Harry woke around mid-afternoon, stirring slowly into consciousness as long shelves drifted midair nearby. Luna had fallen asleep, tucked comfortably under his left arm, head laid back against his chest, her book open on her thighs. His arm was wrapped around her, palm laid gently on her abdomen, fingers draped loosely over the clasp of her jeans. Harry couldn't remember feeling this comfortable.
He pulled her closer, gently kissed the top of her head. At this she stirred also, waking slowly with a soft yawn. She smiled, set aside Speculations on the Fairie Plane, and turned her body into his. Digging her face into his chest, she wrapped her arm around his waist. She spoke softly.
"I really like you, Harry Potter."
After leaving the library, Luna led Harry back down the stairs, out of the house, and to the kitchen.
"I want to show you something else, but first we'll need at least a dozen blueberries and a handful of bottle caps."
Harry laughed at this, stated so matter-of-factly without the slightest explanation.
She led him to the ancient ash tree at the foot of which lay the tin can threaded with string, and immediately began climbing, skillfully shifting her weight from branch to branch.
He followed her, trying to mimic her patterns of movement, steadying himself on each sturdy bough. As she neared the highest branches, Luna slowed, pivoted to swing her legs loosely, and patted the branch upon which she sat.
"Just above us dwells a wood fairy community." Her distant, melodic voice reflecting humble appreciation. "Wood fairies are the most bashful of the lesser fairy races. They've allowed me to climb higher than this, but that was after a summer's peace offerings. They don't know you, Harry Potter, so you may see nothing this afternoon. But we're leaving a sizable heap of their favorite things, so perhaps you'll at least be granted an impression of their aura."
Harry smiled. "So where do I leave this offering?"
She guided his hand to the branch just above them. There was a smooth, ornately floral bowl growing out of the branch toward the trunk of the ash. In the bowl, in two distinct piles, Harry left twelve ripe blueberries and seven loose bottlecaps.
And then they waited. Again, Luna conjured a leather bound sketchbook and a charcoal pencil. What she saw, Harry couldn't see, but he gazed nonetheless at the branches above them. Occasionally he turned, and glanced at Luna's work.
After an hour, Harry began to perceive not a luminescent aura, as with the River Fairies this morning, but what can only be described as an absence. Tiny folds in the visible plane, like light briefly collapsed upon itself. At the center of these folds, the truest green emanated. These folds didn't flit about, as the river fairies had, but slowly navigated in weightless circles the broad boughs of the ash tree.
Luna had cast a light cooling charm on the surrounding area, but warned that any dramatic shifts in temperature would disturb the village. So it was still hot, and despite her efforts they were both sweating.
Harry shifted his attention to Luna as she sketched. Her damp tee clung closely to her chest. He traced the outline of her lace bra, the textures beneath. A tiny bead of sweat trickled down her brow, and she lifted the hem of her tee to wipe it away. The contours of her lean torso were visible for just a moment. Harry stirred, exhaled slowly, shifted his gaze to her lips for just a moment, and then back to the branch above.
After another half hour, Harry could just begin to see the distant outlines, in another fifteen minutes he noticed the shapes of leaves covering their otherwise nude bodies. He began to feel the pull of enchantment, as their form became ever more tangible.
"Do you see them?" Luna whispered curiously.
"I see small figures, nude but covered here and there with small leaves. I've never seen a green so deep." He replied, awestruck.
She laid down her pencil, studied him."Remarkable."
"How are they — I mean, it doesn't appear that they're walking. But they aren't flying either…"
"They navigate the branches of their trees on delicate vines which extend magically from their auras. It's quite beautiful to watch. It was the last thing I saw, after they introduced themselves."
Harry turned his face to her, breaking the enchantment. "You speak about them as if they're aware of us, relating to us in ways that seem so intentional. Are they clever?"
"The elemental fairies are the cleverest of the lesser fairy races, in my experience. They are quite social, not only among their own communities. They know, it seems, as soon as they're sought. And they give permission, in some cases, to be seen. Seeing a fairy, or the impression of a fairy on this plane, is like an invitation."
Harry reflected for a moment, returning his gaze to the wood fairy village.
"Why do you spend so much time with them? I mean, they're beautiful, but it seems like you've spent as much time reading about them as you've spent observing their communities."
Luna shifted her gaze from her sketch to the community above them. "The best theorists suggest that lesser fairy communities are, in some sense, governed by the Great Fairies. They shepherd them, loosely speaking."
She turned her eyes toward Harry. "And if that's the case, it stands to reason that a witch or wizard socially familiar to these lesser fairies might, in time, draw the attention of a Great Fairy, in the way that a parent might become casually aware of his child's best friend." She shifted her gaze reflectively. "I've spent so much time with nearby fairy communities, Harry, because I think that's the path to restoring the rich relationship we've lost with the Fairie realm."
At this, she turned her distant gaze to Harry, and looked at him with a rare intensity.
"Does it strike you as odd, Harry, that magical communities have been plagued by violence and darkness, every generation recorded in our history books — the same history books that refuse to acknowledge the ancient and lost magic of Fairie. Voldemart, Grindelwald, and every dark witch and wizard that stands in their distant shadow. What if the answer lies here?" She pointed to her finished charcoal sketch of a wood fairy.
Harry nodded slowly, considering. "You said something this morning — something I didn't understand at the time. You said, 'To enter Fairie uninvited is a perilous decision.'"
"No witch or wizard has ever returned who has entered Fairie uninvited, Harry Potter." She replied. "Yet what if we were granted an invitation?"
Harry smiled with kind eyes. "You're fascinating, Luna Lovegood."
At this, she pivoted her body towards his, her thighs straddling the broad branch upon which they sat. She leaned forward, chest out, her elbows straight and palms pressed flat against the branch between them. Her shoulder shrugged, arms gently pressing her breasts together, accentuating the soft curves of her chest.
She bit her lip, looked at Harry with vulnerable eyes. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"