Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the song, if I did Harry would be with Luna and Wolfstar would've been a thing.
I don't play a musical instrument so the technical jargon might a bit iffy or misplaced so I do apologise - if it is really bad (like the phrase or action doesn't make sense at all) please do tell me.
"Music has healing power. It has the ability to take people out of themselves for a few hours."
Elton John
Astronomy Tower, Midnight, 19th June 1996.
The night was quiet, not silent. It was nearly impossible for it to be silent when the trees swayed in the wind, the water splashed against the shores and the wind whispered around the ancient castle that was Hogwarts. Even inside the castle, there was always noise whether it be the snoring of the portraits, the shuffling of sleeping students or the swishing of a cat's tail as it prowls the corridor.
Yet, this night it was still, the wind was calm, only a light summer breeze brushing the treetops. The peacefulness was only disturbed but a pattering of footsteps as they climbed the staircase of the Astronomy Tower. The person was unidentifiable, most likely planned, in fact, the only way anyone could tell that someone was there was due to the muffled footsteps which echoed through the calm. The only person that could've ever seen the disturbance was thankfully not in the castle, unlike last year when he (or the imposter pretending to be the real Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody) regularly stalked around as if he knew that the tranquillity of night was broken most nights. Although it was likely he did know, seeing as they had never really hidden their presence at the Astronomy Tower.
The landing at the top of the tower was brightly lit by the luminescent moon that shone unblocked by clouds and surrounded by thousands of stars. The invisibility cloak was thrown off by an impatient Harry Potter then quickly folded and put in his pocket. He was eager to get started, it had been weeks since he was able to find time to come to his chosen safe haven.
Those weeks were full of stress, anger, panic and tiredness. First, there were the hours each night spent combing through years worth of notes for his OWL exams, the additional hours of practising his spell casting, a few more hours spent helping others with their spellwork - the DA meetings may have stopped but that hadn't prevented people from all years requesting help from him. Oh, they had managed some subtlety to keep Umbitch from noticing but that hadn't helped his workload (only kept him out of detention).
Then there was the sleepless night from nerves, in comparison to his sleepless nights fueled by his insomnia and nightmares, where he spent those hours with thoughts rushing through his head, filling it up with worries and inconsequential ideas - like the concept of never going back to the Dursleys or leaving the country. Of course, he couldn't do either, he was the Chosen One as if he ever had a choice.
Finally, there was yesterday's disaster. He could feel the self-loathing bubble up inside him as he hurried to set up his music stand, grabbing his music sheets gently (they were some of his most precious possessions which he treated with the utmost care) and organising them carefully. As he read the pages full of notes, occasionally correcting the order of them (How they got mixed up he will never know - nobody else had touched them, he had made sure of that) he ran through what had occurred the day before. The early morning cramming of history notes, the rushed breakfast which was full of distractions ("Harry, could you just-" "-the goblin war that-" "When did the Wizengamot form?") and then the scribbling of answers on the parchment.
He remembered being exhausted - Merlin, he was still exhausted, he couldn't even think of a day where he got a full night's sleep. Harry was sure that the dark circles were permanently carved underneath his eyes, the paleness of his skin could no longer be blamed on the Scottish weather, not when his skin usually began to darken around about now. It was currently giving Snape or Malfoy a run for their money, especially against the sharp contrast of his Veridian eyes and thick curly black hair. He knew he must've fallen asleep, the sun beating down on his neck and back as if trying to break him - he wouldn't be surprised with his luck - and the heaviness of his eyelids which seemed to have become baby elephants with how much they weighed.
He recalled the dream - the same one that had plagued his entire year - the door where he had seen Mr Weasley guarding, the sparkling lights that he passed and then the hall of glowing orbs, He doesn't even need to try to remember seeing Sirius there, his screams (obviously fake now that he knew) ringing through his head like one of his songs yet more haunting, the panic clawing up his neck, viciously ripping into his vocal cords as he was forced to watch his godfather (His dad) - one of his last links to his parents be tortured. He could feel his own nerves fray and burn, his throat tearing with each scream - his godfather and him in harmony - only to abruptly wake up, on the ground in the middle of the Great Hall, his final shout dying in the back of his throat. The eyes of his fellow students were burning into him with the same intensity of the sun as he was escorted out of the room.
