:30 the following evening, and when she opened the door, she was ready for him. She'd chosen a short, sleeveless ivory sundress and low-heeled sandals for the occasion, with her hair in a loose braid down her back. It wasn't revealing, but the sundress showed that she had more generous curves than he had previously thought, and her arms and legs were toned. Even in heels, she was also quite petite. Harry estimated she was approximately 5'3" in her sock feet. At 5'10", he was not a particularly tall man, so that suited him fine. Her dirigible plum earrings were still missing, replaced with pearl studs.

"Hello, Harry." She looked him up and down, taking in his black sport jacket and sapphire-blue shirt (worn in her honour). "You look nice."

"So do you," he replied sincerely. "Wow." Much to his pleasure, she blushed slightly. He held out his arm for Side-Along Apparition. "Ready to go?"

"Yes." She grabbed her enormous purple handbag from a table by the door and stepped out of the house. She took his arm, and with a crack, they Apparated to a dark alley in the heart of London.

Luna was delighted to find Harry had brought her to his favourite Muggle restaurant. It was located on the top floor of a swanky hotel, and Harry wondered if he'd have to explain the lift to Luna, but she had obviously encountered them before. They arrived at the front desk and confirmed their reservation. With a whisper to the maitre d' and a 20-pound note discreetly palmed off, Harry was able to secure a secluded table for two in the section that had the best view of the city.

"I love this place," he told her once they were seated. "It's got the best steak I've ever had. Well, not that I ever really ate a lot of steak until recent years, but you know what I mean."

"It's nice," she said, looking all around. "Do you come here a lot?"

"All the time," he replied. "My flat is only a few blocks away."

"We're close to Diagon Alley, too, aren't we?" Luna whispered conspiratorially, throwing him a too-obvious wink. Harry grinned back, pleasantly surprised that she had her bearings.

"We are. Hey, listen, do you mind if I order for both of us? I want you to sample all my favourites."

"All right."

He called the waiter over by name, handing him a note with their order already written on it (and a hundred-pound note folded discreetly inside). They exchanged a brusque nod, and the waiter promptly buggered off.

"They know you here," Luna commented.

"Yes, they do," he agreed. As he watched, she looked around to ensure they weren't being observed, and then waved a hand over the unlit candle on the table. A flame sprang instantly to life on the wick. Holy shit, Harry thought. Holy fucking shit. That was wordless and wandless. The only other people I've known who could do that were Hogwarts professors, and all about a hundred years old. Luna cleared her throat, and he realized he was goggling at her with his mouth open. "So. Erm. Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"Oh, I've been eating lunch at my desk lately," she responded breezily. "So much work to do, you know."

"That's not what I meant. I mean, what did you do after Hogwarts?" Harry clarified. "Until you popped up at work, I hadn't seen you in –"

"Four years, yes," Luna finished. "Well, I went back to Hogwarts the year after the battle."

"Yeah, Ginny mentioned that," he said. "What happened after that?"

"I left the UK," she said simply.

He leaned in closer to her across the table, opening his mouth to speak, but the waiter interrupted with a bottle of champagne. "Compliments of the house, m'sieur."

Harry grinned inwardly. Compliments of the house, my arse, he thought. "Thank you."

"Champagne?" Luna queried. "Are we celebrating?" The waiter popped the cork and filled their glasses halfway before disappearing back to the kitchen.

Harry smiled and lifted his glass. "Of course we are! You've got a new job, remember? To new beginnings," he toasted. One corner of her mouth twitched at this, but she clinked her glass with his, and they drank. "Now. You were about to tell me why you 'left', as you so vaguely put it."

She frowned, clearly hemming and hawing about what to tell him – or possibly how much to tell him. "Long story short? I left because of my father," she said. A moody look clouded her wide silver eyes.

"I don't understand. I thought you came back because of your father."

"Yes, that too."

"Okay, I don't get it."

"Really?" Luna quirked an eyebrow. "Of all people, Harry, I would have thought that you would understand better than most."

