Harry woke from a deep, dreamless sleep just before dawn. It was his first full night's rest since the graveyard, and he felt absolutely amazing.

He sat up, pivoted to the edge of his bed, and stretched. His face warmed to a broad smile, recalling the highlights of yesterday's visit, and Luna's final letter.

He stood, glanced out of his open window, inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. This was going to be a good day.

As he brushed his teeth and shaved, Harry stood naked, inspecting himself in the mirror. He was in decent shape, his features cut to definition by grueling stretches of training. He had hated the tournament, but desperate efforts to survive had their benefits. He glanced at his waist and thighs. Aroused when he woke, he was still faintly swollen. He thought about Luna, what she might think of him. He blushed. He grimaced at a minor blemish on his chest. After a quick shower, he dug through his wardrobe to find his favorite tee and the least beaten pair of denim he could find. He attempted, to no avail, to tame his messy hair. He grabbed his wand, left a pile of treats for Hedwig, and set off.


Luna Lovegood woke slowly. She blinked awake around an hour before dawn. Almost immediately her features shifted, and with wide eyes she dug her face back into her pillows and giggled with infectious joy.

She had slept peacefully, her dreams a distant reflection on Harry's smile, Harry's embrace, Harry's fingers intertwined with hers.

Sitting up after a moment, Luna stretched her arms high in the air, yawning. She stood, greeted Asher warmly, and glanced out of the open window. She inhaled deeply, drawing in the fragrance of the lavender and rosemary bushes growing in the garden below.

Luna skipped her way to the wash room and ran a warm bath in her ceramic, claw-footed tub. As the water rose, she shed her nightgown and stood naked before her mirror.

Her skin was pale, her breasts were full and firm. She couldn't help but notice that they were smaller than some boys seemed to prefer, and she wondered whether Harry shared that preference. Her eyes reviewed the contours of her body. She ran her fingers from the back of her neck, traced the soft curve of her breasts, down the center line of her abdomen. She trailed her fingers lightly over the soft textures between her thighs, finally resting her hand on her hip. She imagined what this might feel like to Harry, whether it would excite him.

She smirked, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. Not yet, Luna Lovegood.

Singing soft melodies, Luna soaked for around twenty minutes, her toes wiggling cutely above the bubbles. She wrapped herself in a fresh towel, grabbed her favorite pair of skinny jeans, a scoop neck black tee, and put up her hair in a messy twist. She pocketed her wand, skipped down the spiral staircase, twisted around a potted orange tree, and made her way directly to the foot of an ancient ash tree.


Harry paced quickly toward the far hedge of the nearby primary school, waving a friendly hello to Mrs. Figg, who was out on a morning stroll.

A few minutes later, Harry arrived at the hedge, picked up the rusty tin can, and held it apprehensively to his face.

"Luna Lovegood"

Everything went sideways, he felt vaguely nauseous, and an uncomfortable twist behind his navel.

He appeared, just a moment later, at the foot of an ancient ash tree.

"Good morning, Harry Potter."


Luna Lovegood had been waiting for less than a minute when Harry appeared, an arm's length away, holding a rusty tin can, punctured, with a string of loose thread hanging from one end.

He was wearing a crimson red tee, lived-in but not oversized, and a pair of weathered dark blue jeans. After a moment to get his bearings, his eyes settled on Luna's and they both smiled, flushed.

"Hi Luna. How are you?" He said, a bit awkwardly. The intensity of the last two weeks weren't lost on him.

Luna smiled. "I had pleasant dreams, and I slept so well. Thank you for asking, Harry. Now you must come quickly. It's nearly dawn and the river fairies are brilliant this season."

She led him by the hand to a brook running through the wood beyond the Lovegood home. A stone's throw beyond them, on the far side of the brook, a small grove of willow trees swayed gently in the morning breeze. Luna led Harry to a great oak that stood four paces from the water's edge, its broad branches stretching over the running water. Luna sat among the ancient roots, and with her wand conjured a leather bound sketchbook and a charcoal pencil.

"Wait. How? Did you just… Luna. Did you just do magic?!"

