Yours, Luna Lovegood

Breakfast

Luna Lovegood's house was absolutely brilliant.

From the brook, Luna led Harry up a slight incline, at the top of which was a perfectly round tower of brilliant white stone. Not as tall as a lighthouse, but nearly as narrow, it cast a long, thin shadow over the surrounding features. A round door, like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob squarely in the middle, was the sole entrance.

It's like a rook, thought Harry, from Wizard's chess.

Their fingers interlaced, Luna led him through the front door.

A narrow, spiral staircase ran the height of the tower, circling the diameter of the house at least four times. At the center of the tower was a wide expanse, a living area cluttered with mismatched sofas and threadbare chairs, pillars of perilously stacked books, piles of magical artifacts, a heap of derelict printing equipment, and a large, potted orange tree directly in the center of the room. The outer wall of the room was of the same brilliant white stone, a perfect circle interrupted by six ruby red, perfectly round doors leading to rooms whose outer wall was shared by the home's exterior. Floral designs, made of copper and threaded within the stone as if veins of ore, decorated the walls throughout.

The ceiling of the living area stretched to the uppermost roof of the tower. Those rooms which weren't accessible from the first floor were staggered, not traditionally located on a second, third, or fourth floor, but directly connected to the spiral staircase itself at random intervals. At least twenty ruby red, round doors were scattered along the spiral staircase, each marked with a rune engraved in gold above the door's knob.

Perhaps the most striking feature of the house was a large symbol, seeming to rise from within the rock, just above the front door. It was a triangle with three sides of equal length. Within the triangle, a circle touched each side. Directly down the center of both, splitting the symbol in halves, was a straight, solid line.

Luna halted, took a deep breath, and smiled proudly. "This is my home. It's been in my family for fourteen generations."

When Harry was first introduced to the Burrow, the Weasley's home, he was wholly impressed. As pots washed themselves, as spoons stirred stews in midair, he was certain he'd never encounter any place more magical. Yet the Lovegood House radiated magic in a way that Harry had never experienced.

There were no windows that Harry could see, yet the tower was gently illuminated with a pleasant, warm light. He noticed the floral designs threaded within the walls were shifting, like vines growing slowly on a trellis. He watched, on a nearby side table, as a quill carefully annotating a charcoal sketch of a bowtruckle. And as soon as he entered the home, he felt totally, overwhelmingly safe.

"It's beautiful, Luna. Wonderful."

She squeezed his hand, smiled, and let him through the second door to the left. It was a kitchen, with a small pantry and informal dining room.

"Have you had breakfast?" She asked.

"No, actually," he replied. "I'm famished. How can I help?"

Harry and Luna worked together, frying mushrooms and eggs, toast, sausages and tomatoes. She laughed as he reached around her for the salt, grabbing her waist and whispering playfully in her ear. He melted as she leaned into his side, kissed his cheek.

They sat and ate quietly together, and everything was right in the world.

"Tell me about fairies, Luna," Harry asked, after his last bite, "and why they've never come up in any coursework."

Luna adopted a distant expression, and through the window gazed at the ancient ash tree outside. "The existence of fairies, I'm afraid, is rarely acknowledged among magical communities, so the discussion of their nature and activities is taboo. Magic, Harry Potter, has always dwelt in the hearts of men — and not just witches and wizards — humanity has always harbored a magical core. The best magical theorists know this, that we in the wizarding world are not alone. Our magic is a type of magic — powerful, yes, but not unique."

She frowned, slightly shook her head. "You see, in our case magic can be dangerous. Untouched, the magical core of witches and wizards grows restless, and without appropriate expression will lash out in violent passion. It is said that, many years ago, the great Fairies gave the first witches and wizards the tools to appropriately express their magic. Wands, the seeds of spellcraft, were not the clever craftwork of men, but the gracious gift of Fairie. Yet in their histories, their books, their schools, the wizarding world quickly forgot the world of Fairie. And the great Fairies, being a proud race, turned away from this plane."

Harry stood to grab their plates, began to wash up. "But the fairies we saw this morning (they were amazing, by the way) were there, they were clearly right there. I don't understand how their existence could be flatly denied."

Luna stood, wiped down the table.

"They allowed you to see them, Harry. The lesser fairies are bashful. They are innocent creatures, and they desire to be praised. River fairies, actually, are among the most social of the lesser fairy races. You saw them because they saw you, and they understood that you'd find them beautiful. Did you see them immediately, Harry?"

"No, actually." Harry began drying the dishes he'd washed. "It took a moment. And initially I only saw lights, like auras or something. It took twenty minutes to see them clearly."

"Remarkable." Luna smiled, her melodic voice intoxicating. "They must really like you. I didn't see their true form clearly for three visits." She paused, blushed. "I understand why they might like you."

Harry finished drying, turned. "Thank you, Luna, for breakfast. It was delicious."

Luna bit her lip, laced her fingers through his. "Come, Harry Potter, I want to show you around."

***

Luna and Harry exited the kitchen, and she led him to the nearest ruby red door.

"This is my daddy's study. It houses the Quibbler's printing press."

Xenophilius Lovegood's office was lined on every side with shelves, haphazardly stacked with books, magical trinkets, and stacks of yellowing papers. A desk made of dark red wood sat in the far left corner, upon which sat a typewriter, a half dozen inkwells of various sizes and colors, a quill, a ream of paper and a stack of parchment.

Toward the far right of the room sat two leather mid-century sofas. Between them, a side table upon which sat framed sketches of a variety of mythical creatures. Judging by this morning's observations, these seemed to be Luna's work, and of the finest quality.

The room was dominated, however, by a large, squat table, upon which sat an enormous printing press. The mechanism was complex. A large lever handle jutted from the far right side, and at its center were countless rows of iron letter tiles. It showed no evidence of magical improvement.

Luna let go of Harry's hand and stepped to the far side of the table. "Do you want to see how it works?"

She shifted her weight lower, and lifted the heavy right-hand lever until the top of the machine pivoted open and lay flat beside the bottom. She reached to her right and grabbed a handful of cast-iron letters, and she stretched her lean body over the far side of the table to carefully arrange the letters in one of the many iron rows.

As she did this, her cotton, scoop neck tee shifted subtly with her movement, falling open just enough to reveal the soft curve of her full, firm breasts. The black lace of her bra was just visible beneath.

Harry's lips parted, his jaw dropped slowly, and his breathing shifted. His pulse quickened, and with wide eyes he drank her in.

"The large letters are for headlines, and these—" She halted, looking up and suddenly recognized that the nature of the situation had changed.

Harry blinked suddenly, flushed, quickly turned his face away. "I'm sorry, Luna. I—"

"No." She paused. "It's okay... I like the way you look at me, Harry." She said, slowly and softly.

Harry turned back. She hadn't moved. Her eyes gazed piercingly into his own. His eyes traced her lips, her jaw. He couldn't help but glance again at the gentle slopes of her chest. She shifted a bit further, and the tee fell open a touch more. Her expression relaxed distinctly. Her lips parted, her breathing changed. After a moment, she bit her lip, flirtatiously smirked.

"Shall I show you the rest of the house, Harry Potter?"