The hysteria hadn't calmed by the time that Hermione and Ron had rushed into the Hospital Wing, it clouded his mind and disrupted his thoughts - thinking back on it now as he checked over his violin, Harry was suspicious at how thoughtless he has become and wondered whether it was natural. He always was a cautious child (Thank you Dursleys!) and he had no trust in authoritarian figures like Hermione (Mrs Hughes, his music teacher doesn't account, she is an exception to every rule he's made about adults). Yet, here he was, always running headfirst into danger, with no thought of the consequences - not that he has been given any severe one (Maybe Snape was right, he was given special treatment and he hated it). It was also disconcerting that he had trusted Dumbledore so much when he knew how much he was lying to him (Even if it was a lie of omission, it was still lying and Harry detested liars, especially ones that tried to manipulate him).
Harry stopped his mind from going down that route, he knew that Dumbledore was sitting in his ivory tower, playing chess with the lives of others, all for his self-perceived "Greater Good". He had known since the summer before his 3rd year when he had complete access to Diagon Alley, Knocturn Alley and all the books within both alleys. He had spent those 3 weeks browsing through the shelves and learning the actual history of Wizarding Britain - not the crap the Binns teaches. He had studied so much, the laws and government, his family history and the public history of his headmaster. Harry was smarter than most people knew, even his friends didn't know or realise that he had been holding back in most aspects of his wizarding life. As amazing as they both were, Hermione, couldn't handle someone as intellectual as she and Ron would only get more jealous. He knew that Dumbledore kept a lot of his past hidden but couldn't hide his voting history. When the self-proclaimed "Leader of the Light" defends dark creatures in public, only to vote against them in private, it was easy to work out that he was playing the mindless sheeple of Wizarding Britain. Not that Harry could tell anyone, he knew nobody would believe him (Wouldn't be the first time and wasn't likely to be the last).
When Hagrid first came with Harry's letter, he couldn't imagine having to walk this tightrope and he almost wished he didn't - You would've done well in Slytherin.
Distracting himself from his thoughts, he placed his violin on his shoulder, his chin resting on the support - he didn't want to think about his choice in friends, his life being manipulated by a man he barely knows, who knew that he was going to be abused ("I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years.") or the fact that he was so close to losing people he loved - Hermione being thrown across the room with a bright purple light, Neville being hit with "Crucio" (He knows what that's like) and Sirius falling towards the veil only to be summoned by Remus.
Taking a deep breath, he stood up straight - Mrs Hughes being the only one to care about his posture when the only thing the Dursleys wanted him to do was to die - and began to play. It was nothing special, he didn't need to work himself into the correct mindset before doing anything complicated anymore, but it was something he had been doing since he was a child and now more than ever, he needed that normality. He wasn't sure if what he was doing with his violin and music was classified as "normal" - it wasn't like there was a music class offered in Hogwarts for him to compare to - but he enjoyed it and it was the way he had been playing since he learnt there was a little thing called magic.
The only person who had ever heard him play (Other than Mrs Hughes, for obvious reasons) was Professor Aurora Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, mostly because when he first came up him in his first year (After his detention in the Forbidden Forest and the need to play grew too great) he hadn't realised that she was also awake and her rooms were the closest. Why he ever thought the Astronomy Professor who was known for being nocturnal, wouldn't be at the tower specifically designed for her profession, he would never know. Fortunately for him, he was a good enough violinist (Even if she told him that he was excellent) that she let him stay as long as she was supervising him. Of course, the supervision was more like Harry playing for her while she worked and eventually she trusted him to come up by himself and behave (Fourth-year was rough on him with only Hermione and Neville as his friends and the rest of the school villainizing him - again).
After a few more minutes of practising, he moved his violin away from him and reached for his wand. As he cast his spell over the small crystal resting on his music stand - and it was his, even if he hadn't taken arithmancy despite Professor Sinistra's insistence - he began to run through the song in his head. It needed some tweaking in areas, he'd have to work through it with his magic flowing, guiding him (It just wasn't the same writing this in his dorm room without the music vibrating deep in his bones) but he was determined to finish it tonight. It wouldn't be the first time he had stayed up in the Astronomy Tower all night, working on his lyrics and music - once he learnt the silencing charm he was able to make it seem as if he left no later than three in the morning.
