[Exclusive] Poll Winner: Harry/Luna – Next Week’s Choice (2)

This one-shot is inspired by the results of Next Week’s Choice (2), where you voted for Harry/Luna. Thank you for participating, and I hope you enjoy the story! Don’t forget to vote in the next poll for more exciting pairings!

The forest was quiet, apart from the crunch of Harry’s boots against the dirt path. He didn’t know exactly where he was headed, but that didn’t bother him. The further he got from London—and from the Ministry—the lighter he felt. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

His rucksack hung awkwardly off one shoulder, packed hastily the night before with whatever he could grab: an extra jumper, his wand, and that old Defense Against the Dark Arts book he’d nicked from the Hogwarts library years ago. He hadn’t looked at it in a decade, but for some reason, he couldn’t leave it behind.

The truth was, he’d reached his limit.

Being Head Auror wasn’t what he thought it would be. The job was all paperwork, endless meetings, and talking down Ministry bigwigs who had no idea what real danger looked like. At first, Harry thought he could change things, fix things. But the years dragged on, and all he’d done was drown under the pressure.

It wasn’t one moment that pushed him over the edge. It wasn’t the piles of reports on his desk, or the endless memos from Hermione about “proper conduct,” or even the stiff silence of the office that never seemed to go away. It was everything, all at once. A slow grind. A trainee had asked him a simple question the other day, something about shield charms, and Harry had snapped at her. Raised his voice. Made her cry.

And the worst part was, he didn’t feel guilty. He felt nothing at all.

Harry apologized, of course. Pulled the trainee aside, awkwardly muttering something about being stressed and not meaning it. She nodded, said it was fine, but the hurt in her eyes didn’t fade. It wasn’t fine, not really.

That was when he knew—if this was the kind of person he was becoming, he needed to stop. Not forever, maybe. But long enough to remember why he started in the first place.

And so, here he was, trudging through this godforsaken forest. Silence stretched around him, broken only by the occasional call of a bird or the creak of a tree shifting in the wind. The sun filtered weakly through the branches, speckling the ground in uneven patches of light. It was peaceful, he supposed, though he wouldn’t go so far as to call it comforting.

He paused for a moment, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

He wasn’t built for this kind of thing anymore. Walking for hours with no clear destination—it reminded him too much of the Horcrux hunt. Except back then, they’d had a purpose. Now he just felt… lost.

Because the truth was, he didn’t even know what was wrong. He wasn’t angry, not really. He wasn’t sad, either. It was like something in him had burned out. Harry sighed and started walking again.

The path dipped and curved, and he kept his head down, watching his boots kick up dirt. He didn’t know how far he’d gone when he noticed something ahead.

Harry stopped, squinting at the dense line of trees ahead. Something didn’t feel quite right. He took a step forward, then another, and finally caught sight of it—a house, almost swallowed by the forest around it. Ivy clung to its walls, and the chimney jutted at an odd angle, a faint curl of smoke rising into the sky. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he might’ve missed it entirely.

He hesitated at the edge of the clearing. It wasn’t just the house that caught his eye, but the garden in front of it—a chaotic sprawl of plants and flowers. And there, in the middle of it, was a woman.

She was crouched by a row of tall, flowering stalks, wearing a snug dress that clung to her figure. Her hair was tied back, loose strands catching in the sunlight, and her hands moved nimbly, tending to whatever she was growing. Harry blinked, unsure why he couldn’t look away.

Feeling awkward, he adjusted his rucksack and took a step closer, clearing his throat lightly. “Hi there!”

The woman startled, standing up quickly and turning toward him.

Harry froze. She looked familiar—too familiar. Her face was thinner than he remembered but there was no mistaking her.

“Luna?”

For a moment, she just stared at him, and then her lips curved into a soft, knowing smile.

“Hello, Harry,” she said. Her voice was exactly the same.

It hit him, all at once, how long it had been. Ten years, at least, since he’d last seen her.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, gesturing vaguely to the house, the garden, the trees surrounding them.

Luna tilted her head, studying him with that same serene curiosity she’d always had. “Living,” she said simply, brushing her hands against her dress to knock off bits of soil.

“Right,” Harry replied, his lips twitching into a small smile despite himself. “I meant… why here?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the house, then back at him. “Why not here?” she asked, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry didn’t have an answer for that. He shifted his rucksack again, suddenly hyper-aware of the sweat sticking his shirt to his back. Luna didn’t seem bothered by his silence. She just stood there, looking at him like she had all the time in the world.

“Would you like to come inside?” she asked finally, tilting her head toward the house. “I was just about to make tea.”

“Tea?” Harry repeated, a little dumbfounded.

Luna smiled. “Yes. It’s good for long walks. You’ve been walking for a while, haven’t you?”

Harry blinked. How could she tell?

“Yeah, I have,” he admitted, following her as she turned and started toward the house.

The door creaked when she pushed it open, revealing a cozy, cluttered interior that looked exactly as he’d imagine a house belonging to Luna would. There were books stacked in uneven piles, jars filled with dried herbs lining the shelves, and strange trinkets hanging from the ceiling that clinked softly as they moved.

