Between breaths, Luna whispered. "Touch me, darling. I want you to."

She felt the open palm of Harry's right hand shift from her side. She felt his fingers trace her lace bra, his thumb pressed against the side of her breast. He paused, and she could almost feel him looking at her, asking once more if she was sure. God, he's such a gentleman. He's perfect. She nodded, eyes closed, breathing hard. In a moment, she felt his open palm press gently against her full, firm breast. She felt his fingers rest slowly upon her, softly gripping her soft flesh. She felt his movement, the pressure, the slightest shift against her nipple, sending waves of pleasure from her chest to her spine to the building warmth between her thighs. She was immediately overwhelmed by the comfort of his affection. For what felt like hours, she rested in his embrace as he kissed her neck, her chin, her lips. As he held her breasts, she rested in his perfect rhythm, and she knew that everything was going to be okay.

Just then, through the ruby red door left ajar, she heard the front door of the Rook open.

"Luna, my dear! Are you home?"

Harry's eyes shot wide open, concurrent with Luna's sharp intake of breath. Her expression shifted radically, and in a panicked whisper she said, "My dad. That's my dad. My dad's here."

Harry stilled, terror immediately quieting the tension that just a moment ago pressed hard into Luna's center. "Um, okay. I, um… do you, uh, do you need me to leave?"

She shook her head. "No, of course I want you to stay and of course I want you to meet him. It's just that…"

Harry nodded. "It's just that we've been snogging and he'll know right away?"

Luna bit her lip and shrugged. "Maybe?"

Just then they both suddenly realized that Harry's right hand was still holding Luna's breast. He pulled his hand away with a blush, and they both shot up.

"Luna?"

He was ascending the steps. At this point, it was inevitable.

Luna cried out in an affectionate, melodic tone, desperately fighting to subdue her panic. "I'm up here, daddy!"

Xenophilius Lovegood entered Luna's library a moment later. He was a striking figure in white — a bright white linen shirt, bright white linen pants, and bright white linen blazer. His angular face was juxtaposed by long white hair pulled back with a brown leather thread. He looked at once entirely magical and impossibly ethereal, with kind eyes and a distance about his gaze.

Luna was standing beside Harry now, smiling bashfully and flushed. "We have a guest, daddy. This is Harry." She reached out her right hand, laced her fingers through his.

She paused for a moment. Her gaze shifted away, settling on the hand she was holding. She slowly exhaled, bit her lip, and her expression adopted a determined gravity. She returned her eyes, full of vulnerable meaning, to her father's.

"He…" She hesitated. "...he traveled here by tin can."

Xenophilius Lovegood for a moment halted mid-step. His expression shifted dramatically, and suddenly his wide, piercing grey eyes darted from Luna, to Harry, to Luna again, and then to Harry, and then to Luna's hand, and finally to Harry's scar.

"Harry Potter." He spoke this slowly, nearly in a whisper, as if to himself. A long moment later, he suddenly realized that the room had stilled. He blinked rapidly and stirred himself to movement, stretching out his hand with a kind smile. "Harry Potter. My name is Xenophilius Lovegood. To say that it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance would be a dramatic understatement. Consider this home your home, consider this family your family. For few have done more for the light. May the House of Potter and the House of Lovegood forever fight the darkness together, as they have for many generations."

At this he bowed.

Harry was moved, nearly to tears, though he couldn't place precisely why.

"Thank you, sir." At that moment, he struggled with something like tension — deep affection laced with cutting sorrow. He spoke the words that came to him. "Luna has told me so much. I think your family, your legacy, is brilliant." He paused, and his brow furrowed. "I actually don't know a lot about my family. I had no idea our Houses shared a past."

Xenophilius nodded, his gaze unwavering set on Harry. "Of course. So much has been taken from you." He shifted his gaze to a floating shelf on the far side of the library, summoning memories. "Do you know, Harry, that your mother was one of my wife's dearest friends?" He blinked away tears, shifting his eyes to the floor. "Witches of whom the world was not worthy." He paused for a moment, inhaling deeply. "And your father and I grew up together — we were raised together, you might say, as our Houses were so tightly aligned. I was a few years ahead of him, of course, and sorted into Ravenclaw, so we didn't spend much time together at Hogwarts, but we worked closely together in the war."

