Part Two – Luna's Lacking Advice

Harry's mood was foul on Monday morning, even for him. As he stormed through the main entrance of the Ministry ignoring the greetings of other employees, people jumped out of his way. It did not take a second glance to confirm that the Boy Who Lived was indeed in a terrible mood. Truth be told, no one was going to risk a second glance.

By the time he made it to the Auror training rooms, he'd managed to work himself into a far greater anger than he could ever remember, except what he'd felt seeing Bellatrix Lestrange holding Ginny under the Cruciatus curse at the Final Battle. This was somehow worse; it's not like he could go after Ron the same way he went after Bellatrix, after all.

A slightly malicious smile crossed his face as he realized exactly how he can work out his anger on his friend. There was a training demonstration scheduled this morning, and while Harry wasn't on tap to participate, Ron was. It would be easy enough to talk Ron's scheduled partner into switching with him, and Harry was sure that Raonall, their supervisor, would come around easy enough. Then he would work out all of his frustrations with Ron on Ron.

Not that Ron seemed to be picking up on it. After Fleur had chased after Ginny, Ron had swiped Ginny's dessert and dug in with the kind of gusto only he can generally manage as though he had nary a care in the world. Of course, Harry would have to suppose, Ron did not have a care in the world. He got his girl, and he probably thought that qualified him to give advice to the poor, unfortunate single folk of the world.

Bad, horrible advice, but advice nevertheless. "Not when the advice pushes me and Gin even farther apart," Harry muttered to himself, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He had wanted to wipe the too smug and self-satisfied look off of his best friend's face, but respect for Molly and Arthur had held him back.

He sought out the Auror scheduled in the demonstration, and talked (well, perhaps threatened is more apropos) him into letting Harry take his place. Harry found Raonall next, giving him a nearly completely fabricated story about pranks gone bad; the only true part of the story was an admission of the desire to seek revenge. Raonall agreed readily, prompting Harry to feel a bit bad; there was no way this would turn out as fun and lighthearted as his supervisor was being led to believe it would.

By the time that Ron arrived, Harry had managed to seethe his way through all the paperwork awaiting him on his desk and scared the hell out of a couple of first year recruits. A small price to pay for building his rage back up to a level Ron would (hopefully) understand when he easily kicked his unsuspecting arse.

"'Lo, Harry," Ron greeted him around a mouthful of food. "Want to grab a bite for lunch later? George was telling me about a new Muggle restaurant just a few blocks away from the Diagon Alley entrance."

"Sure," Harry agreed with forced amicability, picturing Ron sucking his liquefied fish and chips through a straw. "Oh, hey, I'll be demonstrating with you today. Traded with O'Quinn."

Ron's eyes widened in surprise, and he choked a little on whatever he is eating. "Y-you're who I'm up against today? Blimey, Harry, give a bloke some warning next time! He won't show up." That last part was said under his breath so Harry couldn't hear him. "Well, it'll be good to have a challenge for a change."

Harry nodded noncommittally, fighting the urge to yell at Ron, or worse, ask if he'd heard anything about Ginny's newfound husband hunt, caused by Ron. Oy, Harry was really not sure he'd ever be able to forgive Ron if he lost Ginny forever because of this. 'She isn't yours to lose," the cruel voice inside his head reminded him. 'You did a bang-up job making sure of that!'

Before either of them can say much more, Raonall was calling for everyone to congregate in the training room. With a hard look at Ron, Harry turned and stalked down the hall. Ron followed after his best friend, his brow furrowed as he tried to work out Harry's attitude. When they entered the room one after the other, Raonall announced the change, his voice tinged with excitement.

Once the session is underway, it didn't take long (not nearly long enough, in Harry's humble opinion) before Harry had sufficiently and not so gently dispatched of his opponent. That Ron was his opponent (and now receiving quite a bit of medical attention) did not really weigh on Harry much. As he changed from his combat robes to his regular robes, Ron approached him, an angry glint in his eyes.

"Oy, what's the big idea, mate? That was bloody brutal! It was supposed to be a demonstration, not a battlefield! Voldemort wasn't out there; I don't know what your problem was!"

Harry finished lacing his shoes and straightened up, glaring at Ron. "You know what it was, Ron?" Harry spat out grumpily. "It's not that you can't go on missions because Hermione gets upset by them; it's that you shouldn't go on missions because of debacles like that."

