Warm.
That was the first thought Luna registered before any of the other clutter of the day kicked up. Her body was warm in a way that, while not unfamiliar, felt somehow entirely new. The body pressed against hers was radiating a heat that coursed through her, a heat that felt soft and delicate and intense all at once, a heat that spoke of comfort and cozy fireplaces, but also of jungles and sweat and made her heart kickstart into a small frenzy.
She swallowed a suddenly nervous rush of saliva and felt the person beside her begin to stir, letting out a low, contented moan.
Hermione's hair, an unruly mass of curls to begin with, was now sticking up in strange patterns and had seemingly developed a life of its own. Her eyes had the faintest traces of sleep in the corners, and as her eyelashes fluttered open, Luna felt herself pulled deep into the warm, brown eyes that stared back. Eyes that spoke to her of many things; of magic and mysteries and mischief managed.
They remained lost this way for several minutes, neither one wanting to break the spell. How had they arrived at this destination? It seemed almost too strange and fantastic to contemplate, like hopping on a train with no idea where you'd end up, and finding yourself in a new kind of paradise.
Luna's mind scrawled back, to the night before, and the celebration at the Three Broomsticks. There'd been butter beers, plenty of them, and then they'd moved on to the harder stuff. There'd been... karaoke? And dancing. And everywhere in the air was that giddy feeling, of triumph and hard-won survival, of taking what mattered in the moment because no future was promised, not while You-Know-Who still lived.
Ron had been trying, clumsily, to make some sort of a pass at Hermione the whole bloody night. He kept pulling her up for karaoke duets, and standing a little too close while they sang into one mic, but she smiled and sang and danced away, sensing his intentions and dodging them nimbly.
Luna had watched it all with an exasperated sort of amusement. Why Ron thought he would ever be able to keep up with the most brilliant witch at Hogwarts, she had no idea. But it was kind of fun watching him try. Even more fun was when Hermione would spin over her way, a laughing, chaotic bundle of energy and opinions and whispered secrets and drag her out onto the dance floor, where they shed the last of their inhibitions and moved like animals freed from their cages.
Luna was used to being an observer. She'd grown comfortable with solitude; keeping herself company with stories and fantasies, and watching the real-life humans around her with a cautious curiosity. It wasn't that she didn't like the company of others, rather that it mattered profoundly who those others were - she knew there were plenty of people at school who thought she was weird, and gossiped about "Loony" Luna Lovegood. While she tried not to let it get to her and she certainly didn't change her behavior to try and fit in (that would kill her spirit quicker than any gossip could), on some level it affected her, and she tended to hold herself at a distance from others. She knew she was different - but why was that a bad thing?
She'd found a tribe of welcoming oddballs with Harry and his friends, and for once she'd felt... a part of something. The feeling was strong enough to inspire her to risk her very life alongside them, and now, as they celebrated their victory together, it was strong enough to allow her to drop some of the walls she'd constructed to keep others at bay. She felt her heart open and swell as she stared out at the faces of her friends, the chosen handful of people she trusted above all others.
There was Harry, always so incredibly brave in the face of every shitstorm life had thrown his way. Holding himself together with god knows what strength, and trying desperately to be a normal teenage boy despite it all. There was Ron, loyal to the end, grinning ear to ear and loving as fiercely as he sometimes swore.
And there was Hermione, at the heart of it all - brilliant, caring, and stubborn - a witch who'd rescued them all so many times. A witch who kept Harry and Ron from killing themselves and/or flunking out, and seemingly always knew just what to do. A witch who inspired Luna to work on her divination (even though she thought it was utter rubbish, she knew it mattered to Luna), and laughed at her jokes, and kept her secrets safe. A witch who listened seriously to all of Luna's book recommendations, and read them in a matter of days, offering little notes on each afterward. A witch who once knit her a pair of wooly socks for Christmas, and delivered them with a shy kind of smile and a hug that Luna could feel all through her body.
Luna had never had a best friend before, but she thought probably this is what it felt like. This feeling of being understood by someone on a level so different than anyone else, and wanting to be around them all the time, and wanting to protect them from everything, even themselves - it was different than the friendship she felt for Harry or for Ron. It was deeper, and it made her nervous somehow. Nervous to lose it, nervous to want too much. She was usually so skilled at keeping her feelings to herself, but with Hermione she found herself blurting out whatever popped into her head, and launching into excited rambles while the other witch gazed at her with a patient, tender look.
She was giving her that same patient, tender look now, as their legs curled around in each in the single bed; only it was infused with so much more. There was a deep sense of belonging, and a twinkle of hope - a flicker of uncertainty, but beneath it all, a sort of scorching heat that seemed at once immensely satisfied and never ending. Luna was not at all sure it was a look best friends gave each other, upon reflection.
Letting their mouths collide into one another and say all the things their sleepy teenage brains weren't capable or ready of saying, she decided she was quite unbearably lucky to have found a friend like this.