A|N - Thrilled with this chapter, for a number of reasons. First, we've officially passed 100,000 words! According to my original projections, we're 10% of the way there. Second, this chapter represents the culmination of a few very exciting story arcs. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
This week I'm publishing the first chapter of my original work for The Rook community. From this point forward, I'm going to publish around a half dozen chapters ahead for Rook members. If you notice a gap in the posting schedule, you can close it by joining our close-knit community of readers. Includes full access to this story, as well as a fully-formated ePub edition, not to mention all original HLR content.
On the other side of a slight delay (it took him a full two minutes to calm down), Luna led Harry down the stairs from his loft, past the dining table, and into the vast library.
The experience was striking, and Harry was for a moment taken aback. Standing in the midst of a room while it became a six story archive was an experience altogether distinct from encountering a vast archive when, at least instinctually, expecting a modest library.
As he stepped over the threshold, the sheer size of the space was overwhelming. To his left, floor to ceiling shelving extended at least thirty yards to the far wall. The ceiling, Harry supposed, must have been eighteen feet high. To his left, similar shelving covered an equal distance. The first floor ceiling above him halted around sixteen feet before him, opening into an expanse Harry supposed must be fifty yards wide and at least thirty yards deep. Standing now in the midst of it, Harry looked directly up and counted six floors, connected by spiral staircases that seemed to occasionally shift of their own accord, and a few thin, railed bridges that spanned the gap across the expanse. These seemed to make navigation between collections simpler, although Harry noticed two of them shift, adopt right angles, or change directions entirely in the span of less than a minute.
Directly above them Harry noticed a vaulted ceiling of hazy green glass, in broad panels, through which the bright sky shone beautifully, casting a haunting aura throughout the stacks.
The Stacks. Harry decided just then that he'd refer to them as such, because every surface was covered in them. The exterior walls of each floor were indeed covered floor to ceiling, as the first floor had been, with every size and shape of book. Yet throughout each floor, sections and collections consisted of floating shelves, or of perpendicular shelving surrounding reading nooks and writing desks. Harry supposed it was four times the size of Hogwarts' library, easily.
Luna, shifting her attention from the vision before them, to the expression that had overtaken Harry's features, smiled warmly.
"It's lovely, darling. I'm so happy for you."
They found the others on the third floor, tightly arranged around Hermione, who stood before a broad writing desk, at the center of which was a large, cloth-bound volume. The book had to be nearly thirteen inches high, at least nine inches wide. The pages of the volume had been hollowed out, carved precisely in a six inch square, at the center of which a Time-Turner was magically suspended.
Hermione was reading aloud the inscription, scratched by quill in gilded letters, just above the device.
"The regulation of time-manipulative instruments went into effect on the evening of December 19, 1881. This volume, the contents of which may only be opened by those loyal to the House of Potter, contains the only such instrument hitherto unknown to the Ministry of Magic. It was sealed on December 18, 1881. Its contents were precisely engineered, capable of navigating the past in intervals of hours, days, months, and years. To this author's knowledge, it has been key in preventing the reign of four dark lords. May it aid in the defeat of the darkness forever."
Hermione stopped, rereading the words, and then halted momentarily.
She looked up at this, finding Harry's eyes for the first time. "It's signed K.S. Potter."
After a long silence, Harry spoke. "Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable."
Fred, head cocked curiously toward the intricate objects suspended before them, voiced his confusion. "Hang on. Time-manipulative object?"
Ron nodded, awestruck. "It's a time-turner. We used something similar to save Buckbeak, last year. And Sirius, actually."
Hermione lifted her eyes to meet Fred's. "It's a device that allows wearers to travel back in time. They are highly regulated, and to my knowledge every such device that allowed such travel in intervals over one hour was destroyed over 90 years ago."
At this George spoke. "Why would something so powerful be destroyed?"
"Because few arenas of magic are so obscure and so fundamentally dangerous as time. What we know about those who have abused objects like this has taught wizarding communities that, whatever benefit they might offer, is far outweighed by the potential disaster of nefarious manipulation of the past. And yet..." Hermione hesitated. "If this note, if this writer is to be taken seriously — such an object may be the lynch pin whereby He-Who-Must-"
"Hermione." Harry interrupted, half-irritated.
"Fine. Whereby Voldemort is undone."
They stood in silence, digesting the notion and wrestling with the implication of such an object's existence.
