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Hogwarts Library was silent, but not with that heavy silence that precedes battles. It was an end-of-day silence, with dust dancing in the sunbeams and the smell of old parchment. Harry was curled up in an armchair near the dead fireplace, an open book on his lap that he hadn't read for at least half an hour.
His eyes were fixed on the window, but his mind wandered through dark alleyways and empty corridors. It was strange, he thought, how the war had ended only a few weeks ago and yet the world insisted on turning. Classes had resumed for students who wanted to retake their seventh year, and there he was, trying to convince himself that studying for N.E.W.T.s was important.
"Your auras are very heavy today, Harry."
He didn't even startle. He already knew that ethereal voice. Luna Lovegood settled onto the bench across from him, her legs swinging without reaching the floor. Her protuberant eyes were fixed on a point above his head, as if reading something invisible in the air.
"Auras?" Harry closed the book, grateful for the distraction.
"Yes. They're grey, with little black dots. Like you're carrying a bunch of Nargles on your back." She tilted her head. "They love feeding on sadness, you know?"
Harry almost smiled. Lately, Luna's theories had become a strange form of comfort. At least they made sense within her own universe.
"I didn't know. And how do I get rid of them?"
"Well, there are several ways." Luna opened her backpack and pulled out a crumpled copy of The Quibbler. "My dad published an article last week about it. But I think the most effective method is the simplest."
"What?"
She pointed at the window.
"Out there."
Harry followed her gaze. The sun was beginning to set behind the Forbidden Forest, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. Something about that sight made his chest ache in a different way—not from loss, but from a strange longing for something he didn't even know he missed.
"Let's go," Luna said, getting up. It wasn't an invitation. It was a statement.
She didn't wait for a response, just walked toward the door with the lightness of someone floating. Harry hesitated for a second, looked at the abandoned book, and then got up.
[…]
The lawn near the lake was deserted. Most students were still at dinner, and the few passing by in the distance didn't even notice the two sitting on the grass. Luna had taken off her shoes and buried her toes in the earth, her half-closed eyes staring at the orange reflection in the water.
"My mum used to say that sunset is the time when the veil between worlds is thinnest," she said, without looking at him. "That those who are gone can visit us for a few minutes, if they want to."
Harry swallowed hard. He remembered Sirius, his parents, Fred, Lupin, Tonks. So many people.
"Do you believe that?"
"I do." Luna finally turned her face to him, and her eyes were more present than ever. "But it's not like in Muggle movies, with ghosts and sheets. It's more like... a memory that comes at the right time. A smell. A breeze. Or a Nargle that decides to land on your shoulder right when you need it most."
Harry felt something warm run down his face. When he realized, he was already crying, but without making a sound. The tears simply fell, and he didn't have the strength to wipe them away.
Luna didn't rush to comfort him. She didn't put a hand on his shoulder or say everything would be alright. Instead, she pointed at the sky.
"Look. The first star."
Harry looked up. High above, still faint, a little light was twinkling.
"They say you can make a wish." She closed her eyes for a moment, her lips moving silently.
Harry watched her for a moment, then closed his eyes too. He didn't exactly make a wish. He just thought of the people he loved, one by one, and thanked them for having known them. Even the ones who left too soon.
When he opened his eyes, Luna was looking at him with a small smile.
"Your auras are clearer now," she said. "The Nargles have gone."
Harry laughed, a low, hoarse sound.
"You're the strangest person I've ever met, Luna Lovegood."
"Thank you," she replied, sincere. "You're quite strange too, Harry Potter. Most people can't see the Nargles."
"Maybe because they don't exist."
"Maybe." She shrugged, unbothered. "But maybe there are much more important things that we also don't see, and that doesn't make them any less real."
They were silent for a long time, watching the sun disappear completely and the stars take over the sky.
When the cold began to intensify, Harry noticed Luna was shivering slightly. Without much thought, he took off his own jacket and placed it over her shoulders.
"That'll make it worse for you," Luna said, but she didn't take off the jacket. She just adjusted it better around herself.
"I'm fine." He really was. There was something about that moment that warmed him from the inside.
Luna tilted her head to the side, studying him with those eyes that seemed to see beyond the obvious.
"You always do this, Harry."
"What?"
"Take care of others before yourself." She pulled a blade of grass and began rolling it between her fingers. "It's one of your best qualities. But it's also one of the ones that worries the Nargles most."
Harry smiled, sitting more comfortably on the grass.
"And the Nargles worry about me, do they?"
