A/N: Chap 9 Review Responses are in my forums as usual. Thank you for reading.

Chapter Ten: In the Army Now

Muggleborn witches were not important to the Ministry of Magic.

It was a terrible truth Director Amelia Bones hated, and she hated herself for acknowledging it. However, so many Muggleborn witches graduated Hogwarts, or for that matter the other ICW-aligned schools, and discovered that without a spouse there was simply no room for them in the magical world, that it was all but impossible to protect every single one. International law required them to be pulled out of their Muggle educational settings to learn to control their magic, but it was only since December of 1981, two months after the fall of Voldemort, that the ICW mandated continuing Muggle education for the Muggleborn. It was also law that any witch returning to the Muggle world be bound and fitted with a permanent veil. The truth was, at least since Amelia took over as DMLE, that rarely happened any more. She got away with letting those witches pass it because no one cared about Muggleborn witches.

At least with Dumbledore's changes, witches who returned to the Muggle world had a basic education with which to work. The ICW vote, Amelia thought, was Albus Dumbledore's greatest victory at the ICW, and it was a hard-won fight indeed. The old Headmaster used up a great deal of his political capital to ensure that Muggleborns had somewhere to go upon graduation—even if it was only to return to their parents' world.

It was with a sad acknowledgment of this fact that Amelia read the reports that had finally, after sixteen days from the initial disappearance, made it to her desk: three Muggleborn witches ranging in ages from 23 to 49 were missing, and in at least two cases the sites of their disappearance witnessed strong outbursts of accidental magic indicative of stress.

In the words of the Hit Witch who filed the report, "One Muggleborn is nothing. But three…three is a pattern. There might be a hunter abroad."

Hunters were nothing knew—the word was simply a catch-phrase for any aggressive Muggle attempts to capture, study or kill witches. It was certainly not unique—there were dozens of instances of Nazi hunters during the Second World War, both on the continent and in England. Hitler did not completely trust Grindelwald and directed his SS agents to abduct and aggressively study witch-born to find any weaknesses he could use against his supposed ally.

Even before then, however, developed nations occasionally became aware of the broader community of witch-born and attempted to destroy or capture them. A few killing curses and liberal uses of Obliviates usually took care of the problem, except where it failed entirely.

There were nations in the world where witch-born were purged by sheer force of numbers. Magicals were never numerous to begin with in peoples of Middle Asian descent. She did not know of a single Arabic witch or wizard, and if any witch -born community ever formed in that area, it was quickly and brutally put down. Magical children were slaughtered at birth; the same was true through much of sub-Saharan Africa. The Muggle world decried such acts as the brutal acts of primitive cultures, but the truth was much more disturbing. The older peoples of the world were still in-touch enough with magic to recognize witch-born for what they were, and those whose culture decried such births dealt with them accordingly.

While such action was unthinkable in lands with established Magical Ministries, Amelia knew that there were thousands of Muggles for every single magical in the world. Granted, the developed nations had a higher concentration due to better nutrition and established ministries, but she knew if a true conflict every happened, it would be a nightmare for all. In Britain, for instance, there were easily a thousand Muggles for each Magical, and Britain due to a combination of history and circumstance had one of the highest pro-rata magical populations in the world. And even there, in the birthplace of modern magic, Muggleborn children were still occasionally killed by shocked, terrified parents.

With a new Minister loudly proclaiming that Voldemort was not back; with Covens loudly calling for the capture and execution of Harry Potter and his bonded, Luna Potter; with a Sabbat Order calling for the trials and immediate expulsion of Hermione Granger and Justine Finch-Fletchley from Hogwarts, if not their deaths, this one more horror just made Amelia wish she had taken a vacation through the whole of the summer months.

She walked now through the town of Consett in slacks and a blazer, tolerating the itchy discomfort of the veil with a slight frown, until she reached the town's supermarket. She was not surprised to find Tonks waiting for her there.

