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Hermione slammed the door with more force than necessary, dropped her bag by the coat rack, and directed a select number of curse words to Ministry bureaucracy.
Luna, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor in front of a circle of flickering rune stones, didn’t even flinch.
“Was today dragonfire or just moderately volcanic?” she asked, looking up serenely.
Hermione groaned and face-planted onto the couch. “Both. Wilkins from Magical Transportation said I ‘over-explained’ the ethical implications of Floo surveillance. As if ethics are a footnote.”
Luna hummed. “Did you use the charts with the color-coded arrows?”
Hermione rolled onto her side and narrowed her eyes. “Yes.”
“That explains it, Love. They frighten simple minds.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Hermione laughed a small, exhausted huff. She rubbed her hands over her face.
Luna rose in one smooth movement, barefoot and wearing a long sheer caftan that left little about her lithe body to the imagination. She stepped over the runes and approached the couch with purpose.
“Stand up,” she said.
Hermione blinked. “What?”
“Up. Please.”
Hermione groaned again but obeyed, moaning like a Myrtle as she pulled herself upright. “Is this a stretching thing? Are we starting yoga again? Because I still don’t believe those were actual Cintafluvua stretches…”
Luna wrapped her arms around her.
Full-bodied. Warm. No space between them. Hermione stood stiffly for a moment, hands hovering midair like she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.
Then Luna said, with great solemnity, “Forty-two seconds.”
Hermione blinked. “What?”
“The optimal length of a restorative hug. Backed by science.”
Hermione squinted suspiciously. “Whose science?”
“Mine. I’ve been testing it for weeks. You may have noticed.”
Hermione’s lips twitched. “I thought you were just a bit clingy.”
“I am that, too,” Luna said brightly. “But I’m also very science-y about it.”
Hermione snorted a half laugh, half sigh and let her hands come to rest around Luna’s waist, relaxing inch by inch into the embrace.
“Fine,” she murmured into Luna’s shoulder. “But only because I don’t have the energy to argue.”
“I know,” Luna said, swaying them slightly side to side. “That’s why you’re getting the extended-release dosage today.”
Hermione buried her face into Luna’s shoulder and laughed again, softer this time. Her heart, which had been buzzing in irritated loops since noon, started to settle.
Luna’s smelled like sage smoke and ink. Her hands pressed in gently at the middle of Hermione’s back, not demanding but present. Steady.
“I feel ridiculous,” Hermione mumbled.
“You’re not.” Luna pressed a kiss into her temple. “You’re brilliant. But your circuits overheat, and hugs help reroute the magical current. Otherwise you get all staticky and combusty.”
“Staticky and combusty. Are those proper science-y terms?”
“Mmhmm. Highly flammable. Flamey?”
Hermione snorted again, but it came out as something like relief. “You’re absolutely mad.”
Luna pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes wide and earnest. “Yes, but I’m also correct. The data’s irrefutable.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been collecting data on hugging me?”
“Of course. Every overwhelmed-girlfriend hug I’ve given you for the past six months has been recorded in my journal. Along with effectiveness markers, observed mood elevation, and number of chocolate biscuits consumed post-embrace.”
“That’s… oddly thorough.”
“Thank you.”
There was a long pause. Luna didn’t move.
Hermione reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind Luna’s ear. Her fingers lingered. “Do you have a theory,” she asked, voice softer now, “about why this works?”
Luna tilted her head. “I do.”
She leaned in, just enough to let her words land against Hermione’s cheek like a spell.
“Because when I put my arms around you, you remember there’s nothing you can’t do.”
Hermione’s breath caught.
Something in the way Luna said it…like she completely believed it, like stating a law of magical physics…cracked something open.
Hermione had heard dozens of compliments in her life. She’d earned medals, titles, commendations. She’d listened to men and boys list off attributes and attractions and any number of measures and metrics.
But Luna…
Luna spoke deeper to her.
True.
She wasn’t praising her for what she’d done. Or what she could be.
She was reminding her of who she already was.
Hermione blinked too fast against the gathering tears. “You’re… very annoying, sometimes.”
“I know.”
Then Luna kissed her.
And Hermione kissed her back.
Soft. Certain. A quiet thank-you between lips and skin.
When they parted, Luna looked pleased in the way a scientist might when a long theory proves itself in real time.
“Forty-two seconds and a kiss,” she said. “New record.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”
“And you,” Luna replied, tugging her in for one more squeeze “are back online.”
Hermione leaned fully into her and let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like peace.