For a moment Luna looked confused, until her features snapped into comprehension and she smiled with kind eyes. "I've just realized that I haven't told you something that I think you'll love. And now I'm so excited. Here, on the Lovegood estate, you needn't worry about the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. Actually, you needn't worry about any Ministry decrees. Our home is, more or less, ungoverned."

Harry brightened immediately, and wore an expression that managed to be entirely confused and overwhelmingly excited.

"Okay, wait. I don't understand."

Luna adopted her distant, melodic tone. "Our family is an ancient family, Harry. And the Quibbler has been a part of it, in some form or another, as far back as family records go, because our family has always fostered a healthy distrust of personal ambition, and of its end, political power. Nine generations ago, when the Ministry of Magic was established in Britain, my eight-times-great-grandfather, Cadogan (I think it was Cadogan…) began to ward our property against nation-wide traces, unwelcome apparition, and any form of binding magic. And every generation since has carefully maintained those wards, and occasionally strengthened them. I have inherited the protective strength of nine generations of extraordinary witches and wizards. And so have you, as often as you're here with me."

It was so much better than Christmas. Harry pulled out his wand, pointed it at a nearby river stone, looked to Luna to make absolutely certain she wasn't pulling his leg, hesitated for a beat, and then whispered, "gemenio." A duplicate of the stone appeared from thin air. Then he paused, breath held and eyes scanning the horizon, and waited for the automated expulsion letter. It didn't come.

Luna nodded with an affirming smile, and Harry laughed out loud.

"Goodness, this is the best news! Thank you, Luna! You're brilliant, and your family's brilliant, and I never want to leave."

Luna smiled broadly. "Let's circle back on that idea later."

She grabbed his hand, threading her fingers between his, and pulled him to the ground beside her. She took his chin in her hand and playfully directed his face toward the brook. "Now watch."

At first Harry didn't see anything. He turned to Luna, who was sketching (masterfully, he noted) a nude figure of deep blue. He turned back to the brook and had nearly dismissed this creature to the realm of speculative magical theory when a pair of small iridescent auras became slowly visible to him. The lights flitted about, dancing on the surface of the water. Over the next twenty minutes, as he watched and listened, the auras slowly faded, and in their place he saw river fairies, every moment more tangible.

The river fairies were around three inches tall, and resembled adult humans — except that they were translucent, their color an ever-shifting gradient of deep blue, and their hair churning upward like the curling peak of a wave. They were playing, a male and a female, chasing one another and laughing, flitting here and there, dancing like the waters beneath them. They laughed, and the sound was like distant echoes of bells.

"God, they're beautiful." Harry whispered. Luna, not looking up, smirked.

There was something deeply magical about these creatures, and Harry found that, as he watched, he was being drawn in. Their figures, their play captured his attention altogether, and he found himself leaning toward them, a bit further every few minutes.

"They are fairies," Luna spoke into the silence, "so they live and play on two planes. If you don't avert your eyes occasionally, you'll be drawn to them, further and further, until you find yourself not in Britain, but in Faerie. And entering Faerie uninvited is a perilous decision."

Harry shifted his gaze back to Luna's sketchbook, breaking the spell of the fairies.

"We've just passed the summer solstice, and they're most active at dawn. This is the best time to observe their behavior."

She shifted her attention away from the sketch, set down her pencil, took Harry's hand, and watched in silence.

The male was chasing the female now, and she giggled as she flitted from river stone to river stone. He laughed playfully, leaping with flourish to catch her. Suddenly she turned, pivoting her delicate body toward her pursuer, with a mischievous smirk. His weight fell full into her form, and they leapt together, intertwined, the sounds of distant bells rang fuller. They rose, spinning in a graceful dance, and fell full into a water lily. She grabbed his waist, pulled him closer. His waist moved, back and forth, the rhythm of the waters rising into a swell. The song of the bells grew deeper, and she tensed, lifted her face in ecstasy, and trembled. The river fairies melted into one another, and disappeared under the surface.

As soon as the surface of the waters steadied, the enchantment broke.

Eyes wide, Luna looked away, blushing.

"The summer solstice is the peak of mating season for elemental fairies…"

Harry laughed, and then Luna laughed, and then she stood and grabbed his hand.

"Are you hungry, Harry Potter?"