"Found him," she said casually. For the day Tonks wore her hair plain brown, and she wore ripped jeans and a T-shirt with a studded denim jacket. Being Amelia's primary information gatherer, dress code was not her first priority. "Donny Whitehead—he saw the whole thing."

The two witches walked into the Safeway store, passed down the produce aisle and walked without hesitation into the back room. "Employees only," a large, gruff Muggle said.

Amelia flashed her Auror's badge. The badge was charmed to show whatever would impress the viewer the most. The man blinked, took a step back and said, "Sorry, Ma'am. What can I do for you?"

"I need to speak to Donny Whitehead regarding your missing employee, Gertrude Appleby."

"Roit, he's in the lounge."

The young man in question sat in the back of the employee lounge of the store, his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. He looked up as the two women entered and his red eyes widened. "I didn'a do it!" He started rambling incoherently while Tonks shut the door behind her.

"Mr Whitehead," Amelia said firmly to get him to quiet down. "My name is Amelia Bones. I just wanted to ask you a few questions, please."

After Tonks helped calm the young man down, Amelia sat in a folding chair facing him and started asking very basic questions about his family, his home, how he got on with his co-workers, and finally what he thought of Gertrude Appleby.

All the while, she grazed through the images in his head, employing subtle Legilimency to glean the truth from his words. What she saw chilled her. Finally, having obtained what she needed, she stood. "Thank you, Mr Whitehead. I believe you, that you were not responsible for her disappearance."

"I should'a stayed and 'elped her, though," he muttered miserably.

Yes, you should have, Amelia thought. "I'm sure she understood. Obliviate."

Afterward, leaving the store, Amelia shuddered despite herself. "Muggles," she said. "Well-armed. He watched the whole thing from a few hundred feet away, cowering behind a tree... Two men in suits, and two more in what looked like black military gear. The men in suits used what looked like one of those Muggle electric guns—the victim killed them both with accidental magic. Any word on Sandra Shatley?"

"No witnesses; she was seen entering her flat, and was not seen again. According to the local PC, there were signs of a struggle and several blown-out windows. She was a Ravenclaw, so her accidental magic might have been air-based."

"Who's the third?"

"Nancy Dubois, from Ashford."

"Let's go," Amelia said; and a second later both witches disappeared with a pop.

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

The nearest regional wizarding school to Ollivander operated out of Santa Fe, just over the ridge from Pecos. It served the whole Southwestern region, including Arizona, Utah, Nevada and Colorado. Even so, it still had an enrolment of less than five hundred students. The school itself was nothing special to look at. It was comprised of a long, single-story building with narrow windows deeply set in thick adobe walls. Unlike ICW schools, there was no bestiary, but there was a Quidditch pitch, even if it only had one goal on either side rather than three.

The structure was set in a vast, empty plain southwest of the city, a few miles away from the local Muggle Community College. The only green came from two long, cylindrical greenhouses on the far side of the school. The JMOC met on the odd Quidditch Pitch

Actual classes began on August 28th, but the Junior Magical Officer Corps mustered on August 21st to begin their training. From the description, Harry expected a whole regiment of a hundred students or more.

Despite his misgivings for that means of travel, he arrived by Portkey. He could have made the flight by broom in twenty minutes or less, but Ollivander insisted on it for security reasons. So, naturally when he landed, he lost his breakfast.

"Potter, what is wrong with you?" a harsh female voice shouted.

Harry looked up to see a group of six teenagers, his age or older, and one familiar woman with curly auburn hair and a lanky build, all staring at him. "Er, sorry," Harry said after vanishing the vomit and wiping his mouth. "Portkeys and I don't agree. It's an aether thing."

She cast an appraising look at him before nodding. "Are you recovered then?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, fall in."

By that she evidently meant for him to stand in line with the other kids. "Right," Lieutenant Arlene Vance began. "As I was saying, you kids represent future officers in the WestCon army; you will be expected to lead and fight with the witches and wizards under your command. There are privileges that come with rank, but there are also heavy responsibilities. First and foremost is that you must be the best."

