Summary and general description
Luna Lovegood has only one person she considers a friend and will go to extreme lengths to help him, including helping him find love with as many women as he can and convincing him it's the right thing to do.
This story centres primarily on Harry, Luna and the girls she ropes in. There's currently plans for Ron bashing, a rather selfish and desperate Ginny, so not a good idea if you like either of them. Dumbledore is painted as harmless and Snape won't be overstepping his duties as a teacher once the story gets by the introduction stage (that is, Harry's "harem" is established.) The base of the story is romance and humour, most likely with smut later on, though I haven't set it in stone yet.
That's all from me, enjoy.
Luna Lovegood was a myriad of things. She had been bestowed with the unaffectionate nickname of Looney, but it was one of the few things she was not. Her life revolved around furthering the world through unique observations, even if her revolutions were shunned due to who she was.
Speaking of things she was, emotionally crippled was chief among them. The last time she remembered feeling true emotions was when she slowly watched her mother die after the creation of a new spell went wrong. Her sorrow ravaged her soul until she was numb, shedding no more tears since that God-forsaken day. A bit eccentric before, the incident pushed the poor girl further into her own world, alienating her only childhood friend. Her father struggled with his wife's death and was barely there for himself, let alone his fragile daughter.
So, rather than directly interact with the world, little Luna Lovegood took on the view that staying invisible or, at worst, unimportant would allow her to unravel the ills of mankind and allow her to heal them. Further she withdrew, creating a lens of fiction around herself that distorted herself and focused others.
Five years later and her fortress of solitude had only the one resident beside herself. That odd-defying, insanely fantastic, knight-in-shabby-armour that was Harry Potter would happily chat away to lonely Luna Lovegood about all the nonsense she made up, treating her like he did any of his other friends. The closest thing to a crumbling wall in her façade occurred when she dreamily mentioned the loss of her school items in passing and, rather than give her a bit of sympathy as she had predicted, a fire stirred in his eyes that melted her to the core. That single look had been the closest to an act of kindness in so many years and had such passion behind it that it left her lost in his emerald eyes.
She had been afraid that night, afraid that the taste of friendship would turn bitter. Despite her sensibilities forbidding any mutual affection, she couldn't convince herself that Harry "Just Harry" Potter would ever hurt her, either through mistaken actions, his own inactions or even if she went and kneed him in the groin. Of course, she would never do that, but it was a purely hypothetical exercise.
Enough about Harry for now though since he was simply another brick in her foundations. Many mistakenly presumed her dreamy expression was her detachment from the world. Rather, her permanently glazed expression let her soak up all the world had to offer at every moment of time. Her thirst for sight matched that for knowledge. Despite only being in her fourth year, she was quite confident that the theory side of most NEWTs would be simple enough, though her casting was a bit behind since she could never find someone to help her get the wrist movements correct, not that she asked around either.
By far her favourite time was meals, specifically dinner. It had less to do with the food, even if it was a vast improvement from her father's attempts at cooking and her own which passed as edible, and more to do with the people. If one were to open their ears as much as she did, they would be astounded by the sheer volume of data that poured through the air. Listening quietly, she could discover intimate details about a rather cute boy or get alternate solutions for homework problems or learn that someone's great aunt had just had a stroke, but was recovering well thanks to some muggle medicine. It was a bonus that most people who had set their sights on demolishing her indifference would have to behave in the presence of the staff.
So far, laidback Luna Lovegood could be summarised as broken, alone and observant, but don't you agree that so much is lost in summaries?
There are many more parts to Miss Lovegood that I could spend hours detailing. Her love of animals of questionable existence; her dry wit; her obsessive tendencies; her gentle nature. For now though, what I have said will do and it's from here that I will start.
You see, little miss lonely Luna Lovegood was having what she would most certainly class as a worse year than usual. A certain pink-frock-wearing toad had found some perverse delight in having students write lines with their own blood, carving into their skin with every movement. As far as our lioness Luna Lovegood went, it wasn't unbearable and most certainly on par for where she saw her life heading.
However, caring Luna Lovegood, whilst sitting quietly and enjoying her meal, picked up a crumb of a story. Her brave knight-in-shabby-armour was being ridiculed for telling the truth and forced to do more writing than healthy given the loss of blood accompanying it.