"How did you find it, Hermione?" Harry asked.
"You know, it's so odd. A book in the section on Ancient Runes caught my eye. This one was stacked precariously on a shelf just above my shoulder. As I passed, it sort of just fell into my arms."
No one was watching Luna at this moment, but her eyes narrowed, and she smirked with knowing eyes.
Harry stood silent at this, thinking. A moment later, he'd arrived at a decision. "Okay. I think, at least for now, that you should put it back. I can't help but think this object will prove useful in the future. For now, it's safely guarded. I'd like to keep it that way."
Hermione, whose hands may have been trembling, shut the book with decisive force and shelved it immediately.
Just then, a savory fragrance rose from the open door a few stories below.
"It's about time. I'm starved." Ron closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Harry, can't you ask the house elves to drop by some snacks between meals?"
They laughed at this, leaving Ron a bit confused, and followed a shifting series of spiral staircases to the ground floor.
By nine, the Weasleys had returned to Sirius' place via floo, and Harry stood beside Luna in the threshold of No. 4 1/2 as the dust of the departed Knight Bus settled on the pavement before them.
A peace washed over Harry as he observed Luna in perfect stillness.
After a moment, he caught her gaze, and spoke.
"Hi, Luna Lovegood."
"Hello, Harry Potter."
He smiled. "Did you enjoy your day?"
She bit her lip. "I have several answers to that question."
Harry laughed. "Yeah? I want to hear them all."
Luna smiled happily. "The first? Yes, absolutely." She drew nearer. "The second? Some parts more than others." She threaded her finger through his belt loop. "The third? Not quite yet."
Harry wrapped his arm around her waist, smiled warmly, and set his forehead against hers. "I love you, Luna."
She closed her eyes at this, pressed her nose into his neck. "I love you, my dear Harry Potter."
They stayed here for a moment, wrapped in a loose embrace, leaned lazily into one another. After a moment, Luna pulled away.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Today is your birthday."
"Officially, that's correct."
"I have a confession to make."
Harry laughed. "Yeah?"
She had stepped back from his embrace, laced her fingers behind her back and lifted her chin. She bit her lip and met his gaze with full, adorable eyes. Twisting playfully, she nodded.
"Goodness, Luna, you're stunning."
She was wearing — for the first time, Harry noted, since they met on the Hogwarts Express — a white button-up, the first three buttons of which were casually undone. Something about the bright white cotton, set in contrast with her dark blue skinny jeans, drew his eyes to the gentle contours of her chest.
Her shoulders were pulled back, and as she stepped nearer, her chin raised flirtatiously, his eyes were drawn to the now just visible slope of her breasts. Harry averted his eyes, and Luna inhaled deeply.
"Harry?"
"Yes, Luna?"
"Don't you want to hear my confession?"
"Darling, you have no idea..."
She smiled broadly, stepped nearer. Harry felt her against him, and he stirred.
"I didn't give you every gift, yesterday."
Harry laughed, and shook his head. "Luna, what you've given me is perfect."
She drew nearer, and he could feel her breath on his cheek.
"Perhaps. I rather like them. But these gifts aren't as tangible as those. These gifts are... experiences."
Harry's pulse was racing. "Experiences?"
She was whispering in his ear now. "Yes, my love. I have a secret to tell, and I have a memory to make."
He was overcome by the sensation of her breath, her chest on his, her melodic affections.
"Secrets and memories?"
She nodded, and her lip just grazed the skin beneath his ear.
He exhaled deeply at her touch. A moment later she laced her fingers into his and led him up the stairs, pressing him into the center of the mid-century leather sofa. As soon as he settled, her lips parted in an expression of constrained desire. She sat on his lap, wrapping her thighs around his waist with her legs curled beneath her, so that her bare toes traced the rise of his calves. She leaned into him, stealing a kiss before pressing against his chest and seating her weight upon his knees, leaving nearly a foot between them.
She settled like this for a full minute, tracing his contours with affectionate eyes. Finally, she spoke.
"First, the secret."
She stole a glance out the window, lost in thought, and when she returned her attention to his curious expression, her features bore a weight he couldn't decipher.
"I told you, Harry Potter, after we shared an evening in this home, about the network with which my family travels."
He nodded. "The tin cans."
She smiled playfully, kissed his cheek, leaned backward again to take in his full figure.