She walked up and down the line, hands clasped behind her back. "Many of you are First Gen, so you may have in your mind what this will be like from the Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps in normal schools. However, if you notice, there is no 'Reserve' in the name of this program. This is your officer training, and upon achieving your NEWTs you will be serving officers of the WestCon army. What you learn here will save your lives."

Harry never even got the names of the other cadets before Vance had them all running laps on a dusty half-mile track around the pitch. Vance followed easily behind, pelting stragglers with stinging charms to encourage them to speed up. Fortunately, after a year in hard physical training, Harry was not too far behind the leader—a tall, wiry blond boy who reminded him in appearance a little of Ron.

They stopped after a five mile run; Harry felt pushed to the edge, but was surprised at how well the others kept up. "We are witch-born," Vance barked loudly when she had them back in line. "We are physically stronger than our Muggle-counterparts because of our magic. Magic saturates our muscles on a cellular level, providing increased healing, strength and recovery time. Your body can operate solely on magic for prolonged periods of time if necessary. That is why there will be no water breaks during our training sessions. You may crave water, but your body can function without it."

The lecture continued as the cadets struggled to catch their breath. After the warm-up run, Vance transfigured a mound of Earth with round targets spaced at one-foot intervals and had them practice shooting stunners.

As they fired again and again at the targets, Vance walked behind the barrier and disappeared—to everyone except Harry. To his eyes, she appeared to shimmer and go transparent, while around her silvery magic trickled down around her like water. He saw her point her wand at him and raised a shield before the stunner even left her wand.

The others stopped their work and stared at his shield.

"Nicely done, Potter," Vance said in a surprisingly normal tone. "Do you know what I did?"

"A disillusionment charm, Ma'am," Harry said. "I…well, I saw you anyway."

Rather than be surprised, Vance merely nodded. "Aether magic is very rare in the Americas, more so than in other countries. It is hereditary, and none of the magical families with known aethers immigrated. I understand your wife is also an aether?"

At the word 'wife' the other cadets stared incredulously, but Harry tried to ignore them for the older witch. "Yes, ma'am. We bonded at a glance; if I encounter any other aethers, there is the risk of an unintentional bonding, so we have to employ Occlumency."

"Good. Kids, this is Harry Potter, newly arrived from England. Yes, he is bonded—you know the Brits do things just like the EastCon people do, or the Brazilians, so it shouldn't be a shock that he's bonded already. However, he is unreduced regardless."

"Ma'am?" the wiry blond boy said, raising his hand.

"Yes, Cadet Lieutenant Coles?"

"Is he the same Potter that won the Junior Quidditch World Championship last year?"

Harry stared in shock—the Western Confederation knew about the tournament?

"One and the same," Vance said with a grin. "Some of the finest damned flying I've ever seen. He and his bonded are here as the personal guest of President Murchison. You will make him feel welcome while he stays with us, understand?"

The others nodded.

"Right, dismissed. Report back this afternoon at five. Potter, your Portkey will take you back in ten minutes."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you."

Coles stepped forward and offered a hand. "Tim Coles, nice to meet you."

Coles' elemental leaning was fire, just like Harry's. He stared at the hand, unaccustomed to such greetings, but took it after only a moment's hesitation. Both boys started at the shock of magic, but Coles laughed it off and pointed to a girl by his side. "This is Cadet Sergeant Myra Wickers."

Wickers looked like an average brunette with a constellation of freckles across her face and a somewhat long nose. She didn't offer her hand, though she smiled at him in a friendly enough fashion. "Married, huh? How'd that work?"

Harry shrugged. "I blew out my wand and our Sabbat said I was too powerful, so they ordered me to bond by fifteen, or they'd make me bond. I had a choice between a girl in my school or …well, you know."

