The Gryffindor common room was alive with the soft crackle of the fireplace, its warm orange glow casting flickering shadows across the worn tapestry and overstuffed armchairs. The air smelled faintly of ink, parchment, and the lingering sweetness of treacle tart from dinner. It was a cozy evening, but Harry Potter couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was amiss.
He sighed heavily, letting his quill drop onto the table with a dull thud. His Transfiguration essay lay half-finished in front of him, the words blurring as his frustration mounted. Across from him, Ron Weasley sat hunched over what appeared to be an open textbook, though Harry knew better than to believe he was actually studying.
“What do you want, Ron?” Harry asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.
Ron looked up innocently, pretending to be startled. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”
Harry resisted the urge to snort. “Yeah, right. You’ve been acting weird for weeks now.” He gestured vaguely at Ron’s face. “That stupid smirk hasn’t left your face since… well, forever.”
Hermione Granger, seated nearby with her nose buried in Hogwarts: A History (for the hundredth time), glanced up briefly before returning her attention to the book. Still, she chimed in without missing a beat. “He’s got a point, Ron. You’ve been behaving strangely lately. It’s actually starting to get creepy.”
Ron straightened defensively, slamming his book shut with unnecessary force. “I don’t know what you two are talking about! I’m just sitting here, minding my own business—”
“Exactly,” Harry interrupted, narrowing his eyes. “You’re not even trying to pretend anymore. Every time I look at you, you’re smirking like you’ve won some secret lottery or something. What’s going on?”
Ron’s lips twitched into yet another infuriating grin. “Oh, come on, mate. Can’t a bloke just be happy for once?”
“No,” Hermione said flatly, flipping a page of her book with more force than necessary. “Not when it involves you giggling under your breath every five minutes and looking like you’re about to burst out laughing.”
Harry groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Seriously, Ron. Just tell me what’s going on. Whatever it is, it’s driving me mad.”
For a moment, Ron hesitated, glancing between Harry and Hermione as if weighing whether to spill the beans. Then, with a mischievous gleam in his eye, he finally caved. “Fine, fine,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “But you’re not gonna believe this.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, suspicion mingling with curiosity. “Try me.”
“I heard that Fred and George heard that Angelina Johnson heard that Katie Bell heard that Alicia Spinnet heard from her good friend from Hufflepuff—who heard from Michael Corner, who heard from Terry Boot, who heard from Anthony Goldstein, who heard that Luna Lovegood fancies you!” Ron finished breathlessly, his face flushed with excitement as he leaned back in his chair, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Harry blinked, his mouth hanging slightly open. “What.”
Ron smirked wider, clearly enjoying himself. “You heard me. Luna ‘Loony’ Lovegood. Out of all people, she supposedly fancies you.”
“Ron,” Harry said sharply, cutting him off before he could continue. “I got it. Don’t repeat it again.”
But Ron wasn’t about to let this golden opportunity slip away. “Come on, mate! Isn’t it brilliant? Loony Lovegood, of all people! Can you imagine?” He burst into laughter again, clutching his stomach as if the mere thought was too much for him to handle.
Harry’s irritation flared. “Don’t call her that,” he snapped, his voice low but firm. “Her name is Luna, and she’s… nice. She doesn’t deserve that.”
Ron raised an eyebrow, still chuckling. “Oh, come off it, Harry. You can’t tell me you’re not at least a little weirded out by this.”
Hermione, who had been watching the exchange with growing impatience, finally spoke up. “Honestly, Ron, it could be worse. At least Luna isn’t cruel or manipulative. There are plenty of girls who’d use love potions or other tricks to get close to Harry.” She shot Ron a pointed look. “Remember when Romilda Vane tried to give him those chocolates last year?”
Ron grimaced at the memory. “Yeah, sure, but who else could possibly fancy Harry besides Loony—er, Luna?” He corrected himself hastily after receiving twin glares from both Harry and Hermione.