"Very much." Luna spoke with all seriousness. "They tell me. They say you have a heart too big for just one body. That sometimes it overflows, and that's why you feel so much."
Harry didn't know how to respond. He watched Luna's profile illuminated by the first stars. The radish earrings swayed gently in the breeze, and for the first time he noticed how beautiful she was in a different way—a beauty that didn't follow rules, that invented its own light.
"Luna..."
"Hm?"
"Can I ask you something?"
She turned her face to him, her eyes wide and attentive.
"Sure."
"How do you manage?" He gestured vaguely. "After everything that happened. The kidnapping, Malfoy Manor, the war... How can you still see the world like this? With Nargles and auras and beautiful things?"
Luna was silent for a moment, and Harry feared he had been too intrusive. But then she spoke, her voice as soft as ever.
"My mum died when I was little. I missed her so much I thought I'd never really smile again." She pulled another blade of grass. "But then I realized that sadness and joy can live in the same place. That one doesn't cancel out the other. And that choosing to see the beautiful things isn't pretending the ugly ones don't exist. It's... like an act of resistance, you know?"
Harry swallowed hard.
"An act of resistance..."
"Yeah." Luna smiled at him. "You do that too, Harry. Even without knowing it. You've lost so many people, been through so much, and yet you're still here. Still able to feel the wind on your face and find it beautiful. Still take off your coat to warm others."
Harry's eyes brimmed with tears, but this time they were different tears.
"You see me in a way no one else does, Luna."
"Maybe because I pay attention to invisible things," she answered, simply. "And you have so many invisible things, Harry. So many beautiful things people don't stop to see."
The wind blew stronger, scattering Luna's blonde hair across her face. Harry reached out, almost without realizing it, and brushed a strand from her eyes. The gesture was so natural that only when his fingers touched her soft skin did he realize what he was doing.
Luna didn't pull away. On the contrary, she leaned her head slightly to the side, settling into the touch.
"Your eyes are green now," she murmured.
"They're always green."
"No." She shook her head. "Sometimes they turn grey, like the sky before a storm. But now they're green. Green like the lake in summer. Green like leaves after rain."
Harry felt his heart beat faster. His finger was still on her face, and he didn't want to take it away.
"And yours," he said, his voice hoarse, "are the color of... the color of what?"
Luna thought for a moment.
"Of the sky, I think. When night is approaching and there's still a little bit of sun left. That color that doesn't have a name."
"It does have a name," Harry whispered. "It's called Luna."
She broke into a slow smile, one of those that started small and then lit up her entire face.
"You're being silly, Harry Potter."
"Maybe." He smiled back. "But you said I'm strange too. So maybe that's why it works."
"Works?" She tilted her head, curious.
Harry swallowed hard. There he was, the boy who lived, the savior of the wizarding world, and he couldn't form a decent sentence in front of a girl with twilight-colored eyes and radish earrings.
"I... I mean, we..." He sighed, frustrated. "Luna, what I'm trying to say is..."
"Yes."
He blinked.
"Yes? I didn't even finish."
"But I already understood." She leaned closer to him. "You're trying to ask me if I'd like to spend more afternoons like this. Watching the sunset. Chasing away Nargles." Her eyes shone. "And the answer is yes."
Harry felt his chest swell in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.
"How do you always know everything before I say it?"
"Because I pay attention." She touched his chest, right where his heart was. "And because your heart speaks very loudly. The Nargles aren't the only ones who hear it."
He laughed, softly, and covered her hand with his.
"You're the most incredible creature I've ever met, Luna Lovegood."
"Creature?" She made a face like she was evaluating the word. "Sounds like an animal."
"No, that's not it. It's just that... creatures are magical. Different. Special." He squeezed her hand. "Like you."
Luna reflected for a second.
"Okay then. But only if you're a creature too. A hippogriff, maybe. Or a Pompollo."
"Pompollo? What's that?"
"No idea. I just invented it."
Harry laughed, a loud, free sound that echoed across the empty lawn. It had been ages since he'd laughed like that.
Luna watched him with a satisfied smile.
"I knew you laughed nicely."
"You knew? How?"
"The Nargles told me."
She was so close now that Harry could smell her perfume—something light, like wildflowers and wet grass. Without thinking, without planning, he leaned in and touched his lips to hers.
It was a light kiss, quick, almost a test. When he pulled back, Luna's eyes were wide open.
"That was..." she began.
"What was it? Bad?"
"No." She touched her own lips, as if trying to preserve the sensation.
Harry smiled, relieved.
"So... can I do it again?"
