Luna did not think the first few minutes of her reunion with Harry would start with an embrace followed by an argument. And truthfully, she'd given this particular moment a lot of thought during their months-long separation. Too much thought perhaps, which to be fair, was only natural. She'd desperately missed him. But presently, none of it was happening how she'd imagined or even resembled the abridged version she'd described to Barnaby back when things were terrible but not quite so awful as being trapped in a dungeon.

Harry's heart was in the right place. Of course, he wanted her safe. But she couldn't leave him again. Not so soon. Yet, he was insisting she do precisely that by taking Dobby's hand and disapparating with Olivander to someplace Ron was calling Shell Cottage. "Bill and Fleur's place," he'd said, and she had a sudden vivid memory of dancing at their wedding, back when Harry had a different face and she'd been wearing her sunflower dress. It all seemed like such a very long time ago.

"Harry, I want to help. Please, don't insist I leave," Luna urgently whispered.

"Luna, you've been here for months. You don't look well."

She couldn't deny his claim and briefly wondered what had given it away, maybe all the anxiety induced tangles she'd twisted her hair into. "And you've been on the run," she countered. "You must be exhausted."

"But there's a difference. I've been fighting. I might be tired, but I'm still able to defend myself. You've been locked away, unable to practice magic and something tells me the Malfoy's weren't exactly the type to give you much food and water."

By the colorful haze swirling around him, Luna knew he wasn't going to give up, so she changed tactics. "The question isn't if you can fight. I know you're very capable. I've seen you do it. But rather, I would ask, do you need me? Do you need my love? I can see that is why you want me to leave. You love me, but don't you think that my love could be better served by your side, keeping you strong?"

Ron exhaled loudly through his nose, clearly frustrated with her and she couldn't blame him.

"Luna," Harry's voice was measured, which they didn't have time for and she knew he was only doing it for her sake. "I do need your love, and knowing you're safe will keep that love alive. So, please," his voice rose slightly into a plea, "go with Dobby."

She could see his scar was screaming. Not by any outward action, but through their connection. It pushed his pain along the thread tying them together. Luna made a choice then. She wouldn't add to the burden that shaped Harry Potter into the man most others recognized him to be and would nurture the side only she was privileged to experience. "I will go. If it will help you be more clear-headed to know I'm safe then that is what I'll do." She gently kissed his scar. Her chapped lips against his searing forehead. "Be careful, Harry. Take my love with you and go save Hermione."

Moving a step backward, she turned her attention to Dobby and stretched out her hand for him to take. "Whenever you're ready, sir."

She was vaguely aware of how pleased the elf was to hear her call him sir, and was glad, but found it hard not to reflect on what she and Harry were doing. Saying goodbye. Again. Twisting her neck to give him one last look, she caught Harry mouthing the words I love you. She did the same and then the world coiled and spun away until she was standing on a beach made of white sand. Harry was gone. Still, their connection held firm, and as she watched Dobby disapparate back to him, she sent a message along with the breeze tousling her hair. "I'll be safe for you, so please be safe for me."

A short time later, Fleur and Bill came out from their home. Luna helped them bring Olivander inside, but she came back out and waited. It seemed like the world was falling away from her as she sat there reaching down their unifying thread, feeling Harry there, yet unsure of how he was fairing until he apparated all at once mere inches from where she sat. Surprised, Luna dug her heels and palms into the sand and scrambled backward, before blinking to clear her view. Harry wasn't alone. There was a goblin, Hermione- who looked extremely ill as she clung to Ron- and Dobby.

Dobby!

Luna pushed past the group to be near Harry, who was holding the elf. She blinked again to see if what she saw was real and came to the tragic conclusion that it was. Dobby's chest was heaving, a knife protruding from it and then a moment later he stilled.

Luna didn't want Harry forced into removing the weapon and knelt beside him. For the first time, he became aware of her presence. "Luna," he whispered as if momentarily dazed. And then he whimpered. The softness of it, the pain she felt not only in his sobs but through their connection, moved her into action. Gently, she withdrew the knife and rather gruesomely used it to cut away her sleeve until the fabric presented Dobby with a makeshift blanket to cover the blood that continued to pour from his wound. Then, just like she remembered her father doing to her mother, Luna placed her fingers tenderly upon each of Dobby's eyelids and slid them over his glassy stare.

"There, there, Luna dear. You see, your mummy is only sleeping."

She wouldn't lie as her father had. His denial to accept the awful truth of what happened led to some confusing moments in the days after for little Luna. So instead she spoke something comforting. "There. Now he could be only sleeping if you choose to imagine it so."

Harry's expression was a mixture of pain and gratitude. And then, there on the beach, he wept over Dobby's little body along with her as the breeze turned their hot tears to ice.

Harry could hardly remember the hastily thrown together funeral, only that he'd stubbornly refused to use magic as he dug Dobby's grave and how patient Luna was with him throughout it all. Despite her own trauma of being locked away in Malfoy's cellar, she was still an unending river of kindness not only for him but for those he loved as well. She'd never truly known Dobby, only heard stories about him, and still, his death was treated with as much compassion as she might've given a dearly departed family member.

"I think we ought to say something," she'd said after Dobby was laid to rest. "I'll go first, shall I?" When no one from their small group of mourners objected, she began a short soliloquy about how Dobby had rescued her and how she would never forget his bravery or the life he sacrificed for them.

