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"when you're drunk you're terrific /.../ your madness fits in nicely with my own /.../ we're not alone"
- Robert Wyatt, "Sea Song"
Harry Potter walked anxiously through the packed Donegal train station. He should have had a smile on his face, and he knew deep down that he could trust Luna Lovegood to be there - after all, she was always the most reliable person in his life - but he still had so much unresolved anticipation of seeing her again after a year apart. Insightful as ever, she was the one who had proposed the idea of meeting in the Muggle world, in a place where Harry would be able to retain his anonymity. It was peculiar that the most eccentric person he'd ever met was the one who could make him feel most normal, but it was nothing he would ever complain about.
"She'll be here... it's OK... she'll be here," Harry told himself, and the thought of her did ease his mind. And then he saw her through the crowd, instantly recognizable even from behind: a shoulder-length mane of soft blonde hair that could only belong to one person. He broke into a sprint and rushed toward her, calling: "Luna! Luna! Luna!" The blonde woman instantly turned around and beamed with an open-mouthed smile. Harry lifted her into the air, spun her around, and placed her back down as they lightly kissed each other's cheeks and foreheads. The display did draw a few people's attention, and some smiles at the sight of two young lovers reuniting, but everyone milling around was content to go about their own day, leaving these two people to their own world.
"Harry Potter, ya sight for sore eyes... welcome ta the Emerald Isle," Luna grinned, as the two clasped hands and eyed each other up and down. They had both made an effort to appear inconspicuous amid all these Muggles: while Harry wore a standard green sweater (green for Ireland, of course) and jeans, Luna retained some of her trademark quirkiness by wearing a long-sleeved button-up shirt with a flowers-and-tie-dye pattern, tucked into a pair of bell-bottom jeans - but without her typical cork necklace or plum earrings. They were both in their mid-twenties by now, and Harry could tell that this breathtaking woman in front of him had grown since he'd first known her. Luna's clothes were close-fitting enough that he could tell her arms and legs had become a bit more muscular and less lithe than what they'd been when she was a girl at Hogwarts: time spent travelling and exploring had served her well.
"It was a long trip, but it was worth it for you," Harry responded, and the two made their way out of the train station and into the town of Donegal itself. Harry could see why Luna had wanted to live here: everything about the town was bright, sunny, and teeming with life, while the sound of waves hitting the shore could be heard in the distance.
"Ah, 'tis always beautiful by the seaside," Luna trilled as they walked along a sidewalk together. "I bought a nice cottage right by the bay; it'll be a good place to be getting my field notes together and working on a book. There's still a lot of ground left to break in the magizoology field."
"So you're done with your travels for a while?" Harry asked with a quickening heartbeat.
"Aye, I think so... I'm ready for a nice spell of just being at home. Maybe we can have a nice chance ta finally be... us." Luna slowed her pace beside a garden of bright flowers and gazed over at Harry. "I know people leaving your life has been a bit of a pattern... I hope ye're not feelin' abandoned by me, all that time I was away?"
"Never, Luna. I remember you learned how to use a telephone, just so we'd be able to keep talking, wherever you were. And I always knew you'd be back in the end. That's something I love about you: you always make it back. You've never lived anything less than your own life, but you never forget the people you love." Luna had turned her attention to the flowers, which she caressed, but she looked back at her love with her typical inscrutable smile. "Mmm," she intoned, and then continued her walk with no further comment. They kept walking without talking - not because there was nothing to say, but because it was so genuinely peaceful just to take in each other's company.
"Er... Luna?" Harry finally asked. "I just realized, I don't actually know where we're going."
"Ah, well, that makes good sense. But 'tis a pity that people 've always got to know where they're goin'." Luna pointed across a street corner, at a flat blue building called Maloney's. "But if ye're in Ireland for the very first time... well, ya got ta visit a pub. It's only common courtesy."
"I've never really known you to drink," Harry said, somewhat perplexed, as they walked diagonally across the street.
"Ah, well, 'tis not something I make a habit or a sport out of... I don't drink enough to get drunk, but I like to put something sweet into my life every once in a while. Ever had an Irish Coffee, Harry?" They stopped in front of the pub and faced each other.
Harry shook his head, delighting Luna as she watched his long black curls move back and forth. "No, I haven't... what's in it?"
