oh how your fingers drowse me (AO3) - Ron/Luna/Harry
After the war, after 8th year, after Hermione hands back her engagement ring and Ginny kisses Harry for the last time, Ron and Harry go and visit Luna in the sun.
They never went to see the sea. They never went anywhere, really, except down to the village to pick up more food. They slept in different bedrooms each night, windows open against the heat, and woke at three am to one or the other slipping in through the door to share their bed. The whole summer felt pluralised, a them, a we, not an I. The edges of them blurred together across messy beds and picnic blankets and days in the sun. Though maybe that was just the weed.
They smoked a fuckload of weed.
“Daddy started growing it right before the war,” said Luna, showing them round the greenhouse. It had been built out of windows knocked out of the Rook when they’d been rebuilding it, with a chipped glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It felt like an Alice in Wonderland house, like odd-magic, children’s book magic which hung together on a patchwork of belief and rhyme. The air was tropical with skunk.
“Good call,” said Ron, bending down to sniff at it. “Um, if I do become an auror then I never saw this, ok?”
“So do we just – pick it and smoke it?” said Harry.
“No, we dry the buds out first,” said Luna. “We’ve got a whole operation going in the basement.”
“Who do you sell to?” said Ron.
“Come back with a warrant,” said Luna.
Also comes with a soundtrack here
