Chapter 10
A/N: I am so, so sorry I never update this one. School starting + new job + new boyfriend = zero time to write. However, with a happy relationship comes inspiration, so I decided to get back to this story.

"Catenaries and dirigibles brace and buoy the living room." – Joanna Newsom
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 Xenophilius Lovegood picked his daughter up from King's Cross Station, and the pair returned home for the holidays. Christmas dinner was, as per usual, a quiet affair, the traditional cuisines accented by unorthodox recipes of Lovegood invention.
Luna, for her part, was rather lost in thought through the entire meal. Her father wasn't exactly the talkative sort, and that left her with ample time to wonder. Harry had not written once all break—not that she expected him to or anything, she was just worried about him. He was always managing to get himself into some sort of trouble….

"…isn't that quite right, Luna, dear?" her father asked nervously, eyeing his daughter. His attitude towards her had changed somewhat since he had learned of her union with Harry. Men, for some reason, seem to have an odd revulsion towards their daughters allowing other men into their lives. There are numerous supposed reasons for it. Perhaps Xenophilius did not want his daughter growing up too fast. In a time period when girls are losing their maidenheads before adulthood, this is an apt concern.

Say he wanted Luna to stay a little girl. Not entirely a healthy wish, but still quite common and understandable. He was a lonely man, at home all year alone save for their pets (Luna's hairless cat Andersen, hairless because she was allergic to cat hair, who came home with her over breaks, and her father's several owls—two barn, one elf. The elf owl, nicknamed Pip, was actually Luna's, but as he was rather small for deliveries, he stayed at home during breaks).

So, naturally, Xenophilius wouldn't want Luna to get married, move away, grow old without him. Luna herself hated the thought of her father, alone full-time, she too busy bearing and raising babies to accompany him on holidays to Switzerland and Holland.
"Luna?" her father repeated, and Luna shook herself out of her reverie.

"Yes, Daddy, what did you say?"

"I was saying, we should go to Sweden this summer," he repeated. "There was a recent sighting of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack there. Several, in fact."

Luna considered this, her lips pursed. "But, Daddy, wherever would we find the gold for that?"

Xenophilius winked at her. "I've had an idea, Luna, my pet," he said, with that air he always possessed when he thought himself clever. "The Prophet has been printing lies about your boyfriend. He's a lunatic, they say. The Dark Lord is dead, Potter and Dumbledore are spouting lies for attention. Right?"

Unsure of where this was going, Luna nodded.

"So," he continued, talking through a bite of seasoned purple potato, "I'm sure the public is growing tired of hearing the same story over and over again, and one that select few believe to be a falsity."

Something was dawning on Luna. She took a gulp of Gurdyroot infusion, smacking her lips at the delightful taste. At her silence, her father continued speaking.

"The Quibbler could print that story. The true one."

Luna tipped her head to the side slightly, thinking hard. Wouldn't that be taking advantage of him, of Harry?

Seeing, or perhaps sensing, his daughter's indecision, Xenophilius spoke hurriedly. "Of course, it would be completely optional for him," he said, a bit anxious. "And," eager this time, "it would earn us great popularity and respect—the article may be almost as ground-breaking as our recent findings on the movements of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks!"

At last, Luna nodded. "Yes," she said slowly, her first word in several minutes. "Yes, I think that could work… if Harry's willing to talk about it." Xenophilius looked overjoyed.

"Finally," he said loudly. "A chance to reveal the truth to the Wizarding world at large." Whatever he may have said next was interrupted by a terse tap at the nearest window. Luna, already a bit on edge, whipped her head around to see Harry's snowy-white owl, Hedwig, perched in one of the Dirigible plum trees. There was a parcel tied to one of her talon-adorned feet.

Luna rose from her seat and opened the window, allowing Hedwig to hop gracefully onto her arm. The owl surveyed her with serene amber eyes; animals had always taken well to Luna.

"I'll just nip upstairs and open this," she said softly to her father, turning to go.

"Do write Harry and ask about setting up an interview," her father called after her, returning to his now slightly cold purple potatoes.

Up in her room, Luna fetched Hedwig a bowl of water and relieved her of the parcel. Hedwig lowered her beaked head and drank gratefully, fluffing up her feathers to get warm.

Luna opened the parcel to find an irregularly-shaped object wrapped in brown paper. She first removed a letter, slit the seal, and began to read.

Luna,

First of all, happy Christmas. Hope your dad's well, and you.

Ron's dad's been attacked by Voldemort's snake, and I'm spending Christmas at Snuffles's house with the Weasley family. Not much else to report. Stay safe.

Best,

Harry

Luna's stomach leapt at the third sentence. Ronald's family lived just over a hill from her, and she had met Arthur Weasley on several occasions. A slightly awkward yet surprisingly warm man, he had often brought over his wife's homemade pies in the year after Luna's mother died. Luna quite liked him.

Turning her attention to the parcel, Luna carefully removed the coarse brown paper to find a pair of trainers, a golden yellow colour, little wings painted on the sides. A scrap of parchment in one of the shoes read P.S., figured you could use some new shoes. Did the wings myself, sorry if they're a bit messy. xo, Harry.

Luna smiled to herself and slipped the shoes on. They fit exactly. Sitting down at her desk with her father's request in mind, she began to pen a letter, not to Harry, but to Hermione Granger, whom Luna admired for her ability to organize perfectly ordinary things such as magazine interviews.

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A/N: Purple potatoes exist. They taste just like regular potatoes, except… ~*fancier*~

Please, tell me what you liked and disliked about this chapter!