"It's shit like that which makes me want to fight," the second boy in the group said. He was a short black boy with an earthen leaning in his magic, just like Myra Witckers. "Name's Daniel Michaels."

The blonde girl smiled at him and said, "Mary Stiller." She, like Coles, was fiery.

The last two girls were both shorter than the rest. The first of them had a wide, oval face with pale green eyes and brown hair. "Suzanne Tso," she said. Her magic was not just Earthen, but possibly the most Earthen of any Hufflepuff he'd ever seen.

Her friend appeared to be East Asian. "Bernadette Nguyen," she said. She was the only Air-elemental of the group.

"Nice to meet you all," Harry said, grinning. "I'll try not to throw up on you next Portkey in."

"Why is that?" Coles asked.

"I can see the magic that carries me," Harry said. "It's like being shot by rainbow guns and twisted around inside. I wish I could just fly here, but there's a security risk."

"How 'bout your wife?" Wickers asked. "Is she joining?"

Harry smiled sadly, thinking of how long it had been sine he and Luna even really just talked. "She's not the military type. She's a Ravenclaw…I mean, an air elemental, like Bernadette. I don't know many air elementals that fight."

"I don't really want to," Bernadette admitted. "But I sort of have too. There's a family draft, and my sisters couldn't fight themselves. If I signed up for JMOC, the rest of my family are exempted. And…wait, how did you know what my leaning is?"

Harry smiled. "I'm an aether—I can see your magic. I see yours too, Suzanne; I've never seen such a strong Earthen leaning before."

Bernadette scratched her chin. "I'm Diné, what you people call Navajo. We are all children of the Earth."

"Oh, well, I guess that explains it. Well, it's about time. See you this aftern…" And suddenly he was gone.

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

After a long session of wand-making with Ollivander and a reticent Luna, Harry returned for the afternoon muster. Unlike the morning training, the afternoon was dedicated to learning tactics and specialized combat magic. Harry was especially excited when Vance announced apparition lessons.

"Mobility is the key to magical warfare," she lectured as she had them line up to practice the three D's of apparition: Destination, Determination and Deliberation. One must be completely determined to reach one's destination, and move without haste, but with deliberation. Their target was a hoop three feet in front of them.

"The difference between victory and death is whether you are mobile or not," Vance said. "A few days ago, the WestCon army scored a major victory right here in New Mexico when we trapped an attacking force of fifty-four witches in an anti-apparition and anti-Portkey ward. They were trapped and unable to escape or regroup—we killed or captured forty of them before they managed to fly on brooms outside the ward perimeter. That's the most enemy taken in a battle since Chicago. Mobility was the key—in this case, limiting the attacker's mobility."

Harry did listen, but only with a part of his mind. Instead he was staring intently at the hoop, thinking to himself that if he could master this skill, he wouldn't have to use Portkeys anymore. Desire fuelled his magic, and with a sliding feeling, as if the whole Earth had turned sideways, he found himself standing in the hoop.

Vance stopped mid-sentence. "Hmm ... Well done, Potter. Have you had lessons before?"

"No, ma'am. In England they don't even allow us to take lessons until Seventh Year, unless your birthday falls really early in the school year."

"I see. Try again, will you?"

Harry stepped out of the hoop, conscious of the other students watching him, and stared intently at the hoop. This time he leaned against the side-ways fall, and stepped into the hoop without losing his balance at all.

"That's not apparition," Mary Still said. "There was no pop!"

"Oh, it is, just not the standard type," Vance said with a wry grin. "Apparition is a function of the three Ds, yes, but those are couched within a very basic tenant—desire. Your desire fuels your magic, and practice allows you to shape that desire more easily to achieve your goals. However, the means by which your magic accomplishes your goals varies. Mr Potter employed something known as Side-step Apparition. It is unique to visual aethers, though I only know that because Garrick Ollivander told me to expect it. It is still apparition—subject to all the same rules and limitations, it is just silent. The rest of you keep working. You, Mr Potter, need to practise as well. Try Apparating around the Quodpot field."