His spell was designed to record his music, blocking out any other noise such as the wind or hooting owls, in the small crystal (Something he had bought during the summer before his third year in Knockturn Alley). He had a second spell that then let the crystal reproduce his previous melody and loop it back so that he could play a second piece on top of it - letting him do duets with himself. Of course, it meant that while he was composing a new piece, he had to continuously stop recording, delete the tune and restart the song all over again. But that was okay, he had all night. He had also inscribed his music sheets with runes that allowed the notes to light up as he played them as well as writing down the lyrics he sang on themselves. He couldn't take all the credit for those magnificent pieces of magic, Professor Sinistra had helped him work out the runic array (She couldn't understand why he hadn't taken Ancient Runes or Arithmancy at her urging but she just didn't understand what his friends were like - it was easy to pretend to be dumb and learn independently, it wasn't like he had loads to do at the Dursley's).
Once his spell was cast, he returned to his position in front of his music stand and activated his runic array. Harry didn't know why Professor Sinistra was so shocked by his spellwork and runes. They weren't that complicated, they had only taken him a few months to work out in his second year. The restricted time in the library had been a pain in the arse but he had plenty of time to sneak out considering nobody was clambering for his attention (The only positive of that Heir of Slytherin nonsense).
He began playing his base melody, letting his magic swell underneath his skin. It was almost like his body became weightless and he was floating (It had happened before) with how much stress was taken off his shoulders, Harry wanted to close his eyes but needed to follow the music notes in front of him - he couldn't wait to be able to play the music with the sheets automatically changing to match his melody, that was his favourite part of composing - letting his music guide him into creating an (in his biased opinion) masterpiece.
Overall, the premade base wasn't too far off what he wanted, it only needed correcting a couple of times. He spent a good 40 minutes playing, recording then sitting on the rail of the Astronomy Tower just listening to it in a loop. Harry knew it was around one in the morning by the time he was relatively happy with his work and was able to perfectly play it all the way through, allowing him to move onto the next piece - the accompanying part which went hand in hand with the lyrics.
This was his favourite part as he was able to close his eyes and dance around the tower, letting his magic assist him through the song as well as leading him in his performance. Contrary to popular belief, he could actually dance, he was not amazing but a lot better than his show at the Yule Ball, which he began to do just then. He swayed alongside the recorded base before moving with his new melody, his body lifting with each high swell and lowering with every stretched note. There was no noticeable crescendo in his music, just parts where it ebbed back and forth between heavy and light. As he danced, he felt his magic unfurl from his core and spread through the room, not realising that his magic materialised into small fairy lights, similar to will-o'-the-wisps in appearance and colour, which floated around, almost as if they were dancing with him.
It was another 30 minutes before Harry felt the music was ready for lyrics to be added. He breathed in the frigid Scottish air deeply, preparing for the words to pour out of his brain with little to no control from him.
He waited until the music had looped around again then let the words fumble out, the roughness in his voice apparent - screaming the previous day had not helped his singing abilities even if it made his voice huskier and deeper.
"Achilles, Achilles
Achilles come down, won't you get up off,
Get up off the roof?"
Harry didn't know where Achilles had come from but wasn't going to stop his magic or music now.
"You're scaring us
And all of us
Some of us love you
Achilles, it's not much but there's proof"
At the line "You're scaring us" Harry's mind went to the fear in everyone's eyes as he fought against Voldemort's possession, the panic on Sirius and Remus' face that he ignored when the rage overwhelmed the relief that Sirius was alive. How he ignored their shouting as he chased a cackling Bellatrix, their concern as he left their eyesight, the easing in his chest when he realised they hadn't seen him try to torture Bellatrix ( -and fail- the dark part in his mind whispered).
He mentally scoffed, "Some of us love you", if there was one thing the Dursleys had taught him was that he was unloveable - who could love someone who tried to torture another? - which made his thoughts about the prophecy even worse. After all, if it was 'love' that was supposed to defeat the dark lord, the "Light Side" was screwed, how could someone who was never taught how to love - shown any love - be expected to use it?
And where was the proof? The only proof he had was that his parents had died for him and given him magical protection - which no longer worked seeming as Voldemort shared his blood yet he still had to live with the Dursleys. As great as that evidence is (if you ignore the fact that his parents are dead) in the 14 years since he had had very little proof that anyone loved him. Sirius had an excuse (If you could call illegal imprisonment that) but where was Remus in the 10 years before Hogwarts when Harry was beaten and starved for the mere fact that he had the audacity to breathe. Why didn't he bother sending a letter when he knew Harry was at Hogwarts? Before and after he taught Harry? Why hadn't anybody noticed that his parents where so tall yet Harry was consistently the shortest in his year - until Professor Sinistra mentioned nutrient potions and salves to get rid of scars (She thought he just wanted to get rid of the Basilisk scar, not knowing about the others that coat his body) - luckily he has shot up and was relatively tall - not like Ron or Dean of course but he was happily taller than Hermione and Ginny.
