Peace

Harry walked through the snow-patched park to the bus station. He startled a flock of pigeons. They rose into the sky in a disorganized group, now flapping white, now flapping gray. He'd had a British breakfast of depressing kidney and fish and could feel it curdling in his stomach even now. He fumbled in the breast pocket of his coat for his cigarettes and then stopped when he remembered he was trying to quit.

He sighed and sat on the cold wooden bench to wait.

Six months ago this was the last place on earth he would have expected to be. But six months ago he was still sobbing into Hermione's shoulder, shocked that the war was over. The end came too soon and too late at the same time, and even now he'd wake up in a cold sweat, disoriented and afraid for his life. Peace is harder to get used to than war, he'd found.

He wasn't the only one struggling to adjust. It was the stress of having nothing to do that made Ginny take him aside one night after dinner and sever their strange not-quite-relationship. He felt guilty about how relieved her soft words of apology and reason made him. He hadn't known what to do with her, about them. And now there really was nothing to distract him.

Ron was in the Auror program. Harry had joined with him, the Department not asking for their NEWTS for qualification. The entire Wizarding community of Britain knew just how qualified they were to fight dark wizards. But unlike Ron, Harry didn't find the work fulfilling or even alright. He couldn't handle the thought of spending the rest of his life the same way he'd spent his past, fighting other people's battles and barely escaping with his life once or twice a week. The Weasleys were disappointed when he dropped out, but one brief speech over the dinner table was enough to convey his reasons. He no longer tried to hide that the concept of war made him unhappy.

He lived with them for the first four months or so, trying to get himself together. When it became clear that his lack of direction and the funny sensation of unease in the pit of his stomach had no intention of going away, he decided he was done spreading his unhappiness onto the Weasleys. He made up some stupid excuse about renovating Grimmauld Place and they let him move out.

Without their constant presence and support, he found it easier to breathe. He'd originally intended to find some little job in the Muggle world to keep busy with but changed his mind and began to renovate the house after all. It was difficult, as the house still held a lot of weight in his emotions, but he felt like he was renovating his soul with every layer of dreariness he removed from the house.

He still visited the Weasleys every Sunday for lunch and dinner, and sometimes found time to stop by in the middle of the week to see if anyone needed anything. Victoire loved him and he was considered her default babysitter. And of course there was Teddy. He wanted to relieve Andromeda from some of the pressure of handling a mischievous toddler, and he enjoyed Teddy's company. He was such a carefree little thing, with never a thought for the consequences of his mishaps. Harry wished he could take Teddy to live with him, but he knew he wasn't old enough or responsible enough to handle him by himself. It was better this way, really.

A letter arrived late last night, though, and disrupted his little routine. It was from Luna, who'd vanished off to Iceland immediately after the war. He couldn't blame her; she'd lost her father and her right hand. She claimed to like her silver replacement better than the original, but he saw through her vague cheer. She had been badly shaken by the war, far more than she let on.

Her letter said she was in London and wanted to see him. She expressly asked him not to tell any of their mutual friends that she was in town, as it was only for the day and she wouldn't have time to see anyone but him. She didn't want to seem like she was snubbing them.

He understood and asked no questions even though her mysterious behavior drove him crazy with curiosity. They were friends, of course, but he didn't think he deserved the honor of being party to whatever it was she came over to share in person.

The Muggle bus arrived and he got on. It was dirty and smelled. He smiled and sat down in the only available seat. His time at Hogwarts and after had left him feeling rubbed raw by the sheer bewildering breadth of the Wizarding world and he hadn't even been out of England! Sometimes just something as simple as riding the bus instead of taking the Floo or teleporting calmed him down.

Luna was meeting him at some little Muggle café he'd never heard of. It was in a cute little neighborhood, filled with boutiques and flower shops. He couldn't help but wonder what someone like Luna would be doing in a place like that. It was hard for him to imagine her in a city; she seemed like the sort of person that would only ever be comfortable in a meadow or forest.

He was just about to open the door to the café when he heard her call his name. He turned and saw her approaching him at a brisk walk from down the street. Her coat was open over her frilled blouse and she smiled brilliantly in the bold winter sunlight. When they embraced, he could smell the grapefruit cologne that'd been her favorite scent for almost five years now.