“Sit wherever you like,” Luna said, disappearing into what he assumed was the kitchen.

Harry hesitated before sinking into an old, overstuffed chair near the fireplace. He set his bag down at his feet, glancing around. It was odd, being here. Comfortable, but odd.

Luna reappeared a moment later with two steaming mugs. She handed one to him before settling into a chair opposite his, tucking her legs beneath her.

“So,” she said, her voice light. “What brings you to my little forest, Harry?”

He sipped the tea, stalling for time. It tasted faintly of mint and something else he couldn’t place. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Honestly? I needed to get away,” he admitted.

Luna nodded like she understood completely. “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” she said. “The forest has a way of helping you find what you’re looking for.”

Harry gave her a skeptical look. “And what if I don’t know what I’m looking for?”

She smiled, her eyes bright. “Then it’s the perfect place to start.”

Harry took another sip of tea, his eyes sliding to the window as Luna stood. “I’ll grab something to go with the tea,” she said.

“Sure,” he mumbled automatically, but he wasn’t really focused on what she was saying. His attention drifted lower as she walked away, and for a moment, all he could think was, God, that ass.

She had definitely… filled out since Hogwarts. Luna had always been petite, kind of floaty, like she might drift off with the breeze. But now? Her hips swayed naturally as she moved, and when she reached up to grab something from a high shelf, the way the fabric stretched across her backside was almost enough to make him choke on his tea.

Harry quickly looked back at the mug in his hands, gripping it tighter. Get a grip, mate, he thought, but his brain wasn’t listening.

“Nice,” he muttered under his breath before he could stop himself.

“What was that?” Luna called from the kitchen, her voice airy and cheerful.

“Nothing!” he said quickly, coughing into his fist.

She reappeared a moment later, carrying a plate of biscuits. Harry forced himself to focus on her face—her serene, unbothered face—as she set the plate down and sank back into her chair.

“There,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Much better with snacks.”

“Yeah,” He grabbed a biscuit to keep his hands busy, not trusting himself to say much else just yet.

Luna picked up one of her own, nibbling thoughtfully. “You seem tense,” she said after a moment.

Harry let out a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, long walks will do that to you.”

She tilted her head, watching him like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “Maybe,” she said softly.

The kitchen smelled amazing, a blend of garlic, herbs, and something slightly sweet from the vegetables Harry was stirring in the pan. He stood at the stove, one hand gripping the wooden spoon, the other braced against the counter.

Behind him, Luna worked at the counter, humming softly as she chopped the last of the peppers.

“Stir slower, Harry,” she said without turning around. “You’re bruising them.”

Harry snorted, glancing over his shoulder at her. “They’re vegetables, Luna. I didn’t know they had feelings.”

“All living things do,” she replied, glancing at him with a small smile. “Even the ones in your pan.”

Shaking his head, he slowed his stirring. He kept his focus on the pan, but he could hear Luna moving closer, her bare feet soft against the wooden floor.

“Why are you so tense, Harry?”

The whisper was close to his ear, and he jumped slightly. Before he could reply, he felt her hands settle on his shoulders.

“I—uh…”

“Relax,” Luna said softly, her thumbs pressing gently against the tight line of his shoulders.

Harry didn’t know what to say. He let out a surprised breath as her hands moved, kneading the muscles there with slow motions.

“You’ve put on some muscle, Harry,” she murmured. “It’s nice.”

Harry blinked, staring down at the pan, unsure if he should laugh or say thank you. Instead, he just let out a low sigh as her hands worked, loosening knots he didn’t even know he had.

“That’s… good,” he moaned

“You work too much,” Luna said, her hands sliding down slightly, pressing into the tops of his arms.

“You don’t say,” Harry replied dryly, though it came out more like a groan as she found a particularly tense spot.

Luna chuckled, her breath brushing against his ear. “See? You’re holding it all here,” she said, her fingers pressing into the base of his neck.

Harry felt himself relax under her touch, his shoulders dropping as the tension started to melt away. The pan in front of him sizzled softly, but he barely noticed.

“You’re good at this,” he admitted after a moment

“I’ve had practice,” Luna replied, her hands easing off his shoulders. “How do you feel?”

“Better,” Harry said, glancing at her over his shoulder.

She smiled.

“Good,”

The small kitchen table was cozy, cluttered with mismatched plates, glasses, and a bowl of roasted vegetables slightly off-center. Harry was halfway through his plate, his fork lazily nudging a roasted pepper while while Luna ate without a care in the world.

“This is good,” Harry said finally, nodding at the food. “Really good.”

Luna smiled, her fork pausing mid-air. “I told you. The forest grows the best herbs.”

“You keep saying that,” Harry replied, raising an eyebrow. “Do you talk to the forest, or does it just… know you’re Luna Lovegood?”

“It’s mutual,” Luna said matter-of-factly, spearing a piece of zucchini with her fork.

Harry snorted, shaking his head. “Of course it is.”