"You crazy assed cosmonaut
Remember your virtue
Redemption lies plainly in truth"
Virtue and truth. Two very rare commodities in the modern world. Not even Ron and Hermione gave him the truth - he knew that they were more knowledgeable about the Order than they let on, he was raised to watch and learn body language, plus they couldn't lie for shit ( "I went after the troll-"). It was extremely hypocritical of them to expect him to tell them everything that ever happened to him, unfortunately for them, Harry was an expert liar (He wouldn't be alive right now if he wasn't).
Redemption. Another rarity. Redemption was a lie, nobody ever truly forgave you, nor did they ever let you forget what you had down wrong (In Harry's case, it was living). People who gave second chances were wishful thinkers or naive, no adult changed their personality, it would never last. The only people who could be redeemed were children (Harry was exempt from that rule, as per usual) or those that were coerced or threatened.
"Just humour us
Achilles
Achilles come down
Won't you get up off
Get up off the roof"
Harry gave a wry smile as he continued playing, to most it looked identical to James Potter's smirk after he had gotten away with a prank. In fact, with Harry's eyes closed, he looked even more mirror-like to his deceased father. Not that he would ever know that - the only people to have seen him play never knew James Potter beyond stories (War hero and drunken lay-about) as if either of those are close to the truth - he was nothing more than a desperate father, husband and friend who was fighting so his son and wife could live in peace. He managed it, even if his son was the only one able to see it.
"Achilles, Achilles
Achilles come down, won't you
Get up off
Get up off the roof?"
The reason for his smile? His magic had felt someone familiar come up the tower, probably drawn towards his music. Seeming as the person had been embraced and accepted by his magic, he knew it was someone he got along with. As much as he loved Hermione, her magic was too controlled and razor-sharp, it tried to beat him into submission as if it ever had the chance to stand the wild storm that was his magic. Ron's magic was quickly smothered, its intense flame burning out when it came close to Harry's tempest. As much as he loved Ron and Hermione, they just didn't have the sheer amount of magic that he did, even if they used theirs wisely and efficiently, making them unable to stand near him too long with his magic unleashed (another reason why Harry only ever let his magic fully released while alone and playing his violin).
This magic, however? This resembled wild magic, dancing amongst his hurricane as if it belonged there even though Harry knew that at its core, it was a calm field full of wildflowers that swayed gently in the breeze.
"The self is not so weightless
Nor whole and unbroken
Remember the pact of our youth"
He cracked open his eyes, his eyelids wet with tears he had unknowingly shed, as he sang this verse, meeting the bright blue eyes of a swaying Luna Lovegood, the blooms of her magic entwining with his will-o'-the-wisps as if they were made for each other. They began to encircle the other, never breaking eye contact, small happy smiles graced both of their faces.
"Where you go
I'm going
So jump and I'm jumping
Since there is no me without you"
If Harry was shocked that Luna sang the exact same lyrics as he did, he didn't show it. Instead, he thought the words were a promise to each other - She followed him to the ministry, most likely knowing it was going to go wrong. You didn't even need Luna's sixth sense to know that, it always goes wrong around Harry. Furthermore, he knew that if she asked him, he would follow her to the ends of the Earth. Not that she would ever ask him - it was the difference between her and Ginny, something he was very grateful for. As great a friend Ginny was (Understanding what he had gone through with the possession), them dating would be hell - she was just too intense and concerned with the opinions of others. He really didn't want to date someone who would try to micromanage or change him. Whereas Luna didn't care what others thought of her, she continued to be herself (Something that Harry was grateful for, he never wanted her to change).
The way Cho had acted around her made Harry extremely hesitant to even accept the kiss from her before the Yule holidays, in fact, it disgusted him slightly and he only met up with her on Valentine's Day at the urging of Ron and Hermione. He would've much preferred spending his day with Luna, feeding the Thestrals and walking through the forbidden forest (With the number of times he's been in there, it's no longer forbidden).
"Soldier on
Achilles, Achilles come down
Won't you get up off
Get up off the roof?"
Harry continued singing while Luna had stopped, too busy dancing around him with their blooms and wisps. As she danced, her eyes now shut, Harry couldn't help but notice how long and curly her dirty blonde hair was, it floated behind her, being held up or played with their magic, making it slowly fall and rise as if it was suspended in water. The yellow and blue glow from their intermingling magic somehow barely mixed and left an ethereal glow on Luna's pale (but healthy) skin. When they did merge, the light green colour reminded him of the fresh grass in the spring to go with Luna's wildflowers. If Harry had to describe Luna in one word at that moment, he wasn't sure he could think of the perfect word to describe her. She looked other-worldly, like a goddess coming to bless and heal his broken soul.