"Harry! I'm so glad you came!"

He laughed, "Is there a reason I wouldn't have?"

She shrugged but there was something funny in her eyes. He would have asked but she whisked him inside and found them seats by the window. Before he could open his mouth, a young woman came trotting over and demanded to know what kind of coffee they wanted. He said the first thing he read on the menu, too distracted to really think about his order. Luna ordered something that took 30 seconds to name. The girl whisked off as quickly as she'd come.

A clatter of jangling beads let him know that Luna had folded her arms over her chest. She was assessing him coolly, something he'd never seen her do before. Hell, he'd never seen her eyes so…focused. Most days you got the impression that, though her feet were on the ground, her head was in the clouds. But not today. Today her eyes were very much blue instead of misty gray.

"Harry Potter, I have a bone to pick with you."

He raised his eyebrows. He hadn't been expecting that either.

"It has been half a year since the end of the War and you still haven't made any move to confess your feelings to your beloved! You should be ashamed!"

He was floored. "W-what?" he stuttered when it became clear that she wasn't going to say anything else. The girl came back, interrupting, to deliver their drinks. He looked at his drink and discovered that it was cold, pink, and topped with whipped cream and chocolate. He frowned. That wasn't what he'd been hoping for. He called the girl back and asked for some plain brewed coffee, but kept the pink monstrosity.

That settled, he turned back to Luna with raised eyebrows. She frowned.

"You don't know what I'm talking about?"

"Um, no?"

She threw up her hands, "I'm talking about Draco! That poor boy is no doubt pining away, Harry, pining, for you in his Manor. And what have you done? Nothing. From what Hermione wrote me, you've become a monk."

Had he stepped into an alternate universe? He hadn't seen Malfoy since he testified in his favor at the trial. He'd mailed Malfoy his wand when he was pronounced innocent and not given him a second thought. He had other things to do than relive his childhood rivalry.

The yellow haze of winter sunlight poured through the windows, making war with the yolk-like electrical lights shyly shaded. He focused on the light as he tried to understand where Luna had gotten the idea that Malfoy was his 'beloved'.

"I see," Luna said, sipping her respectable coffee drink. He just smiled politely, having no idea what she was on about. He would know if he was in love with Malfoy, so she was clearly suffering a rough patch mentally and currently suffered from a delusion. He asked her what she'd been doing in Iceland and she told him. he only understood a little bit of what she told him, but the general idea was that she was out trying to prove the existence of some of her many invisible creatures. After a few hours of admittedly pleasant conversation, she said she had to go to catch her Portkey back. He paid for her drink and walked her to the Ministry.

On the platform she kissed his cheek and ran her hand through his hair.

"I wish you the best of happiness, Harry. You deserve it."

"Thanks," he smiled, confused but pleased at her sentiment. She was just being nice, even if she was a little mad for him sometimes.

On the bus ride home he reflected that Malfoy did have nice eyes, and was clever, and nice-looking and he really did have gorgeous lips-

He flushed and tried to think about something else, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

~000~

In Iceland Luna sat on a rock in the wilderness, bent over something in her lap.

In her lap there was a doll made from phosphorescent ectoplasm mixed with 3 hairs from Harry's head. She mashed the ectoplasm until its glow intensified. And then she took a vial from her pocket and tipped it so that a drop of blood from the other young man she'd visited yesterday dropped on the doll. She mashed it into the ectoplasm and smiled when it glowed bright enough to fight with the sunlight.

This little doll, so small and unintimidating, would fuse the reluctant lovers together. The glow told her that they loved each other in the unspoken parts of their minds. This little trick would just help bring it out.

~000~

The Daily Prophet covered the most scandalous story it'd had since the revelation that Albus Dumbledore had been in love with his infamous rival Gellert Grindelwald.

An Ex-Death Eater, the son of one of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, had approached the Boy Who Lived in a train station and planted one on him. A fist fight broke out, and then, through a series of events that still had the public scratching their heads, they began seeing each other.

~000~

Harry sent Luna a very nice bouquet of flowers. He didn't need to ask her to know that she'd had some hand in breaking through his natural stubbornness.

~000~

End Peace

I have writer's block bad. I feel like crying