Harry sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The room suddenly felt warmer than before, though whether it was from embarrassment or frustration, he couldn’t say.
“Look,” Harry said quietly, trying to ignore the amused twinkle in Ron’s eyes, “even if it were true—which I highly doubt—it’s none of our business. And it’s certainly not something to laugh about.”
Hermione nodded approvingly. “Exactly. Spreading rumors like this only makes things worse. People should focus on more important things instead of speculating about who fancies whom.”
Ron was about to make another snarky comment when the portrait hole swung open with a soft creak. Neville, Dean, and Seamus stumbled in, their faces flushed from the chilly night air outside. They were laughing loudly, clearly having just returned from some mischief involving Peeves and a misplaced suit of armor—judging by the clanking noise that had echoed through the corridors earlier.
“Oi, what’s going on here?” Seamus asked cheerfully as he plopped down onto one of the couches near the fire, brushing snowflakes off his robes. “You lot look like you’re plotting something.”
“Or arguing,” Neville added, eyeing Harry and Ron curiously. He set his Herbology book carefully on the table, its pages slightly damp from being carried around all day.
Harry quickly glanced at Ron, silently pleading with him not to say anything. Ron caught the look and shrugged innocently, though his lips twitched into a barely suppressed smirk. “Nothing much,” Ron said casually, leaning back in his chair. “Just discussing… uh, Quidditch tactics.”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Quidditch? At this hour? Sounds boring.”
“It is,” Hermione interjected smoothly, closing her book with a snap. She gave Harry a pointed look, silently agreeing to drop the subject for now. “We were actually thinking of heading up to bed soon.”
Seamus yawned dramatically, stretching his arms above his head. “Good idea. I’m knackered. Those stairs better behave themselves tonight—I swear they’ve been moving more than usual lately.”
Later that night, Harry lay awake in his four-poster bed, staring at the dark red canopy above him. The dormitory was quiet except for the rhythmic breathing of his roommates and the occasional rustle of blankets.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what Ron had said earlier. Luna Lovegood fancying him? Surely, it wasn’t true. In all the time he’d known her, she’d never shown any signs of… well, fancying him. Not like Ginny do—Ginny had always made it obvious from her first year: the way she blushed whenever he spoke to her, the way she avoided looking directly at him, the way she practically melted into the floor whenever he walked into a room. That was easy to recognize.
But Luna? No, no way. She treated him the same as anyone else—with kindness, curiosity, and a touch of eccentricity. There was nothing flirtatious or secretive about her behavior. If anything, she seemed completely comfortable around him, which was rare these days. Most people either stared at him like he was some sort of hero—or worse, a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.
Harry rolled over onto his side, pulling the blanket tighter around him. The mattress felt lumpy beneath him, and the pillow seemed too flat, but it wasn’t the discomfort keeping him awake. It was the nagging thought that maybe—just maybe—there was a grain of truth to the rumor. After all, why would someone start such a story unless there was something behind it?
No, he thought firmly, shaking his head even though no one could see him in the darkness. It’s just gossip. People love making things up about me. This is probably just another stupid rumor.
And yet, despite his resolve, he found himself replaying every interaction he’d ever had with Luna in his mind. Her dreamy voice asking if he believed in Nargles. The way she’d stood beside him during the Department of Mysteries battle without hesitation. How she’d smiled at him after Dumbledore’s funeral, her expression calm and understanding when everyone else seemed lost in grief.
Was it possible that she saw him differently than others did? Or was he reading too much into it?
A loud snore from Ron’s bed jolted Harry out of his thoughts. He sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily. Whatever the truth was, it didn’t matter right now. Rumors were rumors, and obsessing over them wouldn’t change anything.
The morning air was crisp and cool as Harry made his way to the Owlery, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. The castle was still quiet, Faint beams of sunlight filtered through the high windows. The scent of damp wood and feathers filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of frost that clung to everything after a chilly night.