Ron's face flushed bright pink in a mix of embarrassment and anger, but before he could retort, Raonall was there, shoving them apart. "What's all this then?" he hissed, all traces of his usual good humor replaced by professionalism and irritation. When neither of them answered him, he let out an angry puff of breath. "Well, someone had better have something to say!"

"It's nothing," Ron bit out tersely. "Just Potter here, and his huge head that is only eclipsed by his huge ego." He glared at Harry for a moment, more than willing to share his anger. "I'm out of here."

Harry and Raonall watched him stomp off, each frowning for entirely different reasons. "Next time you want to be a complete berk about humiliating your best friend, may I suggest you leave it somewhere outside of work," Raonall ground out angrily. "Honestly, Harry, when you suggested the switch, you did not represent it like this at all! What has got your bloody knickers in a twist this time?"

Finally wrenching his gaze away from the door, Harry looked over at Raonall and sighed. As Raonall knew all of the Weasleys well and Harry's history with them, it was easy enough to explain. "Ron can be such a prat sometimes," he frowned, his anger not even beginning to lessen. "At the Weasley dinner yesterday, he tried – well, he made fun of both Gin and I for being single, and then he went so far as to suggest we make a pact."

"A pact?" Raonall echoed in confusion. "What kind of pact?"

"The kind that – that – well, the gist of it is if neither Ginny nor I were married by the time she turns twenty-five, we marry each other. Can you believe that?"

Groaning, Raonall rubbed a hand over his eyes tiredly. "Oh, poor girl," he sighed, not noticing Harry bristle over where the sympathy was directed. "She must've been so – well, anyway. Next time you need to beat the stuffing out of Ronald Weasley, do it somewhere else."

Shaking his head, Harry sighed. "Yeah, fine, sir. There won't be a next time, though," he related bleakly. "She's going to get married."

"What? Who is getting married?" His eyes widened in imagined comprehension. "Ginny? Ginny is getting married? To who? How? When did this happen?"

"Not yet," Harry cut in, laughing a little in spite of himself, "But because Ron is the biggest idiot the world has ever known, Gin is going to marry…well, someone."

Raonall had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "Well, I imagine that was her plan all along. Harry, you can't blame Ron for something that was always going to happen anyway."

Harry's eyes flashed in irritation. "In a month? She plans on finding a fiancée within the next month, by George and Katie's wedding. That's what Ron pushed her into."

"Well," his supervisor laughed, "Really? Ginny let Ron goad her into that? Oh, she's usually so much cleverer than that. I must say, I am a little disappointed in her."

"You're not worried about her potentially running off with some random bloke?" Harry asked incredulously. "Is no one else worried about this? Who knows what kind of creep she might find, just to stick it to Ron?"

"Oh, Harry," Raonall smiled, patting him on the shoulder. "Ginny won't marry some creeper just to spite Ron. She's far too smart for that. When Ginny Weasley marries, it will be for love and forever." He turned to go, glancing over his shoulder at him. "I'm absolutely sure of that."

As he walked off, Harry dropped down onto a bench. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of," he whispered to himself in acknowledgement. "Damn it."

~*~

"Hello Harry," the dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood greeted him as he set his tray down at one of the round tables in the Ministry cafeteria. In all honesty, he hadn't noticed anyone sitting at the table, or else he would have sat elsewhere. But he was here now, and it would be rude to leave Luna.

"Luna," he nodded, trying to smile at her.

"Oh, dear," his endearingly odd friend gasped, her protuberant eyes widening further than normal as she peers at him in her unfocused way. "You look poor today. You haven't had a daydream under an umbrella tree in the last forty-eight hours, have you? It is a bad year for Siberian Tiger Moths, and everyone knows they are quite fond of the umbrella tree."

Harry nodded, responding dryly, "And fond of daydreams, too, apparently?"

"Only under the umbrella tree," Luna shrugged, looking around the room, "But once you're infested, they'll infect all aspects of your life. Quite dreadful, you know."

"I'm sure," Harry agreed, a bit at a loss as he always was when Luna was around. "Right then. How are you, Luna? Erm, are you here to meet someone for lunch?"

She smiled widely, shaking her head. "Oh, no. I'm here looking for a story."

Harry frowned, his eyes scanning over the other people dining in the cafeteria. "You're looking to do a story on someone here? Anyone in particular?"

"Oh, no," Luna corrected. "I am looking for a story. I had it with me yesterday, but now it seems nowhere to be found. It's rather a conundrum." She shook her head, focusing vaguely on Harry. "Your daydreams were of Ginny, were they not?"