Harry nodded, not even bothering to hide his pleased grin.

By the time class ended, Coles and Nguyen had both successfully Apparated as well, while the other four came close. "Potter, do you wish to try Apparating to your home?"

"Could I?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Yes, but I'm going along separately to ensure you make it in one piece."

She disappeared; Harry waved goodnight to the other students before he followed along, visualizing Ollivander's pool. It was astonishingly easy, and he appeared without a pop…

…Right over the pool.

He had just a moment to gulp in a breath of air before he plummeted right into the water. When he managed to make it to the edge, he heard Luna laughing delightedly while Ollivander and Vance both looked on with raised brows.

"It's good not to get cocky, Potter," Vance said. "Apparition is not without risk. Splinch yourself, and you'll understand. Well, Mr Ollivander, I think he can safely Apparate to training tomorrow. There is no water at the school for him to fall into."

"Indeed. Thank you, Lieutenant. Have a pleasant evening."

With that, the lieutenant disappeared, while Harry applied a drying charm. "It's not funny, Luna," Harry grumped.

"Oh, but it is, Mr Potter," Ollivander said. "You just need some distance to appreciate the humour. In the meantime, come eat. We have a most fabulous dinner waiting."

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

So went the rest of the week before school started. The three hour morning sessions concentrated on physical exercise and drills to practice both offensive and defensive magic, as well as different techniques to dodge such spells. The three hour session in the late afternoon was devoted to the theories, rituals and skills of being an officer.

It was a different experience for Harry, and for the first time he found himself truly enjoying his lessons. Because of the small number of actual combatants, each officer was required to know hand-to-hand combat and field healing magic, and that was Harry's favourite subject.

However, reading about the past century of warfare fascinated Harry as well. Because the Western Confederation was virtually unmentionable, Harry never learned of the Missoula Accords of 1941, in which the two sides of the American conflict declared a truce for the duration of the Second World War. This allowed both sides to enter the war with other Allied witch-born to fight the greater threat.

Most interesting, though, was how well the EastCon and WestCon forces worked together, employing tactics learned against each other on Grindelwald's forces with astounding success, until Dumbledore stepped in at the last to cut off the head of an already dying snake.

The WestCon also had a unique view of Voldemort. At the beginning, he was depicted as a fellow revolutionary and freedom fighter; however as the British insurrection continued, he devolved from hero to villain, targeting true innocents as well as what the WestCon considered viable targets, until he was simply a murderer with a gang.

"Actually, he was worse than that," Harry muttered.

"What was that, Cadet Potter?" Vance asked.

Harry looked up in surprise, having not realized he spoke aloud. "Sorry, ma'am. Just had a thought."

"Share it, please," Vance said in a tone that made it an order. "Your insights on Voldemort are much more pertinent than ours."

"Well, it's just, at the end he was a tool for the Dark Covens of the Sabbat," Harry said. "It was a Dame who sent him after my mum, and there was another Dame there when he regained a body in June. The Covens used him against their enemies, and Mum was one of the ones they wanted dead the most."

Vance nodded grimly. "Yes, Mr Ollivander has mentioned Lily Potter—I never met her, but my cousin Emmeline has. My parents left England right after the first World War, before either of us were born."

She looked to the rest of the wide-eyed cadets then back to Potter. "Learn this stuff well, Potter, because of all the kids in this school, I suspect you'll have greater need of it than anyone."

"I think you're right, ma'am," Harry agreed earnestly.

For all that he enjoyed his lessons, though, it always dulled the day's sense of accomplishment to come back to Ollivanders and have Luna avoid him. Most times, she would not even look at him even if they were working together. He just sighed and went to be alone.

~~Firebird~~

~~Firebird~~

On the Saturday before he and Luna were scheduled to restart their schooling in America, Harry woke up once more alone.

