June 2004

Harry considered his reflection in this mirror and thought that he was very near to becoming sick. He felt like a child stuffed into stiff clothing who wanted nothing more than to rip them away and run outside to play. But of course Harry had never been forced into nice clothing at any point during his childhood and smiled to himself darkly at the thought of Petunia Dursley forcing him into a muggle suit. The thought was too ridiculous to even merit any weight and for the first time in a long while, Harry was reminded of his fucked up childhood for a fleeting second.

Though the washroom was several doors down the hall, Harry could smell the scent of the fizzy bath soak Luna was laying in from where he stood, and he felt his gut bottom out. The days following his outburst about the mysterious "event" grew more horrible with each passing moment. At first, Luna was her normal self but as the days ticked away, Harry felt her withdrawing from him and pulling away. The growing realization that Luna was distancing herself from Harry planted a seed of panic that continued to grow rapidly, and whose tendrils wrapped their deadly vines around every single part of his inner working.

Harry tried to convince himself that the distance he felt from Luna was a direct consequence of the guilt that he was feeling over lying to her about the party. That Luna's reaction to him hadn't actually changed and he was projecting his own wrong doing into their day to day interactions. But from somewhere deep inside of Harry, a small voice hinted that something was wrong. Harry could try to sell the lie that everything was fine to himself in a sad attempt to stay just on this side of sanity… but the signs where there and Harry could not willfully ignore them anymore.

Harry realized that something shifted two days ago.

Luna had been fiddling in her herb patch, testing out some concoction that was supposed to make her mint bush more fragrant. Harry had been moving those bloody weed piles about, piling them high on the compost pile. He would be the first person to admit that his temper was running hot that day – the sun was beating down on his back relentlessly and he itched to use magic to get the chore done. Harry glanced over towards her and wiped the sweat trickling down the side of his face with the back of his hand.

"Luna," he called out and waited for her to answer as he surveyed the garden. Luna gave no indication that she heard him. "Luna," Harry repeated himself, but more loudly this time. "Let's take a break. It's getting too hot out here." Harry made his way towards her, now hunched over her rosemary, and frowned. "Hey," he said softly, nudging her ankle with his foot. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes, Harry, of course I heard you," Luna replied. Harry's eyebrows shot up when he realized that her words were sharp. "We're the only two people in this garden and it is a small yard, if you hadn't noticed." Harry blinked at Luna's back, which was still facing him. Never in all the years that he had known Luna did Harry recall her snapping a response unprovoked. "Of course I heard you," Luna muttered under her breath.

"Er, alright then," Harry said, clearing his throat. He could feel heat creeping up his neck and the first grip of panic over swept over him. There's no way she knows, he lied to himself. Just bloody calm down. "I'll just be inside then." Harry waited a beat for Luna to respond but after a moment of silence, he turned and left.

Luna's silence continued until now and Harry felt strangled by it. If the pointed cold shoulder wasn't agonizing enough, Luna also withdrew from his touches. As she cooked, Harry came up behind her and rested his hands against her hips, and tucked his face into the crook of her neck. Rather folding into his embrace, Harry was met with a stiffened spine and a woman who was all too eager to wiggle away from him. The sense of rejection all but crushed him and he thought he'd go mad when the voices began to taunt him, singing, she knows. She knows. She knows.

Harry could not pin down the exact moment when the shift took place – only that he had a keen sense of a before and after. At first, she was a bit taken back from his angry outburst but she remained his Luna nonetheless. But now it was radio silence. Harry could not shake the thought that they were in the final hour.

There was one conversation that kept playing over and over in his head and, months from now, Harry would look back at this very memory and simply know this is where the crossroads occurred.

The night following the argument, Luna and Harry were in bed. They stopped talking long ago and just lie, listening to the sound of the other breathing and hoping for sleep to come. Suddenly, Luna turned up on her side and faced Harry. Although the darkness of the night shielded her features from him, Harry could easily imagine her big, blue eyes staring at him intently.

"Harry," she began softly and paused, as if unsure of how to proceed. Harry glanced in her general direction and raised a hand towards her form. His clumsy fingers hit her neck first and then glided up, caressing the side of her face gently.

"Yes," he said.

"Harry. Our relationship. What does our relationship mean to you?"

Harry frowned into the dark and ran the back of his fingers down through Luna's hair. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I just… Does it ever feel to you as though we started off on the wrong way?"

"No, I don't feel that way. Which way should we have started off on?"

"Oh, I don't know." Harry heard her sigh. "Perhaps we should have taken more time to reacquaint ourselves with one another. We went months without speaking and then suddenly, we were together."

"Luna, if I had to wait any longer to be with you…" Harry paused and Luna ducked her head down, placing a soft kiss along his first two knuckles. "I think I would have died."

"So, this – what we have between the two of us – it's-"

"As essential to me as breathing is," Harry interjected. He paused, giving time to Luna if she needed to respond but at her silence, he continued. "You're the best part of me, Luna. I… I don't think I need to explain everything that I've been through. You know. Hell, you were there for a big part of it. And since we left Hogwarts, I felt like I've been moving through a fog with nothing to guide me." Harry felt another kiss along the back of his hand.

He continued, whispering to Luna. "When everything was over, I had nothing left to live for and everyone was moving on, forward, as they should. But I felt stuck. And then there you were, blinding me like my Patronus and chasing the shadows away." Harry pulled Luna towards him and felt her rest her cheek against his chest. He ran his fingers up and down the length of her bare back and pressed a kiss into her hair. "And when I regained my vision, all I could see was you and you were my magnet. I revolve around you, Luna and I'm forever thankful to you for it."

Luna was quiet for a long moment and Harry imagined that he could hear her thoughts whirring about in her head. She lifted her face to his and kissed the corner of his mouth gently but when Harry began to follow her lips, she pulled away, out of reach. "Harry. Please be honest with me," she whispered. Her voice was fierce. "Is there anything, anything at all that you need to tell me? No matter what it is, I'll forgive you for it and we can move on and I'll never mention it again."

Even now, Harry could distinctly remember the feel of bile creeping up his throat and how heavily the air hung between the two as he considered his options. He could have -should have - come clean right then. In the grand scheme of his life, the momentary awkwardness of telling McGonagall and cancelling his date with Ginny would have been worth sparing what he had with Luna a million times over. And then, they could go to the party together and Harry could introduce his family and friends to the woman who had saved his life. Or the two could say to hell with the bloody party and stay home, enjoying each other's company.

But somewhere in the recent past, in the years following the War, Harry lost his courage and had become spineless. So, he cleared his throat and said, "No, nothing, my love. I'm not hiding anything." At that very moment, Harry felt Luna shrink away from him.

Downstairs, the clock chimed and Harry was roused from his memories. It was time to go. The plan was that he'd meet Ginny at the Burrow, eat a family dinner with the Weasley clan, and the two would Apparate to the party together. Harry would spend the expected amount of time mingling, make his excuses, and be back to Luna before eleven that night. Harry straightened his silver bow tie ("The exact color of Ginerva's gown," Madame Malkin had assured him the day before.) and turned to leave.

Harry paused outside of the bathroom and rapped his knuckles against the door. "I'm leaving now," he said. From inside, Harry could hear the sound of water lapping against the sides of the giant tub that stood in the center of the room. He imagined Luna, deep in the hot water, and would have traded anything to be in there with her now.

From inside the room echoed a small, "Okay," and Harry frowned. He'd be back early tonight and he would make it right.