AN: For Luffly Emi.
Luna Lovegood didn't act or think or do things like "normal" people would.
Luna wasn't normal, period.
That was not to say that she didn't feel, hurt or love like everyone else, because she did. She might not express it in a usual manner, but she felt it either way. She just took her own merry little roundabout approach about it when showing it to other people, filled said road with things and creatures that might, and might not, exist, and did it all with a smile that made people think that she wasn't really all there.
Luna also had a shrewd sense of humour.
Luckily, Harry enjoyed it immensely. But even he had to wonder just what was going on when his girlfriend dragged him off in the middle of the night to a forest somewhere in Ireland, both of them still in their nightwear, and started going on about some creature that they had to find before the night was over. For Luna held sleep in a very high regard, and only something of utmost importance would convince her to be up and about at such a time.
That, or she had finally lost her mind. Harry didn't think she had though, didn't think she was even capable of it at that. Luna was Luna and her mind was one of a kind, and couldn't be classified like everyone else's, so insanity or anything like it wouldn't be the same either. Hell, she was probably born a little of her rocker to begin with, so what harm could a little more do?
Harry thought he kinda loved her for it. Possible – probable – insanity and all.
After his childhood having someone who encouraged freakishness was probably something to be cherished. And Luna did, encourage it, that is. And when Harry had asked her just why she did so, she had simply looked at him in an unusual moment of complete seriousness and answered, "Why be normal and just like everybody else? I'd rather be myself and be crazy than like all and be pointless." After that her far-away-not-quite-there smile had returned and she had kissed him softly on the cheek before asking him if he had heard the about the latest sightings of the brown-winged transpilarmus.
After that conversation a lot of people had started questioning Harry's own sanity, and not just that of his girlfriend.
Harry couldn't find it in himself to really care.
Insanity was irrelevant.
Happiness was not.