Harry pushed open the heavy wooden door of the Owlery, wincing slightly at the creak it emitted. Inside, the space was alive with soft hoots and the occasional flutter of wings. Hedwig perched on a low beam, her snowy feathers glowing almost ethereal in the morning glow. She turned her head sharply upon hearing him enter, letting out a soft, affectionate hoot.
To his surprise, however, he wasn’t alone. Luna Lovegood stood near one of the larger windows, her silvery-blonde hair catching the light like spun moonbeams. She wore her signature radish earrings, their odd charm somehow fitting perfectly with her whimsical demeanor. But what caught Harry’s attention was the bracelet on her wrist—the delicate chain with tiny charms shaped like stars and crescent moons. It was unmistakably the same bracelet he’d given her for Christmas last year.
“Hello, Harry,” Luna said dreamily, turning to face him. Her wide, silvery-gray eyes held their usual serene expression, though there was something about the way she tilted her head that made him feel oddly self-conscious.
“Oh… hi, Luna,” Harry replied, stepping further into the room. He tried to sound casual, but his voice came out slightly strained. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be here this early.”
Luna smiled faintly, her gaze drifting back to the owl she had been stroking. “I come here sometimes when I want to think. Owls are very wise creatures, you know. They don’t judge you like people do.”
Harry nodded, unsure how to respond. Instead, he walked over to Hedwig, who immediately fluttered down to perch on his arm. He stroked her feathers absently, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, they’re great listeners too. I just wanted to visit Hedwig—it’s been a while since I’ve seen her.”
As if sensing his unease, Hedwig nipped his finger gently before hopping onto Luna’s shoulder. To Harry’s surprise, Luna didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, she began nuzzling the owl affectionately, her fingers trailing lightly over its feathers. Hedwig cooed softly, clearly enjoying the attention.
“She likes you,” Harry observed, his tone softer now. There was something oddly comforting about watching Luna interact with Hedwig. It felt natural, unforced—like two kindred spirits sharing a moment.
Luna glanced up at him, her cheeks tinged with a faint pink hue. Harry quickly looked away, telling himself it was probably just from the cold. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more behind her smile—a quiet warmth that seemed directed solely at him.
“I think she knows we’re friends,” Luna said simply, her voice carrying its usual airy quality. “Animals can sense things like that, you know.”
Luna’s fingers moved gently over Hedwig’s feathers, her touch light and deliberate, as if she were soothing not just the owl but also herself.
“I read in The Quibbler ,” Luna began suddenly, her voice dreamy yet matter-of-fact, “that Nargles can trouble owls when they’re left alone for too long. It makes them upset.”
Harry blinked, caught off guard by the randomness of her statement. Then, unable to resist, he smiled faintly. “Is that why you’re here? To keep the owls company so the Nargles don’t come?”
Luna tilted her head thoughtfully, her wide eyes meeting his. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s because Hogwarts is especially beautiful at this time of day. It seems like such a shame not to see it.”
Harry glanced around the Owlery, taking in the way the sunlight filtered through the gaps in the roof, painting patterns on the stone floor. He nodded slowly, agreeing with her without needing to say anything more. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “It is beautiful.”
They fell into another comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of wings or the soft cooing of the owls. Harry found himself watching Luna closely, studying her in a way he never had before. Her silvery-blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, strands catching the light like threads of spun gold. She absentmindedly tucked a loose strand behind her ear, revealing the delicate curve of her neck. Her eyelashes were longer than he’d realized, fluttering slightly as she blinked.
His gaze drifted lower—too low—and he quickly scolded himself internally when his eyes landed on her chest. Stop it, he thought firmly, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. That’s not how you should be thinking about her. But even as he chastised himself, he couldn’t deny the strange mix of guilt and curiosity swirling inside him. Luna wasn’t like anyone else he knew; there was something undeniably captivating about her, something that went beyond appearances.