Luna gestured with her hands to mimic the brewing process. "They say 'twas invented by someone from this very town... what ya do is take some nice hot coffee, slip some sugar in there to get it all sweetened up, then of course ya mix some good whiskey in there and top the whole thing off with a nice layer of cream."
"Sounds delicious; I'll have one." Harry walked up to the door of the pub and held it open for Luna. "Irish ladies first." Luna gave a brief curtsy in her bell-bottom jeans and walked inside, Harry following behind her. The pub was fairly quiet inside; a young black-haired barmaid stood at the counter, a few people were gathered around having drinks, and a television set mounted to the ceiling was showing a football match. Smiling, Luna and Harry approached the barmaid together, who smiled in return.
"Ah... Luna, is it?" she asked. "Ya just recently moved here, correct? Ohhh... and ya got a handsome lad with ya, now."
"Hello, Siobhan," Luna said gently. "This is Harry. I've known him a... oh, for a very long time. He's got a good kind soul about him."
Harry nodded. "Hello; nice to meet you."
Siobhan put her elbow on the bar and leaned her cheek into her open palm. "Ahh... this lad's from the other island, if I'm not mistaken? Ya brought a sassenach to town with ya? But ya say he's a good one?"
"Aye, Harry's English," Luna admitted, "and he's the most trustworthy person ye'll ever meet. I brought him here to give him his first Irish Coffee."
Siobhan instantly stood up straight with both hands clasping the bar. "Well now, anyone who's comin' in ta get an Irish Coffee has got their priorities straight, no matter where they're from. I'll whip ya a couple right up." She pointed her index finger at Harry. "If ya like an Irish Coffee and an Irish girl, ya got a good head on yer shoulders, English Harry. Ye're alright in my book."
Luna pulled out her money purse, set a few Euros down on the counter, and tilted her head toward a rounded booth in the corner. "Just bring them over there when ye're done, if you please."
After Harry and Luna had settled into their booth, sitting side by side, Luna very discreetly set her money purse down beside her, pulled her wand out of her shirtsleeve, and tapped the purse to turn it into a full briefcase before returning the wand to its hiding place. While she opened the briefcase to look through a collection of notes and drawings, Harry turned his attention to the football match. Luna looked up in time to see a player make a goal.
"Muggle sports are a bit fascinating," she said. "Bit odd to see 'em always playing on the ground. Very resourceful of 'em to figure out how to do it, though."
"I grew up seeing this sort of thing every once in a while," said Harry softly. "Muggles watch this on the telly all the time. I still prefer Quidditch."
Luna held up a hand for a high-five. "Holyhead Harpies for life." Harry's hand met hers. "Harpies for life... you were able to still follow games even while travelling?"
"Ah, of course I did! Ginny's having a wonderful season! I always keep track of how my friends are doing... Nothing's more important than that."
Harry looked at her with deep affection as she sorted through her notes. "You really would give up anything for a friend, wouldn't you? Even finding a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?"
Luna giggled. "Aye, Harry. Even finding a Snorkack."
Siobhan arrived at the booth a minute later, carrying a tray with two glasses of a brownish beverage with a layer of white cream on top. "Enjoy Ireland's finest," she said with pride, and took a bow before returning to her position at the bar. Harry looked at his glass with curiosity as Luna put her notes away and snapped the briefcase shut.
She lifted her own glass. "Come on then, Harry, let's have a proper Irish toast. I'm gonna teach ya a couple new words. Repeat after me." Harry lifted his glass as well.
"Sláinte," she said musically, repeating it again so Harry could hear the pronunciation: "Slon-cha." "Sláinte," Harry repeated.
"Very good. And now: Grá." "Well, that's an easy one: Grá," Harry repeated, and they clinked their glasses together. "And what do those mean?"
Luna leaned her cheek into her hand. "First word means 'health'; second word means 'love'. Come on then, drink up."
She put her glass to her lips and gulped a bit down with the expertise of someone who knew what they liked. Harry lifted his glass cautiously, closed his eyes, and took his first sip, letting it stay in his mouth so he could discern all the different flavors and how they interacted. When he finally swallowed and opened his eyes, he glanced back over at Luna, who was watching him eagerly.
"Well - how do you like it?"