Harry shook his head, frowning. "What –"

"What did he do, Harry?" Luna interrupted. Her voice had changed to the flat, hard tone that he dreaded. "He betrayed you. And me. That's what he did." She took a delicate sip from her glass, not looking at him. "The story got out, you know," she continued bitterly. "The story of just how you got caught by the Snatchers and wound up at Malfoy Manor, I mean. 'All's fair in love and war', isn't that what he said?" Harry nodded mutely. "If you thought I was an outcast before, you should have seen my seventh year at Hogwarts. I was the girl whose dad betrayed Harry Potter to the Death Eaters." She finished her champagne. "I had to get out. After the year I had, I didn't ever want to hear the word 'magic' again, so I left. I decided to make like a Muggle-born, in reverse."

Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He could think of about a million things he wanted to say to her, but her tale was obviously not over. His voice sounded hollow to his own ears. "Where did you go?"

"Canada."

"Canada?" He stared at her blurry form, absolutely gobsmacked.

"Canada." She traced a finger idly around the rim of her empty champagne flute, making the crystal sing softly.

"Why?"

"It's beautiful there. I don't imagine you've ever been?" When Harry shook his head, she continued. "They have everything. Maritimes, prairies, mountains – even some of the best beaches in the world. It's also an entire ocean away from here."

Harry was unable to stop himself from picturing Luna on the beach in a bikini, though he mentally cursed his perverted brain all the while. You really do have the worst timing, me, he thought to himself. Out loud, he said, "What did you do in Canada, besides visit the beach?"

"That part, you already know. I travelled, freelanced for travel journals, that sort of thing."

"Muggle travel journals?" He replaced his glasses on his nose.

"Yes. Well, the other kind, too. Freelancing isn't easy money in either world. Canada has a small Wizarding population, so I found opportunities in the Muggle world where I could, and made them in the Wizarding world where I could not. You might say I got in touch with my inner Slytherin. I have learned the hard way," she said, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts, "that it pays to play one's cards close to the chest, Mr. Potter." He did not miss the ironic use of his last name, although he could only wonder what she meant by the sudden, odd formality. "The research was fun, though," she added with a charming grin. As quickly as it had disappeared, her normal voice was back. "Someday, I'd like to publish an illustrated guide to the magical wildlife there. Tourism is big business; I'd imagine it would sell well."

Harry felt momentarily disoriented. He was sitting in a Muggle restaurant, drinking alcoholic beverages with Luna Lovegood, and discussing future business opportunities. Surely, if something stranger had occurred, he had not yet heard about it. It dawned on him after a moment that Luna had been involved in the Wizarding publishing business since childhood, so it really wasn't all that odd, after all. She'd been her father's right hand at The Quibbler from the time her mother died until –

"At any rate," she said, meeting Harry's gaze and interrupting his thoughts, "my father was a coward and a fool, and I learned a great deal about how the world really works once I escaped his influence." Her voice stayed light this time, her tone earnest. "I feel awful about what he did to you during the war, Harry. Sometimes I think it was my fault. If I'd moved a few seconds faster or slower that day – if I'd been quicker with my wand, maybe – then perhaps they wouldn't have caught me, and Dad wouldn't have done it, and Hermione wouldn't have been tortured, and –" to Harry's horror, she looked as though she might cry. He had never, ever, ever seen Luna Lovegood cry. He supposed she'd cried when Dumbledore died, but he'd not been in any state of mind to notice at the time. When Cho Chang had cried on him, he'd had to squelch his disgust; in sharp contrast, seeing Luna's silver eyes swimming with tears made his heart squeeze painfully. The waiter chose that inopportune moment to bring their appetizer - a double helping of escargot. He also refilled their champagne flutes before leaving, which at least gave Luna a much-needed moment to compose herself.

"Can I tell you something?" Harry asked her quietly, once he figured out what to say. She nodded. "Well, a couple of somethings, actually. First something: none of what happened was your fault. You didn't set Death Eaters loose on the country. Last I checked, megalomania is not one of your issues." She opened her mouth, but he held up an admonitory finger, forestalling her. "Not done. Second something: regardless of anything your father did, you have always been there for me when I needed you. You were one of the only DA members to show up for the Department of Mysteries, and you were right there, fighting by my side during the last battle. I dunno why people think Gryffindors have the market cornered on bravery. You're brave too, Luna. You've always put your Galleons where your mouth is, so to speak."