"Loathe the way they light candles in Rome
But love the sweet air of the votives
Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone
Engage with the pain as a motive"
This verse Luna joined him halfway through, almost as if she was giving him advice on how to move past the pain of yesterday (technically two days ago, now). She moved closer to him, lifting her hand to gently caress his jaw. He desperately wanted to lean into it and absorb the calming warmth that he found there, his cheek suddenly seemed as cold as the early morning air that surrounded them.
"Today of all days
See
How the most dangerous thing is to love
How you will heal and you'll rise above"
It seemed that Luna knew he was unlikely to sing, too busy trying to keep playing his violin and not become distracted, so she sang instead. Her voice was as soft as usual but it had lost the airy- whimsical feel that it has most of the time, instead, it was more firm as if ordering him to do as she said, to be better and get better. For someone who had been starved of affection and love most of his life, he drank up her words like a man stranded in the desert and her instructions were life-giving nectar.
"Achilles
Achilles
Achilles
Jump now
You are absent of cause
Or excuse
So self-indulgent
And self-referential
No audience could ever want you"
Harry had recovered enough to continue singing, he began moving again, not realising that he had stopped moving to watch Luna dance. His magic continued flowing through him, vibrating his bones and very soul, the smell of ozone and petrichor getting stronger as the song continued. He gazed out of the tower briefly, watching the star-filled sky with longing - it had been months since he had last flown his Firebolt and he craved the feeling of the wind whipping through his hair. Yet, with the next beat, he had moved on and had focused back on Luna, the smell of lavender, honeysuckle and lemongrass teasing his nose as her magic swelled to match his - his core and sheer magical strength were greater but the fact that Luna's magic didn't become consumed or shied away from his, shocked Harry greatly.
"You crave the applause
Yet hate the attention
Then miss it, your act is a ruse
It is empty, Achilles
So end it all now
It's a pointless resistance
For you"
The words carved themselves deep into Harry's battered and broken soul as soon as they slipped out of his mouth, even Luna looked slightly surprised at the lyrics that almost echoed around the tower. It was almost as if this whole song was about Harry, why his magic decided to choose this, he did not know. The fact that Luna had worked it out so quickly didn't hurt, even though Harry thought it was going to, he was practically admitting that his whole life is a ruse and his magic was telling him to stop it. He hadn't even realised that he was resisting giving up his mask until he sang those very words - he had got so comfortable pretending to be someone he was not, the Brave Little Golden Boy of Albus Dumbledore, that he now wasn't sure who he actually was. The lines had blurred so much over the years, the Gryffindor slowly extinguishing the cunning Slytherin that had let him survive 10 years with the Durselys before the knowledge of magic saved him. The tears started to fall down his cheeks again, the easy acceptance from Luna helping him to let out all the pain.
"Achilles
Achilles
Just put down the bottle
Don't listen to what you've consumed
It's chaos, confusion
And wholly unworthy
Of feeding and it's wholly untrue"
When Luna sang along with him, he prayed that she didn't know about the hidden bottle of Firewhisky that Fred and George had given him before they left. He was disappointed in himself for occasionally needing it to get to sleep, even for a few short hours of shitty sleep. It helped settle his mind and let his tired brain think up melodies and lyrics easier after a stressful day- week- month- year- life. He hoped that they were both singing about the smashed prophecy that had been controlling his life since before he was born. He knew that Luna had seer blood in her and was hoping (praying to any god or deity that existed or was listening) that it was untrue and didn't matter.
"You may feel no purpose
Nor a point for existing
It's all just conjecture and gloom
And there may not be meaning
So find one and seize it
Do not waste your self on this roof"
At this, Luna somehow sang louder, overpowering his voice so that he knew he was singing about him. Her silvery-blue eyes, piercing him and holding in place as she got closer and closer. The mere idea of finding something to give him meaning in life or a reason to be alive other than the fucking prophecy that drunk fraud uttered, filled him with dread, apprehension and excitement. The dread over the thought that other than the prophecy, Harry didn't know what to do with his life. It had become such a big part of his existence- even without him knowing of its existence - that he didn't know how to be without it. Apprehension due to having to find something to give his life meaning, but what could? Quidditch? While he loved it, it would never be his top priority. His music? He couldn't imagine life without it but he wasn't likely to find a career with it - he wasn't that good (The Dursleys' voices echoed through his entire being "Good for nothing layabout-" "-He'll be in prison before he's 25, mark my words" "If there's something wrong with the bitch-").