He wondered what Luna would say if she knew about the rumors Ron had mentioned last night. Would she laugh it off? Or would she look hurt? The thought made his stomach churn uncomfortably.
“That bracelet,” he said finally, his voice soft but steady. “You’re still wearing it.”
Luna glanced down at her wrist, her fingers brushing lightly over the delicate chain. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks, though she didn’t try to hide it. “Yes,” she admitted, her tone dreamy yet tinged with something warmer. “I like it a lot. It’s… special.”
Harry felt a strange warmth spread through his chest at her words. He swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his throat. “Special?”
Luna nodded, her silvery-gray eyes meeting his with an honesty that made him feel both seen and vulnerable. “It’s the first gift I’ve ever received from a friend.”
Harry blinked, stunned. “What? Never?”
She shook her head, her expression calm but tinged with sadness. “No. Not until you gave me this.” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “Most people don’t consider me their friend.”
The words hit Harry like a punch to the gut. He frowned, his protective instincts flaring instantly. “That’s ridiculous,” he said firmly, stepping closer without realizing it. “Of course you have friends. I’m your friend.”
Luna’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Harry. That means more than you know.”
Her sincerity struck him deeply, stirring something inside him—a mix of admiration, protectiveness, and something else he couldn’t quite name. Without thinking, he blurted out, “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”
Luna’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across her face. For a moment, she simply stared at him, as if processing what he’d just said.
“Are you sure?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Harry replied quickly, his cheeks flushing as he realized how earnestly he sounded. “Very sure.”
A slow, radiant smile spread across Luna’s face, lighting up her features in a way that took Harry’s breath away. “I’d love to,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of genuine happiness that made his heart race.
Before he could respond, Luna leaned forward unexpectedly and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Her lips were warm against his skin, sending a jolt of electricity through him. She pulled back just as quickly, her cheeks pink but her expression serene. “Thank you for asking me, Harry.”
Harry stood frozen, his fingers instinctively rising to touch the spot where her lips had been. His skin tingled beneath his fingertips, and he could feel heat flooding his face. “Uh… y-you’re welcome,” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly.
Luna gave him one last smile before turning to leave, her steps light and graceful as she disappeared through the doorway
As he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his mind. The way Luna’s blush had deepened when she spoke about the bracelet. The way her eyes had sparkled when he invited her to Hogsmeade. And most of all, the way her kiss had left his cheek tingling long after she was gone.
By the time he reached the common room, Ron and Hermione were already seated by the fire, arguing animatedly about some detail from their Charms homework. They looked up as Harry entered, their expressions shifting from irritation to curiosity.
“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Ron teased, leaning back in his chair. “Where’ve you been?”
Harry grinned, unable to contain his excitement. “I ran into Luna in the Owlery.”
Ron raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “And? Did she tell you Nargles are stealing socks now or something?”
Ignoring the jab, Harry continued, his grin widening. “Actually, I asked her to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend.”
Both Ron and Hermione froze, their jaws dropping simultaneously. Ron blinked several times, as if trying to process what he’d just heard. “Wait—what? You asked Loony —sorry, Luna—to Hogsmeade?”
“Yes,” Harry replied, crossing his arms smugly. “And guess what? She said yes.”
Hermione recovered first, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “Good for you, Harry. I think it’s lovely.”
Ron, however, looked utterly baffled. “But—but why? Why would you—” He sputtered, gesturing wildly with his hands. “She’s… well, she’s Luna! ”
Harry rolled his eyes, though there was no real annoyance behind it. “Exactly. She’s Luna. And she’s brilliant.”
For once, Ron seemed at a loss for words. He opened and closed his mouth several times before finally settling on, “Blimey, mate. Your life is officially weirder than mine.”
Harry laughed, shaking his head as he flopped down onto the couch beside Hermione. “You have no idea how priceless your face looks right now.”
As Ron continued to splutter indignantly, Harry leaned back, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. Whatever happened next—whether it was awkward or wonderful—he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t wait to see Luna again