"Put up or shut up," she chimed unexpectedly. Taken off guard, Harry laughed. Luna smiled. "You always were one of the few people who could appreciate my sense of humour, you know."

His eyebrows shot up. "I don't believe I've ever heard you make a joke, Luna."

She gave him an exaggerated look that said, oh, come off it. "You didn't really think I believed that the Rotfang conspiracy was going to bring down the Ministry with a combination of Dark magic and gum disease, did you?"

Harry blushed and coughed, refusing to meet her gaze.

"Fuck you very much," she said, grinning widely. His jaw dropped.

"Luna Lovegood. I have never heard you swear before."

"There's plenty about me you've never experienced before, Harry Potter."

He snickered at her double entendre, wondering if it was intentional. "Yeah, I'm finding that out." He grabbed one of the cocktail plates the waiter had brought and put half the escargot on it, handing it back to her. "Go ahead."

"Oooh, escargot. I love these," she exclaimed, spearing one eagerly with her fork and popping it into her mouth. She closed her eyes briefly as she chewed and swallowed. "Oooh. Oh. Oh my. That's good."

Harry didn't know which emotion he felt more strongly – annoyance that he had thus far failed to show her anything she didn't recognize, or arousal from the unintentionally sexy noises she was making. She also made him feel a little stupid, now that he was actually having a conversation with her that lasted more than thirty seconds. She wasn't doing it on purpose, he was sure; she was just that smart, and he was absolutely dying to impress her. He thought back to Ron's remark about Luna seeming out of place in Ravenclaw and shook his head. That's why she's a Ravenclaw and you're not, mate.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm sorry, I was just thinking." He loaded up his plate with escargot and tucked in, just to avoid looking directly at her. They munched in silence for awhile, both finding that the awkwardness had crept back in. "So, how did you wind up dating George Weasley?"

Luna looked politely bewildered. "Excuse me? I'm not dating George."

"You're not?"

"No," she said, sounding confused and amused at the same time. Confamused, kinda like how she makes me feel, Harry thought, his brain going into giddy overdrive at the words I'm not dating George. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"At the wedding," he explained. "You two looked…erm…cozy."

Luna giggled. "Oh, that's silly," she said. "I think Ginny would scratch my eyes out if I went anywhere near her brothers."

"Huh?" It was Harry's turn to be confused.

"She absolutely hates me on account of what my father did during the war," Luna said. "She never said anything to you?"

"To be honest, it never came up."

"Well, she was a big part of the reason my seventh year at Hogwarts was a living hell. That's all I'm going to say about that, except to say that I'm surprised you never heard about it."

He shook his head. "No, not a word."

"George and Molly feel sorry for me, I think," she said thoughtfully. "It was Molly who insisted they invite me to the wedding, I'm sure."

"Erm, no," Harry said, feeling immense satisfaction at knowing something Luna didn't, for once. "Actually, that was Hermione."

"Really? I always thought she hated me, too."

"She values your friendship, Luna. We all do. But if I'm being honest, I think she does underestimate you."

"As have you, in the past," she pointed out.

Harry grimaced. "Touché."

The food arrived, one plate of butter chicken with basmati rice and naan, and one plate with a blue rare sirloin steak and a baked potato with the works, which the waiter laid out in the centre of the table. A clean plate was placed in front of each of them. "Anything else for you?" he asked.

"No, we're all set." Harry smiled at him. "Thanks again."

"My pleasure, sir. I'll be back later to check on you." The waiter tapped the table to punctuate his words and returned to the kitchen.

They shared the food evenly between them, except for the steak, which Luna refused on the grounds that it was still bleeding. "I like animals," she mused. "I also like meat. Sometimes I can reconcile the two. Other times…"

"Luna Lovegood, rugged naturalist," Harry teased. "Actually, you can blame Bill Weasley for this. He's the one who turned me on to eating my steak this way."

"I remember him," she said quietly. "He was kind to me. His wife, too."