She struggled between anonymously telling him to use healing balms to mend the skin and protect from infection or confronting the devious Ms Delores in hopes of her seeing reason. Whatever crazy idea she came up with, none would solve the problem and it pained her that in his time of need, she couldn't help the selfless, heroic "Just Harry" like she knew he would.
After devouring her repertoire of knowledge, albeit mainly gossip, she could only come up with one person who could possibly have the authority, ability and empathy to help.
So, late that night, she crept through the school, acutely aware of the roaming schedule of those out to catch mischief makers. When she stopped before the stone gargoyle, she bowed low and asked, 'Henry, may I please see the headmaster?'
After it gave a nod, the stone stepped aside and granted access to the revolving staircase. The door was ajar, but with no sounds inside. She bravely entered, taking a seat on one of three set before the oaken desks, waiting in the silence and gentle glow of a phoenix. Even if it took till morning, she would not leave this room until she was confident that either Harry would be helped or that Dumbledore couldn't help him.
Her inquisitive nature begged her to investigate the wonderful whirring contraptions scattered across the room, but she held strong in her patient waiting.
That was until a hint of silver called her.
She glanced across, a sliver sparkling through slightly open cupboard doors. Like moonlight caught in a bowl, it glistened and pulled Luna's attention, unwilling to release it. She wasn't sure how long, perhaps hours or perhaps minutes, but she found herself mere inches from it, wanting nothing more than to touch the miraculous fluid. At some point in clicked that what it was was a memory in a pensieve and the thirst for knowledge pounded for release.
Timidly, she stretched a finger, daring only to brush the surface, but that little was enough and the ground leapt from beneath her feet as she tumbled into the cool embrace.
All of a sudden, she was standing back in Dumbledore's office, only now Harry and Dumbledore were joining her. There were many differences she noted, mainly the lack of a few bits and bobs in the memory. Based on how Harry looked, it must have been his first or second year, but the unusual stiffness he moved the one arm with suggested it was the second year.
Hearing the story of a boy against a basilisk had always been her favourite of his adventures.
When Harry left, still very tired looking despite being released from the infamous nurse's care, the headmaster continued to sit in silence for a few minutes before retrieving the very same pensieve she was currently in. He placed it on his desk and pulled a silvery strand from his temple, placing it in the bowl before tapping a sequence of runes, resulting in a ghostly projection.
Luna instantly recognised a younger version of Professor Trelawney and knew nothing good was about to happen – as a supposed seer every prediction Trelawney ever made involved death, except for when she once predicted sunshine on a Tuesday afternoon in the middle of October some eleven or twelve years ago according to a seventh year Ravenclaw in her own first year.
In an echoed and off-sounding voice, the projection declared, 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…'
There was another few minutes of silence, until the Dumbledore quietly spoke. 'Harry James Potter. Son of Lily Evans and James Potter, who fought and lived through three battles against Voldemort. Born at the end of July and with an unquestionable mark given. A poor boy with the weight of the world on his unsuspecting shoulders. To suffer such hardships and continue to love so strongly, it truly is his greatest power. I... I just wish it could be done another way...'
Luna found herself becoming incredibly disorientated as the memory faded into a swirl of supernatural mist, obscuring her view to barely her feet until it started to fade into focus, repeating what had first happened when she entered. Accepting there was no more knowledge, Luna began to will herself out of the pensieve, happy at how straight forward magic was when she staggered back into the room.
Time seemed to have barely moved while she had been in there. Apart from a curious glance from the phoenix, no one seemed to notice her miniature adventure, which was surprising to her considering the usual nosiness of portraits and so deduced that Dumbledore wished her to see it, having set everything up and it would no doubt be moments until he "arrived" and pretended like he did nothing.
'Ah, Miss Lovegood may I be of help?'
'Yes, sir, you may, were and will be in the future – I'm sure of that much.'
Having gotten all the information she needed, she promptly exited the room, leaving a bemused Dumbledore who suspiciously eyed everything on display.
'She hasn't touched my lemon drops, has she Fawkes?'
The headmaster let out a sigh of relief when the phoenix shook its head.