Esmeralda Gutierrez strode into the room like a bull elephant, both metaphorically and physically, seeing as she out massed Harry almost three-to-one. "Up, lazy bones!" she snapped in heavily accented English. "Luna is already up."

"I'm up, I'm up!" Harry said, and he was.

The huge woman eyed him with narrow eyes. "Why do you not sleep with your wife? She was crying by the pool again this morning."

Harry slumped his shoulders and rubbed his face. "She doesn't really want me."

"She married you!"

"Didn't have a choice, really," Harry said. "Sometimes our magic makes us do wonky things."

"Wonky?" Esmeralda chuckled. "You English talk loco. Wonky. Like that. Come on, then."

Harry padded barefoot out of the house in his pyjama bottoms and one of Dudley's old T-shirts. Breakfast was on the back patio, where Ollivander and his adopted family spent most of their time.

Maria, Esmeralda's Squib daughter, was dressed for the weekend and was planning to spend the day with a friend down the street. A car horn blaring from the front was her cue that her ride had arrived.

"Oh!" Maria said, wide-eyed. "Bye, Papa!" She gave the ancient wizard on her other side a peck on the cheek, hugged her mum, and then hugged Luna as well. "Bye, Harry!" she called as she ran past the boy, her bag flopping against her back.

Harry sat down as the girl left the large home, which from the street looked like a single-wide trailer. "Good morning, Mr Potter," Ollivander said expansively. "Help yourself, please. As always, dear Esmeralda outdid herself."

Harry had never heard of "migas" before arriving in America, but he had come to love the concoction of eggs, cheese, peppers and onions mixed with crushed tortilla strips. Yesterday it was sausage burritos, and before that chilaquilas.

"I believe we shall take today off," Ollivander said. "Lieutenant Vance reported you've been working hard this week, and I, for one, see that for myself. Even Morgan is impressed, and that man does not impress easily. You have the makings of a find wandmaker, if I do say so myself, and if Lieutenant Vance is to be believed, a fine officer.

"In fact, I was thinking now that you've mastered apparition so well, the two of you should go into Santa Fe for some clothes shopping," Ollivander continued. "You especially, Mr Potter. Esmeralda's cooking has obviously agreed with you—you've grown at least an inch."

Harry flushed. "Sure, that's a good idea, I suppose."

"I think I should rather stay here, thank you," Luna said with a distant smile as she nibbled on a fresh tortilla.

"Perhaps," Ollivander said. "On the other hand, I think it rather important that you go together." The old wizard sat up. "Children, I have been bonded before. It was my first wife, in fact, who introduced me to Gregorovitch; it was that act of faith that cost her life and put my feet on the path of resistance I follow today. However, like many young wizards our marriage came about through poaching. She seduced me, and I was young and foolish enough to let her. Marriage in the magical world is not always easy. Bonds do not mean love, nor even like. But like it or not, you are joined." Ollivander looked hard at Luna. "Trying to resist the bond will only make you feel bad, my dear. Do you truly think Mr Potter here has been a bad spouse?"

Pouting in an adorable but childish fashion, Luna shook her head. "I just miss my Daddy," she finally said in a weak voice. "I miss my home, and Hogwarts. "

Ollivander took the witch's hand, knowing what contact did for witch-born. "Morgan is speaking with the ICW for you both, but we can't let you go without being assured of your safety. In the meantime, making yourselves miserable does no one any good. Go to town together, buy some clothes for yourselves. You have the credit card Morgan set up for your expenses while you are here, yet you've not spent a dime of it. Do so, my dears. Have a day out together, like a date."

Luna blinked at that, and looked over at Harry. "A date?"

Harry scratched at the thin whiskers on his chin. "Sure, why not?" he said. "I think it might be fun."

Luna's smile looked a touch stronger as she said, "I would like that."