They ate in silence for a bit, but it wasn’t awkward. Harry kept his focus on his plate, though he couldn’t help noticing how Luna seemed so at home, like she fit here in a way he couldn’t quite figure out.

“You’re staring,” Luna said suddenly, not even looking up from her plate.

Harry blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, I’m not.”

“You are,” she replied, finally glancing at him. Her expression was serene, but there was a spark of mischief in her eyes.

Harry cleared his throat, pointing at the bowl of vegetables. “I was looking at that. Wondering if I should get more.”

Luna’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Then why are you blushing?”

Harry felt heat flood his face as he grabbed the bowl to cover his reaction. “Because it’s warm in here.”

“It’s not that warm,” Luna said lightly, resting her chin in her hand as she watched him pile more vegetables onto his plate.

Harry sighed, setting the bowl back down. “You know, you’re a lot harder to argue with than I remember.”

“I’ve had practice,” Luna said with a shrug. “Besides, you’re easy to read.”

“I am not,” Harry protested, though even as the words left his mouth, he could hear how unconvincing they sounded.

Luna raised an eyebrow, her tone mock-serious. “You’re predictable. You get all huffy when you’re cornered, and your ears turn pink when you’re embarrassed.”

“They do not!”

“They do,” Luna said firmly, her eyes sparkling.

Harry groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Great. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

Luna’s laugh was soft, warm, and unhurried, curling into his chest before he could stop it. It surprised him how much he liked the sound of it.

Harry kept pace with Luna as the path wound through the trees, their footsteps muted against the damp earth.

“This is better than London,” Harry said, breaking the quiet.

“Most things are,” Luna replied.

Harry glanced at her, taking in the way her movements were unhurried, like she had all the time in the world. She didn’t walk as if she were going somewhere—she walked as if she were already there.

“You’ve been here all this time?”

“ I spent a year in Sweden, and some time traveling through Eastern Europe. But I always come back here.”

“Why? Why not stay somewhere… closer to people?”

Luna slowed her steps, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Because people are loud, Harry. Not just their voices, but everything about them. Their thoughts, their energy, the way they move through the world. It’s wonderful in its own way, but it never stops. It’s exhausting.”

Harry frowned. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Neither did I. Not at first.” She glanced at him, a small, wistful smile playing at her lips. “When we left Hogwarts, I thought I’d finally find my place. I wanted to belong to something bigger, to feel like I fit somewhere. I worked at The Quibbler, went to events, made an effort to be the version of myself that people could understand.”

“And it didn’t work.”

“It worked well enough,” Luna admitted, tilting her head slightly. “People were kind. They smiled. They listened to my stories and nodded politely, even if they didn’t believe me. But there was always this… distance. Like I was speaking a language they didn’t understand, and they were too polite to ask for a translation.”

Harry stayed quiet, the sound of their footsteps filling the space between her words.

“And then things started happening,” Luna continued, “I’d get these flashes—images, feelings, little fragments of things I couldn’t explain. At first, I thought it was just me being sensitive, like always. But they kept coming, clearer and stronger.”

“What kind of things?”

“Moments that hadn’t happened yet. Sometimes they were small—a teacup falling off a table, a friend tripping over their own feet. Other times they were larger. I saw my father collapsing in the garden before it happened, and I couldn’t get there in time to stop it.”

Harry turned to look at her, startled. “Luna, I didn’t know—”

“It’s alright,” she said quickly “He was fine. Well, not fine, but he recovered. The point is, I started noticing it more. It wasn’t imagination or coincidence. It was… something else. And the more it happened, the harder it was to ignore.”

“So, you think you’re a Seer?”

Luna paused, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I don’t know if I’d call it that. I’m not like Professor Trelawney. I don’t have grand visions or go into trances. It’s more like… whispers in the dark. A quiet sense of things moving beneath the surface, like ripples on water before the wind touches it.”

“That’s… a lot to deal with.”

“It was. And people didn’t know how to handle it. They smiled and nodded, like always, but now there was something else in their eyes. Fear, maybe. Or doubt. Or just… discomfort. I couldn’t blame them. I didn’t understand it myself, so how could they?”

Harry thought of Luna at school, always so sure of herself, so unshaken by what others thought of her. He’d never considered how lonely that might have been.

“That’s why you left,” he said quietly.

She nodded, brushing her fingers along the bark of a tree as they passed. “The forest doesn’t ask questions. It doesn’t expect me to explain myself. It just… lets me be. Here, I don’t feel like I have to translate who I am into something easier for others to understand.”

Harry looked at her, the moonlight catching in her eyes as she turned toward him. “Do you miss it? The world you left?”

“Sometimes. But not enough to go back.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve found something here that I couldn’t find out there. I’ve found quiet, and in that quiet, I’ve found myself. The parts of me I used to hide, or ignore, or try to change… they fit here.”

Harry looked at her, really looked at her. For the first time, he saw her not as the Luna he remembered, but as the Luna she had become. He smiled, small but real.

“I’m glad you found it,”