And Harry knew too that he would never forget. Not just Dobby, but Luna's reaction to his death. Her love and tenderness never wavered and even if he was well aware it was only his grief manifesting when he wondered if he was worthy of her love, he still indulged the miserable thought. Harry felt extremely undeserving in the hours after the funeral when everyone else had gone inside while he remained at Dobby's graveside.

"Do you need my love?"

He was well aware that he needed it, but shame over failing Dobby bridged into despair over Luna. Maybe he should've listened to her. If she'd fought alongside him like she wanted, things might have gone differently.

Yeah, like, I dunno, you could've lost them both.

The longer he stayed outside the more annoying his conscience became with its reasonable replies to his angst. Harry wished it would just shut up and give him a few days to stew. But time wasn't really on his side, and so logic won out in the end as Harry stood, ready to accept a world without Dobby and one where he did, in fact, deserve Luna's love.

Turning to face the cottage, Harry momentarily froze after noticing Luna sanding nearby. Her torn and soot-covered outfit from the cellar had been replaced with a simple lavender dress that came to her knees and her hair was neatly plaited. She'd pulled the braid over one shoulder and was nervously fiddling with the strands of hair at the end. "You look so much better," Harry blurted without thinking. When Luna's forehead creased like she didn't understand, he quickly amended his flub. "I uh, that is, you look cleaned up. Healthier."

Her expression eased into a demure smile. "Fleur helped. I suppose this is much better than what I was wearing, but I do feel it is a bit impractical for me to be in a dress, don't you? The hair is ..." she paused for a moment before settling on, "Acceptable."

In another life, Harry would've found charm in her response and laughed; Luna likely would've been perplexed by his reaction and asked if she'd said something wrong. Yet now, he could only muster a smile. At least there was that. He hadn't lost his ability to experience all forms of happiness. A few seconds transpired where they both stood there, unsure of what to say as the ebb and flow of the sea filled the space between them. Then finally, Luna found her voice with an apology. "I'm sorry about what my father did to you."

Harry's jaw fell slightly open. "How'd you-"

"Ron was speaking with Bill. They were doing quite a bit of catching up, so please don't be cross with him. I was listening when I wasn't actually supposed to be a part of the conversation."

Harry fought the frown that wanted to break free. He hated that he was still angry. Xenophillius was just doing what he thought was right in order to get Luna back. It just so happened that this meant Harry had been used as Death Eater bait. The whole world had gone mad and was doing whatever it could to survive. Maybe he'd be able to forgive him one day. "It doesn't matter anymore. You're safe now. He'll be glad to know that. We'll find a way to get word to him. Not sure an owl would be secure enough, but maybe Bill has some ideas."

Luna nodded and then stretched out her hand. "Fleur made dinner for everyone. We don't have to join them, but it would probably be wise to eat something. We've both gone some time without a proper meal. Maybe we could eat outside."

She was able to read him so well. The idea of being around anyone but her made his stomach squirm with phantom snakes. "Yeah, I'd like that. Just you and me," he replied, watching as her glow turned a shade similar to her dress.

They ate under the stars, the sea providing a calming background noise to drown out their dreadful day full of reunions and goodbyes. Few words were spoken. They weren't needed. Their connection hummed, inaudibly revealing the love and regret flowing between them, until Harry said, "You know, I've tried to keep you safe so many times, but I just don't think it matters. I can't do it. I can't be your protector. I can only let you be who you are. And you've been what I've needed for a long time now."

"Harry?" Luna's voice was a soft murmur.

"I want you to come with us. I'm not sure what's next. I'll have to talk with Ron and Hermione, but whatever we do, I want you there." Harry reached instinctively for her. Luna's fork clattered onto her plate and she set it aside, before letting him envelop her hands in his. Their eyes locked. The stars and moon cast a soft glow over her face, and he wondered about the faraway look he saw there. "That is … only if you want to. It's your choice. I'd rather not make-"

"Of course, I'll go with you, Harry. I only wish …" She paused and bit her lip. "I wish that Barnaby was here to see this. He was resolute in thinking you would never give in and let me fight alongside you."

Harry chuckled and was pleased to learn he was still capable of making such a sound. "Where's Barnaby anyway?"

"Oh, at Hogwarts, I suppose. He made some new friends there and refused to come home with me for Christmas. It's just as well, considering the Death Eaters came for me on the train."

Her quiet sigh wasn't lost on Harry and instead of letting her fall down a sorrow hole, he moved in and pressed a kiss against Luna's lips. She quickly molded into him, prolonging the intimate moment enough that Harry was sure he tasted ratatouille in his mouth when he finally pulled away, something she'd been eating, not him.

"That was nice," Luna mused, standing, indicating she was ready to go inside. "We should do more of that later."

"Yeah, later," Harry responded with a smirk as he followed her back towards the cottage entrance, their empty plates in hand. "Luna, wait, there's something I'd like to tell you," he said, coming to a stop just outside the door. She turned on her heel, expectantly. "Something I don't plan on saying again, so you better put it away inside your mind once I'm through."

"What is it?"

Harry stood a little straighter and stated, "Hello, Luna."

A corner of her mouth quirked upward as understanding lit her face. There would be no need to say hello again when you never planned to part. "Oh Hello, Harry," she replied, her small smile growing into a full-on beam.

"I promise, Luna, as long as I'm able, I will keep you from ever having to say goodbye to me again."

Author's Note: I have one more idea for a short story in this universe that I might write in the future. For now, I hope this helps those of you who wanted Luna and Harry back together. If you've enjoyed what I've written, please consider leaving a review.