"The Weasleys are good people," he said. "Well, I dunno if I'd call Percy Weasley a good person, but the rest of them. That includes Ginny, although she can be a bit of a bully at times." He popped a bite of steak into his mouth, pausing to chew and swallow before continuing. "If it makes you feel any better, she was a horrible bitch to Fleur when Bill first brought her home. Fleur's actually a very sweet and loving person, and a talented witch, but Ginny was just determined to hate her. Hell, I've even heard Ginny insinuate that Hermione's stupid for not understanding Quidditch – right to Hermione's face."

"Really." Luna frowned deeply. "Well. Can't say as I know anyone else with the stones to call Hermione Granger stupid."

She'd done it again – caught him off guard. Harry nearly choked on his next bite of steak, he laughed so hard. "I can see why you and George get along," he managed, wiping tears from his eyes. "And, may I just say, I'm very sorry I never took the opportunity to really get to know you."

"Not never," she replied. "You're doing it now."

"That's true," he conceded, smiling what he hoped was a winning smile.

"And, Harry? I'm glad we're friends." She smiled shyly back at him. "Now I don't have to feel guilty every time I see you."

"Does that mean you'll try the steak?"

"Ask nicely." She batted her lashes. He was sure she was only kidding, but he gulped, suddenly nervous.

"Luna, will you please trust me, as a friend, and try my delicious steak?"

"Are you coming on to me?" she deadpanned. Harry roared.

They talked late into the night, long past the hour when they should have packed up their leftovers and gone home. He found himself completely enthralled with this intelligent, funny, yet incredibly humble and sensitive woman. He found himself thinking, Harry, mate, how in the hell did you miss this one? His eyes were drawn more and more to her mouth, and to the curve of her jaw just below her ear.

Just as the waiter was approaching to remove their plates, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Luna sneak a tiny piece of the blue rare steak off of his plate. He did not comment, wanting to see what she would do without interfering. She quickly stuffed it into her mouth, obviously hoping he wouldn't notice, and chewed once, twice. She paused. Harry waited for the inevitable look of disgust, but her face lit up instead.

"You were right," she said, her wide silver eyes going even wider. "Oh, wow. That's amazing. It tastes so different!"

"Hey," he chided playfully. "You purloined my sirloin."

"Thank you," she said blithely.

XoXoXoXoXoX

It was very nearly midnight before Harry dropped Luna off at her front door. "Thank you," she said again. "That was wonderful."

"It really was." He leaned against the door frame and smiled at her. She regarded him for a long moment.

"Can I ask you a question, and you won't take it the wrong way?" She tilted her head to the side, considering him.

"I'll try," Harry shrugged.

"What happened between you and Ginny?" He must have looked sad, because she added hurriedly, "I only ask because I can't understand why she'd let a guy like you get away."

Warmth spread through his chest, as surely as if she'd cast a Cheering Charm on him. "Thanks, Luna," he said, once again touched by her sweetness. "She and I…we've always had our issues. She would never let me just do what I needed to do without punishing me for it. I can be an arse sometimes, I admit it, but she has a hard time with forgiveness. She's changed a lot since Fred died, too. So has George, but he's just more serious than he used to be. Ginny is angry. I'm so tired of angry people. And lately…" he let out a long breath. "I'm pretty sure there's someone else."

Luna looked at the ground. "I'm sorry," she said softly, regretfully. "It's none of my business."

"I don't mind. Can I ask you a question in return, though?"

"Fair's fair." She watched him expectantly.

The question he actually wanted to ask was can I kiss you? However, he sensed that when the time was right, he would know it. He wouldn't need to ask. "How'd you learn to cast both wordless and wandless spells at such a young age?"

"That's a story for next time," she evaded. "I have to get to bed – lots to do at work tomorrow. But you remember my telling you that I did a lot of research in Canada? Well, it wasn't all about animals."

"Well, you can't stop there," he protested.

"To quote the venerable Pierre Elliot Trudeau, 'just watch me'," she replied, throwing him an almost Draco Malfoy-esque smirk. "Good night, Harry."

He stared at the door she had just closed gently behind her. "Who?" he asked the dirigible plums, utterly baffled. It wasn't until much later that he realized what she'd said, and that warm feeling crept over him again. Next time.