Meanwhile, Luna was busy walking back to her dormitory wondering how best to utilise what she had gathered. What was obvious was that Harry would be needing a lot of help if love was his greatest weapon, considering he hung around with the rather jealous and envious Ronald. She had no qualms with Hermione, but doubted she imbued Harry with a feeling of love, rather a feeling of worthlessness and lack of self-confidence after spending years being told how much more he needs to be focusing on his studying rather than growing into a strong, independent man. Hopefully Neville spent more time with him when in the tower as Luna was certain the shy boy would easily become like a brother considering their similar nature and possibly their shared fate if that Halloween so long ago had gone a little different.
However, she quickly came to a startling realisation. Harry already had the love that comes from deep friendships and the love of that between siblings given his virtually adopted state where Weasleys are concerned, but he didn't have the love of that between lovers. Given the large area that was sex magic, Harry could be missing out on life-saving weapons by being as celibate as a monk. The only problem she had now was thinking who would make a good lover for him or, at the least, someone he could love as an attractive and sensual being.
Instantly, she removed a good proportion of the school. Harry didn't need a fangirl to make him feel like he was taking advantage of his fame or a bossy girl to dominate him. A gentle soul with the same life ambitions would be just what he needed to have comfort and the prospect of a future to keep him motivated.
His life ambitions were sacred to her, because when he had told her, she felt like no truer words had been said, as though he had pulled out his heart and handed it to her and told her to cut it open and prod at what was inside.
'I want a family, a large family. I want a small house in the country, with room in the garden to go flying and do a bit of gardening and play with my children. I want a wife who loves me for being "Just Harry" - not the youngest seeker in a century, the boy-who-lived, the co-winner of the Triwizard tournament, just Harry James Potter, who still gets self-conscious about his hair being messy and his scar being ugly. I want a pet dog that the children can ride on when they're small and be their best friend and an owl for each of them so they can always write to me. I want a little pond so I can dip my feet in it on warm days and maybe go ice-skating on when it freezes over. I want a muggle television to watch sappy movies on cold, winter nights and a muggle sound system to fill the countryside with music when the Potter's host their renowned annual summer barbecue. I want to be a stay-at-home dad, so I'm around to get my little princesses anything they want or take my little guys fishing, camping and all that stuff dad's do with their sons. When they're going to school, I want to be that father who embarrasses their kids by crying like a baby when I see them leave, only to cry again when they come back so grown up. I want to be there to see my sons bring their first girlfriends home and tease them mercilessly until my wife steps in to scold me and threaten to have me on the couch. I want to be there to declare to my daughters that no man will ever be good enough for them, so they should give up trying and find a nunnery, until my wife threatens me again. I want to be there to comfort my children when they first have their heart broken. I want to be there at my children's weddings. I want to be at the birth of my grandchildren so I can make inappropriate comments and get away with it since I'm getting on a bit. I want to spoil my grandchildren rotten, especially when it annoys their parents. I want to be that old man who cries when the train leaves, taking away his precious grandchildren and the old man who cries when the train brings them back. I want to embarrass them by telling them how the young women weren't as hot back in my day. I want to sit at the back, bawling when they get married. I want to hold my great-grandchildren and let them know I'll always let them have sweets when they come over. I want to live life surrounded by everything I didn't have, because it is what my father and mother would have wanted and, most importantly, it is what I want. When I finally can't have what I want anymore, I want it to be on my deathbed, surrounded by generations of Potters crying with smiles on their faces. Even though they know I can't live forever, it still hurts, but they know I lived and loved life so much that death is a cheap price to pay for the happiness they all gave me and that I gave them...'
So much had happened that night, yet nothing changed. Luna wasn't sure if Harry even remembered telling her, considering how many potions and how much other stuff had gone on the night he returned with Cedric's body. Even Madam Pomfrey missed little Luna when she sat so still and quiet. She hadn't been expecting his outburst when he stirred in the middle of the night, but she could see the pain in his eyes, knowing that a future is what he needed to cling to and was more than happy to be his anchor.
Now, she would be more than his anchor, she would be the wind in his sails, pushing him onwards. She would make sure he had more family than he would know what to do with and make him feel so loved he would be literally glowing from his magic's singing.