"That's right. The tin cans." She paused, reflecting. "Do you remember what I asked you, that evening, just before returning home?"
He smiled, glad to relive the memory of that pleasant embrace. "You asked what I could see there in the hedge. And when I told you that I could see a rusted tin can, threaded loosely with string, you seemed... overwhelmingly happy."
She bit her lip, nodded playfully, and leaned in for another kiss.
"I was, darling. Overwhelmingly happy."
He shifted his brow in an expression of vague confusion. "Why were you happy?"
"That is the secret I've kept from you, Harry. And that is the secret I'd like to share tonight."
Suddenly her features were overcome with something like insecurity, and just as she was about to speak, she blushed a deep crimson.
"Oh, Harry Potter, I was sure I wanted to tell you, but just a moment ago I was overcome with fear. Do you promise that you trust me?"
"I trust you, Luna. Don't be afraid."
"Do you promise you won't leave me, even if I say something that scares you?"
"I promise, darling, of course."
She summoned her strength, and looked away for a moment in a desperate attempt to gather her thoughts.
"You see, Harry, although my grandfather established the network, my grandmother's magic gave it life. She was a seer, Harry. The most powerful seer in the Lovegood line, and easily the most powerful seer England has ever known."
She inhaled deeply.
"You see, Harry Potter, when she gave this network life, she permitted its use within a very narrow set of criteria." She halted for a moment, and in a nervous fit leaned forward and kissed his cheek, pressing her face full against his. "I'm sorry, Harry. What I'm about to tell you means everything to me, and suddenly I've overcome with dread that it might change the way you feel."
Harry shook his head, furrowing his brow and steadying her between his hands. "Luna, look at me."
She stopped, and he held her gaze. She had begun to tremble, and he leaned his forehead against hers compassionately. "You. I love you, Luna Lovegood. That love — that wash of affection that overcomes me every time you step into a room, when you speak and sing, when you whisper and laugh, when you are strong and when you tremble — it just is. It is, as simple as any cold, hard fact upon which the world is founded. I love you, and no variable in the world could shake it."
At this, she leaned full into him, pressing her lips into his with reckless abandon. She held his jaw in her hands and pressed her lips into his again and again, until they were sharing heavy breaths in building rhythm. Finally, she leaned back again upon his knees, recovered, and continued.
"As I mentioned, the network was available only to those who met her strict criteria. Few knew the parameters she set, and those who knew could hardly believe such magic was possible."
She adopted a melodic distance in her explanation. "It is said that even the most adept seers may only be given glimpses of a future, but only a future entirely unrelated to themselves. My grandmother, however, was a notable exception to this otherwise foundational principle. She claimed to have seen, comprehensively, the unfolding of the days of her children's children, to the seventh generation. Of course, few believed her. Such a thing, even among those who foster no suspicions toward Sight, felt so patently absurd that few suspected the network to operate beyond the generation contemporary with its creation. Yet that was eighty years ago, and it has persisted without error from the day she gave it life."
She bit her lip again, leaned back full and watched Harry's every move.
"And so we arrive at the criteria set by my grandmother. The criteria you met. The criteria by which you were able to see that rusty tin can, and speak into it my name."
Harry met her gaze, unafraid. She exhaled, steadied herself again, and whispered.
"The network works only for the heirs of the House of Lovegood..." she hesitated, "...and their spouses."
For a moment she waited, with bated breath, and all was still as the implications washed over him.
He looked down for a moment. All the apprehension she'd felt rise within her threatened to overcome. But when he lifted his gaze, there were tears in his eyes, and his features were overwhelmed by a warm smile.
She furrowed her brow. "Harry Potter, I must know what you're thinking this minute."
He laughed, a note of pure joy broken by a constrained sob of overwhelming relief. "Luna." He pulled her near to him, pressed his lips to her temple. "Luna, I've been so afraid."
She broke, pulled away, caught his gaze with furrowed brow. "Afraid?"
He nodded. "From the moment we met, from the moment we shared our first letter, from the moment you held me in a tight embrace. I've been so afraid that I'd lose my life before I could share it with you."
He gathered himself, stole a kiss, and whispered. "I couldn't be happier, my love. I'm so relieved, and I couldn't be happier."
For a while they sat together like this, laughing and trembling, dwelling on the implications of the revelation.