Xenophilius' distant gaze returned to Harry. "If you'd join us for dinner, I'd love to tell you stories. There are so many, as you might imagine. And of course, if you give me time, I can prepare memories. It isn't the same, but I feel you deserve to see for yourself their brilliance."

For hours after dinner they sat in the kitchen. Xenophilius was an extraordinary storyteller. His many tales seemed to capture the vibrance and wonder and ferocity of his mother, and the loyalty and courage and playful friendship of his father. No one had ever taken time like this for Harry. No one seemed to understand the disconnection he felt with his past. As they laughed together, as they at times grieved together, Harry wondered whether loss had knit their hearts together. For the sorrow and longing he felt at every word was echoed in the sorrow and longing he saw in their eyes.

Few moments in Harry's life mattered to him as much as this one. He sat down at the table an orphan, he stood up from the table a son.

Luna walked slowly toward the ancient ash, her fingers laced together with Harry's.

"Not a bad first impression, Harry Potter. I think you have my father's approval." She smiled at him affectionately, leaning her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his waist.

Harry laughed. "You know, it could easily have gone the other direction." He paused, shifting his gaze to her bright eyes. "Luna, tonight meant so much to me. It was perfect, really. It's a bizarre feeling, not knowing almost anything about my parents, about my family. I'd trade almost anything for the memories your father shared."

Luna pulled him closer to her. "I haven't seen my father so full of life in years. I don't know how, exactly, but this evening has meant, I think, as much for him as it has for you."

At this, they arrived at the trunk of the ancient ash. Harry picked up the rusty tin can, punctured on one end with a thread of loose string attached.

He set his forehead upon Luna's, his eyes inches from her's. "I don't want to leave. Or I want you to come with me. I suppose the logistics of our affections will be a bit complicated from this point."

She laughed, kissed him playfully, and smiled. "My daddy's always given me plenty of space, so I wouldn't fret. But I haven't seen him in nearly two weeks, so I shouldn't spend the evening at your place."

She paused, bit her lip flirtatiously. After a moment, she whispered.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Luna?"

"Tomorrow, after Hermione leaves… let's pick up where we left off?"

He smiled, his heart racing. "Deal."

She grabbed his tee, pulled him into a tender kiss.

"I'll see you tomorrow, dragon slayer."

He laughed.

"Home."

Xenophilius Lovegood was sitting in the kitchen, a glass of red wine at his elbow. His expression was heavy, his gaze distant.

Luna's return shook him from his reflections, and he greeted her with kind eyes and an affectionate smile.

"Hi, daddy."

"Hi, my dear."

She held his gaze for a moment, until she blushed and turned her face away.

"Daddy, I feel I owe you a bit of an explanation. Harry—"

He interrupted. "My love, do you know that I trust you?"

She nodded.

"And do you know that I'm proud of you?"

She nodded.

"So you must know that you owe me nothing."

She nodded. After a moment, she rushed to him, fell into his lap, and hugged him violently.

"I missed you so much. No more leads, daddy. No more stories."

He laughed, pulling her into a tight embrace.

After a moment, he spoke.

"Luna?"

"Yes, daddy?"

"About Harry Potter."

"Yes, daddy?

"He traveled to our home by tin can?"

"Yes." She paused. "Yes, he did."

"Without assistance?"

She nodded. "Yes, daddy. Without assistance."

He exhaled slowly, his expression heavy.

She couldn't help but break the silence. "You don't approve?"

He pushed her away by her shoulders, leaned his forehead into hers, and looked her straight in the eye.

"Tell me what you feel."

"I love him, daddy. I've never known such love, and I feel I never will."

His eyes welled, and at that moment he laughed — an expression as much of joy as of sorrow.

"I cannot imagine anyone worthy of you, my dear Luna. But if there is such a one, it's him."

She smiled, and tears fell from her eyes.

Just then, she sensed the heaviness he was feeling.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, my darling?"

"Are you afraid?"

He smiled with kind eyes. "I've just learned that my daughter is to marry the greatest enemy of my greatest enemy. Of course I'm afraid, love. But I couldn't be more proud."