Startled not only at the abrupt leap in topics but by the mention of Ginny, Harry looked up, his sharp gaze meeting her…less so gaze. "Ginny? Why would you say that?"

Luna continued to gaze around the room. "I think I'm quite close to capturing an elusive crumple-horned snorkack," she mused. "My father will really be so proud."

"Erm, right," Harry nodded, staring at her as she calmly surveyed the room in that sort of vacant way that made him wonder if she was actually seeing anything. "Luna," he began again hesitantly, "Why would you think I'm upset over Ginny?"

She gave him a serene yet knowing smile. "Well, because you love her, of course. The whole thing is rather like the mating habits of the South American Ice Snapdragons. For a plant, they are rather timid about going after what they want. You and Ginny love each other, but you're both willing to set your feelings aside. Fascinating."

Despite the source, a pang of hope struck in Harry's chest at the idea of Ginny still (or for the first time) loving him. "Do you really think…?" he trailed off, unable to put voice to the question.

"Oh, yes, absolutely," Luna nodded emphatically, her eyes drifting upwards – was she looking at the ceiling? – before continuing. "You are very much like the Ice Snapdragon, far more so than Ginevra is. She has probably given up on you again, and is therefore unable to see how much you love her."

Must she keep comparing him to her odd Quibbler flowers? At least it had 'dragon' as part of the name, he supposed. Shaking those thoughts away, he gave voice to his other predominant concern of the moment. "You think Ginny loves me?" he asked slowly, disbelievingly. "You realize that she has not given a single hint of that since – since – "

"Yes, since before you ran away," Luna agreed shrewdly, either ignoring or more likely not noticing the way Harry bristled at her frank assessment. "Well, you have had a couple of years now to tell her how you feel. Why have you kept quiet, Harry?"

Avoiding the question, he asked, "Well, if she's so in love with me, why hasn't she said anything? She knows where I am, if she cared enough to tell me."

Luna looked at him, really looked at him, and frowned. "She waited for you, since that first second after you left her at Professor Dumbledore's funeral. She never said she was waiting for you, but everyone knew. Then it was all over, and you left again – without her."

"Without – she wanted to go with me?"

"She wants to be with you," Luna corrected him, her eyes drifting back out of focus. "That was all she ever wanted, you know. But she understood why you wanted to be alone. Then you came back and – "

Harry interrupted her tiredly. "And then I barely acknowledged her, and now she most likely wants nothing to do with me. No wonder she let Ron goad her into…well, anyway, I've lost my chance with her, and I know it."

Luna's dreamy eyes shifted to rest on his face. "I suppose you are right, in a way. Ginevra wouldn't believe you now. Far too much time has passed for that. However, I do believe you could show her that you still love her."

"What's the difference?" he asked her, frowning down at his lunch.

"Oh, the difference is quite vast," Luna assured him, smiling at something over his shoulder. He did not care to turn and look. She continued, "Anyone can just say words, Harry. Therefore, when words no longer have meaning, you have to let your actions speak for you."

Luna tipped back in her chair far enough that Harry found it a wonder that she didn't spill over. Shaking that thought away, he pitifully had to ask, "What am I supposed to do? I'm sort of rubbish at this time of thing, Luna."

She serenely nodded her agreement. "Yes, I have noticed that you aren't very good at dealing with your emotions," she understated, sitting forward in her chair. "It's probably because you grew up as an orphan. I think that must be very hard."

Well, that was an unnecessary bit of commentary on Luna's part, at least in Harry's view. He liked this lunch better when Luna was telling him how much Ginny loved him. Things were deteriorating rapidly.

"How do I show her?" Harry asked wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Honestly, at this point, he wouldn't have been surprised if she told him to rent a herd of hippogriffs and skywrite a marriage proposal.

"This is a little out of my realm of experience," Luna admitted candidly, "But I should think that I would touch her a lot, flirt with her. I'd want to kiss her cheek and tell her she smells good." She paused, giggling delightedly. "She'd probably expect that behavior more from me than you at this point in time."

Harry shifted in his seat a little awkwardly, trying to get those images out of his head. "Erm, Luna. You think I should flirt? I can't flirt," he told her, mentally willing away the dull headache starting to pound behind his eyes. "I am definitely not equipped for that."