Finally, she sat up, pressed herself away from him, and captured his attention altogether. "So that's my secret, Harry Potter. I've known, almost since the moment we met, that you'd be my husband."
He laughed, stole a kiss, and then held her fingers to his lips. "Perfect. It's perfect. Luna, while I like the sketchbook, and the envelope is brilliant, that secret is my favorite gift."
She preened, and something about her expression adopted a different air.
"Not so fast. One gift remains." Her playful disposition broke, her lips parted, and suddenly his attention was captured by her sultry gaze. Just then she raised her hand slowly to the buttons on white cotton blouse.
"I want to make, with you, a memory. And I want you to keep it forever."
As she spoke, with the fingers of her right hand, she loosed a button.
"I've felt a bit of... unbalance since I stumbled upon that memory, Harry."
Her fingertips, as she spoke, had been tracing the seam of her shirt slowly. Just then, she loosed another button. The contours of her chest were just visible.
"It was — oh Harry — it was such a pleasant memory. I've replayed it dozens of times. You are... stunning, my love. My body responds to you."
At this, she loosed another button, and the thin white lace of bra became visible as the placket of her shirt hung loosely.
"I want you to have something of me." She bit her lip and smirked playfully. "Not everything, of course. That will come later."
She winked at him, and with the fingers of her right hand loosed another button. The shirt hung loosely open now. The slopes of her breast — the firm, fullness of her perfect breasts barely constrained by thin, white lace — captured Harry's attention altogether. He stirred, and his pulse raced.
"I know that we agreed to take it slow, my dear Harry Potter. And I have every intention to do so."
She loosed another button, and the contours of her lean torso entered his vision, provoking his imagination.
"But today is a special day."
With her right hand, she loosed the final button of her blouse, and after a subtle shrug of her shoulders the collar fell behind her back. She sat upon his knees, straddling his waist with her thighs, wearing practically nothing aside from the blessedly thin white lace barely constraining the fullness of her breasts.
Just as he caught the suggestions of dusty pink at the center of her breasts, she extended the fingertips of her right hand to trace the seam of his denim.
"Harry? Are you warm? I really wouldn't mind if it were quite a bit cooler..."
Suddenly, without a thought, the temperature in the room plummeted. Harry was altogether taken with her, captured by the vision of her lean torso, her perfect chest. Suddenly she shivered, her skin evidencing the texture of chill. Harry traced the shape and texture of her chest as Luna's nipples stood erect beneath the lace.
Her right hand, just as he was overcome by the shape of her, found his length. Her fingertips traced his shape, and she whispered.
"You're swollen, my love."
He could only nod. She explored the shifting contours as he became hard in her hand, and she softly moaned as she gripped his fullness.
"I love you, Harry Potter. I've been thinking about this, about you, about your... about your cock. For days."
He trembled at her words, and she gripped him firmly, rubbed the heel of her palm slowly, gently, firmly, carefully, down his length.
"Is this okay? Does this feel okay?"
He bit his lip, nodded. "Luna, you're perfect. This is perfect."
She leaned closer, her chest mere inches from his face, as she pressed her palm against his length until her fingertips met his center, and then pulled gently, firmly, perfectly until her fingertips played with the contours of his head. She pressed, and pulled, and Harry was lost in the rhythm.
"Harry. I want you, Harry."
As she spoke, she lifted her left hand, carefully traced the soft lines of her neck, the gentle curves of her clavicle, the slopes of her chest. She let her fingertips play with the lace of her bra, hang loosely, tug gently, until Harry caught the briefest glimpse of Luna's right nipple, the dusty pink haze intoxicating him completely.
He spoke, in broken utterance. "Luna."
"Yes?"
"Luna..."
"Tell me, darling."
"I'm close, Luna."
"I want you, Harry. I want you to come."
A tension, a building groan in his voice. He barely spoke the words, and yet he nearly shouted. "Oh God. Luna. God, Luna."
She pressed into him, and pulled, and her fingertips and palm found an intimate rhythm as he lost all control.
She whispered as he came. "Oh, Harry. Oh, Harry, I love you so much. Harry. I love you so much."
As he spilled into his denim, into her palm, she held him close to her, she whispered into his ear and pressed her lips tightly against his. They breathed together, and they moved together, until all was tight and full, until all was still and silent.
"Luna?"
"Yes, my darling?"
"I really loved that gift, too."