After washing up, Luna met Harry in the kitchen to throw together a quick flatbread dough. Harry passed the measured portions of flour, baking powder, salt, and yogurt. As Luna mixed and kneaded the dough, he sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, and they laughed together as he recalled his first impressions of the magical community, his misunderstanding and misuse of magical objects, and the general confusion which plagued his first year at Hogwarts.
Harry sliced and grilled halloumi as Luna fried the flatbread beside him. They were always touching when their hands weren't occupied. He tugged at her apron playfully, she thumbed flour on his nose with a mischievous smirk. His fingers explored the small of her back, she laid her hand affectionately on the back of his arm.
After the flatbread, halloumi, and vegetables were plated, They sat beside one another at the table, legs playfully intertwined, watching the barn swallows flit in the summer sky. She told him stories about her childhood, the sweet romance of her mother and father, and how the dynamic of her relationship with her father changed after her mother's death.
"He's away a lot. He is, of course, the Quibbler's chief correspondent. So he leaves for weeks at a time, traveling wherever his stories lead. But I'm afraid that isn't why he leaves. I think he's driven away by the absence of her. This home, the memory of her in this home. They loved each other so so much, Harry. And in a moment she was gone, all the color of his world." As she said this, she blinked away tears, turning her face away.
He pulled her hand to his lips, kissed her fingers lightly. "I'm so sorry, Luna. The loss of her must follow you everywhere."
She turned back to him, pulled his hand to her neck, laid her head on his shoulder. "It isn't the loss of her that hurts anymore. The loss of him, though, I feel everyday."
They sat like this for at least an hour, reflecting on the moments in their lives that shaped them, that made them stronger, that they may not ever recover from. Comforting touches drew them nearer to one another, bit by bit, until their chairs were pressed squarely together. Plates pushed back, legs extended comfortably, they leaned into one another, arms intertwined and fingers interlaced. Luna's head leaning on Harry's shoulder, Harry's head leaning on Luna's, they watched the barn swallows until silence fell between them.
Around nine, Luna whispered softly, "Would you like to watch the sun set? We've got an excellent view upstairs."
Her fingers loosely grasping his, Luna led Harry past nineteen ruby red doors, to the last door on the narrow spiral staircase.
It was a room of striking beauty. The far wall was a seamless, floor-to-ceiling window, spanning from wall to wall, facing west. Along the brilliant white stone walls, gold seams grafted as threads of ore into the rock itself, in the shape of leaves and branches, identical to the ancient ash tree's highest branches outside.
There were prisms everywhere, what must have been a thousand floating mid-air at random lengths beneath the ceiling. As the setting sun cast light into the room, the prisms split the sun's rays into iridescent fields of color. The room swam in moving light.
Directly in the center of the room, facing the window, was a mid-century leather sofa.
"It's called the watching room. My parents and I used to sit here every night, to watch the sun set. It's my favorite room in our home, but I haven't been in here since my mother died."
She sat in the center of the sofa, pulled Harry close to her.
They watched the sun slowly set over the untouched horizon. In the distance, barn swallows danced in the wind. The boughs of the ancient ash swayed slowly in the evening breeze.
Harry put his arm around Luna's shoulder. Luna pressed into Harry's side.
Time slowed.
"Harry…" Luna turned, looked up with vulnerable eyes, wrapped her arm around his waist, "...would you like to kiss me now?"
Harry stretched his arm around Luna in a motion that felt familiar. She pressed into him, nuzzling into his chest. He'd never felt this comfortable. He'd never felt less alone.
Her body felt so good against his.
"Harry…"
He turned. Luna had leaned toward him, shifting her body. Her tee draped loosely, the contours of her chest just visible as she wrapped her arm around his waist. She looked up with wide eyes. His pulse quickened.
"...would you like to kiss me now?"
It was less than a second, or it was an eternity, before his lips met hers. Softly, carefully, he kissed her. She pressed passionately into him. He touched her face, his fingers slowly tracing the lines of her jaw.
Her lips were so soft against his. He pulled her closer. Oh, how she breathed.
He opened his mouth, his tongue just touched her lips. Something like a longing sigh escaped her, and she opened to him. Her tongue met his, moved with his, danced with his. He played with the corner of her lips, and she smiled and teased.
His left hand shifted to the crook of her neck. He ran his fingers through her hair. She moaned softly. His right hand held her waist, pulled her near, played with the soft contours of her torso.
She shifted her weight, shifted her leg to his side, wrapped her thighs around his waist.
Her warm body pulsed against his, almost involuntarily she pressed her waist into his torso as he moved his lips from her open mouth, to the crest of her jaw, to the lobe of her ear.
As Harry pressed his lips against hers, Luna stopped thinking altogether.
His lips were so soft against hers. He pulled her closer. Her heart raced. He opened his mouth, she felt his tongue against her lips. She felt a warm, pleasant tension between her thighs.
Luna opened her lips, sighed softly. Her tongue played with his, flirted with his.
Her right hand explored his chest, the firm contours of his abdomen. Her left hand ran through his hair. As she pressed into him, a longing moan escaped his lips. It took every ounce of self-control to keep her hand from straying south.
He played with the crook of her neck, her hair, and she wanted him. She shifted her weight, shifted her leg to his side, wrapped her thighs around his waist.
Immediately she felt him. He was hard against her. She moaned in pleasure, almost involuntarily she pressed her waist into his torso in waves as he carefully, perfectly kissed the crest of her jaw, the lobe of her ear.
For at least twenty minutes, they enjoyed the taste of one another. Their bodies moved together. They breathed together, finding a soft, pleasant, intimate rhythm.
Luna pulled away, whispered softly, "Harry, I think you should go — only because I desperately want you to stay."
Harry sobered, tilted his head toward hers, sighed longingly. "You're right." He paused, kissed her once more on the cheek. "Luna, I don't know how to express to you just how much I've treasured every moment of this day."
The sun had set. As she shifted off of his lap, he rose from the sofa. He gathered her in a warm, close embrace. He kissed her once more, a careful peck. And then she escorted him with interlaced fingers, down the narrow spiral staircase, through the emerald green, perfectly round front door, to the ancient ash a stone's throw from her home.
He picked up the tin can threaded with string.
"Luna, I really like you." He said, blushing.
She smiled, drew close to him, whispered, "Write me tonight?"
He nodded, let go of her hand.
"Home."