Harry leaned back in the booth. "It's... well, it's got such a unique combination of flavors..." He took another sip. "It's unique and wonderful - just like you." Luna beamed with pride, offered up a salute with her index and middle fingers, and then returned to sipping her own drink. The sunlight through the window caught the peach tones of her skin, balanced against the light wheat-like color of her hair... but those eyes. Those eyes, speckled with silver and blue... she was the only person Harry had ever met in his entire life who had eyes like that, and right now everything about her was just the way he'd want her to be: the eyes, the hair, the hippie shirt... Harry placed his hand on her knee.
"Luna... I think you're perfect."
Luna had had a smile on her face, but at Harry saying that, it instantly disappeared and was replaced by a more somber expression. She set her glass down and Harry watched with some concern as tears welled up in her eyes. She wiped them with her shirtsleeve, and then looked back at him, placing her arm around his shoulder.
"Ah, Harry... bless ya, Harry Potter, ya got a heart o' gold... No-one's ever told me I was perfect before." Her smile returned. "You know what tastes good after an Irish Coffee, if ye'd like it?"
"What's that?" Harry reached his hand up to stroke Luna's cheek.
"A kiss from a pair o' Irish lips... but I got to warn ya, people might be seein' us, so if ye'd like to wait for some privacy..."
But Harry hadn't kissed Luna for a year, so he threw aside his usual preference for privacy and pressed his lips into hers, one hand feeling the back of her shirt while the other felt her hair. Luna's own hands raced through his hair, stroked his cheeks and chin... Harry had missed this taste so much, this taste that he couldn't even describe but it was so uniquely Luna, and the knowledge that she was clinging to him, wanting to be his anchor... and neither one let go. They kept their lips pressed together for five whole minutes, hands continuing to explore, with Luna finally pulling herself away when Harry decided to reach his hand down and stroke the side of her breast.
"Sorry," said Harry gently, "It's just been so long since I've been with you..."
Luna straightened up her shirt and hair as much as befitted her. "Ah, shush, there's no need for apologizing... but mind ya, we are still in a public place. If ye're wanting to grab hold of one of my knockers... well, all things happen in time." She chuckled as she took another sip of her coffee. "After all... 'tis not apple-pickin' season quite yet."
As they finished their drinks, the conversation now turned to recapping places Luna had been during her travels, showing sketches of things she had seen, discussing Harry's work as an Auror (much more peaceful now that the Death Eaters were disbanded), making predictions for the upcoming Quidditch season... and finally, with the glasses empty, Luna asked Harry what his plans were for the next few days.
"Well, it's a long trip back... I think I'd rather spend more time here with you than do anything else. You said you've got a new cottage... I could stay there if there's room."
Luna nodded. "Aye, I've got room... how do you propose we organize the sleeping arrangements?"
"Well, I..." Harry blushed slightly and lowered his voice, remembering that they were still in a pub. "We can always... share a bed. That's worked before."
"Aye." Luna rotated her finger around her now-empty glass. "But ye're in Ireland now, and climbing into an Irish girl's bed is a risky proposition, Harry Potter. An Irish girl might feel an inclination to grab your shillelagh during the night."
"And... uh... what's a shill-lay-lee?"
Luna let out a little snort. "Ah, bless me, I've still got a lot to teach ya about Irish culture. It's, ya might say, I'd call it a hard thick wooden club with a nice-lookin' knob at the top."
Harry blushed bright red now and buried his face in his hands, trying to hold back from bursting into laughter. "Oh, Merlin, Luna... how many naughty jokes are you going to make today? I swear, if this is what you're like with only one drink..." But even so, Harry was well aware that it had been even longer since they'd had sex than it had been since they'd kissed, and the last time came back into his memory so very well:
...late at night with moonlight shining through the window lying flat on his back with Luna lying on top of him and her hands in his hair and his hands touching her hair and her back and there was nothing fiery or frantic about it the way sex was usually described but they glided together slowly and serenely for a whole hour as Nocturnes by Chopin played on the CD player and their clothes were scattered about the floor along with her magizoology notes and all Harry could think about was how lucky he felt to be doing this with the most amazing woman he had ever met and finally he let himself go and Luna hugged him tightly as he did because she had wanted this part of Harry Potter so badly for so long and he had finally bestowed it to her here late at night...
And although Harry imagined (and Luna probably did as well) that a similar scene would play itself out later that night in her cottage, for now they remained in the pub, turning their attention back to the football match and holding hands because anything they did together was enjoyable, and there was still a long afternoon and evening ahead to share in town, doing Harry-didn't-know-what-else... but he knew he looked forward to it.