Most of the Hufflepuff girls would fit the bill, she thought. His female teammates seemed like a good idea too, given the trust that would already exist between them. Perhaps even a couple of Slytherins could work, even if they would have to be a bit younger since the only realistic one his age would be Daphne and she would stomp all over him. Her sister though would be another story, with the right blend of fan and opponent to keep her in a neutral position. The only Ravenclaw Luna could think of working would be Cho, given their shared passion for flying, but knew that it would be a disaster of a relationship as soon as either of them mentioned Cedric and that would almost certainly be on one of their first dates.
However, thinking of Cho and Cedric brought her back to the Yule ball of the last year, where a certain Mr Potter accompanied one of two girls who came from a magical culture of wives as strong supporters of their husbands and even the possibility of multiple wives, though she would still check that they conformed with their original culture first. Still, it was easy maths: two wives meant twice the number of children. If she was going for easy maths though, then there was no reason to stop at two...
With that, it all of a sudden it became much easier! All she would need to do is throw the bait to the right people and see who would bite. While there were certainly rumours of experimentation, Luna had yet to have a confirmed case of a lesbian or bisexual, but thought that if anyone could break the mould and snag himself a happy harem, it would be Harry "Just Harry" Potter - the sweetest, kindest, gentlest boy, no, man she knew. Of course, simply because he was involved with multiple women, that didn't mean that they would have to be involved with each other – it was just that she knew that pleasing multiple women would create an awful lot of pressure on any virgin, let alone one who struggled with his self-confidence.
At that point, she was in front of the portrait entrance to the Ravenclaw common room. Rather than return though, she had a few pressing questions. After all, it would be unfair to get a girl's hopes up if she wasn't the right type for Harry and right now Harry was up in the Gryffindor tower.
That whole hiding away other house's areas never made sense to her, since anyone with a lick of common sense could deduce, overhear or stumble upon them. Then again, she conceded that common sense was generally mutually exclusive when it came to wizards and witches – even the muggle-borns.
'Good evening Mrs Fat Lady. How are you tonight?' Luna asked the Gryffindor guardian in her light tone.
The portrait in question inspected Luna with narrowed eyes. 'I am alright, my dear, but you do not seem familiar.'
'Oh, well I wouldn't as I'm not a Gryffindor. Speaking of Gryffindor, mimbulus mimbletonia.'
Practically scowling now, the Fat Lady asked, 'Why should I let you in if you're not a Gryffindor?'
Luna frowned, confused, 'But the magic that binds you to the entrance requires you to allow anyone who knows the password embedded in the locking mechanism. It's quite ingenious really, done using what muggles call ciphering techniques since even if they had the correct public password, they wouldn't be able to duplicate the correct magical signature to set the new password.'
Her conversant had changed from annoyed, to surprised, to confused, to apathetic during the short lecture and swung open when Luna stopped.
'Thank you Mrs Fat Lady.'
'You're welcome,' was the muttered reply that Luna listened to before skipping inside. As she had suspected, it was completely empty – Hermione would really take her prefect status seriously, even if she had only been one for a fortnight or so.
Without missing a beat, Luna went to the staircase to the boys' dorms, climbing several flights until arriving at what she abstractly knew was Harry's one. Once inside, she had reached the first gap in her knowledge, however that just made it all the more thrilling.
Some, well, nearly everyone would be mortified at ambushing a person of the opposite sex in the middle of the night to ask personal questions about their preference in sexual partners. Luna wouldn't feel the slightest bit embarrassed, even if she ended up asking Professor McGonagall by a mistaken deduction.
She didn't plan on discussing the teacher's sexuality though as Luna was quite certain she was no longer sexually active, most likely since the death of her husband and children in the last war, so to ask anything of that nature would drudge up memories and emotions Professor McGonagall didn't need.