Luna eyed him thoughtfully, fiddling with the radishes dangling from her ears. "Yes, I think you can. If you want it badly enough, then you'll need to. You could try getting close to her; touch her, act as you did when you were dating. Bring her dinner."

Frowning, Harry turned his gaze toward a window. "I don't know if I can do those things. What if it isn't what she wants or needs? What if she hates me and wants me to leave her alone?" He blanched as a thought occurred to him. "What if she gets hacked off at me? What if this would be the last thing she'd ever want?"

"Then your nose will probably hurt for a few days after she hits you with the bat bogey hex," Luna suggested dreamily, "And Harry, it is what she wants. She just believes she can't have it. She think she can't have you, Harry." Gathering her things, she moved to stand. "Well, I don't think my story is here, so I really must be going. Good luck, Harry. With Ginny and with the umbrella trees."

Unable to help himself, Harry grinned at that. "Yeah, I'll try. Thanks, Luna. I think."

Luna didn't say anything else; she just gives him a vague smile (in all honesty, he's not positive it was even directed to him specifically) before turning and leaving. On the whole, he imagined this will be the strangest conversation he will have all month presuming he didn't chance upon her again.

Harry wasn't sure what to do with Luna's odd advice. Well, in all fairness, he supposed it wasn't really odd so much as it was personally difficult for him. Flirting, saying things without words? Those were not things that he was good at, and he did not really know where to even begin with the suggestion.

Maybe he should disregard her advice entirely and figure it out for himself. Surely, he could do that.

~*~

It turned out, not even to his own surprise, that he did not come up with anything on his own, other than doing nothing while hoping for the best. To his, well, shock, Luna had managed to give him a lasting feeling of hope, and that was why he now stands, take away in hand, at the door to Ginny's flat.

He had brought the foods he knew to be her favorites from the best restaurant that he knew (it had taken a hefty bribe and a few reminders of his Boy-Who-Lived status, much to his own embarrassment) in hopes that she wouldn't slam the door in his face. Fighting down his nerves, he shifted the bags of food so that he can knock on her door. There was no immediate answer, so he knocked again.

"Hold on a moment!" Ginny's irritated voice called out. "I'm almost there!"

The door swung open, and at least half of Harry's anxieties melted away at the sight of her. "Hey, Gin," he greeted, holding out one of the bags of food. "I thought I'd see if you wanted dinner."

Her eyes are wide with surprise, but to his relief, she smiled shyly and beckoned him inside. "You brought me dinner?" she asked quietly, unable to keep her surprise at the unexpected gesture out of her voice. "That's sweet of you, Harry. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I just wanted to see you," he smiled, feeling about as shy as he had ever felt before. "I know I just saw you yesterday, but I thought – "

"If you're here out of pity because your best friend is a total berk, then just stop right there," she interrupted hotly, irritation marring her pretty features. "It isn't your fault Ron is such an idiot. Please do not feel sorry for me."

He grinned at her, suddenly feeling more at ease after her quick display of temper. "Well, we agree on one thing then," he chuckled. "Ron is an arse."

Smiling and generally looking more at ease, Ginny reached out and relieved him of one of the bags. "That he is," she agreed with a wide smile (just!) for him as she sat the bag down. "Well, what did you bring then? Besides enough for a small army, obviously."

"Take a look," he encouraged her, pleased as can be when she squealed with delight after her first look. She stepped back from the table, turning around to throw her arms around his neck. "I take it you approve then?"

"You have two of my very favorites in the first bag," she grinned, dropping her arms from around him to take a peek into the other bags. "This is really sweet of you, Harry. I really appreciate it."

"I'm glad you like it," he beamed in return, feeling a little foolish that her praise had such an effect on him. He was too focused on the sway of her hips as she bustled around her tiny kitchen, so it startled him when she tried to hand him a plate and fork. "Erm, thanks."

She smiled at him, moving to sit at the table. "You're the one deserving of thanks, Harry. This is such a nice surprise. My mother will be happy, since I'd begged off dinner at the Burrow to have leftover salad here."

He chuckled at that, imagining Molly Weasley's hand-wringing upon being turned down for dinner by her youngest child in favor of leftover salad. "Well, I'm glad that the surprise is nice. I don't know if everyone in the world would be pleased to have me show up on the doorstep, even with food."

"You'd be surprised," she snorted indelicately, laughing with him. "Well, as Ron so kindly pointed out, if anyone can sympathize with the woes of cooking for one, it is probably you. It's just not fun, so I try not to do it very often. Hence leftover salad."

