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Chapter Text

Late May 2013

“Engaged?! Since when?”

To say that Harry Potter is gobsmacked would be an understatement.

He’d been grading student essays the past few days, only taking a break to sleep and get meals from the Great Hall or the kitchen.

His best friend, Hermione Granger, had stopped by during her lunch hour (as determined by the Ministry of Magic) and oh so casually dropped a bombshell.

A bombshell about the woman he’s fancied for the last decade.

(Savior of the wizarding world, even died and came back to life, still hopeless at feelings.)

“She told Ginny, who told me,” Hermione shrugs. “Rolf’s a decent bloke. He studies Magizoology like Luna.”

“And happens to be the grandson of a world famous one,” Harry mutters under his breath. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly. “When’s the big day?” He manages to say.

“They haven’t picked a date yet, the engagement is only a few days old,” Hermione chides. “Seems that these two don’t want to rush. It’s a big event to plan, everyone who’s anyone is invited.”

Bloody fantastic.

Thankfully, Hermione changes the subject. She gestures toward the precarious stack of parchment on his desk. “If you’re done grading, want to get a butterbeer? We haven’t chatted in ages, Harry. And no, a phone call does not count.” It’s clear from her tone that Hermione won’t accept “no” for an answer.

He smiles ruefully. “Sorry, can’t…maybe another time, H. I want to finish this today.” He picks up his marking quill.

“Harry.” Hermione’s voice is low but firm. “Just this once? Your essays will still be here when you get back. Also,” here she hesitates, “I have a small favor to ask you.”

“Do my ears deceive me? Is Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, actually encouraging me to slack off?” He says, green eyes widening in mock horror. “Isn’t ‘work hard, play later’ your life motto?”

She scowls. “A break now and then never hurts either. Someone taught me that, Potter.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?” Harry drops the quill on the desk and jumps up. “Butterbeer cravings are no joke.” Hermione snorts, but waits while he locks up the classroom.

“You’re such a comedian,” she says dryly as they leave the castle and walk towards Hogsmeade.

“They call me the Renaissance Man for a reason,” he quips, making her laugh.

Much to his relief, their banter both comforts and distracts him.

Sadly, not distracted enough to forget that Luna Lovegood is getting married to someone else.

Someone with the fortunate surname of Scamander.

Three months later

Harry regrets ever drinking a drop of butterbeer, let alone two glasses’ worth.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here trying to fulfill Hermione’s “small” favor.

The wedding venue itself is lovely, he observes begrudgingly. While there’s a quaint church on the grounds, the actual ceremony will be in the botanical garden. From his vantage point, Harry can see the stone archway covered with branches and bunches of ivy. Close to the church, an iron fence separates purple and pink wildflowers and lots of tall grass from the main path.

Off in the distance, he sees a brick circle where the wedding procession will walk through. At the circle’s center is a marble decoration. Hedges surround the structure and a large iron bench is located next to a gate entrance. It’s here that his eyes catch a glimpse of her.

Luna.

She is focused on levitating a line of fairy lights on the hedges. The effect is simple and spectacular.

As he walks closer, Harry takes in everything he can about her (the serene look on her face, the dirty blonde hair styled in a messy braid, her wand movements graceful and quick) and stores them in his memory for later.

Luna looks up then, her pale eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “Hello, Harry. You’re here to wish Rolf too?”

Too? He doesn’t have time to be surprised and ask her what she meant before she notices the bouquet of marigolds and roses in his hands. “Oh, you got the flowers for the garlands! Just set them on the bench.” She points to said bench with her free hand. In his earlier perusal, he hadn’t seen the green bowl of assorted flowers. Next to it is a roll of string. He detects the faint yet sweet scent of jasmine in the air.

“Er, thanks,” he says somewhat sheepishly, and places the flowers on top of the bowl. “You’re making the garlands for your own wedding? That’s…brilliant, Luna.”

“Yes, it’s quite fun actually. And the ceremony isn’t traditional, but Taara wanted to include the fire and flowers –” She stops. “My wedding? I’m only helping with decorating and sorting out the seating for each side. I’m not getting married, Harry.” Her voice is quiet with a strange lilt to it. “You know I can’t leave Dad alone.”

He’s absolutely floored. “You’re not –?” A little spark of hope starts inside him. “So then who – you mentioned Rolf, I thought…”

Luna’s eyes flash in understanding. “Rolf is getting married. But not to me.” She raises an eyebrow. “The bride to be is a cousin of Parvati and Padma’s. They met at a conference and Rolf couldn’t stop gushing afterwards. He’s so gone for her.”

The way she says the last part without any envy or wistfulness finally convinces Harry. “Merlin,” he almost laughs in shock. “My best to them.”

“Why did you think I was engaged, Harry?” Luna asks abruptly. Her face betrays nothing, not even annoyance.

Once again he finds himself speechless. “I – I assumed, I guess. I know you and Rolf are good friends and all. And your dad likes him. It would ease his mind, knowing Rolf was there.” Unlike me, the marked man who put his only child in danger, he thinks but doesn’t say aloud.

She smiles sardonically. “You’re blaming yourself again.”

“I wasn’t –” he protests half-heartedly. Even after so many years, she can read him well.