Putting that aside, she focused on the task at hand. Ron's bed was easy enough to identify from the smear of gravy on the curtains from dinner. Seamus's was also straight-forward thanks to the Irish flag on the trunk. The plant beside one bed suggested Neville's, though it could have easily been a gift given its beauty. Willing to risk it, she accepted that assumption, leaving her with two beds. The one trunk had an emblem she didn't recognise, knowing it to not be that of any Quidditch team, while she also knew that Dean had attempted to get support for a muggle game called football. Harry, as far as she knew, wasn't into any sports other than Quidditch and even then it was more due to his love of flying and Seeker position on the squad than an interest in the droll game.
Keen to confirm her inferences, she took in what she could from the final bed. The bedside table had loose bits of parchments, but checking the name would be cheating in her opinion, while also having what looked like owl treats and so was likely someone who had an owl they cared about enough to always have treats at hand for. His trunk looked a bit beaten, but more from heavy usage than lack of care or attention, which would be explained by someone who kept their life in their trunk. The pair of glasses were a bit of a give-away, but she felt better knowing that she had worked her way up, rather than back, to this particular bed.
Taking the plunge, she strode over to beside the bed, pulled back the curtains and took her wand from where it sat behind her ear. Silently, she cast a silencing spell around Harry's bed and, with glee, jumped onto the end of his bed, landing in a cross-legged position.
Harry jolted up, reaching for his glasses with one hand and the other pulling out his wand. When he could finally see further than his nose, he let out a sigh of relief at the serene girl sitting with a gentle smile that she always had at the end of his bed. While the first time it had happened, simply it being Luna was a good enough reason, so he opened his mouth to say hello, only to find nothing come out.
With a rare giggle, she cancelled the charm. 'Good evening Harry. I do hope you don't mind, but I had some pressing questions to ask you and thought that it was better to do sooner rather than later.'
Still a little groggy, Harry slowly replied, 'Okay, go for it.'
'Thank you. Could you tell me what you find attractive in a woman?' When all he did was stare at her, she thought that he perhaps wasn't sure what she meant. 'I'm wanting to know if you prefer a shorter or taller woman; if you prefer shapely breasts or a firm behind; if something about brunettes leaves you erotically charged. Any fetishes as well would be ideal.'
When he continued to stare, only now stuttering something about not knowing, she let out a sigh, knowing this was going to take a while.
'Okay, I will ask you a question and you nod or shake your head, okay?' He nodded. 'Excellent! First of all, are you heterosexual?' He vigorously nodded. 'If all other features were the same, would a woman's height affect how attractive they are to you?' Blushing, he shook his head. 'If their hair colour was different?' Another shake. 'Do you find obese or overly underweight women more attractive?' After a shiver, he shook his head. 'Do you find women with flat or nearly flat breasts more attractive than those with noticeable breasts?'
Thinking for a moment, and still quite red but seemingly growing accustomed to the conversation, in more ways than one, he asked, 'What would you say is the border of that?'
Without missing a beat, Luna replied, 'Ginny would just be in the noticeable breasts category. If there any specific individuals you wish to know, I would be happy to inform you.' Apparently the specific thought of Ginny's breasts had him paling slightly and Luna committed that to the part of her brain now dedicated to organising a harem. Shortly thereafter, he shook his head. 'Opposite scale, do you find women with very large breasts more attractive? I would put Lavender as the borderline large breasts category.' Surprisingly for her, the thought of Lavender's breasts hadn't turned him bright red again, so she changed her from the "probably no" to "definitely no" pile.
'I don't really mind about size, but something about small breasts make me feel a bit like, erm, well, a paedophile,' he absent-mindedly answered.
'Excellent, just the sort of information I need. Moving on, do you prefer big behinds or pert posteriors?'
Slightly blushing again, he said, 'After seeing my cousin in swimming trunks, big turns me off, but otherwise I don't really mind.'
'Aha. Do you have a preference between a toned or natural body?' He shook his head. 'Any ethnicities turn you on or off?' Another shake. 'Is there anything else I should know?'
His head tilted in thought for a bit before he said, 'A few freckles are kinda cute, but more than that and it looks a little weird. Er, I like nice smiles. Not that I know any, but I don't think I could ever look at a girl with red hair and green eyes without thinking of my mum. Not exactly to do with looks, but I don't like it when girls put on too much make-up.'
'Thank you Harry, you have been most helpful.'
Luna shifted her legs off the side of the bed and pushed herself up, only stopping when Harry said, 'Wait, why did you ask me all that?'