Luna tilted her head, thoughtfully.
"I think you should. Just to validate the research."
"Validate the research?" Harry laughed, his face still very close to hers.
"Yes. The first kiss might have been a coincidence. Or a Nargle that passed by and messed with my perception." She spoke with all seriousness, but her eyes sparkled with a smile that didn't reach her lips. "We need more data."
"More data," Harry repeated, his heart racing. "How much data would be necessary?"
Luna pretended to calculate.
"About... three. No, five. To be sure."
"Five?" He brought his face a little closer. "Only five?"
"Maybe ten." Her voice came out lower now. "Better not to take any risks."
Harry didn't wait any longer. This time, when his lips met hers, it wasn't a quick, hesitant touch. It was slower, more deliberate, like someone wanting to save every second in memory.
Luna sighed against his mouth, and the sound was so soft that Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. Her hand came up to his hair, fingers tangling in the black strands, and Harry pulled her closer as if she might disappear.
When they parted, they were both breathless.
"Data point number two," Luna murmured, her eyes still closed. "Very promising."
Harry laughed, his forehead resting against hers.
"We still have eight to go."
"Eight?" She opened one eye. "I said ten?"
"You did."
"Hmm." She pretended to think. "I think I said it wrong. Actually, the international scientific community requires a minimum of forty-seven kisses to validate a theory."
"Forty-seven?" Harry chuckled. "That'll take all night."
Luna opened both eyes, and her smile was pure light.
"Good thing we have nothing to do tomorrow."
He kissed her again, and this time Luna laughed between his lips, a delightful sound that Harry wanted to bottle up and take everywhere. She lightly nibbled his lower lip, and Harry felt the heat rise from his chest to his ears.
"You're blushing," she observed, clearly delighted.
"I am not."
"Yes, you are." She touched his ear with her fingertip. "Warm. The Nargles will love this."
"Nargles like warm ears?"
"They like everything that's yours, Harry. They're big fans."
He pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her blonde hair.
"You're so strange."
"You've said that already."
"And I'll say it again tomorrow. And the day after. And every day."
Luna pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.
"Is that a promise?"
"It is."
She studied his face for a moment, as if reading something no one else could see.
"Your aura is golden now," she murmured. "Honey-colored. Sunset-colored."
"And yours?"
"Pink, I think." She smiled. "The color of..."
"Color of love," he finished, then blushed at what he'd said. "Sorry, that was cheesy."
Luna shook her head.
"It was perfect. You're cheesy, Harry Potter. Cheesy and strange and with a honey-colored aura."
"And you're Luna Lovegood, the girl who sees invisible things and invents constellations."
"And who now also kisses very well."
He laughed, pulling her into another kiss. This time it was longer, deeper, and when Luna's hands found their way to his chest, Harry felt like he could fly.
"Data point number three," she whispered when they parted.
"Forty-four to go."
"You're counting?"
"I am." He kissed her forehead. "Forty-three."
"At this rate, it'll be over too fast."
"Then we invent bigger numbers. A hundred. A thousand. Infinity."
Luna rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes on the stars.
"Did you know infinity doesn't really exist? It's just a mathematical concept."
"It does exist."
"Where?"
Harry pointed at the sky.
"There. And here." He squeezed her hand. "Us."
She was silent for a long moment, and Harry feared he'd said something wrong. But then Luna lifted her head, and her eyes were brimming—but in a good way, the kind that didn't need a handkerchief.
"No one has ever said anything so beautiful to me," she spoke, her voice catching.
"Not even in your Quibbler books?"
"Not even in The Quibbler." She smiled, blinking away the tears. "You're better than The Quibbler, Harry Potter."
"That's the best thing anyone's ever said to me."
She laughed and pushed him lightly.
"I don't know if that's a compliment. My dad writes half the articles."
"It is a compliment." He held her face in both hands. "Because you're here. With me. Watching stars that don't exist and inventing numbers for kisses."
"Forty-seven isn't invented. It's science."
"Sure. Science."
She kissed him before he could tease her more, and Harry tasted everything that mattered. The taste of Luna. Of grass. Of late afternoon. Of the beginning of something he couldn't name, but that felt huge and fragile and precious.
When they finally parted, breathless, Luna rested her forehead against his.
"How many was that?"
"I lost count."
"Good." She smiled. "That means we have to start over."
And there, lying on the cold grass, with the castle lit in the background and the entire sky above them, Harry and Luna continued counting until they lost count again. And again. And again.
Until infinity was no longer just a mathematical concept.