For Harry, there is no way to describe Luna's presence other than as being a source of constant joy. As much as he loves Hermione and the Weasleys, they can all be rather judgmental and, when they think it's in his best interests, deceitful. And, when he's honest with himself, he has to admit that he is the same. In the midst of all of that, Luna's candour and tolerance is like a refreshing sun shower in the middle of a scorching summer day.
He knows that his family will never look down on him for a trait as human as fallibility; the war scarred them just as much as it did him, after all. They all take him as he is while accepting that where he's currently at isn't where he wants to be. But even they look at him critically at times, as if he should be doing things their way rather than his.
Luna, however, just looks at him with complete acceptance. She disagrees with him when she thinks he's wrong, but she never seems to do it in a condemnatory way. With her, he can just be. And, he hopes, she can do that with him as well.
"What's it like to work with your boyfriend?" Harry asks her as he packs away the board game they were playing with Teddy that morning.
"Partner," she corrects him, sorting the coloured bricks into piles. "It's certainly an experience, but then I suppose everything is. It shows me things about Rolf that I wouldn't have seen otherwise, like how ambitious and competitive he can be. And we both love our jobs, so we haven't had any problems with accountability."
"Do you ever feel like you talk about work too much? Susan is dating one of our co-workers, and she says work often bleeds over into their dating life as well. It drives her mad sometimes, as if they're co-workers first and partners second."
Her hands still as she pauses to consider the question. "We do talk about it a lot," she allows, "but Daddy and I always have as well, and we've never had any problems with it. It has been such a big part of my life for so long, though, that it doesn't feel like a work conversation. It just feels like a me conversation." Blinking up at the ceiling, she remarks, "There are a lot of starzas here."
The change of topic confuses him, but he runs with it. "There are?"
"Yes. They tend to like dark, sad places. Have you ever thought about redecorating?"
Grief, never far from the surface, wells up within him again. "I talked about it, er, with Ginny. Years ago. We never got around to deciding on anything."
"Oh." Her eyes light up with understanding. "I see. No wonder you've kept it like this." Her gaze sweeps across the room. "Do you still want to redecorate? You could start with small changes instead of doing it all at once. If you don't rush it, it might not overwhelm you so much."
"Maybe. What would you suggest?"
She laughs, the sound trilling like a happy songbird celebrating the dawning of the day. "I don't think you should use my ideas as a guide if you want to go with slow and subtle. My style isn't exactly something most people view as normal." She raises her hand to her earrings, fingering the hanging grapes in silent emphasis. "Within a week, you would have skylights and flowerpots with glow in the dark stars on them and lucky charms hanging from strings that line the walls."
Harry can't help but grin at the thought. The image it conjures up is just so Luna; airy and fascinating and layered. She's right, though, when she says it wouldn't suit Grimmauld Place. The novelty would wear off after a few days, leaving him overwhelmed and lost once more. Still, part of him is charmed by the idea of it. "That sounds lovely, and I would even remove the charms around Walburga's portrait just to hear her reaction, but you're right. That might be too drastic a change for the time being."
"Start small," she advises.
"Start small," he agrees.
"I want to go to the cemetery tomorrow or the next day," she says, changing the subject with the swift grace of a ballerina. "It has been a while since I've been to visit Ginny's body. Do you want to come with me?"