She spared a glance, wondering if he was not-thinking due to being awoken in the middle of the night or due to a larger than normal influx of nargles. 'I am producing a list of girlfriends for you and so need to know whom you find sexually attractive to ensure I make the correct choices.'
'Girlfriend?' he sputtered.
Sighing, she wondered if perhaps the reduced blood flow to his head was causing the problems. 'No, girlfriends.'
'Wh-what? More than one?'
Definitely a blood flow problem, she thought. 'Yes.' She was hoping he would let her leave soon, it was awfully irresponsible of him to keep another girl in his bed late at night when he knew he was about to start dating several others.
'Why?' he half-asked, half-pleaded.
After another sigh, she said, 'So you can discover a new form of love you are not currently familiar with.'
'L-love?' he whispered with confusion and yet yearning.
Luna nodded and added, 'The love between you and your friends is only one kind. I believe you have established a familial love with several Weasley's and a Stubby Boardman. However, you have yet to feel the love between lovers.'
That pesky blood flow problem returned when she said the last bit, though he took on a thoughtful look. 'Luna, I don't think I could handle one girlfriend, let alone more than one. It wouldn't be right to have more than one anyway, I'd be taking advantage of them and-' he abruptly stopped when Luna's finger rested on his lips.
'Harry James Sullivan Potter,' she harshly whispered, 'I will not let you be selfish and deny all those potential women the chance to find the man they love. Considering they will all be perfectly aware of the situation, the only advantage taking will be against the rest of male population, but it's their own fault for not asking before I did. Do I make myself clear?'
Harry gulped and nodded, though still with Luna's finger stopping him from talking.
'Very good,' she said with approval, as though Harry had solved a particularly nasty problem, which he had in a way. Her voice was back to its dream-like norm when she parted, saying, 'Now, I will trust you to remember our discussion and to feel free to tell me any other details or anyone in particular you would like me to ask. Oh and Ron will be very jealous, so I suggest not telling him about it bluntly and instead easing him into it. Then again, I'm not entirely sure what he brings to your friendship.'
Before he could say anything, she was gone and he was left alone, sitting up on his bed in the middle of the night.
Hermione was worried the next morning when Harry looked tired, as though he missed out on a lot of sleep. She had spent the first five minutes of breakfast looking for any clues, but Harry just quietly ate without talking. Giving up the detective role, she asked, 'Harry, did something happen last night? You're not looking too good.'
He gave her a lopsided smile, showing it wasn't something terrible like a vision from Voldemort or the like. 'It's nothing Hermione. I just had the strangest dream.'
'Oh?' she asked, very curious. 'Tell me about it?'
That he was now blushing, she wondered if she really wanted to know. Well, Harry didn't strike her as the type of boy to have those kinds of dreams and discuss them openly with his best female friend and holding a piece of toast.
'Well, I kinda dreamt that Luna woke me up and started asking me questions.'
Hermione was wondering why that would make him blush... unless either he or Luna were "under dressed" or the questions were particularly "personal". Still, he had said this much, so she decided to push. 'What sort of questions?'
That poke had him ducking shyly. 'Erm, she was asking what I, uh, found attractive in a girl, physically.'
The flustered Harry was quite entertaining for Hermione, so, with amusement, she continued. 'Do I want to know why she was asking?'
He shook his head, though it was to clear it. 'She wanted to set me up with multiple girlfriends and then talked me into agreeing.'
She resisted the urge to tease him by saying, 'Well, a harem would certainly be one of your more exciting adventures,' or 'Only you would need to be talked into that,' or, asking a particularly funny-to-her-but-not-so-much-Harry question of 'Did she ask if I wanted to be one of them?' She was quite sure that the last would ensure he wouldn't be able to look at her for a month without blushing. Instead, she settled for the relatively harmless, 'Do I want to know how often you dream of girls jumping into your bed at night?'
After blushing and being thoroughly giggled at, Harry threw his toast across at Hermione before saying, 'About as often as I get up to find you asleep with your face in a book.' He succeeded in getting her cheeks to tinge while she suddenly became very interested in dissecting her breakfast to see what it was made up of.