"Hear those bells ring deep in the soul
Chiming away for a moment
Feel your breath course frankly below
See life as a worthy opponent"
Luna's sad knowing gaze told him how much she had seen him struggling, his black bags under his eyes and unnaturally pale skin weren't even a big enough clue for anyone else he knew (except maybe Fred and George), she knew just how close he had come to saying enough was enough. She wasn't even present for his breakdown in Dumbledore's office yesterday and he definitely hadn't told her. Yet he could shed no more tears, they had all dried upon his cheeks or splashed on the floor, leaving small blue marks on the metalwork from the pure concentration of magic in his tears - it only happened when he let his magic free and played.
"Today of all days
See
How the most dangerous thing is to love
How you will heal and you'll rise above
Crowned by an overture bold and beyond
Ah, it's more courageous to overcome"
"Crowned by bold and beyond" reminded him of his placement as Gryffindor Golden Boy, something he wished with his whole being that he wasn't. He wished he could shout that he wasn't supposed to be a Gryffindor. But what was the phrase? If wishes were money, beggars would fly? He couldn't do that without pissing off Dumbledore; he practically gave him the title, his house, who would turn on him in a second (The loyalty of the lions was a fickle thing) or his friends. Ron who hated anything to do with Slytherin, Hermione who would think he'd prefer the purebloods over her (Smart she may be, but rational she was not).
"You want the acclaim
The mother of mothers-"
"-it's not worth it Achilles"
"More poignant than fame
Or the taste of another-"
"-don't listen Achilles"
"But be real and just jump
You dense motherfucker-"
"-you're worth more, Achilles"
"You will not be more
Than a rat in the gutter-"
"-so much more than a rat"
"You want my opinion-"
"-no one asked your opinion"
"My opinion you've got
You asked for my counsel-"
"-no one asked for your thoughts"
"I gave you my thoughts
Be done with this now
And jump off the roof
Can you hear me Achilles?
I'm talking to you"
Harry was slightly confused when Luna kept interrupting him but he kept going anyway - as if his magic would ever let him stop when he was so close to finishing the song. His runes hard at work on his music sheets, scratching away the lyrics as they cascaded out of his mouth, unable to be restrained or held back. She eventually sang the last four lines in tandem with him, almost urging him to take the jump and find himself - throwing away the Golden Boy persona. He stared into her eyes, hoping his emerald ones portrayed the intense longing to do as she asked, consequences be damned. They were dancing closer now, only his violin playing forcing her to keep a slight distance.
"I'm talking to you
I'm talking to you
I'm talking to you
Achilles come down
Achilles come down
Throw yourself into the unknown
With pace and a fury defiant
Clothe yourself in beauty untold
And see life as a means to a triumph"
He remained silent during these verses, letting Luna sing forcefully to him, her voice slowing down in the first stanza before picking back up again. Her eyes were still locked onto his as she sang, practically trying to shove all her emotions at him - her hope, happiness and promise to be there step by step with him. If playing his violin and letting his magic free didn't already make him feel weightless, her blatantly honest emotions, so intense that he couldn't even think about looking away, would've made him fly like Peter Pan in that muggle fairy tale - not that Luna would've got the reference if he told her.
"Today of all days
See
How the most dangerous thing is to love
How you will heal and you'll rise above
Crowned by an overture bold and beyond
Ah, it's more courageous to overcome"
They sang the last verse together and when Harry stopped playing, placing his violin to the side, deactivating the runic array, and casting the spell to end the recording, a silence fell over them. It wasn't awkward at all, in fact, it was filled with excitement and contentment. The Gryffindor turned to face Luna, both their faces still illuminated by the yellow blooms and blue will-o'-the-wisps and he couldn't imagine someone any more beautiful - inside and out.
"May I kiss you?" He tried to ignore the red flush climbing up his cheeks as he sent her a shy smile.
"They say music and eyes are the windows to the soul," Luna paused, sending him a happy grin, causing him to feel relief flood through him. "And I think your soul is beautiful."
With that, she leaned upwards and kissed him gently, her hand resting on his jaw as his hands became entangled in her hair. Neither of them cared that it was around half one in the morning and the world was still.