“You listen to me right now, Harry Potter,” Luna’s silver orbs flash again, this time with frustration. He’s very glad her wand is in her dress pocket and not aimed at him. “Yes, my dad gave you, Ron and Hermione up. Without you, I wouldn’t even be here. He knows that.” Luna’s calm demeanor is now a mere shadow. “Rolf didn’t help me escape Malfoy Manor. You all and Dobby did.”

In a soft voice she adds, “I can never repay you for that.”

“Luna,” he says gently, “we’re friends. There’s nothing to repay –”

“But there is!” She bursts out, turning away from him and crossing her arms together. “There is,” she repeats hollowly. An awkward silence follows.

“You already have.” The words spill from his mouth before he can stop them. “Blimey, Luna. You remember how a mess I was after everything, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t think of anything else. There were funerals to plan and memorials to attend and – after fighting so hard just to stay alive, I didn’t know what else to do.” His voice is shaky, yet he presses on.

“Sure, I had Hermione, Ron and Ginny. They had lost people too and were focused on their healing. They helped at first…”

Although Luna doesn’t turn around, he does see her posture stiffen at the sound of Ginny’s name.

He swallows. He hadn’t planned on confessing like this – or ever – but if it got through to Luna somehow….

“They left for other reasons. Hermione traveled to Australia to get her parents and Ron went with her. Ginny returned to the Burrow to help her mum, dad and brothers. She invited me because I am their family too, but I said no.” He shrugs. The Weasleys never blamed him for Fred’s death. Harry will always feel guilt, for giving them pain when they had accepted him as their own.

“Oh, Harry.” It’s low, yet he hears it clear as a bell. His heart beats faster at how his name sounds from her lips, like a fragile and cherished treasure.

“They were gone, then you were there.” He stops. “You stayed, even when I shut you out. You never gave up on me.”

Time seems to stand still.

Luna spins around to face him, tears streaming down her cheeks. There’s a blush in her face; he hopes fervently that it’s not from sadness.

When she doesn’t say anything, Harry finishes with trepidation.

“If it hadn’t been for you, Luna Lovegood, I wouldn’t know how to find joy once more – to live again and see meaning in my life beyond surviving. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job.” He falters. “If it hadn’t been for you, I…I wouldn’t know what it’s like to truly fall in love.”

A beat.

Luna tackles him hard to the ground. She’s half-crying, half-laughing, a joyful sparkle in her eyes. “Harry, you incredible dolt.”

Then she kisses him and he forgets his own name.

Chapter Text

Mini Epilogue:

Two days later

“I still cannot believe you thought I was engaged,” Luna teases Harry as they watch Rolf and Taara, newly married and faces glowing, walk down the stone path. People toss flower petals and small grains of rice the couple’s way. “You know what they say about assumptions, Harry.”

He mock glares at her. “I didn’t know Rolf fancied someone else. And,” he clears his throat, “you thought I still loved Ginny.” At that comment, Luna playfully bumps his hip. “Oi, watch it! This is no ordinary suit.”

Instead of a tuxedo, Harry had decided on wearing a sherwani. It was a knee-length golden shirt with a dark red collar and matching red pants. The dark red shawl draped over his right shoulder was embroidered with gold flowers and beadwork. It should have felt strange. Yet it gave Harry a certain comfort, a stronger tie to his father’s homeland. He belonged here.

“And you look very dashing in it,” Luna replies airily. The glint in her eyes suggests how much she approves of Harry’s outfit. “You clean up nicely, Professor Potter.”

He smiles bashfully. “So do you. The Ravenclaw blue never looked better.” He’s been shamelessly ogling her all day.

Taara, the Patil twins’ cousin and a close friend of Luna’s, had loaned her favorite lehenga choli to the blonde. She had opted for the colors of her former Hogwarts House, with a significant difference in coloring. Her choli, or blouse, was bright blue with a modest neckline and decorated with delicate silver flowers and swirls that reminded Harry of Luna’s eyes more than snowflakes.

The lehenga (a skirt that flowed down to her feet) and dupatta (a long shawl placed around her neck) had the same blue and silver color scheme. The swirl and flower design repeated too, interspersed with tiny silver stars. Aside from several gold bangles on her arms, Luna wears some jasmine petals and a large sunflower in her hair (that’s pulled into a chignon). While Harry isn’t as familiar with this dress style, he admits that it looks brilliant on his girlfriend.

“Such flattery.” Luna’s grin makes him weak in the knees.

“It’s the truth.” Now it’s his turn to smirk; it only widens when she blushes and doesn’t contradict him.

They’re silent for a moment, watching the rest of the wedding party leave the garden.

He hums a little. “Say, Luna?”

“Yes?” Her eyes pull him in, giving him courage.

“Mai twanu pyar karda han.” He stumbles on the last few syllables but is thankful he remembers the exact words.

Luna takes his hand and presses it to her cheek. “Me too,” she murmurs so only he can hear.

Lost in their own world, they fail to notice the bushy-haired woman a few feet away. Nor the satisfied smile adorning her mouth.

Proud of her (secret) matchmaking skills, she walks off and leaves the couple alone.

‘Operation Lovebirds is an official success.’