"Eat a lot of carryout, too?" Harry asked, easily falling into a comfort zone with her as she passed him a full plate.

"Mmm, not too often," she shrugged. "George and I used to eat together a lot, especially after I first moved out. It was nice since I think both of us were so lonely. George was so lost then, and I was always so close to the twins. But you know how it was then, and – "

Startling them both, he slammed his fist down on his thigh. "No, I don't know," he muttered bitterly, taking them both by surprise. "Like a good coward, I ran away. I didn't see his suffering or your loneliness because I was too busy being a selfish bastard."

She watched as his chin dropped to his chest, his shoulders hunching up in his grief. "Harry," she began, reaching out to take his hand. "Oh, Harry, I daresay you were entitled to a vacation. There was nothing selfish or bastard-like in that. You have given all of us new, better lives, and if you needed some time to get settled after that, you had more than earned it."

"I didn't even go to his funeral, though," he pointed out miserably, cautiously lifting his chin to meet her gaze. "Your family, you all mean so much to me, and I – "

When she set her hand on top of his, he immediately turned his palm up to clasp around hers. "Harry, there was not one person at that funeral who begrudged you your time away. Not a single one," she promised fiercely.

He looked at her, managing a small smile. "Thanks for that. You and your family have always been so much better to me than I deserve. And I am sorry I missed it. At the time, I couldn't stand the thought of his funeral, but now I really regret that I missed it."

"You did miss one hell of an amazing fireworks show," she smiled, squeezing his hand once before gently pulling hers back. "Fred would have been proud. Did you know that Percy was the one who arranged it? Bill and Charlie had suggested it when the boys were drowning their sorrows in firewhiskey, and Perce was the only one who remembered. So he did it."

"I'm sorry I missed that," Harry smiled genuinely this time. "Good on Percy, too. What was your contribution?" he asked, figuring her for something truly extraordinary.

She blushed, looking down at the table. "Actually, I was pretty much rubbish at helping. I was sort of in charge of George, mostly by default at that."

He could picture how she must've been then, feeling alone and utterly devastated by Fred's death and George's depression. It just made him feel worse that he'd been gone then. "I am sorry I wasn't there. For you, I mean. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

She stared back at him impassively, nodding once. "I wish you wouldn't, though. I'm not your responsibility, Harry. None of us are. You needed the time and space, and that is okay. We all wanted the best for you."

"Well, it's not that," he began, cutting himself off as the nonsense that Luna had spouted about words with lost meaning rushed back into his awareness. Maybe, just maybe, his loony friend was right. To test that theory, he reached out and took her hand in his. He laced their fingers together (and nearly went wild with relief and joy when she did not jerk her hand away), and gave her his best smile.

The pink tint that rushed to her cheeks told him pretty much all that he needed to know. Luna was right, no matter how odd and incongruous that seemed. Clearing his throat, he stroked the tips of his fingers over the bank of her soft hand. "I wish I had been here for you. I – I will always regret that I wasn't."

Ginny gave him a small smile, but her eyes were searching as she looked at him. "Please Harry. Don't worry about it. You were here with us in spirit and in our hearts."

"Thank you," he smiled, nudging her plate toward her. "Eat up, Gin. The food won't get any warmer, you know."

"Well, it won't get any colder either," she shrugged, laughing at his confused look. "Warming charms. Just how hopeless in the kitchen are you?"

"I'm a terrific cook, the Muggle way," he informed her with an easy smile. "I had many years of practice at the Dursleys. Still, it's just not any fun cooking for one."

Her eyes hardened at the mention of the Dursleys, but to his relief, she let it go. "Well, since you eat alone and I eat alone, and neither of us likes to eat alone, maybe we should eat together sometimes. You could show me how to cook the Muggle way, and then I could show off for Dad."

She suggested that they share meals? She wanted to eat with him! Trying to play it cool, he nodded as he laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'd really like that, Gin. A lot."

"Well, good," she nodded.

After that exchange, they fell into conversation about any topic imaginable, and before Harry realized it, it was nearly ten pm. When they said goodbye, he surprised them both by kissing her on the cheek. As he shoved his hands into his pockets sheepishly, she reacted as though she'd been burned, jumping away from him and blushing furiously.

Luna was right, he realized again as she hastily bid him goodbye and shut the door. Maybe, just maybe, this would not be so hard as he imagined it would be.