From a prompt for thirty ficlets. Originally, this was going to be H/Hr, but I love this little ship, and I wanted to write Luna. By the by, I have no idea what Wrackspurts are supposed to do, so if I used them wrong, I am very very sorry.

Luna Lovegood had been awakened by her husband's pacing in the hallway. Other people may have been concerned, or even annoyed, but Luna was simply curious.

"What are you doing, Harry?" she asked, standing in the doorway of their bedroom.

Harry searched her face for a sign that she was mocking him. She had to know why he was pacing, why he paced so often. But she gave him only her peaceful, slightly distant smile. The smile that made me fall for you, he thought absently.

"It's just... I can't..." he stammered. Luna tilted her head, waiting for him to finish. "I'm still waiting for Voldemort to appear. For my scar to hurt again," he explained.

Luna's eyes widened slightly in confusion. "But Harry," she murmured, "he's been dead for years. We saw it ourselves."

Harry nodded distractedly. "I know that, Luna. But — it's like the feeling right when you get off a broomstick. You're on the ground, but your legs still feel like they're in the air.

Luna pondered this, then walked over to her husband with a significant look. An I-am-about-to-tell-you-the-secrets-of-the-universe kind of look. Harry looked at her expectantly.

"You should come to bed, Harry," she said. "You have to be up early tomorrow."

Harry suppressed a laugh. After all this time, she still surprised him sometimes. "You're probably right. I just need to calm down."

Luna eyed him carefully. "Probably Wrackspurts trying to infect you," she diagnosed. "I'll protect you from them."

"And from everything else?"

"Of course, Harry."

He wondered if she'd understood the full implications of his question. Then he looked her in the eye and saw that she had.