From Ollivander's back porch, Harry tossed his invisibility cloak over the two of them before Harry side-along Apparated Luna to the parking lot of Santa Fe's largest shopping mall. "That was not nearly as bad as I feared," she said after they confirmed no one was there to see and removed his cloak.

"Vance called it side-step apparition, something unique to us. It beats a Portkey."

Being very thoroughly pale and British despite the time they spent in America, the two received a few odd looks when they entered the mall, but no one actually bothered them. He was absolutely sure they were being discreetly watched by Morgan's people, but he didn't mind.

Harry wasn't sure whose idea it was, but at some point he and Luna started holding hands as they walked. The touch thrilled him, and he could see her magic respond the same. She smiled briefly at him before pulling him toward a clothing store.

They ate pizza for lunch, and that afternoon went to see a Muggle motion picture. It was Luna's very first time in a Muggle cinema, and she sat throughout the otherwise forgettable movie with a gaping jaw and wide eyes. Eventually, when the shock of the screen wore off, she leaned against his shoulder and the two watched snuggled together.

Finally, though, the day wound to a close. As part of their agreement with the Western Confederation, they were required to be back in Ollivander's home by dark each day. Realizing they were both guests, and guessing they were being watched by Murchison's people, neither teen had a desire to test their boundaries.

Walking back into the parking lot to Apparate, Luna said, "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"That was a most lovely date. Thank you."

"Thank you for coming," Harry said. "Never been on a date before myself; it was nice."

She leaned against him. "I want to go home, Harry."

He knew she spoke of England, but he said nothing because he wasn't sure he wanted to. He loved the huge, expansive skies that dominated this land. He loved the tree-covered mountains that rose up like islands in a sea of desert. He loved the dry air and the bright sun and the migas in the morning. He loved…not being afraid. As much as he hated to admit it, he was terrified of returning to England.

Luna hugged him tighter, sensing the disquiet in his magic, and with a side-ways fall they Apparated back to Pecos.

That evening, when Harry finished brushing his teeth and slipping on his pyjamas, he left the small en suite bathroom to find Luna perched on the edge of the queen-sized bed Ollivander had given over to them. Normally she slept in Maria's room, but tonight she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clutched tightly between her knees, staring at him with her huge silver-blue eyes.

Harry's breath caught in his throat and he felt himself responding to the sight of her in her thin cotton pyjamas. "Could I stay in here tonight?" Luna asked.

He crossed the room to sit next to her and pulled her into a hug. "I never wanted you to go in the first place," he said softly. "I've missed you."

"You never said anything, so I thought you were happy I was gone," Luna said. She wiped a wet cheek.

"I didn't know I was supposed to say anything," Harry admitted. "I thought…I thought you just didn't like being with me."

Luna snorted in a rather unfeminine fashion. "In Witch's Health, Professor Hooch said it was normal for wizards to get angry after the bonding period is done and they realize how much their magic has dropped."

"Well, you didn't cause my magic to drop, did you?" Harry said.

"And I know that I'm not as pretty as Hermione or…."

He stopped her with a kiss. When he pulled away, her lips were slightly parted and her eyes half-closed; their bond throbbed with the power of their mutual magic reaching for each other. "You are beautiful, Luna," Harry said firmly. "No, you don't look like Hermione or Justine or anyone else for that matter, but by Merlin you're beautiful, and I won't have you say any different!"

Her eyes were wide, and a blush was rising up her cheeks and down her chest as their magic pushed and merged together. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think maybe, someday, you might come to love me the way daddy came to love my mum?"

"Yes," Harry said without hesitation. "I think it's very, very likely." On a sudden impulse, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the side of the bed away from the door, and with a Seeker's balance used one foot to kick away the covers before he placed her gently on the mattress. He started to walk to his side when her hands caught his and pulled him down onto her.

"That's good," she whispered as she kissed him urgently. "Because I do believe I'm coming to love you a great deal."

sp

sp

Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading. If there are any major faux-pas, they are entirely of my own doing.