Chapter 8: Our Song
As the evening progressed, Harry could not resist staring at Luna. He was intrigued about her sudden transformation. He watched her every move. He watched the way she smiled. He watched those small dimples crease on the sides of her face. He watched her eyes light up. He felt a nudge on his arm and quickly, he snapped back into reality.
"Oi, what are you staring at? You haven't been yourself at all," Ron said.
Harry was soon aware that Ron and Hermione were now sitting with him at the bar.
"Yes, you've been staring across the room for the past thirty minutes," replied Hermione.
"Oh, I am just thinking about our new plans for the WWS," Harry lied. He drummed his fingers steadily onto the hard oak counter.
"Oh yes! I propose that we ought to have our first meeting Sunday evening," Hermione suggested.
"I can't that evening. I have quidditch practice," said Ron.
"How about Friday night?..Harry? Harry? HELLO!" exclaimed Hermione. Her gaze darted into the direction Harry was staring at.
You could hear Ginny laughing at Neville's comment about the Whiffenpoofs Luna had talked about.
"Harry? You should talk to her," Hermione commented.
"I think I should," Harry replied absent mindedly.
"Are you going to get back with her?" she asked.
Harry snapped back into reality once more.
"Huh? Who're you talking about Hermione?" asked Harry confused at her question.
"Why, Ginny of course! Who else were you thinking about?" asked Hermione, now confused of the whole situation.
Who WAS he talking about? Did he actually think about….
NO! Impossible! There's no way. No way in bloody hell!
"Um…Friday sounds splendid. What do you think Ron?" asked Harry, to cover his embarrassment.
Ron held a rather large mug of butterbeer and gulped a taste of the cool liquid. He wiped any residue left on his lips onto his sleeve.
"Ah…Sounds good to me," he replied.
"Then that's settled! Friday it is," Hermione said matter-of-factually.
"Hello, Harry," a dreamy voice spoke.
Slowly he turned around. Her voice sent shivers down his spine. He looked up and saw Luna smiling at him.
"May I sit here?" she asked, as she gestured to a seat beside him.
He nodded slowly. He let his body relax before he spoke.
"So…are you alright? Those girls got to you before," he said.
"I'm perfectly fine. This is a very lovely party you threw Hermione," Luna commented, looking around.
"Do you want a drink?" asked Harry.
"No thank you. I had enough butterbeers to last me during my time in the washroom," she chuckled.
He laughed. For the rest of the evening they chatted about life. Hogwarts. Family. everything there was to talk about. They talked about Luna's odd theories. Even though half of them were ridiculous, Harry found himself nodding and agreeing to every word she said. It was only until the party was over that they realized they have spoken quite a bit. Harry suggested he'd walk her back to the dorms.
"Would you like me to accompany you back?" asked Harry.
"Yes, I'd like that very much. I first must tell Ginny. One moment," she said walking away from him towards Ginny.
"Of!" Harry exclaimed as he was almost pushed over.
"Sooo! That's what you were looking!" laughed Ron. "Good old Loony there!"
Harry was caught. "What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," smiled Ron.
"Oh! Come on,Ron! She's not exactly my type. Do you understand?"
"Yea.Yea. That's what they all say," Ron teased.
"SO WHAT! Yea, I was staring at her. What's the big deal!" retorted Harry.
"WHOA!" Ron said, astounded at Harry's sudden crimson color. Luna came back standing next to Harry.
"Wow Harry! Your face is red. Did you eat a Ruddish? You get flustered when you eat those," Luna said.
"Yes, Harry! Did you?" chuckled Ron.
"You're asking for a smacked arse," Harry mumbled.
"Come again?" asked Luna.
"Oh no! Not you, I meant someone else," Harry said, as he glared at Ron, who had a hard time controlling his laughter. "Let's go."
The two walked together out of the café and into the cobblestone streets of Hogsmede. The moon's light was now brighter than ever. They cascaded onto both of them. The beams entwined with Luna soft, long wavy hair and settled onto Harry's prominent scar upon his forehead. Everything was quiet. They stopped by the bridge and stood there beside each other. They looked onto in the streams, which sparkled with the pale light, reflecting their faces. Everything was quiet. After a moment passed, Luna broke the silence.
"Do you want to dance with me?" she asked, extending her right hand to him.
"What?" Harry said, totally taken aback.
"Would you like to dance?" Luna asked serenely.
"There is no music," Harry replied.
"Yes there is. It's all around you," she said. She took his hand and laced her fingers around his.
"It's the river rushing below our feet," she began, twirled herself with her left arm.
"It's the wind blowing through our hair," she said, pulling back abruptly and twirling into his arms.
"It's the hooting of owls in the trees," she said.
She pulled back and moved him around in a circle. Then wrapped herself in his arms. "It's the breathing of two people on a bridge," she said, her face close up to his. He could feel her breath touch his face. He wondered if she could felt his. If he could feel his heart. Her sparkling eyes stared into his.
"You have nice eyes," she said randomly.
"Thank you," he replied.
"They say, the eyes are the depths of your soul. You have a nice soul," she commented. She smiled. He felt his heart give a tiny throb. It felt odd. It forgot what the sensation was but it was beginning to scare him. Especially when Luna was near him.
She continued to stare into his eyes. Then the song of the night began to ring in his ears. He felt his face go nearer and go nearer towards hers. The world was spinning now. Until finally… it stopped. Time froze. It was only their breathing. The rushing of water. The hoot of the owls. The touch of two lips…
Once they move apart, Harry looked into her eyes once more.
"I could hear it. The song of the night," he said.
"No…not the song of the night…Our song," she replied. Her eyes twinkling with the stars.